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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted.

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed.

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie.

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty.

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do.

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that.

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t.

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty.

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit.

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.”

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse.

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington.

Easy.

Right?

Totally.

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right?

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face.

A face that shouldn’t look so sad.

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve.

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself.

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t—

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch.

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened.

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.”

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone.

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real.

God, he’s so hopeless.

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now.

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice.

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it.

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again.

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there.

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity.

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days.

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy.

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really.

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin.

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin.

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not.

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there.

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now…

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him.

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it.

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that.

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s; threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever.

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous.

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things.

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees.

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together.

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it.

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit.

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does.

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere.

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world.

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin.

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught.

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him.

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires.

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything.

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message.

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried.

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately.

It’s driving Eddie insane.

It’s too much.

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him.

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked.

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more.

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work.

Knowing Steve, nothing works.

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden.

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane.

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer.

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest.

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky.

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away.

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility.

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That.

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now.

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something.

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance.

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum.

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all.

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world.

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful.

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but—

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie.

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real.

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair.

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean.

“Good.”

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it.

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him.

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard.

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel.

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his...

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores.

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe.

But that’s not what Steve does.

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up.

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever.

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look.

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him.

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable.

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught.

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop.

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing.

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run.

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time.

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing.

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it.

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his.

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold.

To keep.

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want.

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump.

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling.

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again.

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it.

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone.

And isn’t that an enticing thought.

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve.

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him.

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…”

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?”

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now.

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips.

“Been wanting to do that forever.”

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.”

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure.

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…”

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time.

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?”

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow.

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too.

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high.

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights.

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.”

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?”

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.”

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips.

“Is it working?”

“Unfortunately.”

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it.

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become.

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself.

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.”

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins.

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release.

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions.

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body.

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly.

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought.

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants.

“I like you so much.”

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him.

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more.

“I like you so much right back.”

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them.

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.”

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.”

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance.

“Unfortunately.”

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the spicy six get high together #spicy six #yearning hours #yearning hours but make it smut #steddie smut #i like this one so much #high yearning makeout fic #this takes so many turns and i blame the flu for it actually #tone consistency?? don't know her #dio words

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zurazakis · 2 months

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i got used to mar.cille's english voice but then heard her japanese voice & now it's all over once again

#dunmeshiposting #idc that the voice actress did a good job as na.mi in opla her voice is very much all over the place for ma.rcille 😭#i don't know how to explain but it constantly sounds unstable & wobbly & that's just not how i imagine mar.cille #it's like she's always yelling or upset but her voice is also always on the verge of breaking or falling through a cloud. very odd #i think i prefer sungwon as sen.shi over his japanese voice though. he sounds older than he is in japanese #la.ios sounds fine in both though i had trouble getting used to his voice in english bc smth about the tone didn't feel right #fa.lin having a very high pitched sweet voice is not what i envisioned at all but it's consistent between versions so far #which is gonna get really fun soon enough.#chil sounds perfect in english no notes wonderful work there. same w na.mari though she sounds perfect in both languages #japanese chil is. too standard voice. english voice stands out imo. ca.sey mong.illo is doing an awesome job #don't rlly have opinions on ka.bru's party i haven't heard them in japanese yet bc i only checked out the last ep #they sound fine in english though? idk i don't remember going 'oh noooo NOOOOO' about it lmao #there you go. my unwanted dunmeshi voice opinions 👍

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hedgehog-moss · 3 months

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Look, friends.

Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.

It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.

I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:

No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.

(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)

I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.

This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.

(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)

It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.

Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:

horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack

infuriated barking from Pandolf

very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit

basically, chaos.

I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)

Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.

My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.

He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.

I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.

I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.

He immediately got stuck between two trees.

I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.

"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."

I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."

I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.

"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."

The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.

Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.

I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this

(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)

#crawling along #llama drama #i spent an hour at his owner's place eating biscuits and being told all the reasons why texas is ''a bit zinzin''#for example he runs away to the nearest farm to steal the cow feed (pellets) at feeding time #he was caught red-pawed by the farmer and just. stole the entire plastic tub that contained the pellets #and ran back home. holding this very large tub in his mouth and sprinkling cow feed everywhere along the way #this time around his owner must have feared he would come home dragging a bag with pampe inside or something

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grandtheftpoptart · 1 year

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All my efforts go unnoticed. It doesn't matter what I do, all she sees is what I don't do. And then gets mad when I say how it makes me feel bad when she ignores that I'm trying.

#i got nearly all of my things out from the livingroom doning area #the whole house #i moved it into my room #the room ive been trying to clean and organize for over a year #the only things i left were my laptop and arm brace #which she pointed out and then said 'you didnt even clean did you'#fuck you?? literally fuck rihht off #and then she makes me feel crazy when my friends are over because she's so nice to them and still makes backhanded comments at me but in a #joking and zen tone #'your grandma is so nice' yeah to everyone but her own family until those people inconvenience her slightly and then she holds a grudge #like i know i can hold a grudge #but mine are funny and reasonable #hers are 'this person is attacking my whiteness so im going to be racist now because its my right and ill never forgive them or let them #live it down' and 'she didn't answer the phone and saidnshes busy even though im not busy and i want to talk. shes being terribke to me' ??#how the fUCK #does this make sense?#youre such a bad person sometimes with no emotional regulation and you expect rveryone else to live around you and by what you want #get over yourself! youre 60 years old it isnt a matter of 'things were different when i was young these things were ok to say and being #mean to others builds character and is funny' its hurtful and sticks with a person. you should know better.#'respect your elders' my elders have consistently demonstrated they don't respect anyone #so why should i respect them

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sareeen · 1 month

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Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thrones and roses #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you

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sundrop-writes · 1 month

Text

Careful - Chapter Two

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Liar

Why should I deny what's all at once, so crystal clear?

Summary:

Spencer is eager to talk to you - to find out if your son is actually his. But there are more important matters at hand, like the fact that you might be the next target of a serial killer who is actively stalking single mothers.

The two of you get locked in a battle of wills when you stubbornly refuse his protection and Spencer remains determined to keep you safe.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst and Smut.

Word Count: 8,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of killing/murder, mentions of the reader being a target for a killer; mentions of the reader buying and using a vibrator (does not take place during the fic, more so mentioned as the reality of the ‘sex life’ of a single mom); the reader and Spencer parted on very bad terms (but the details of the situation are not yet revealed); the reader is very angry towards Spencer; the reader and Spencer argue; the reader is in denial that she is the target of a killer; there is some mention of Sebastian having similar hair to Spencer - but I don’t want that to describe or exclude the reader’s race because in the next chapter, there is a mention of Sebastian having the reader’s skin tone; mention of the reader ‘shoving’ Spencer out of anger (not hard enough to cause harm); mention of the reader owning a gun (registered with gun training) as a form of self defense; mention of the reader character celebrating a birthday - but there is no mentions of specific dates or months when the fic is set, so you can easily imagine that this takes place around your birthday (aside from mentions of holidays or seasonal weather); mentions of JJ x Will; JJ talks about her trauma regarding dogs after being attacked in 2x15; this ends in another flashback, this time including flashback sex (smut); Spencer cuts off foreplay to give the reader a birthday present - mentions of heated kissing and some groping; Spencer calls the reader ‘Princess’ (not during sex - in the context of ‘I am here to serve you like royalty’); the smut basically consists of Spencer eating the reader out. And I think that’s it for this chapter.

A/N: Okay so something I did not intend to happen - a lot of this chapter is from JJ's perspective. It just naturally started happening while I was writing it, and it was really interesting to me to write about Spencer and the reader's relationship through her eyes (especially to keep the conflict between them vague to the audience, because JJ doesn't know the details of what happened), and it's not something I did intentionally, but I really loved how it shaped the chapter, so I kept it in. Also, I really wanted to include a lot of JJ x Spencer friendship and comfort moments in the fic because (as a lot of people in the fandom have discussed) - the writers love to have the characters say that JJ and Spencer are best friends, but they don't often show it. They just show a lot of conflict between them. So I wanted to show the potential of their friendship. And I had a lot of fun exploring that. So - I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter, and definitely hope to see you come back for chapter three!!!

...

When you heard someone knock on your door, you thought it was a delivery.

You had ordered Sebastian some new educational coloring books, and some new CDs with Mozart concertos to fall asleep to, because he was getting bored of his current ones. You often felt like you couldn’t keep up with him - Sebastian was so damn smart, and you always tried to provide him with the best resources to learn. Even if he was getting to a point where he was asking for high school level chemistry text books and actually seemed to understand the material in them and you were confused about how he could comprehend any of it.

The package also could have been the new vibrator you had ordered. You weren’t sure if that package was small enough to be left in the mailbox or not. You had to roll your eyes when you thought about how pathetic your sex life had been since having Sebastian. But you couldn’t risk bringing random men through the house just for sex when you had Seb around. So battery power and smut novels, it was.

“Sorry!”

You called out, hoping the delivery person would wait, as you raced to get to the door. You hoped they wouldn’t just slip one of those ‘failed to deliver’ notes into your door handle and force you to run an extra errand with a kid under your arm. You tripped over a toy truck and cursed yourself for procrastinating cleaning up (again).

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

‘I was in my office, in the back of the house.’

The sentence died off on your tongue when you finally fumbled the door open - your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

Spencer Reid.

The father of your child, the man you had once loved.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

Was he here because of Sebastian? Was he angry? He had to be angry that you hadn’t told him about Sebastian for all of these years. He had to be angry that you had given birth to his child and not told him about it.

You flickered back to lust for a moment as your eyes traced over him.

He looked good.

Somehow, he had grown up so much in just four years. He had gone from a gangly, boyish man to a full blown man. But he was somehow still so much the same. His hair had grown out a lot since you had last seen him - instead of the neatly combed, short cut you had last seen him with, it was downright wild. The chocolate brown locks were sprawling out into the thick curls that you had come to see sprouting from your own son’s head. It wasn’t a look that you were used to on Spencer, but it looked damn good on him.

He was wearing his usual leather messenger bag - probably the exact same one from years ago. And he clearly had the same dress sense, but these clothes in particular made you want to jump his bones. A lavender cardigan that complimented his skin tone so well - and his usual button up shirt and tie, along with his usual gray slacks.

You desperately wanted to blame the sting of attraction that you felt for him on the recent lack of male suitors in your life; the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. But you knew it was something else, too. Your previous attraction to him - the fact that because you had slept with Spencer before, you could still feel the ghost of his hands and tongue on your body.

How did he look so good?

He made you feel like a slob in your casual ‘work from home on a random Tuesday’ Mom clothes. If it had been your choice, he definitely wouldn’t be seeing you for the first time in years while you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that you were sure had raspberry juice stained on it somewhere, and eyeliner that you had slopped in between traffic lights in the car that morning.

(You hated it.)

“Y/N,”

He finally broke the silence, speaking your name in that honey-sweet way.

Unfortunately, it brought you rocketing back to that night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This chased out that tiny splash of lust and brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. More longing. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom, your neck aching as the blood pumped hard through your aorta.

Immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and fear took over his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked fiercely, this question rocketing back to the forefront of your mind.

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that suddenly, you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch. Without even thinking, you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched.

You let your emotions carry your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was resentment and heartache that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You screamed. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove. Perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, even you weren’t sure.

Spencer just looked at you with wide-eyed shock. Clearly, for once in his life, at a loss for words.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

The two of you became locked in an icy staring contest, neither of you speaking. Spencer found his throat too dry, and for once, his head far too empty. You were simply too angry and too stubborn to speak in those moments.

This stalemate was only broken up when JJ walked around the corner.

“Spence, Hotch just told me that the first woman doesn’t even match the-”

“JJ!” You cried out her name happily, your entire demeanor changing when you saw her.

She grinned, completely forgetting whatever news she had to report to Reid as you practically flew off the porch and ran to meet her. JJ eagerly opened her arms to hug you, and you squeezed her with all the warmth and kindness of an old friend.

Spencer felt a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t being greeted with as much affection. He knew that the last argument between the two of you had been bad, but he didn’t know it had left such a distinct impression on you. He didn’t know it had been enough to make you hate him.

When you pulled away from JJ, you looked between her and Spencer, and then it suddenly struck you.

If Spencer wasn’t here alone, that meant this wasn’t personal. He wasn’t just here to see you over some lost love, or - maybe he didn’t know about Sebastian at all. You felt a pang of guilt twist your gut because of that.

“What - what are you guys doing here?” You asked, now entirely confused, directing the question toward JJ.

JJ looked toward Spencer, and according to his ill-concealed frown, his reunion with you had not gone well. She doubted that you would take the news that you were possibly being hunted by a killer well on top of that.

“Is it alright if we come inside?” JJ asked, her voice tentative and soft. It was the same voice she usually used with victims and their families.

“Yeah.” You said, knowing there must be something big that you were missing, and hoping that you would be filled in soon enough. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

You walked back up the few steps of the porch and breezed right past Reid. You didn’t even spare a glance in his direction as you went back in through the open front door, leaving it open for the two of them with the expectation that they would close it behind themselves.

“So - I take it things didn’t go well?” JJ whispered to Spencer as she moved up onto the porch.

“Not quite.” Spencer mumbled in return before moving into the house, waiting for her to follow.

This made JJ even more curious about what had gone down between you and Spencer all those years ago.

What could have possibly made you so cold and distant toward him?

But she couldn’t just come out and ask. They had a job to do. They were there to ensure your safety against a man who had already killed five women and orphaned five children.

JJ walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised that she nearly tripped over a plastic toy truck in the entryway. Even though your son didn’t seem to be here (it was far too quiet for a small boy to be around), this was definitely a house where a child lived.

The first space that was visible to her eye - the living room, was clearly a space that belonged to a young child. There was a large, colorful play mat underneath the coffee table, and a few toys scattered over across the floor, showing that he clearly liked to have hands on play. In the corner, there was a child-sized desk with a small chair, which seemed to be surrounded by art supplies, and advanced textbooks? Some of them opened and were dotted with bright, colorful stickers. One glance told JJ that the reading material very advanced for his age clearly belonged to him.

So he very likely was Spencer’s son.

She wasn’t sure why, but that did bring a cluster of joy through her. Likely because she knew he would be so excited to have a child of his own.

JJ couldn’t help but to notice that many of the toys were Paw Patrol themed - it was a favorite show of Henry’s, too. In the back of her mind, she wondered if your son and Henry might be friends.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You huffed, rushing around with your arms half full of toys now - distracted from getting the coffee, as you had mentioned. You were clearly rushing to pick up some of the mess now that you had realized how it appeared in the eyes of your ‘guests’. “All the - stuff.”

You hesitated to say ‘toys’. Clearly, you didn’t want to bring up the subject of your son, even though the evidence of him was so visible all around. You didn’t want to give Spencer the smallest opening to start asking questions about him. It was something you wanted to avoid speaking about for as long as possible.

Spencer looked at you with a mournful look on his face as you dodged around him, purposefully avoiding eye contact while you picked up a coloring book and a handful of crayons off the couch. You still refused to look his way at all as you rushed off to stash the items away somewhere.

Clearly, he wanted to ask you more about your son, and simply ask that penultimate question: was he the father?

But now wasn’t the right time.

“It’s alright.” JJ assured you. “You can just come sit down. We really need to talk to you.”

You heaved out a sigh, defeated in your effort to clean up, and then came back from one of the other rooms. (JJ could only assume you had stashed the toys in a playroom or a closet, because much like her own home, all areas had become a domain for toys and playtime). You motioned for them to sit on the couch, and you scooted over a rocking chair from the other side of the room to sit in front of them, blocking the shut-off TV on the other side.

“So, what is it?” You asked, clearly eager and curious to know what they were doing in your home - why they had contacted you now after so many years apart.

JJ and Spencer exchanged a look, and with a gentle nod from him, JJ took the lead.

“Well, um… there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe that you might be in danger.” She told you, introducing the topic gently, while wanting to be honest and direct. “Perhaps you’ve seen it on the news? But if you haven’t… several single mothers have been killed in the area recently, and we have reason to believe that you might be the killer’s next target.”

You looked at her, entirely observant, quietly taking in her words. Your face was still and expressionless, and JJ was unsure if you were going to take this calmly and logically - if you were going to panic after you had fully absorbed the news, if you were going to cry.

After a moment of silence - you burst out laughing. Your laughter was harsh and nervous, a sound that cut through the air like the rip of a chainsaw. Clearly, it was the stark opposite of someone taking the news with tears.

“Oh my god.” You sighed, taking a breath from the non-humorous laughter. “You know that you didn’t have to make up some excuse just to come and see me, right?”

Spencer’s face curled into a deep frown. He was upset that you weren’t taking this seriously. JJ found herself in shock. Usually when people found out they were potentially on the radar of a killer, they were paranoid, afraid, questioning why.

But it was very rare to see denial.

She did take notice of the fact that you didn’t immediately ask about what kind of evidence or reasoning they had to believe that you were the killer’s next target. Perhaps if your brain let you assess that reasoning for yourself and found it to be valid, then fear would take over. And you couldn’t let that happen. So this laughter, this posturing and not taking things seriously - it was an unconscious way to protect yourself from that fear.

But JJ could only theorize about that.

“I did miss you, JJ.” You said, very pointedly looking at her while you said it. “But you could have just sent me an email or something.”

You continued avoiding Spencer’s harsh gaze as he bored holes into the side of your face with his intense, intrusive eyes.

“Look, this is serious-” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that there is someone trying to kill me,”

You spoke of this lightly, the words entirely condescending on your lips, as though Spencer’s theory was entirely wild and imaginative to begin with.

JJ saw the movement in his jaw as he grinded his teeth out of the corner of her eye, and she was surprised that he let you continue.

“I have an alarm system that I set every night before I go to bed.” You informed them. “I am a proud gun owner. I have a registered revolver that I keep in a lock box beside my bed and I renew my gun training every single spring.” You told them, not seeming the least bit worried at the idea of a killer hunting you down. “If someone wants to kill me, let them try. I’m sure you guys have much better ways to spend your time than sitting around here, chatting with me when there are people out there, actually in danger. People who probably need your help.”

You said this, trying to dismiss them. And then you moved to get up from your seat, looking to escape the conversation entirely. But once again, Spencer stopped you.

“That’s it?” He fired back, entirely indignant, standing from his place on the couch.

This caused you to roll your eyes and let out a hiss, your lungs deflating like an annoyed balloon as you paused in the middle of the room.

“Yes, that’s it.” You groaned back. “Look, I know it’s your job to see problems everywhere, but-”

“It’s my job to protect people.” Spencer replied, cutting you off. “And-”

“Funny!” You scoffed, your voice escalating in volume. It had turned into a full-blown argument now - you were entirely uncaring that JJ was there to witness it; Spencer was locked in your sight like the crosshairs of a scope, and you were ready to fire. “You give a shit about ‘protecting’ me now, but what the fuck happened four years ago?”

You glared harshly at Spencer, and he locked his jaw, staring right back. It turned into a poisonous silence as neither of you spoke - he didn’t have a good answer for this question. And it made JJ all the more horribly curious about what had happened between the two of you. But she didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that the two of you needed some privacy.

“Do… do you mind if I go get myself a glass of water?” She asked, tentatively standing up from her place on the couch.

“I’ll get it.” You huffed out, moving to leave the room.

“It’s okay.” JJ told you. “I can get it for myself. Just point me in the right direction.”

You motioned toward the kitchen and JJ left, and she heard Spencer hiss out something about you being stubborn, which turned into another cluster of voices. The argument turned even more personal and sour now that the both of you didn’t have a witness.

When JJ made her way into the kitchen, she was happy to see that your backyard was full of toys. A pair of sliding glass doors let her peek out to see a colorful swing set and a large playhouse, and a scattering of other toys meant that your son obviously spent a lot of time outside. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the rising, angered sound of voices from the other room as she found a glass in one of the cabinets. When she moved to the refrigerator’s water dispenser, something along the way caught her eye.

A vase of fresh flowers was sitting on the counter.

White carnations.

It made her stomach churn ominously. It felt too perfect to be a coincidence.

She abandoned her half-full glass and grabbed the vase, walking back to the living room with it.

“You just can’t accept help from anybody, can you? How can you not understand that your life is in danger here? This man is not going to stop until-” Spencer ranted on.

He was still trying to convince you to take the threat seriously - but you were still boiling with rage over the past, blind to anything else.

“I can’t accept anyone’s help?” You scoffed, crowding into his personal space to hiss the words closer to him. “That is so rich coming from someone who-”

JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting you off.

“Spence.” She got his attention from the intense gaze he was keeping on you - anger hot in his eyes even though he was staring heavily at your lips.

When Spencer looked over and saw the vase in JJ’s hands, his entire face shifted in a blink. His expression went from tight-knit anger and annoyance to ‘shit-your-pants’ worry. The danger went from being theoretical to being very real in that moment.

“Where did these flowers come from?” Spencer asked.

“What?” You gaped, so entirely confused.

“Where did you get the flowers?” He asked, rephrasing the question, his tone more urgent and demanding now.

“Why does that matter?” You replied, exasperated. You didn’t see how it was at all relevant.

“All of the women who were killed received these exact same kind of flowers within days of their death.” JJ told you. “Do you have any idea who sent them?”

“I thought my mother did.” You shrugged. “There was no name on the card. It just said ‘Happy Birthday’. She didn’t get to see me in person for my birthday, she’s traveling right now. She’s one of the only people who would send me flowers for my birthday.”

“Yes, but your mother knows that your favorite flowers are lavender and baby’s breath. Why would she send these?” Spencer replied.

Naturally, he remembered your favorite flowers.

You couldn’t get stuck on that, though. Instead, you pondered the question he posed.

Why would your mother send you white carnations without even signing the card?

It wasn’t something you had thought about. At the time, you had just thought it was considerate, and sweet. When you had called her to thank her for the flowers, you had gotten her voicemail. You had left her a message thanking her. She was away on a singles cruise with shoddy reception and she hadn’t gotten back to you yet.

“They’re just flowers.” You said, letting out another nervous chuckle - but your voice broke over this one.

Obviously the reality of things was truly starting to set in with you.

“We need to set up protective custody for you.” Spencer said, taking out his phone in order to get this done.

“No!” You snapped. “I am not having some random cops follow me around because you think I might be in danger.” You hissed angrily.

Spencer paused and stared you down, debating if he was going to go against your wishes or not, his phone still in hand.

JJ hated the look in Spencer’s eyes. That deep, bitter fear. Whatever had happened between the two of you, there was still enough care lingering there that he would fight for you no matter what. He was terrified for you. He wasn’t going to let you meet the same fate as the other victims. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

JJ put the vase down on the coffee table, and turned to you.

“It doesn’t have to be random cops. We can stay with you, in order to-” She started to explain, only to be disrupted by the digital ringtone of your home phone echoing through the house.

You rushed to grab the phone, and JJ heard some of the quiet conversation from you on one end.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. It’s no problem. Thank you so much. Yeah, twenty minutes. Bye.”

You hung up and then rushed back into the living room - and before either of them could speak further on the matter, you rushed past them. You went to the entryway, taking off your slippers to exchange them for sneakers.

“Look, guys, I would love to stay and hang out, but I have somewhere important to be.” You huffed out.

“Seriously?” Spencer replied, entirely frustrated with you. “This isn’t some tea party. We aren’t just hanging around here for fun. Call whoever that was and tell them that you’re gonna be late. Or call and cancel, or-”

“No!” You yelled back, entirely frustrated with him. “Dammit, Spencer! People have responsibilities, you know! I have responsibilities. I am an adult, I’m not some child you can talk down to. Now get the fuck out of my house so I can lock up, and get to the important things that I have to do. Things that don’t involve wasting my time talking to you.”

You said the last part so snidely, resenting that Spencer’s unexpected visit had been part of your day.

He opened his mouth to argue against this, but JJ put a gentle hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the door. He sighed and flexed to this movement. He angrily stormed past you to leave through the front door, which he left wide open like a toddler having a tantrum.

You grabbed your keys and your purse from a side table near the door and JJ moved to leave as well. On her way along, she put a gentle hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention.

“We’ll check back in with you later, okay?” She said, using her most gentle, non-confrontational voice.

“Sure.” You easily agreed, unable to be angry with her. “But just call, or something. There’s no need to bang down my door over some stupid flowers. It’s nothing.”

She stepped through the door and you followed. As you used your keys to lock up, you added on:

“I would give you my number, but I’m sure Penelope can find it for you in five minutes flat.”

JJ chuckled at this.

“More like two and a half, I’d say.” She replied - it was a joking tone, but she did truly think this highly of Penelope’s skills.

You smiled over your shoulder at her and she nodded before she began to walk back to the car, where Spencer was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing in his anger.

When she got in beside him, they watched you pull out of the driveway and drive off before either of them spoke.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply, tired.

In order to distract himself from all of it, he was staring down at some files in his lap - some of the case files of the other murders that he had pulled out of his bag. He needed something to do to keep his mind from churning more on the fact that you seemed to hate him. He wanted to find a way to protect you now, instead of focusing on the past.

But JJ seemed hellbent on walking backward - getting him to look back on what happened between the two of you.

“I can do complicated.” She said. “We’ve got plenty of time. We should just sit here and wait for her to come back.”

“You should go check in with Hotch.” Spencer told her, dodging around the question once again. “I’ll come back after.”

“After what?” JJ questioned, finding this wording particularly strange.

JJ started the car and pulled away, hoping that you would be safe during the time they didn’t have eyes on you. The UnSub had a particular routine - he liked to stalk his victims for a few weeks before he broke into their homes and killed them. So she hoped that he wasn’t ready to make contact with you yet. She hoped that if he did, your gun and your alarm system would be enough to deter him.

“I - I wanted to get her something nice.” He answered, sounding rather shy about this proclamation. “Like she mentioned, her birthday just passed. And, according to the preschool forms, her son’s birthday was a week ago. I want to get something for him too.”

“They have the same birthday?” JJ asked.

“Not exactly the same, but their birthdays are only five days apart.” Spencer replied. “I missed his birth.” He added on, a quiet sigh, entirely melancholic. “I missed the whole pregnancy. I - I missed everything.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.” JJ reminded him. “What happened?”

Spencer knew she was asking as a friend. He knew that of all people - she was the one to talk to about this.

“It - it was right after Hankel.” He admitted quietly. “That was when Y/N and I broke up.”

“Oh.” JJ said quietly.

The air in the car became thick as the heaviness truly overtook her.

So, it was complicated.

But she definitely couldn’t understand your rage toward Spencer.

“When I came back from Atlanta, she knew I wasn’t the same. And things - we - we fell apart.” He admitted this barely above a whisper, hesitant to even voice the words as a reality. “You knew what kind of person I was back then. I wasn’t good to her. I wasn’t good to anybody.”

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle - a defense to all the hurt he was feeling about it.

JJ spotted a sign for a shopping center, and pulled into the parking lot. She knew that Spencer likely had a good idea about buying into your good graces with a late birthday gift. Even if it wouldn’t instantly make up for everything that had happened all those years ago.

“Yeah, but you’re sober now.” She reminded him.

“She doesn’t know that.” Spencer replied.

JJ ruminated in thought for a moment.

“You know, I met Will afterwards, right?” She said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Spencer nodded.

“It was only a few weeks after everything happened, when we were working that case in New Orleans.” She explained. “And he looked at me like I was a hero. Because I helped him finish what his father couldn’t. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile or broken. He didn’t tip-toe around me. He didn’t see me as some ghost. And that is part of the reason why I fell for him. He always saw me as this goddess. Like Superwoman.”

Spencer smiled at this.

He wanted to be that person for you. He wanted to be your Superman. (But he feared that he couldn’t live up to that. That he would fail you when the time came.)

JJ found a parking spot, and parked, but Spencer lingered - sensing there was more to the conversation.

“You know… Henry wants a puppy.” JJ’s voice shook, her throat clenching up around these words.

Spencer’s stomach shook.

He hadn’t been there, but he had seen the scars on JJ’s arms. He had seen the footage of the other poor woman being torn apart by those dogs.

“And I had to tell Will everything. How I was chased down, how I had to shoot two innocent animals - the stupid fact that I still feel guilty about it, even though they would have killed me if I hadn’t done it.” She said, her throat becoming more closed off with each word. She cleared it before she spoke again. “How I lost you, how it was all my fault.”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault.” Spencer felt the need to say this aloud, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on her knee. She nodded at him before she continued.

“Just - it was all so overwhelming. The idea of having a dog in our house. But… I told him that I wanted to try, at least. For Henry.” JJ explained. “But when we went to the animal shelter - the sound of dogs barking… I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. And next thing I know, I’m sitting on the curb outside with my head between my knees and Will is putting a bottle of water to my lips.”

“Henry seems more like a cat person anyway.” Spencer replied, hoping this slightly humorous comment would offer some comfort to his friend.

JJ let out a tired laugh.

“He’s three and a half, I think we’re still in the stage where a goldfish is more than enough for him.” She added on.

“I - I never told Y/N.” Spencer said, suddenly shifting the conversation. JJ raised her brow, prompting further explanation of this. “I never told her what happened to me. What happened with Hankel.”

JJ gave him a sad look.

“Why not?”

“I - I didn’t want her to view me as weak. I couldn’t fight him off. I accepted the drugs. At certain points, I…. I even pitied him.” Spencer replied. “I didn’t want things to change between us. Even though they did anyway.”

“Do you still wanna be with her?” JJ asked.

“What?” Spencer gaped, not expecting the question.

“If the kid is yours, obviously you wanna be in his life. But co-parenting as separate, single people is one thing.” JJ explained herself. “Do you still want to be with Y/N? Do you still love her?”

“Yes.” Spencer replied shyly.

“Then you have to tell her everything.” JJ said firmly. “Being with someone for the long term isn’t about creating some fantasy. I fell in love with Will because he looked at me like I was Superwoman, but I stayed in love because he takes care of me when I’m powerless. You have to be weak in front of her and let her take care of you, so that you can be strong everywhere else.”

Spencer sighed - letting this wisdom fully penetrate him.

He knew that being a genius sometimes meant that he wasn’t the smartest person in the room. Apparently, this was one of those times.

“You’re right.”

Then, he reached for the car door’s handle, feeling like JJ had taught him a lot with that conversation and he needed some time to think alone.

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked. “You might need a woman’s opinion on what to get,”

“No thanks, I know Y/N pretty well.” He replied. “At least I hope I still do.” He opened the door fully and stepped out. “And I wanted some alone time, to… think all of this over. To think about what I’m gonna say to Y/N. I’m gonna walk back afterwards, the house is only a few blocks away.”

JJ nodded.

“I should check back in with Hotch.” She noted. “See if they found anything with the other women on the list. Otherwise, all we’ve got is the flowers.”

Just as he moved to close the door again, JJ spoke up one last time.

“Rubble.” She said suddenly - which sounded very strange with no context.

“What?” Spencer asked, ducking his head down to see inside the car to potentially hear her words better.

“Rubble - it’s a character from the kids’ TV show, Paw Patrol.” She explained. “There was about five action figures of him sitting on the living room floor back there. So I would assume that he’s your son’s favorite character.”

Spencer’s chest jumped at the way she said ‘your son’ - so casually.

He could really have a child in his life. This could really be his future.

If he played his cards right, this could be his future with you.

“Thank you, JJ.” Spencer grinned at her.

She smiled back and he stood up to his full height and closed the car door, walking off into the shopping center by himself.

And of course, his thoughts drifted back to you.

He thought back to the last time he had spent your birthday with you. Before Hankel, before all the madness. Before everything good in his life slipped through his fingers and he was left feeling so alone.

…

For someone with basically no serious relationships under his belt before you came along, Spencer was excellent when it came to romance.

Perhaps it was because he spent his time reading the classics - he could recite Elizabethan poetry off by heart, he could whisper epic romantic ballads in your ear before kissing you with such intense passion that it left your head spinning. He had such a perfect picture of what romance should be, and it meant that he knew how to plan a date that left you feeling like a queen.

Every single time he took you out, he made you feel like you were the only woman on earth - like he would move the seas and the sky just to show you how much he cared.

And because he insisted that your birthday should be a day all about you - a day dedicated to celebrating you - then this was certainly no different.

The night had been a whirlwind of perfection.

After dinner at a gorgeous fine dining restaurant downtown, Spencer then drove the two of you to an art gallery to stroll around. He cited that he wanted you to have some down time for your food to settle before he gave you your present. From the spark in his eye, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what that present would be. The whole evening was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. And like everything with Spencer - it was a pleasant enrichment of the mind, looking at art while he told you things about the artists or the origins of the paintings.

Before you got halfway through the gallery, he checked his watch and told you that it was ‘just about time’ for your present, and then he drove you back to his apartment.

The two of you barely made it through the door before you had him pinned against it, your mouth enveloping his in a hot, desperate kiss. You were so utterly grateful to have such a romantic, thoughtful man in your life.

The entire evening had been nothing but a reminder of that - the way he looked at you with love so pure in his eyes. Him opening doors for you, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you gently around, speaking lowly to you as though his words were precious and only meant to be yours.

You needed him. You needed to show him how much you appreciated all of it. You needed him to know how much of a treasure he was in your life.

You reached for his belt and Spencer let out a choked off moan into your mouth.

You were surprised when he reached for your wrist, gently pulling your touch back - stopping you from unfastening the belt as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips away from your kiss.

“As - as much as I want to,” He huffed out against your mouth. “I - I still have to give you your present.” He noted, flashing you a smile.

“I thought this was my present.” You replied, reaching down to grope Spencer’s half hard cock through his pants.

He let out a groan; but then he reached for your wrist again, pulling your touch back.

“I - I promise - later - afterwards? Later tonight.” He stuttered out, hard pressed to focus as more blood rushed to his cock.

Spencer puzzled you. You had never known any other man to interrupt foreplay for something other than sex, unless it was life or death. But it made you very curious about what your present was and why he was so desperate to give it to you.

And sex was still on the table, so that panging need between your legs would be taken care of eventually.

You hummed in ascent and stepped back, releasing Spencer from where you had him pressed against the door. He gulped in a large breath of air before he moved across the room.

You were surprised when he didn’t move to turn on any lights in the apartment, leaving the two of you settled in comfortable darkness. The only lights being the light from the bathroom that he had left on before leaving, shining down the hall, and the dim lighting coming in the windows - some street lights and the occasional passing car’s headlights.

Spencer shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of the couch on his way toward the window. He yanked up the blinds in front of the space where he had set up a very expensive, advanced, gorgeous telescope - one that had been there the last few times you had visited. Astronomy was one of his many hobbies, and he often invited you to view different stars or passing comets. It was just one of the many things you learned from him - knowledge you absorbed from being around him that made you feel infinitely smarter.

You always indulged in the joy of feeling smarter just from being in his presence. You loved that Spencer was someone so gifted who loved to share his knowledge, rather than gatekeeping it or being snide toward others who weren’t as privileged as him. It was just another thing to love about him - the fact that he was so kind in sharing his big brain with others.

You watched him with intrigue while you took your wrap off your shoulders and tossed your purse onto the couch. Enjoying the quiet and the peaceful darkness and watching him work, you moved to sit on the arm of the couch to begin unstrapping your heels.

He checked his watch again, and then looked to a small side table he had near the telescope. He flipped open a notebook that he had there, and you supposed that the minimal light coming in through the window was enough for him to see whatever it was that he had written there. He adjusted the telescope slightly, then looked at the notebook again, then adjusted the telescope again.

Then he said ‘aha, there you are’ under his breath, grinning widely to himself.

The entire thing made your insides glow with curiosity.

Spencer then turned back to you, still grinning widely. When he noticed your shoe half-hanging off your foot, he stepped over to you and softly grabbed your ankle, sliding your shoe off the entire way before gently rubbing the sole of your foot.

“Let me help you with that, Princess.” He said quietly, before moving to take the shoe off your other foot.

Again, your insides tingled as he made you feel like you were the most important woman on earth.

“Thank you.” You replied, almost speechless at the action.

“If you’ll step right this way, I can show you your present.” He said, motioning toward the telescope with a dramatic flare.

You let out a giggle as you stepped over your abandoned shoes and moved to look into the telescope.

You wondered if he had written some poem and taped it onto the other end of the lens or something like that (it was Spencer, it must have been something epically romantic). But as you bent down and closed one eye to get a good look, it was entirely ordinary.

The telescope was focused on a single, tiny star.

It was beautiful, but it was very… plain. And more than anything, it was confusing.

Your present was… a star?

“Spencer, I don’t really get it?” You sighed, standing up to your full height once again.

“I got you a star.” He said proudly, grinning even wider now.

When you stared at him with more intense confusion, Spencer reached over to the notebook and pulled something out. After he handed it to you, you leaned into the light of the window and studied it carefully.

It was a certificate stating that Spencer had paid to name the star after you.

He had literally changed the night sky for you.

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly.

You felt so overwhelmed.

If he had made you feel like the most important woman in the world before, then now - you felt like the most important woman in the galaxy.

“Spencer, this is - this is too much.” You said, your throat clenching up slightly due to the intensity of the emotions.

“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on your jaw, tilting your face up from looking at the certificate to look at him.

There it was again, all of it spelled out in his eyes - the adoration, the pure, overwhelming affection that he felt for you. It bloomed nothing but those same feelings in return from you. It was almost so overwhelming that you felt like you could have exploded from how much love you felt for this man, all of it swelling inside of you so quickly that you felt like your body couldn’t contain it. Like it was a sickness that was going to overrun your body if you weren’t careful.

“Spencer.”

His name swelled in your throat like that throbbing love, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss. Because of course, words weren’t enough. You smothered him with your mouth, trying desperately to communicate every ounce of passion and gratefulness you were feeling with the heat of that kiss.

Spencer held you, engulfing both your cheeks with his large, warm hands, kissing you back with just as much intensity.

Both of you lingered there for a few moments, savoring each other’s lips, mingling in each other’s breath.

You were disappointed when Spencer pulled away.

“There is something else.” He told you, a bit of glee edging on his voice.

“What?” You gaped, shocked by this.

“There’s something else I have to give you. Another part of your present.” He clarified, pulling back completely - likely in order to fetch this thing.

You let out a breath. You weren’t sure how this magnificent man could possibly do more.

You placed the certificate for the star down on the table where Spencer had kept it. Later, you would take it home and have it framed, wanting to display it proudly. You could imagine yourself putting it up in the front of your home when you eventually moved in with Spencer. You could put it next to your marriage certificate; eventually, put next to wedding photos when the two of you eventually got married. (And sometime later, it would be hanging alongside photos of you and Spencer with your kids. You tingled, realizing that this was the first time you had ever thought of having kids with him, but it fit so well. It seemed right.)

The thought made you tingle.

You could truly imagine yourself having a life with Spencer. Standing proudly because this was just the beginning of it. He truly felt like ‘the one’ you had always been waiting for.

“Here.”

Spencer’s voice pulled you from your plethora of dreamy thoughts, and you turned to see him holding a velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat at the passing thought that it might be the box - but no. Now wasn’t the time. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. And while you were so deeply in love, you knew that it was a bit haste to assume that he was ready for marriage when you were his first serious girlfriend. You were still both so young.

He opened the lid and you let out a small gasp when you saw it.

It was a simple, elegant silver necklace. The pendant was a four pointed star, with a small, dainty stone in the middle. You easily recognized it as your birthstone, meant to represent the fact that he had given it to you on your birthday. And obviously the star pendant as a whole represented that he had also gifted you a literal star in the sky on that same day.

“Spencer, it’s so beautiful.” You said, utterly breathless.

“Traditionally, the four pointed star is believed to represent the designation of a goal. It marks one’s great endeavors, because it seems to point to the four cardinal directions. This star is meant to guide someone, like a map - the way that sailors used the stars to guide their path.”

Spencer explained, knowledgeable as he always was.

“I - I chose this for you because… well, because when I met you, I felt as though I had accomplished great things in all areas of my life, except for one. Academically, I was satisfied. In my career, I was happy. But when it came to matters of the heart… I was utterly clueless. And when I found you… it felt like you were my guiding star. Like you were the person I had been waiting for to finally show me - show me the meaning of love.”

“Oh, Spencer.” Your voice cracked around these words, barely able to form them. “Oh, honey. I love you so much. Thank you.”

It was all your mind could gather at the moment. It wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, but it was certainly one of the most intense.

“I love you too.” He replied. Through the dimness, you could almost see tears forming in his eyes. “You truly make me so happy.”

Spencer then cleared his throat harshly, wanting to clear away his intensely emotional tears.

“Can - can I put it on you?” He asked shyly, motioning with the necklace in its box.

“Of course.” You grinned. “I’d love that.”

You turned around and Spencer took it out of the box, fiddling with the dainty clasp for a moment before he put it around your neck and then did it up for you. It felt so right around your neck. It felt like his love was being carried with you. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t want to take it off anytime soon. You could easily imagine yourself feeling so proud to answer whenever random strangers or your co-workers asked where it was from.

When it was secured around your neck, Spencer leaned in and laid a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the chain. This simple act reminded you of that needy throb between your thighs; of what you had been wanting so badly the moment you had come in the door.

“So…” He whispered against your neck. “What else does the birthday girl want?”

“I can think of a few things.”

That was how you ended up with your back pressed against the softness of the couch - too impatient to even make it to the bed - with your dress pushed up around your waist, your panties tossed somewhere in the middle of the living room rug. Spencer’s glasses were pressed up onto his forehead while his knees dug into that same rug, his fingers splayed across your thighs, holding you open to makeway for his tongue.

He ate you out with all of the intensity and passion that he had kissed you with - moaning into your pussy as though he was singing directly to the gods.

“Fuck, Spence.” You moaned, raking your hands through his hair, holding him close - not that he would want to pull away for even a second.

He loved your taste more than anything in the world, and he savored every second that he got the privilege of being on his knees for you. He moaned into your pussy, loudly, almost pathetically - hot echoes coming from his lungs as though he was the one being pleasured. He laved his tongue across you with an open jaw, drinking in as much of you as possible while your thighs quaked around his head. Your nails dug into his scalp and he only moaned harder, loving the sound of your needy whines and your gasping breaths as your clit throbbed under his tongue.

Spencer hummed in delight while he bounced your clit on his tongue, loving the feeling of that sweet little bead throbbing against him; loving your taste, loving your echoing moans. Loving how much he could bring you pleasure.

“Fuck, Spence, so close!”

He put his lips around you and sucked then, holding you gently against him by the hips. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of your body quaking against his face while your orgasm overtook you. It was overwhelming and beautiful and warmed your whole body - just like the love you felt for him.

He pulled away after a moment, when he was sure that he had seen you through to the satisfying end, and he grinned against the mound of your pussy.

“Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

…

After the break-up, Spencer often looked up to the sky and thought about you.

On the nights when your star was in place overhead, he felt a particular pang in his chest. He wondered where you were and what you were doing. He wondered if you were safe. He spent many nights staring out his telescope, wondering if you were happy, blanketed under that inky sky.

You thought about the star sometimes, too.

You thought it was a lot like your relationship with Spencer. Placing all of your hopes and dreams onto something already dead - something where the light had died out long ago.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Three - Turn It Off

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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moonchildstyles · 2 months

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very indulgent pussy eating blurb for pretty girl from Prosecco pls! I need to read him absolutely going insane w the thought of eating her out and then getting to do it!! ♡

wordcount: 7.2k+

—————

Hooking his fingers into the waist of her skirt, a smug smile crossed Harry's features at the feel of the layer of goosebumps that prickled (Y/N)'s skin. The tip of his nose skated along the column of her throat as he began easing down the fabric.

"Don't know how I let y'leave on time this morning while looking like this," he murmured, his words dripping and seeping into her skin. He felt a little too accomplished when she felt her hands tighten on his shoulders.

"Shouldn't have," she told him, her voice matching the quiet of his bedroom, "I could've skipped my morning classes to stay with you."

Harry couldn't help the laughter that fell from his lips, smiling up at her from where he was making a point to slowly ease her skirt down her legs. "You'll take any reason to skip class, pretty girl."

A gentle smile took her features as she shrugged down at him. Harry only shook his head before he laid all of his attention out on her body, dotting kisses down the curves of her form as he moved her skirt to catch on her ankles. Helping her discard the garment, he flung it to join the pile already on the floor consisting of both of their shirts and her cardigan. He didn't waste a moment before settling his eyes on her near-bare form.

Down to only her bra and underwear, she was a vision in his bedsheets. Her chest was nearly spilling out of her bra from the amount of times he had pushed the cups out of the way to kiss at the swells and leave his mark. Though, what had his attention captured and unwilling to let go, was the sight of her soft thighs spread apart and the pair of pearly, satin panties tucked between—completely mismatched to the rose toned cotton bra she had on. From where he was sitting, he could see a small wet spot decorating the underside, giving away just how eager she was to have him.

His cock bloated in his pants, urging him forward with a near-drooling mouth. He'd never had his mouth between her thighs before, always a little too giddy to have his cock inside instead. Today could be the perfect day to take his time with her, get to know more of her body and what else he could do to make her float away for him.

"So pretty, sweetheart," he murmured to her, fitting his hands on the soft curve of her waist, "Prettiest I've ever seen."

He didn't have to look at her to know that she was biting back a smile, gazing at him with a pair of heart eyes that he never grew tired of. He focused on planting his lips to the soft of her stomach, just under the line of her bra before working his way down. His fingertips grazed the thin sides of her panties, attempting to work them down her spread thighs as he kissed down her body.

It was when he started pulling down her underwear, hitting a bit of a lag with how drenched her center was that her panties clung to her form, that had Harry's breath catching. He couldn't wait to get his mouth on her.

Before he could get very far, only kissing down to her bellybutton, (Y/N) moved her hands from where they were on his shoulders to land on his cheeks. Her fingertips dipped into the curls on the sides of his head, her grip gentle as she directed him upwards.

"Just want you," she told him, curling her body in order to meet him halfway and press her lips to his in a distracting kiss.

While he was a bit disappointed to have been pulled off track, he wasn't going to argue with her if this was one of her boundaries for the night. Instead of resuming his trek down her form, he settled on parting his lips just so and allowing her tongue to tangle with his.

"Y'have me, pretty girl," he murmured into her mouth, helping pull her panties down before fitting his hips between her thighs.

His disappointment didn't last very long, not when she could feel that wetness he had been craving now pressed against the ridge of his cock. He'd taste her another night.

—————

Throwing his head back, Harry felt a dreamy smile land on his lips as he breathed out a sigh. With his eyes shuttered, he sunk further into the couch cushions with his legs spread and his pretty girl on her knees before him. His hand in her hair tightened, clumsily ensuring no stray hairs impeded her vision.

"God, sweetheart, gonna make me cum so hard," he groaned, forcing himself to peel his eyes open to get a look at her.

With her hair pulled back, Harry could see every plane of her face, every shift of her features, and flutter of her lashes. There was a shine to her eyes that always appeared whenever she dropped to her knees for him, glimmering every time she looked up at him through the fan of her lashes. Her skin was warm, cheeks and chin slicked with her own salvia and his pearly precum. Her glossy lips were snug around his cock, only the barest remains of her glitter lipgloss having survived him pushing into her mouth.

He couldn't help to moan at the sight of her, practically melting into the cushions. Widening the spread of his legs, he pushed her head down that much more with his grip on her hair. Just the very tip of her nose grazed the thatch of hair at his base. She gagged the smallest bit around him, throat contracting while tears collecting in her eyes like stars. Instinctively, Harry went to pull back, allow her space to breathe, but she stayed just where she was with her hands stationed on his thighs, nails digging into the plush skin. She paced her breathing and leveled herself out before she looked at him with her watery gaze.

"So good, sweetheart, so good" he praised breathlessly, scratching his fingers at her scalp in a soothing run, "Doing so good for me. Y'like doing this for me?"

With his mouth dropped in a gape and his breath coming out in puffs, Harry could only watch as she pulled off of him. His cock bobbed in her face, slick with her spit, a string of salvia connecting his tip to the pillow of her bottom lip. Her mouth was swollen as she looked up at him, her hands squeezing the flesh of his thighs as she shuffled forward—as if she couldn't be close enough then.

"I love it," she breathed, voice crackling, "I love making you feel good, H."

Canting his head, the beginnings of a smile touched at his features. His hands in her hair were gentle as he directed her forward just enough to press her swollen lips to his cock. "I know, pretty. Y'always make me feel so good, y'don't even know."

(Y/N) had the nerve to look up at him bashfully through the frame of her lashes as she puckered her lips against the head of his cock, kissing at him just like he taught. It was like watching his own personal performance the way she gave everything to him in order to make him happy. His own little movie star, he thought with a tense in his abdomen.

He watched as she dragged her tongue along the underside of his length, taking a moment to tongue at his balls like she knew he liked. She took him into her mouth as deep as she could all while he watched as her raptured audience.

Seeing her face slick with his arousal and blissed out, there was a part of him that wanted to pull her from his cock and to fit his head between her own thighs instead. He hadn't been able to get the thought of going down on her out of his mind since he fantasized over that wet spot on her panties days ago. He wanted to be the one with a swollen pout and slick on his cheeks; he wanted to give everything he could to her, wrap his lips around her clit and dig his tongue inside her. The thought had his cock flexing in her mouth, a blurt of more precum seeping out.

Maybe he could have both, he thought—he could have her on his face while she sucked his cock at the same time. His hands tightened in her hair at the thought, a moan of her name fell from his lips. He felt breathless when he tried to tell her as much, that he wanted to try something with her before he came.

(Y/N) seemed to be spurred on by his actions, doing that much more to make him cum down her throat. Before he could warn her, heed her to stop now before he would be too spent to do anything special for her, she readied herself with her nails digging into his thighs, taking him further. He could feel the slide of her tongue over his shaft, the closing of her throat around his tip. Where she couldn't reach, her slick hands came to take care of him.

"Sweetheart—shit—I—" he choked out, his eyes fluttering to a close despite how badly he wanted to watch her. His hand in her hair could do nothing more than tighten among the strands, every bit of his energy and attention being too spent on the coiling in his stomach.

It didn't take much for him to succumb to the pleasure she was giving, his balls drawing tight to his cock just before he felt the first spray of his cum down her throat. She gagged around him, the tight muscles drawing that much more of a reaction out of him. A melody of moans fell from his mouth, mixing with (Y/N)'s own rumbling ones he felt more than he heard. His thighs tensed on either side of her, his cum mixing with the slick saliva of her mouth.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there with his breath robbed from his lungs, flooding her mouth. By the time he had more on his mind other than how good the warmth of her mouth felt or how deeply he swore he was feeling his release, (Y/N) was doing nothing more than delicately sucking on the head of his cock, licking over his slit.

With his eyes refocusing in the present, he could see the white remains of his cum on her tongue. The sight had his cock jumping in her hand. The reaction had a small smile decorating her face before she drew away completely, looking up at him with pride despite her disheveled appearance.

"That was a lot," she quipped, her voice a bit stilted as she dropped her cheek to lay against the cuff of his knee.

A plume of laughter fell from his lips as he shook his head at her. Raking his fingers through her hair, he rolled his lips between his teeth, still thinking about the fantasy that pushed him so direly over the edge despite knowing he didn't have the energy to execute it anymore (that was thirty-five for you).

"It was, yeah," he smiled at her, curling down towards her until he was capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Jus' for you."

"Thank you," she peeped, drawing another peal of laughter from him.

"C'mere, pretty girl," he beckoned, drawing away just to welcome her onto his lap.

Careful of his softening cock, she settled on his lap with her thighs astride his hips. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into him with her eyes fluttering closed.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, dropping a kiss to the crown.

He could feel the smile blooming on her cheeks at his appreciation. "That's just as much for me as it is for you, honestly," she told him, amusement tinting her tone.

Though he was sure she was trying to get him to laugh with her, the implication had him rolling his neck until his head was thrown back against the back of the couch. His eyes shuttered as he recalled the unfulfilled vision of her sitting on his face with his mouth between her thighs. The idea made his cock ache.

God, he needed to eat her out—and soon.

—————

Harry couldn't tear his eyes off of (Y/N)'s body and the way the shimmering fabric of her dress clung to her form. The short hem fluttered around her thighs, shifting just enough as she stepped through her apartment to show off an extra inch of her skin for him to feast his eyes upon. His cock grew thick in his trousers, the fabric tightening as he attempted to keep his focus on the night's plans instead of making new ones.

"I'm almost ready. I just need to do a couple more things," she prattled as she passed him by, feet still bare with only a single earring in and her hair half done.

"Take your time," he told her, barely registering his own words as he swore he could spy the line of her panties through the fabric of her dress. He knitted his fingers together in his lap, a tactic used in hopes of keeping them to himself.

It wasn't until she passed by his spot on the couch another pair of times, looking a touch more put together with her tiny dress fluttering around her body, that he lost his fight. She had her shoes of choice in hand when she padded by him, saying something about needing a couple of more minutes when he reached out and hooked his arm around her middle. She was stopped in her tracks, looking at him with wide eyes.

"I'm almost done, I just n—"

"I know, I know," he told her, brushing her off in favor of dropping his hands to the soft give her thighs. "Just let me look at you a little. You've been running around, barely letting me see you before you're gone again—it's not fair."

Sliding his hands up the hem of her dress, he could feel the goosebumps that pebbled over her skin. The length of his fingers hit the waist of her panties, digits hooking into the line.

Pushing her hand through his hair, she canted her head. "We're already running late, H. I think Tawny's gonna be mad."

Harry shook his head, dropping a kiss to her plush thigh, his nose skimming the end of her dress. "She'll be fine. Jus' tell her I got sick and I can take care of you instead."

Peering up at her, he waited for her permission before he would take down her panties and push her dress up. She was rolling her lips between her teeth, her hand in his hair pulsing.

"We did that a couple of weeks ago, though," she murmured, an apology already swimming in her eyes.

Shrugging, Harry flexed his fingers on her hips. "They won't notice."

Releasing her glossy pout, (Y/N) offered him a soft smile before she started shooing his hands from underneath her dress. "You know they will. Let's just go, and we can leave early and come home. If you still want me, you can have me then."

Harry relented then, drawing away from her core and dropping his hands to a more appropriate station on her legs. "Alright," he petulantly sighed, reveling in the small laugh she rewarded him with, "I suppose I can wait."

"I'll make it worth your while," she promised, bending down to press her lips to his pouted ones with her hands cupping his jaw, "Let me finish and then we can go, honey."

"I'll be here," he said, sending her off with a pat to her bottom as she bent to collect her shoes from the floor.

He couldn't manage to tear his eyes from her as she padded back to her bedroom, folding his hands in his lap with his palms buzzing from her warmth.

—————

Harry's hand sat gently on (Y/N)'s thigh, his palm a cuff around the curve. Opposing his soft touch was the tick that had his jaw clenched shut. His throat bobbed every time he chanced a look at her from the corner of his eye.

Tawny's get together had been just as eventful as Harry had figured. It was full of wine glasses, "homemade" snacks (she has never learned to throw away her takeout boxes), and bubbling chatter. He learned from Sarah that she and Mitch had started talking about the possibility of babies, Tom and Jenny were going away for a month-long trip to Greece later in the year, and Charlotte was planning on hosting an open mic night at her café (and pleaded with almost everyone to get them to come so it didn't completely flop). He had been little more than (Y/N)'s accessory at times, clasping her hand in his and dutifully following her around as she flounced about and talked to anyone and everyone. He wasn't much in the mood for socializing after shoving down his desires back at her apartment—he would much rather trail behind her, getting an eyeful of her ass and the sway of her hips.

His mind hadn't drifted far from what he had been desperate to do before having to leave for Tawny's. He was eager to end the night; watching her and giving innocent touches to the small of her back or on her hand weren't enough. It was the worst when she had scooted by him when everyone had migrated to the couch, (Y/N) sidestepping around him as she used his shoulders to steady herself, leaving his face level with the soft of her tummy and just where he knew the line of her panties laid under her shimmering dress. He'd had to collect a throw blanket to drape over his lap afterwards, feigning a want to share with and warm (Y/N) when she settled at his side once again.

As much as he loved his friends and seeing (Y/N) bubble and chatter among them, by the time the two hour mark approached on their stay, he was ready to get out of there. After a slew of too-long goodbyes and a suspicious glance from Mitch, Harry had his arm around (Y/N)'s waist as they made it out the door.

That was how he found himself here, not paying enough attention to the road with his pants too tight for comfort.

"Are you okay? You're being really quiet," (Y/N) murmured by the time they pulled up to her apartment complex, her hand came to rest atop his own.

He could feel her eyes on him as he steered them towards his unofficial parking spot. "'M alright, sweetheart. Jus' really want to get y'inside."

Whatever she saw in his darkened gaze had her own features softening, a giddy smile on her lips. "Really?" she chirped, attempting a discreet glance at his lap.

His lips folded into a lopsided smile as he squeezed her thigh. He leaned across the console, leveling his gaze to hers with a brush of his nose against the bridge of her own.

"As if you didn't know," he teased, quickly pressing his lips to hers in a deft kiss before he was releasing his hold with a pat to her leg, "Now, c'mon. 'M tired of waiting."

Harry felt a little too smug when she didn't immediately follow, stuck for a moment in her spot with her eyes blown wide. Rounding the bonnet of the car, he met her at her door before she had a chance to push it open. He helped her steady on the asphalt, the point of her heels teetering on the uneven surface.

Hooking his arm around her waist, he escorted her up the open staircase leading to her apartment. With his mind occupied, thinking about the soft cotton of her panties he had felt up earlier in the night, the trek felt like nothing to him. (Y/N)'s fingers fumbled some as she unlocked her door, surely feeling the weight of his hand on her hip and the heat of his gaze tracing over her profile.

Stepping over the threshold, (Y/N) turned to Harry as he locked the door behind them, her eyes bright and a bashful smile on her lips.

"Let me take off my makeup, and ch—"

Surging forward, Harry used his grip around her waist to press her back into the wall before sealing his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. He was sure she had an idea of what she thought he wanted tonight—another replay of her splayed out on his bed with her legs spread and his cock sinking inside her—but he had a different craving that he doubted she even realized. She melted into his kiss after a lag of surprise, her hands floating up to settle on either side of his jaw. The length of her nails caught on the baby hairs bordering his hairline.

Parting his lips, Harry deepened the kiss with his tongue swiping out to draw a line along the seam of her mouth. (Y/N) didn't hesitate before matching his intensity, welcoming his tongue inside her mouth with a delicate moan. Slick sounds filled the entryway to her home, matching the parting and meeting of their lips over and over. He didn't care to be particularly composed as he doled out his affection, the twisting of their tongues messy and clumsy with how badly Harry wanted to put his mouth all over her. Every sigh she breathed in his mouth, every drag of her nails through his hair, every heave of her breasts against his chest had him crumbling that much more.

Trailing his mouth down, smearing his kiss over the curve of her chin to the line of her jaw, Harry followed all the way down the column of her throat. The lower he went, dropping towards the neckline of her dress, he could feel how heated her skin was, chest heaving as she caught her breath through kiss-swollen, saliva-slicked lips.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, feeling his pulse thrumming as he gazed up at her from his new position. A lopsided smile landed on his lips when he saw the way she looked down at him, instinctively reaching for the curls crowning his head, threading her fingers through the waves.

"W-We can go to my bedroom, an—"

Harry shook his head before she could finish. "We're going to stay right here, sweetheart."

With that, he grabbed one of her ankles and shifted to kneel in front of her. He placed her heeled foot on his bent thigh, working his fingers into the clasp that held the strappy piece around her ankle. Peering up at her through his lashes, he could see how intensely he held her attention doing nothing more than a simple task he'd done for her plenty of times over. A bit of pride had him straightening his shoulders.

He had her right where he wanted.

Shucking her shoes off, sending her back to her original height, Harry didn't make any move to get up. Despite the way she tugged at his hair, urging him to stand up and continue with the mess of kisses they had started, Harry stayed right where he was. He could kiss her for the rest of the night if she wanted, but he needed to take care of this first.

With how hard his cock was in his pants, a blurt of precum having wet the fabric of his briefs, diving between her thighs was going to be more for him than her.

Planting his mouth in a searing kiss on the plush of her thigh, he started a new expedition in adoring the rest of her body he had been so awful to ignore before. Goosebumps raised on her skin as he plucked his teeth against the soft skin. His palms skated up the curve of her legs, following the line of her form just as he had until he was edging under the hem of her dress. He dragged his lips over her thighs, never fully parting from the flesh before he pressed another languid kiss to her skin.

"Harry," she sighed the call when she felt his nose skim the fluttering edge of her dress, lifting it up with another kiss being placed on the newly-bare skin.

"Wanna take care of you, pretty girl," he murmured to her, his words dripping over her skin and down the length of her legs, "Always make me feel so good, want to do that for you now. Can I, sweetheart?"

"A-Are you sure?" she asked, eyes softened and trained only on him.

His hands plunged under her dress, landing on the waist of her underwear with his fingertips teasing the elastic. More of her thighs were put on display from the lifted fabric, but the front swath hung perfectly over her modesty, concealing her from his eyes despite his best efforts. Harry nosed at where her clit was nestled away out of his sight, feeling her hips tense under his hands.

"Been thinking about it all week, pretty girl. I think 'm very sure," he grumbled against her, "Y'can't distract me this time."

Her skin warmed, her pulse bubbling. "I just wasn't sure—you-you've never... before, so."

Harry shook his head, a frown of disappointment settling on his lips as he gazed up at her. "That's no good, huh. Haven't been very fair of me to not take care of you and eat your pretty pussy out like you deserve—especially since you're always so sweet to me, darling."

"It's okay," she told him, her bottom lip being plucked between her teeth, "I know you love me."

Harry's features softened and molded into a tender smile. This time the kiss he dropped on the bare of her thigh was made of nothing but pure affection. "I do love you—very much. Can I show you how much?"

The eager nod she gave him was the permission he needed before Harry was finally shucking her underwear down her legs. He helped her step out of the fabric before he unceremoniously stuffed them in his pocket. Settling as comfortably as he could on his knees, Harry flicked his gaze up to watch her reaction just before he pushed her dress up.

Her pussy glistened in the light, her lips puffy and soaked. Her fingers in his hair pulsed just before she widened her stance that much more, revealing more of herself to him. While it was far from the first time he'd seen all of her body, this moment felt more charged than any before.

He truly did feel bad, hearing what she said. He didn't like that she had just assumed she was one of the many that didn't believe in going down on their girlfriend, that it was something he wouldn't even try with her. The assumption was far from the truth and something he planned on banning from her mind after tonight.

Leaning forward, taking advantage of her spread legs, he planted his lips on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Can't believe I've never tasted you before, love. Y'look so sweet, you know that?"

"M-Maybe," she answered, her voice a shaky whisper from above, the heat of her gaze following his movements.

"Maybe?" he teased, skimming his lips that much higher before starting from the beginning on the opposite thigh, "Have you tasted yourself before, pretty?"

Harry was sure that if he could reach her cheeks, he would have been able to feel the heat bubbling under her skin at his question. "Um, once or twice," she sheepishly admitted.

His mouth broke into a grin at her admission. His briefs were going to be sporting quite the wet patch if she kept this up.

"I don't blame you," he mumbled into her skin, reaching the softest part just a breath away from her pussy, "I don't know how y'keep your hands off all day long. I could spend hours right here, darling."

Inhaling a heavy breath through his nose, he caught the scent of her arousal. He had a hard time dragging his eyelids open afterwards, sinking that much more into the moment.

Closing that small, teasing distance, Harry offered himself some mercy and planted his lips directly onto her clit. It was a loving kiss, his lips puckered and giving just the way they would have been had he been kissing her mouth. A small yelp left (Y/N)'s lips at the contact, her muscles bunching under his palms.

Peering up at her through the frame of his lashes, Harry pushed another budding kiss to her clit, this time watching the look on her face. He saw her eyes attempt to close, lashes kissing her cheekbones, with her mouth dropping into a small gape. A pinch appeared between her brows, the same way they always scrunched when she was attempting to concentrate on something.

The thought had the very corner of his lips plucking into a slight smile.

After planting a slew of kisses on her clit, feeling her pulse jump against him, Harry dropped his hands from her hips to slide around to the backs of her thighs. His palms cuffed the soft skin, fingertips denting into the gentle curve as he pushed her towards his face, angling her hips just so. Throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, her slit parted to match the splaying of her hips, revealing her flushed sensitivity. Her core was sticky wet, waiting for him.

(Y/N)'s breath caught at the first spread of his tongue through her slit, matching the rumbling groan that came from his chest. Harry had to fight to keep his eyes from shuttering as he sunk into the moment—into the taste of her on his buds, into the feel of her weight on his shoulder, the pulsing slickness of her opening. Something deep in his stomach was quelled finally after getting his first taste, urging him to indulge more and more now that he finally had what he wanted right in his hands. His fingers pulsed around her thighs, keeping her steady on her feet and pussy presented for him to do as he pleased.

The flat of his tongue slid through her slit over and over, collecting her wetness and reveling in the heady taste that was her before swallowing. The tip teased her hole, dipping in in hopes and catching more of her taste right from the source. He could feel (Y/N)'s toes curl behind his back, her heel pressing into his spine to urge him into giving more. He smiled around his ministrations as he zigzagged his tongue over her pussy before he focused back on her clit.

Kissing at the bud, he spoke as best he could without lifting his mouth from her cunt. "Y'taste so good, pretty. Gonna need this every single day now that I've had you," he told her, unsure if this was just dirty talk at the moment. He could imagine a good life where he started every day between her thighs and ended it the same way. His cock jumped in his trousers at the thought. "Can y'give me that, sweetheart? Your pussy every day just for me to have?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she sounded, her voice a touch shaky as she braced herself with her grip on his shoulders. "Feels re-really good, H."

Spurred on by her stuttered praise, Harry surged forward, replacing his lips with his tongue now laving over her clit. It was swollen between his lips as he gave placating sucks to the bud, (Y/N) letting out the softest mewls in response. With her thighs trembling under his hands, he dared to think that if he weren't there to prop her up or the wall offering her balance, she would have tumbled down.

He wanted to give her something worth crumbling for.

Diving down from her clit, he followed the split of her spread lips until he was tonguing at her opening. Her wetness had spread to the inside of her thighs, his cheeks, and now the tip of his nose as he wagged the flat of his tongue over her folds. It was just as he wanted her, a little messy, a little clumsy as she learned just how it felt to be taken care of by him.

Pointing his tongue, he jutted his chin against her and thrust his tongue straight inside her pussy. Her fluttering walls clenched around him, welcoming him in as if this was his cock splitting her walls open. Above him, (Y/N) had gone silent. Peeking at her, he saw her jaw slack, eyes closed, and her chest shuddering with a stunted breath. If his mouth wasn't so busy, he wouldn't have been able to hold back the smug curl of his lips.

Instead, he wriggled his tongue inside her, tracing along the ridges and curves he was so familiar with in another context. (Y/N)'s hands in his hair came alive then, tugging at his roots. He matched her intensity, stroking his tongue in and out of her hole while he used his grip on her thighs to bring her flush to his face. His cheeks were muffed by her warm thighs, chin soaked in her slick, and nose mushed against her clit.

"H-Harry, fuck," (Y/N) cried, her voice thin, "I-I—oh my god—I—"

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Harry asked, drawing away just enough to speak against her puffy folds. "I'll give it to you, jus' tell me what."

She swallowed hard, throat bobbing as she fluttered her gaze to keep in the moment. "Fi-Fingers, please."

He didn't bother to answer, instead giving into her want in a heartbeat. With the hand cupping the thigh sitting on his shoulder, Harry reached between her legs and stuffed his middle finger inside her fluttering walls. He thrusted through a handful of times before he added his index, (Y/N) keening at the addition with her head thumping against the wall.

With her shimmery dress still covering her form, every heaving breath, every shudder of her spine, every tensing of her hips was highlighted in the faux-starlight. She was a dream above him, a sheen on her skin, hair pulled back from her face as if she knew he would want to catch every minute expression she made. His own breath came in ragged puffs, but he didn't care much as he attached his mouth to her clit once more.

He drove his fingers inside her while he sucked her clit between his lips, giving those same laving licks and soft sucks that had her whimpering in the first place. Her hands in his hair were shocked into a tight, unwavering grip. Her thigh over his shoulder shifted until her calf was strapped across his back, urging him closer and closer, toes curling against the material of his shirt.

He could do this all night, but he had a feeling (Y/N)'s expiration was coming soon. The telltale sign came in the scrunch of her nose, her eyes clamping shut before she forced them open in hopes of catching every detail.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty?" he mouthed against her clit, feeling (Y/N)'s muscles bunch at the feeling of his voice vibrating around her.

A small whine crawled its way out of her throat as she nodded, her mouth in nothing more than a gape.

"Let me have it, sweetheart," he crooned, "Want you to cum on m'face so bad. Been all I could think about for the last week—don't disappoint me."

There was that trigger he knew too well. She always wanted nothing more than to be the best for him—his best girl, his perfect love, his favorite everything—she would never disappoint him. (Could never, really, as far as Harry was concerned).

All it took was a brush of Harry's fingers through her fluttering walls and particularly lingering suck of her clit before (Y/N) was crumbling above him. His name left her mouth as if in prayer, adoration and admiration soaking into the syllables. Her back arched from the wall, pushing her hips that much closer to his face. Harry didn't stop, feeling her walls pulse around his fingers, her clit pulsing between his lips. She grew especially wet, leaving him to lap it all up—just as he had wanted in his fantasies.

Aftershocks rained through her body as she came down, her muscles pulsing at every touch he gave her. It wasn't until she let out a particularly pathetic whine, her hands in his hair pushing him off, did he draw away from her.

"Too much?" he asked, voice hoarse through his swollen lips.

"Too much," she repeated in a watery voice.

His mouth and cheeks were soaked, the tip of his nose and chin also glistening in the light. His hands slid down her form, fingers cramping from how tightly he held onto her. (He hoped he both did and didn't leave any bruises on her skin; he hated thinking about her in pain, but also appreciated the thought of his mark on her).

While (Y/N) caught her breath, Harry helped ease her thigh from his shoulder, steadying her balance without his form propping her up. He fixed her dress despite there being no reason to hide after what they just did, smoothing the fabric over her hips in a soothing touch.

"Y'alright, love?" he asked, feeling a little breathless himself as he checked in on her.

"Yeah," she answered simply, her eyes having fluttered shut.

Harry smiled at her, standing to the full of his height. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he started her towards her bedroom. "Let's get y'cleaned up, yeah?"

"Yeah," she repeated. Harry's grin grew wider.

With her eyes hooded and movements lethargic, Harry guided her back to her bedroom. Flicking on the light, he deposited her on the edge of her bed. He watched with an affectionate smile as she flopped back into the mattress, arms falling above her head as she stretched out.

He left her to her quiet soothing as he stepped into her bathroom. Picking a washcloth from her collection under the sink, he wet it before running it across his face to clean up her remaining wetness. Looking at himself in the mirror, Harry could only shake his head.

His hair was a mess, raspberry lips tinted to that of a red-ripened strawberry. His cheeks were flushed, the blush reaching over the bridge of his nose and down the curve of his neck. Just as he thought, his cock was still impossibly hard in his pants, hiding a drenched spot on the front of his briefs where he had been leaking blurts of precum while tasting his girl.

Taking the damp flannel, Harry reentered her room to see her just as he left her. She wordlessly opened her thighs for him when he took up a now familiar position on his knees in front of her.

"Is it alright if I push up your dress again, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low croon in the quiet of her bedroom. "Jus' gonna clean you."

"Okay," she answered simply, lifting her hips some as he pushed up the fluttery hem.

Harry made quick work of wiping up her arousal that had dripped to the inside of her thighs and his saliva that he had spread over her intimacy. When he touched her clit, hoping it would be so fast she wouldn't notice, he earned a small hiss, her legs recoiling to close around his hand.

"Too much," she reminded him, a pout evident in her voice.

"'M sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, compounding his words with a small kiss to the cuff of her knee, "Almost done, then we'll get ready for bed. You're tired, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

He didn't waste much time finishing up, signaling he was done with a swift kiss to her hip before standing to his full height.

"I'll grab some clothes for y'to change into, then we'll cuddle up. Does that sound good?" he prattled, looking over her as she laid still stretched out.

"Wait," she stopped him, reaching her arms out for him. Harry didn't hesitate before lacing his fingers between hers, though she didn't stop before she had tugged him into laying beside her on the bed.

A plume of laughter fell from his lips, matching the dimpled smile molding his swollen lips. "What is it, huh?"

Disentangling their fingers, (Y/N) instead reached out and looped her arms around his neck. Pulling him in for an innocent kiss, she nudged her nose against his. "Thank you."

"Sweetheart, that was as much for me as it was for you. Trust me," he laughed, planting another one on her lips. Thinking back to her hesitancy before he had indulged in his fantasy, he kept her close, his expression sobering some. "But, I am sorry I made y'think I wasn't interested in doing anything like that with you. Obviously, that's far from the truth, I jus' never found the right moment, I guess. We always had something more important we wanted to do."

(Y/N)'s lips plucked into a bashful smile, surely thinking of all the other "important" things they took care of in favor of spreading her thighs open with his head.

"It's okay," she offered, looking at him with a flutter of her lashes as she dropped her eyes to his mouth, "I'm happy we cleared it up, though."

"Me too," he murmured, tipping his chin and catching her mouth in another sweet kiss.

This time (Y/N) deepened it just enough to get a taste of his tongue swiping over hers. There was no doubt she'd get a sample of what was tucked between her thighs, seeing as how Harry could still plainly taste her on his buds.

"Are you sure you're ready to go to bed?" she asked once she pulled away, shuffling that much closer to him amidst the tufts of her duvet.

"Did you have other plans?" Harry's gaze scanned over her features, not missing the way she flicked her gaze down, as if hoping she could catch a glimpse of his lap.

"Well," she started, bright eyes meeting his, "I don't know if it'd be very fair if I was the only one that got to feel good tonight." Scooting closer, she was able to lift her leg to lay over his hip, his hard cock pressing into the inside of her thigh.

"I think we could postpone sleep, right?"

Landing his hand on her waist, he pushed her to lay on her back before he laid himself over her.

She nodded up at him, attempting to bite back her smile. "I think that sounds way more fun."

It was the spark of giddy light in her eyes, the excitement hiding behind her shy smile, that had Harry's heart skipping a beat.

Staying up with her was much more fun than dreaming.

—————

thank you so much to whoever requested this esp for being so patient! sorry for any mistakes and please share any fun ideas!

1K notes · View notes

nickfowlerrr · 4 months

Text

so inviting, i almost jump in.

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.

words: 4.5k

notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.

also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞

"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.

You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.

"Before you say anything-"

"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.

"Doll,"

"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.

"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."

Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.

"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"

You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.

"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"

"Mhm...maybe," you say.

"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.

"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.

You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.

You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.

But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...

A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.

Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.

That was an immediate 'no thank you'.

You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.

The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.

You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.

You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.

There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.

"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.

"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.

"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"

"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"

He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.

"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.

You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.

"You have to come over."

"No, I really don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You're staying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.

"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I lied."

"Huh? To me? About what?"

"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."

"Another lie?"

"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.

"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.

"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.

Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.

"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.

"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.

"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.

"You had only asked me to be your fake date."

"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."

"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.

More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.

And it's surprising how normal it all feels.

You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!

Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.

You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.

You were here.

With Bucky.

So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.

The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.

"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."

You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.

Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.

This is easy for him because it means nothing.

This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.

Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...

You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.

"Oo, countdown is going!"

The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.

You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.

You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.

As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

Two.

He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.

One.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.

His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…

You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.

You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.

You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.

The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.

"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.

You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.

There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.

Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.

The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...

He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?

Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror.

Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.

You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.

You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.

"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.

"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.

"I'm sorry. About kissing you."

"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.

His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.

He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.

You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.

He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.

You walk back out into the living room as he follows.

"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.

"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"

"... I guess not."

"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."

He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"

"What are friends for if not clean up?"

He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.

He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.

"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."

"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."

"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."

"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."

"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.

Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.

Other things, of course, being you.

When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.

He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...

Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.

"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.

"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.

But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?

"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.

It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.

Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...

You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.

You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.

You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.

"I guess I'll head out, then."

"Oh," he breathes.

"Oh?"

"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."

"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.

Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.

"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."

"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.

"What's your resolution?" he asks.

"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."

"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."

"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.

"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.

You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.

"And you?"

Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.

"I…would like to communicate better."

You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.

"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.

As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.

"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."

You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.

It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.

"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."

"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.

"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.

Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.

"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.

Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.

"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.

He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.

"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.

It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.

You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #neighbor!bucky x reader #neighbor!bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x plus size reader #ciwywt #bucky x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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marvelfilth · 14 days

Text

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #family dinner

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daosies · 2 months

Text

the only exception

alhaitham doesn't feel particularly attached towards many things.

one thing he does seem to feel very strongly about, however, is you.

alhaitham ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is not traveler, lovesick alhaitham

note: i woke up one day and was suddenly feeling romantical for alhaitham...

"you want to know what alhaitham likes?" kaveh asks, disbelieving.

"yeah!" paimon exclaims. "paimon needs all the details. like, what does he do outside of work, since he's so eager to get away?"

kaveh shivers at the thought. "well, he goes to read some books i guess. i don't really know what he does."

"you're his roommate!" paimon yells, upset. "how could you not know?!"

"hey, i have things to do! i'm in high demand, okay?" kaveh retorts, flailing his hands around for emphasis in a futile attempt to defend himself. in a fit of desperation, he stands up, a determined expression on his face as he glances around the cafe.

he sits back down, with a newfound resolve, once he realizes that alhaitham is nowhere to be seen.

"fine, i'll tell you what he does. but you can't tell anyone, okay? he'll get super mad at me. and i'm sick and tired of him when he's mad! especially when it's about—"

kaveh pauses midsentence, his mouth hanging agape as the color drains from his face. his lips begin to tremble a little, his hands becoming clammy as he wipes them against the side of his pants.

"u-uh, well," he trails off, averting his gaze from the traveler who leans slightly over the desk. "s-so, w-what i was saying was..."

"hm," a new voice interjects. lumine glances up, noticing alhaitham, in all of his glory. she scrutinizes him intensely, observing the way he crosses his arms, a scowl forming on his face as he glares at the architect with disdain.

his hair looks neater, she notes. usually, alhaitham's hair is messy—he once told her that he doesn't have the need to maintain it properly.

today, however, pearl strands are tucked neatly around his face, framing his pale skin in a way that resembles a sculpture. today, alhaitham looks otherworldly—not necessarily because of his unusual appearance, but rather, the way he looks over his shoulder, his monotone expression suddenly blossoming with color.

when alhaitham looks at you, it's as if there are stars racing across his eyes. his lily green eyes are fixated on you, reflecting your silhouette in their irises with a certain familiarity, a certain adoration. the frown on his lips begins to give way, revealing a dreamy, almost luminous look.

"[name],"—oh, and when he says your name, his voice drops to a gentle, soothing timbre—"let's go somewhere else."

lumine thinks that alhaitham looks unlike himself. because what she knows of him is a calculating, logical grand sage who would rather forfeit the world than have to work another day in his life. she knows him as someone who cares only for himself, not because he's selfish, or because he's egoistical, but because in this dog-eat-dog world, that's the only way to survive.

but when he looks at you, alhaitham's expression melts. all sense of logic evades him, because despite his existence revolving around rationality and consistency, he looks as if he's overwhelmed by a foreign emotion. a warm emotion. alhaitham, with you, looks as if he's going beyond himself, beyond everything.

(in this dog-eat-dog world, alhaitham thinks that caring for others is futile. he thinks that, in the midst of it all, the only thing he can account for is himself.)

(when he's with you, however, that changes.)

because the way he leans in towards you, and the way he speaks to you—in a soft, tender tone—is above him. suddenly, his limited world expands, and colors begin to glimmer with a revitalized hue. alhaitham's world, which was once walked and occupied only by himself, grows a little. it makes way for two.

his hand rests gently on your shoulder, finding familiarity in the feeling.

lumine knows that something is up, that something in you—or something about you—changes the way he behaves. because the alhaitham she knows would never initiate physical contact with anyone.

but the alhaitham you create, the alhaitham that exists in your mere presence, is someone else. the alhaitham that calls your name speaks to you in a voice that has no resemblance to the blunt tone he usually takes. the alhaitham that looks at you, the alhaitham that perceives you is unlike the one that lumine knows.

because in your presence, she thinks that alhaitham resembles a lover. he emanates you, radiating and glowing and prevailing like a wild light, stretching far across the limitless sky and fragmenting just to catch a wisp of your gaze.

(or a breath, or a fraction of your colossal existence. anything will do.)

"what's wrong with this place, though?" you ask, brushing your hand against his. lumine notices this. she glances at the sage, who doesn't seem to mind the contact. if anything, he leans even more towards you, as if your touch had seized a star.

"yeah, that's right!" paimon interjects. "what's wrong with this place, huh?!"

alhaitham, who doesn't even bother to spare the floating fairy a glance, opts to observe your expression, pausing for but a moment to decide what answer would please you the most.

lumine never thought alhaitham would consider someone's feelings before responding. seeing this, however, she supposes that there's a first for everything.

"nothing," he states firmly.

"all of your friends are here too, alhaitham!" you say, gesturing towards kaveh (who is in the midst of an out-of-body experience) and lumine.

"nice to meet you," lumine introduces herself kindly, "[name], right?"

"yeah!" suddenly, you pull a notebook out from your pocket, ushering it towards the traveler as you offer her a pen.

"can i get your autograph?" you ask, though it seems more like a demand.

"hey, how come you never ask for mine?" kaveh questions, suddenly coming back to life. he's silenced as soon as alhaitham glares at him. when the sage's gaze returns to you, however, that look of momentary fury dissipates; he finds comfort in your existence, his spot in the universe etched perfectly by your side.

"i need autographs that can sell," you reply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"plenty of people would buy my autographs!" kaveh exclaims, hurt. "what do you mean they need to sell, anyway? isn't just having my autograph enough?"

"things without immediate or material value are useless," alhaitham states.

"hah! don't say that when you're so obviously—" kaveh is cut off by alhaitham's death-glare. the architect, resigned to his fate, sits quietly in his seat, his back straightened perfectly as he folds his hands on his lap.

"so obviously...?" paimon echoes, tilting her head. lumine sighs in exasperation while you're cradling the traveler's autograph in your arms, fantasies beginning to materialize all around you.

i could sell this for one million mora. no, two million mora, you think, staring at the flimsy piece of paper. and then i could buy a huge mansion in the middle of the city and—

alhaitham flicks your forehead gently, an unreadable expression painting his features.

"nobody's going to buy that for two million," he remarks. your mouth hangs slightly agape.

"how do you know that?"

he shrugs.

lumine observes the sage under the warm cafe lights. he cradles your image in the center of his eyes, the beholder of what is most beautiful. alhaitham stares at you, taking your figure and slipping it away into his irises, imprinting it into his mind, letting it coexist with him for eternity.

when he stares at you, lumine thinks he's about to melt away into the warmth of the lanterns, the warmth of your existence. when he stares at you—which alhaitham often does—he sheds his tiny world and metamorphosizes into a lover, completely void of all the logic and rationale he lives his life by.

he says things without immediate or material value are useless, lumine thinks, but look at him.

you tuck the traveler's autograph into your pocket, and alhaitham rests his hand on your lower back, as if it were made to be there. when you bid her and kaveh a friendly farewell, alhaitham doesn't even care to spare either of them a glance, his gaze belonging wholly to you.

and when you tell kaveh that you'll get his autograph later, alhaitham scowls. he doesn't say anything to you, but the look he sends towards the architect is enough to suppress any ideas the blonde might be getting.

and when you leave, alhaitham trails after you, yearning. lumine never thought that alhaitham would willingly take his headphones off in public, much less follow after someone with such determination. when you walk, alhaitham is intent on matching your strides, desperate to exist in the same scale as you, the same life as you.

"alhaitham was acting really weird just now..." paimon mumbles, scratching her head. "he had a weird look. like, he wasn't as mad as usual!"

kaveh shivers. "don't say that. if anything, i think he's madder than usual. well, i guess that's what love does to someone."

"what?!" paimon yells.

"ugh, don't make me go in-depth. he's so embarrassing, that guy! how could he act like that and still not confess anything to [name]? also, [name] is way too good for a guy like him. i hope they reject him once he does confess," kaveh rants, waving his hand dismissively.

"alhaitham likes [name]?!" paimon repeats, as if it weren't obvious enough.

"oh, not just like. he loves them. end of story. let's talk about something fun," kaveh replies.

"no, no!" paimon stomps the air. "we need to know more about this now!"

lumine, albeit quiet, nods alongside the floating fairy. kaveh groans.

"you guys wouldn't get it... alhaitham like this isn't anything cool. if anything, he's even worse. to everyone except [name], of course."

"is he going to confess?" paimon asks. "how long has he liked [name]?"

"eventually, maybe. but he's a puny guy and he's afraid of rejection, and he can't tell if [name] likes him back. he's got all those brains for nothing," kaveh says, "and he's liked them for a while. since the akademiya, maybe...?"

"what do you mean maybe?!"

"i told you, i'm in high demand! i have better things to do than to worry about alhaitham's love life!"

"alhaitham's love life?" a bystander suddenly echoes. kaveh stiffens up immediately, his vermilion eyes growing wide with fear and shock.

"oh, yeah," lumine quickly interjects, "his love life with the books."

"haha, of course!" the bystander exclaims, believing the traveler without a second thought. "how is it possible for the acting grand sage to be any other way? he is wedded to those books, indeed!"

kaveh, lumine, and paimon all exchange knowing glances.

clearly they haven't seen alhaitham with you yet.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham #al haitham x reader

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chaethewriter · 1 year

Text

You're dead to me [3]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, barely proofread, a lot of awkward tension cause Neytiri and humans + reader being in conflict, terrible na'vi sentence.

Word count: 3,8k

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A superior of you recommended you to Norm, a human scientist in an avatar body that went against the RDA a decade ago. He lives close to the war, which means close to the Omatikaya. This means you were going to face your father, the man you really didn't want to see. It wasn't that big of a shock to you when you were told that you were going to the front lines. You were always preached about for being one of the best warriors, you saw it coming. Both Raja and Seb were also ranked as one of the best warriors among your group, so it was fortunate you could at least be close to your friends if you were to break down. Yet you weren't planning to do that. Deep inside you yearned for him, wanting to jump into his arms the moment you see him and call him daddy again, but another side of you told you to keep quiet about it. Let him figure it out on his own. Act like you don't care and show him what you became. Was it the mature way? No, definitely not. But you threw your childhood away to become a warrior, being childish every now and then shouldn't hurt too much. And I mean, they had your files. The information of you potentially being Jake Sully's kid was out in the open for the higher-ranked to see, so whether he was interested enough in getting to know his soon-to-be acquaintances or not, the choice of figuring out you are his babygirl is really up to Jake Sully himself. It's not like he would notice it by looking at your face, your mask wasn't see-through and covered half of your face. Besides that, you look different than what you looked like over a decade ago. So here you were, in this helicopter with Raja and Seb on your way to the Omatikaya clan, adrenaline rushing through your veins as Raja kept her grip on your forearm.

Jake Sully held his wife in his arms as he begged her to accept the help that is supposed to get to home tree soon. Norm already told him weeks ago that the resistance was coming soon. He didn't know what he meant, unaware of the things that were happening on earth. He was explained how earth was in an uproar, divided into three groups: with the RDA, against the RDA, or being neutral. Information was leaked about the RDA's doings, how they were sending humans to Pandora to kill the natives. History repeats itself. From killing their own kind centuries ago to killing a different species on a different planet. Norm told him how he was in contact with a huge resistance party on planet earth, one that was open for it to directly take action, how they wanted to send their trained warriors to Pandora to end the wrongdoings of mankind and keep the RDA away or any human that was a potential enemy to Pandora and its nature. Young warriors that just finished their training, choosing to fight for someone else's freedom rather than living a safe life on earth. Safe as in not getting attacked then, because planet earth is definitely dying. Jake could appreciate this selfless decision, whether some may be in it for the paycheck or just an act of kindness, all of them were there to help. He was hoping Neytiri could see it like this too, they were here to help fight against their own kind. Jake's pleading eyes couldn't make Neytiri decline, so with a loud hiss she agreed, "fine, but I'm coming with you. If they make one wrong move I'm going to pierce an arrow through their skulls, ma Jake." Her tone sounded annoyed, but she couldn't help but lean into his touch.

Even though Neytiri agreed to accept help from the sky demons, she was against the idea to bring those demons directly to high camp. It was that feeling all over again, when Jake betrayed her and the RDA came to destroy their past home, home tree. She was scared for her people, for her children. Jake could understand where she was coming from and agreed with Norm through his throat microphone to meet at the lab instead. His children were listening from afar and Tuk jumped out of their hiding spot, much to Neteyam's, Loak's and Kiri's dismay. "Are we going on an adventure?", giggles left her lips as she jumped towards her mother, her arms wrapping around her waist. Her chin was pressed against her mom's hip as she looked up at her with sparkles in her eyes. Kiri smacked herself against the forehead as their little sibling ran towards her parents. The three got out of their hiding spot, Neteyam walking in front as he was ready to confront his father, "sir I-" he started, but was immediately cut off as Jake spoke over his voice, "Neteyam I need you to come with your mom and me. We are retrieving guests, sky people. This will be part of your Olo'eyktan training." Jake's tone was fierce as he spoke to his son, treating his own blood as nothing but a warrior. Neteyam pursed his lips as he nodded his hand in response, "yes sir." was all he had left to say. Loak groaned as he felt left out of the situation. He wanted to go on an adventure too, and spend time with his father. "What about me? Why can't I come?" He didn't hide the disappointment in his tone as he asked his questions, mainly directing them to his father. "I need you to stay here and take care of Kiri and Tuk." Kiri then decided to chime in on the conversation, planning to get more information on the current situation, "what is this all about dad? They're going to help us, but what are they exactly?" Jake sighed in response as he brought his hand to his forehead. It was no use hiding anything, they would get to know the truth eventually. So he just decided to tell them everything he knew from Norm.

Everything comes to light after all.

Jake Sully prepared himself for their departure. Hunter's knife strapped to his hip and his throat microphone attached as always, in case Loak gets into trouble yet again. "Ma Jake? Are you ready soon? My mother would like to see you as well before we do." Neytiri called from outside their family pod. "Almost almost, I'll get to her tent soon." Jake was frantically looking around the pod as he spoke. He was looking for his good luck charm. Childish one may call it, but it made him feel at ease during these stressful times. There it lay, the thing he was looking for, under one of the woven carpets. He picked the round charm up, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he tried to open the lock. His heart pounded into his throat as he did so, struggling to open it because of his much bigger hands. He was delusional, scared to lose it. He breathed out when he came face to face with your cute baby face, all smiling and giggling. "Thank Eywa," he mumbled to himself and tied to chain to the handle of his knife. When Jake Sully opened the flap that separated the inside of the pod from the outside world he came face to face with Neytiri, "Mo'at wants to see me?" She responded with a nod as her head nodded to the healer's tent, "she wanted to speak to you, she told me." He wondered what that could be about. He wasn't injured or suffering from any illnesses, so what could have possibly happened? Jake Sully nodded his head before speaking up, "I still don't think it's a good idea that you come." Neytiri crossed her arms at his words, "Ma Jake, I need to see what kind of people are about to enter my clan." And with that, she walked away. A sigh left his lips since he knew things would not turn out too well. He stepped towards Mo'at's tent. Time to find out why she needed him, as he entered the tent Mo'at was supposed to be at. "Ah, Jake Sully. I was awaiting you." She motioned for him to come in and he followed her order. He awkwardly stood next to her as she busied herself with her herbs, "Eywa has spoken to me. It has to do with you, Jake Sully." His ears twitched in curiosity, motioning for her to continue speaking. "You are about to be in a huge conflict. Hearts will break and tears will stream. You mustn't give up as Eywa has spoken to me this needs to happen for you to continue forward, so don't back down, Jake Sully." This just confused him, what conflict? Does this have to do with the arrival of the resistance? Is this about the RDA? But he doesn't dare ask, because he knows the Tsahik can't get into detail. His gaze is focused on the herbs the Tsahik is mixing up into medicines. Was it to distract herself from this conversation? He didn't know what else to say, but there is one thing he dared to ask, "when will this happen?"

"Way sooner than you will ever expect, Jake Sully."

"Your codename is Buttercup?" Norm looked at Seb in disbelief as the guy in question just shook his head, "I was forced, this is a crime." The three of you were talking about yourselves to Norm as Norm listened carefully. Raja giggled at the embarrassment of her friend, "so there used to be this cartoon I found in one of my great grandma's old boxes. It was called the Powerpuff girls. It is about three sisters that fight against crime and we needed codenames, so I forced (Y/N) and Seb to match with me." This made Norm realize how the three trained warriors in front of him were actually still kids at heart. Of course he knew that they were young, but this just showed how much they missed out on beings kids. You chuckled at the conversation and shrugged, "I mean, my codename is Blossom so it's not too bad, not like being a buff dude and getting called Buttercup. Raja's fits hers, bubbles. It fits her bubbly personality." Seb continued complaining about how it was two against one and that he couldn't escape from his codename being Buttercup. "We are here," Norm commented and you felt the nerves go through your body once again, your grip on your katana so hard your knuckles turned lighter. As the helicopter lowered, you looked outside the window and there you saw three blue figures standing next to one another close to a facility in the middle of the forest. There he was. Your dad. Standing all high and mighty and he was so tall. He looked so different, yet still the same. You noticed certain features that just made him look like your dad. You wished you were a little kid again. If it was little you in your place right now, she wouldn't have given a damn. Would've run up to him and told him who you were as you would have jumped into his arms. But you grew up, full of anger and pain. You pursed your lips as you watched him talk with his mate and son, silently wishing it was you there, by his side as he had a proud look on his face. You had an intense conflict within yourself. Why did you have to be such a tryhard? If you slacked off, you could have been chilling with the other warriors that were spread around the other forest clans. Yet, this was something to be proud of. You did this on your own, you should prove yourself to them, to him. But were you ready for this confrontation? All this inner dialogue made your head hurt. You had to stop fighting the thoughts in your head and focus, because you were getting lost in your thoughts a lot. That wasn't acceptable, not on a battlefield. Once the helicopter landed, Norm was the first to step out of the helicopter, followed by Seb, Raja and you. When the three of you stood in a line you were standing right in front of the Na'vi: Seb in front of Neteyam, Raja in front of Neytiri, and you in front of Jake Sully right in the middle. As if Eywa herself wanted this to happen, wanting the two of you to reconnect. He analyzes you from head to toe, his gaze burning into your skin making you push your mask further into your skin. You wanted to crawl into a cave right there and then.

"Oel Ngati Kameie," the three of you say in unison as you brought your hand towards your forehead, dropping it slowly to the height where your chest is at. The na'vi in front of you do the same na'vi greeting, before Jake Sully switched to English, "I, Jake Sully, Welcome you to Pandora, I can speak for everyone of the Omatikaya clan that we are very thankful for your arrival and your help." His English sounded rusty, but understandable when you haven't been using it for the past decade. Your eyebrows raise at his English, "we understand Na'vi. Pxoeng nolume Na'vi." You spoke to your dad through your mask and you could see the surprise on his face. It made you smile, he looked proud. Fortunately, the mask covered your mouth, otherwise, everyone could have seen your happy expression. Norm chimed into the conversation, "These three are the best warriors of their group. (Y/N), Seb and Raja, all scored fantastically on their physical exams. Six years ago, these warriors left just a few weeks before RDA's departure. We got a few weeks to plan out a raid against their new forces." Everyone nods in unison and you glance at your dad once again, locking eyes with him, since he was already looking at you.

Jake's eyes widen at that name. It was a name he didn't hear in so long. He thought of his babygirl, wondering what you could be doing right now. Did you graduate? Have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Was he a grandfather? He got so overwhelmed at the thought of you. He missed you so much. His little girl, who is probably not so little now. Regret and guilt fuels his body as he remembers that he was the one to leave you and never return to earth. How he hoped to see your face again. Come and live here with him on Pandora, was that a selfish thought?

Norm took out a form and cleared his throat, making Jake Sully wake up from all his thoughts, "Jake, the warriors first need to do this checkup before they can get to work, resistance orders," he passes him the map with your files and your heart immediately dropped to your stomach. You knew he was about to get your last name eventually, but on the first day? You don't know if you can do that. "This was supposed to be my task, but I trust that you can do this, oh great Olo'eyktan? Max is researching something and he urgently needs my help with it." Great Norm, just great. Eywa, is this your doing? Because you would rather wish she takes you to her right this instant. "You can trust me with this, Norm." Jake flashes him a grin. "Don't lose it and I really mean that," Norm's gaze reaches the three of you once again, he almost looks worried, "I read the checkup, good luck, because as a scientist I could never." And to the lab he went.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Seb raised his eyebrows in concern and his eyes glanced at the map your father was holding. Neytiri has been quiet this entire time as well as Neteyam. Both were weary ever since they met you three, like mother, like son. Everyone could notice the tension, it would have made Jake's arm hair stand if he had any. "Okay, let's see what we have here.. Pretty.. gruesome.." Neteyam was looking over his dad's shoulder, frowning at all of them, "sir, is this normal for humans?" Again, you raise your eyebrows and you couldn't stop the next words you say from coming out of your mouth, "you call your father 'sir'? What is this, an army?" Raja widens her eyes, as well as Seb. Neytiri hisses your way in defense, Jake putting his arm out in front of her as to not make her pounce in you, but you don't flinch. You just looked at your father in disbelief at how he was treating his own son. It was awfully quiet as Jake didn't know what to reply. Your hard gaze on him made him feel something, guilt? Pain? He couldn't describe it, but he felt weird in some way. Luckily, Norm came back in his human body, clear mask on his face, "false alarm, he already got help from the other scientists and everything is go- what the hell happened here?" Norm could feel the tension in his bones as he watched the six of you. You were the first to speak up, "nothing is wrong here. So you will do our checkup right?" You walked towards your father, gripping the file map out of his hands and handing it over to Norm. Everyone's jaws drop to the ground and Neytiri drew her hunter's knife, "you sky demon I knew you couldn't be trusted! Such disrespectful behavior!" Jake takes a hold of his mate. They couldn't fight, not now. Neytiri needed to get out of here before blood was about to be drawn. "Ma Neytiri please, it's fine, could you please check up on Loak?" The tension was unbearable for Jake Sully. His eyes pleaded for himself to handle this. The grip on her knife loosened as she hissed again. Neteyam stepped towards his mother as his hand wrapped around hers, the one she was gripping the knife with, "mother please, please trust father." He himself had doubts about these humans, but it looked like his dad trusted them, so he should at least try right? As future Olo'eyktan. Looking into her son's eyes, she felt herself calm down as she lowered her knife, attaching it to her hip. She put her hand on Neteyam's cheek for a second before pulling her hand away. Once again, she threw a glance at you. "I'm watching you." She sent you a hiss as a warning and crept back into the forest. Great, you have a bad relationship with your dad's mate. Maybe this was for the best after all. Jake sighed, he shouldn't have taken Neytiri with him even after all her demands. With sky people she just met it was bound to go like this.

After that awkward ordeal, Neteyam led everyone to an open field in the forest. With your dad's gaze still lingering on your body, you decided to try and ignore it. Easier said than done. You yearned for your dad, but you couldn't give in. Neteyam and Jake stood to the side as the three of you started stretching in the conveniently open field that was formed into a circle. "The checkup is about strength, focus, and speed. You need to fight one vs one hand-to-hand combat battles against one another without masks on."

"Without masks?! Are they out of their mind?!"

"Do you expect an answer or?"

"No I don't!"

Seb and Raja continued their daily bickering as always, but your mind was completely somewhere else. Jake seemed to notice this, as he walked towards you. He had this urge to comfort you. Could it be, because you had the same name as his daughter on earth? Maybe, but maybe if he took care of you, he could feel at peace again. He sat on his knees and put his hand on your shoulder, making you look his way. "I'm sorry for my mate, she can be very protective of me," he softly spoke to you, "and I don't blame you, you woke up after 6 years and your entire life is upside down. I understand." You pursed your lips at his words. Why was he being so soft to you? You couldn't stand it, not when he spoke like that, reassuring you like that. You didn't reply, you just gave him the shoulder as you stepped away from his grip. This just made him even more confused as his chest hurt, did he do something wrong when he met you? Was he staring at you a little too long? Did his gaze offend you?

"We will do three rounds and in those three rounds, you need to put your enemy down for ten seconds to win."

"Let's dance then, shall we?"

And those words you spoke, felt awfully familiar to Jake Sully.

Neteyam Sully watched in awe as you fought the final round against Seb. Your mask was on the ground as you pounced on the much taller guy. He tried to lock your legs with his to make you lose your balance, which would have given him an advantage, but you punched him in the face with your fist, making his mouth open and gasp for air. In his moment of panic, you used it to knock him face-first into the dirty mossy ground, keeping his head on the floor as you twisted his arm. You sat right on his back as you used your knee on his neck to keep him down, the other weighing on his lower back and arm. You gasped for air as you saw blurry, listening to Norm count to ten was honestly something. It sounded like he counted to a hundred in slow motion. When he yelled the word ten, you quickly got off your friend, crawling towards your mask. Jake wanted to run up to you to help you, but Norm told him to stop and that this was what you were supposed to do in a real battle if it would ever happen that you lose your mask. You quickly took your mask in your hand and put it on your face with a shaky hand, gasping for the oxygen you needed. You coughed loudly as you sat on your knees with your hands on the ground. Jake rushed towards you and put his arm around you, rubbing your back with his free hand, "are you okay?" worry in his tone as he spoke. Your eyes widen at the familiar hug. The warmth of his arms as he used to hold onto you as you snuggled against him in your sleep. But you couldn't. You held onto his hand, letting the touch linger your skin before you pushed it away, "I'm good, yes." You stood up and walked towards Norm, not looking back at him once.

Just what was it with you?

And why did it hurt how you treated him?

A/N: I was lowkey insecure about posting this part 3 fr, idk if I liked it. I kept adding and adding details in the hope I would feel better about it, so here's a longer part than usual. Hope you enjoyed it. Pls tell me what you think. <3

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@hoodiepandaninja16 @l0v3e1i @neteyamforlife @noname2246 @littlelia007 @j0551 @navs-bhat @fyfy-world @hellok1ttycake @lwozy @n1ght5h4d3-24 @kahlowy @iloveavatar @farleyis @reguluscrystals @inomoikawa @bobojojoba69 @eternallyvenus @imakms @alice121804 @aimsro @carollise @jjkclub @onlytays @yeosxxx @dakotali @degenweeb @sunshinewwx @sassy-persona @ggeveryone99 @calums-betch @voniikg @jakesullys-bitch @answer-the-sirens @ilovebluesliens @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @crazy4books1 @kitkat1690 @iikatsukii @666yourmomdotcom @ssc7514 @nhloversblog @eatassskatefast12 @mizuki80 @makeup-stuff-and-such @ayanies @n3t3y4msm4t3 @tigresslily @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @mangolog

#jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad! jake sully #jake sully #jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #sully family x reader #sully family #neteyam x reader #neteyam

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yumeka-sxf · 1 month

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Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 1

This is a post series I've been planning for a while and I've finally had the time to complete part 1! 😃 I may have mentioned here before that I got my B.A. in Japanese/East Asian Studies, and even though I'm not fluent, I know the linguistics of the language fairly well. So I thought it would be fun to examine the interesting aspects of the Japanese version of the SxF manga that aren't reflected in the English translation. It might also be an informative experience for those who don't know any Japanese to learn a bit about the language through SxF! I'll try not to get too technical with the linguistics and keep my explanations at a beginner's level.

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Part 1 - Twilight's "honne and tatemae"

One of the main themes in SxF is how many of the characters have secrets they want to hide, so they act a certain way in front of others in order to mask their true selves. Japanese has a word for this phenomena called 本音と建前 ("honne and tatemae").

I remember learning about the concept of "honne and tatemae" during my Japanese college studies – a quick google search will yield a lot of publications on the topic and its relation to Japanese culture in particular. While the idea of hiding one's true intentions behind a fake facade can exist anywhere and is not something unique to Japan, it is enough of an occurrence in Japanese culture that there are specific words for it. The Wiki article has a basic but good definition of honne and tatemae, to quote:

A person's honne may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne. In many cases, tatemae leads to outright telling of lies in order to avoid exposing the true inward feelings.

Sounds very much like the characters in SxF, doesn't it? Twilight especially, because unlike other characters like Yor and Anya, who simply have secrets they need to keep but don't create fake personas for themselves, Twilight does – the cheerful, friendly Loid Forger is a different person from the cold, calculating Twilight after all. Also unlike Yor and Anya, who speak the same way consistently no matter who they're talking to, Twilight uses different speech levels depending on which persona he's using and who he's talking to.

There are many different levels of speech in Japanese, ranging from super formal to totally crude. These speech levels are distinguished mostly by the pronouns the speaker chooses to use for themselves and who they're speaking to, as well as how they choose to conjugate the words they use. For example, 座ってください (suwatte kudasai), 座って (suwatte,) and 座れ (suware) all mean "sit," as in, telling someone to sit down. But the tone being conveyed is different: the first one is polite, the second one is casual, and the last one could be seen as rude if you're not using it with a close friend/family member.

As Twilight, he uses casual speech with the masculine and less polite pronoun 俺 or オレ (ore). This is the speech he uses when talking to a fellow spy like Fiona, and for his own inner thoughts.

As Loid Forger, he uses the polite 敬語 (keigo) speech, which is basically comprised of using the -ます (-masu) conjugation for verbs and the "to be" verb です (desu). He also uses the pronoun ボク or 僕 (boku), which is the standard male pronoun and more polite than "ore." He uses keigo to address pretty much everyone who doesn't know his true identity. When talking to a higher-up like Sylvia, he'll still use "ore" but will use polite speech instead of casual speech.

Anya is an exception to this: with her, he uses his most casual speech, the same as he uses with Franky.

I discussed a bit about this in part 24 of my Twiyor analysis posts, but this could be because Anya is a little kid, so he doesn't feel the need to put on any airs with her (same with Bond, whom he also uses casual speech with).

An interesting side note is that, as a child, Twilight used the pronoun "boku" but then changed to "ore" as soon as he became an adult/soldier.

Another aspect of keigo, besides using the more polite forms of pronouns and verb conjugations, is putting the honorific さん (san) after people's names. Twilight does this all the time with Yor, as she does with him. However, he switches to casual speech and drops the "san" part in her name when addressing her in front of people who (supposedly) believe they're a real married couple, such as Yuri and Fiona – because it would be weird for a real couple who have been married for a year to address each other in such a formal way, especially the husband. In the below panel when Fiona visits them, he's calling her "Yor" instead of "Yor-san" and using casual speech instead of keigo.

Oddly in these situations, while he uses just "Yor" when addressing her directly, he still calls her "Yor-san" when talking about her. During Yuri's first visit for example, he calls her "Yor-san" when telling Yuri how much Anya loves her (talking to someone about her) but then calls her just "Yor" a few moments later when telling her that he'll clean up the spill (talking to her directly). It's strange to me that he wouldn't just consistently use "Yor" whether he's talking to her or about her in these situations...I'm honestly not sure if he does this intentionally or if he just slips up since he's so used to using "Yor-san" in her presence.

*UPDATE* Thank you to @dentedintheworld-blog for enlightening me with the below reply about this!

"In Japanese, when speaking to your spouse's family about your spouse, you address her/him by attaching "san" her/his name out of respect for her/his family. This is also to show her/his family that you respect your spouse. That's why Loid calls Yor with san when he talks about how much he loves Yor to Yuri."

That definitely makes sense for why Twilight switches between "Yor" and "Yor-san" in these situations.

Regardless, this is why the scene in chapter 86 is so significant – when Yor isn't present, there's no reason for him to refer to her as "Yor-san," especially in front of a fellow spy like Fiona who knows he (supposedly) shouldn't have any feelings for her. Yet, even after he just called Yuri by his full name "Yuri Briar" a moment before, he doesn't do the same for Yor and continues to call her "Yor-san" here, much to Fiona's dismay.

In the same chapter, it's also significant that he uses "ore" when addressing Yor directly in his thoughts. Even though he's not speaking out loud, I believe this is the first time he's speaking directly "to" her as Twilight and/or his true self and not as Loid Forger.

But despite all this, I think that both Loid Forger and Twilight are tatemae…they're both masks to hide the person he truly is. The person who fondly talked about his mother to Yor on the park bench, the person who genuinely expressed gratitude for her sacrifice when leaving the resort island, the person who refused to kill Yuri in a life-or-death struggle because he knew it would hurt her…that's his actual honne. But of course, the ongoing conflict of the series is that he has yet to realize this. He won't even show his honne to his closest friend, Franky. Seems like it mostly comes out in dribs and drabs during his interactions with Yor...no surprise there, lol. The man is certainly a work in progress. When he finally starts letting his "honne" show, I'm curious what form of speech he'll adopt.

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Continue to Part 2 ->

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #loid forger #twiyor #sxf spoilers #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf analysis

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notscarsafe · 3 months

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OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 10 #hermitcraft s10 #mythicalsausage #hc s10 #new hermit speculation

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mechaknight-98 · 2 months

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No Return (NSFW) FT: Sakura Miyawaki

Authors note: Sakura is hot and likes the nerdy stuff I like, but she is also an exceptionally talented idol who deserves all of the best and one of my top biasses. I just didn't know what to write for her until this popped in my head

Part II

I sat down to play Warframe with my friend “FearlessKura98” She was waiting for me despite the time difference. I was a bit early so the typical hour we usually played together was extended.

“Yo kkura what's up.” I greet her in Japanese when I see her name pop up on the voice chat.

“Oh Daigo you're Japanese sounds so good now,” she replies in English. I smiled and replied “So does your English Kkura.” there was silence but I assumed it was just due to Kkura smiling. As you set up you hear a massive crash.

“What was that?” Kkura asked

“I don't know but I'll be right back,” I say to Kkura.

“Daigo be careful,” Kkura responded.

“Will do Kkura,” I say. I get up and walk outside to a very different world than before

3 years later.

I sat on the plane to Tokyo anxiety stricken. A kaiju could attack at any time and the defense force had consistently proven itself to be “unreliable.”

I was going under the code name Juzo to help a recently established Kaiju strike team; that was having trouble with the new batch of EVO kaiju that had been popping up lately. I was unsure of my effectiveness but the chance to visit Japan with no other strings attached was too much of an opportunity to miss so Otrimi and I made the flight. It was a long flight and upon landing both Otrimi and I were certainly restless but hey we got there safely. At the airport, Otrimi and I were picked up by a pretty brunette.

“Hi Juzo San.” the young lady said

“Hello Mrs…”

“Oh call me Sakura.” the young lady said. I nod and we follow her into a nearby car. Otrimi walks over to Sakura who immediately falls for his charms. “Oh, who's a good boy? Sit.” she says as she pets him “his fur is so soft.” she adds as she turns to me

“Hey Juzo-san what's his name?”Sakura asks.

“Otrimi,” I answer

“O-Tri-Mi?” she asked she nods

“You're English is Good,” I say to her.

“Thanks!” she said elated, “my friend I used to play games with helped me,” she added.

“Oh, that's how I learned Japanese,” I reply with a bemused tone as we get into the car. Otrimi took the back. His tail wagging happily. Sakura raised an eyebrow and then switched to her maternal tongue.

“Oh really?” Sakura asks

“Yeah my skills are lackluster but I can somewhat read and write it,” I respond

“Well, you sound good. You have a bit of a Kagoshima dialect like me but whoever taught you did a good job” Sakura says with a smile.

“Thanks” I reply.

As we drove I remembered she said she played Games

“You Sakura. You mentioned you play games what games do you play?”

“Mostly smash bros on my switch and Zelda.”

“Oh, nice. We should play together.” I say. Sakura smiled and replied

“Wow whoever taught had a thick Kagoshima dialect.” sakura affirmed I laughed with her as she began to crack up. We arrived at the facility where the dorms, training center, and rejuvenating springs were. Sakura leads Otrimi and me through the facility. There seemed to be a lot of faces and people working to put an end to the invaders and kaiju threat we faced. Otrimi and I were on edge as we walked through the facility. The intense glare of several faces kinda puts me on edge. Unfortunately, Sakura had to say the following,

“So everyone is excited to meet you,” Sakura said reassuringly as if sending my tension.

“Oh, the dirty side glares made me feel welcome,” I replied sarcastically

“Wait really?” she asked surprised. I nodded and as if on cue a young woman with red hair came up and said

“Sakura who is this?” the girl said in high-defense mode

“Oh this is Juzo he's from the La Brea Institute of Kaiju Studies.” sakura explained

“But why does he look like an invader?” she asked coldly

“Well, being abducted and placed into their evolution vats, then being forced to fight in their flesh pits for 6 months kinda changes you a bit,” I reply. The red hair girl looked down embarrassed when she noticed Otrimi.

“Oh he's so cute.” the redhead said as she bent down to pet my Aragami. Otrimi eased under her touch and then she looked back at me

“My name is Yunjin and Sorry about my rudeness earlier. It's just no one has ever seen the mysterious Juzo before, but hears tales of this mighty Kaiju slayer. I expected you to be older.”

“I'm 26 which feels pretty old,” I reply

Yunjin’s eyes go wide “Oh Sakura chan he's the same age as Dahyun, Jisun, Jiwon, and you.” sakura nods in surprise. Ad Sakura’s tour continues

“So Sakura how did you get into all of this?” I ask curiously

“Well, I was an idol before this.”

“Oh, what kind?”

“K-pop,” Sakura said with a smile

I raised an eyebrow “Oh that's super interesting.” I replied

“Thanks and you?” Sakura

“Oh um well I was an urban photographer,” I answer. Sakura nods intrigued as we continue to make small talk. As we move through the facility a wave of familiar comfort crashes into me as I talk to Sakura. It felt as if I had known her forever.

Eventually, the little tour comes to an end. We arrived at a dorm and Sakura opened it.

“Welcome to your new home for the time being,” she said. I look around

“Get comfortable tomorrow is going to be busy for you tomorrow.” she teased. I nod and Sakura leaves before she can get too far I walk out to her

“Wait Sakura,” I yell.

She turns back to me with eyes full of surprise, she asks “Oh, Juzo what's up?”

“Thanks for helping me out today and picking me up today,” I said.

Sakura smiles bright and says as she waves goodbye “Have a good one, but just one.”

I furrow my eyebrows in recognition because I only know one person who uses that phrase. To confirm my suspicion I follow up with, “ya know that's quite presumptuous of you. What if I want to have a good two or 3?” Sakura turns around with eyes even wider and more surprised.

“Daigo?” was all she questioned. I tilt my head to the left and smile, “You are fearless.” I responded. Kura ran to me and gave me a tight hug.

“It's been so long.” she sighed as she melted into my arms. I wrapped my arms around her

“Yeah, it has,” I respond, and for a moment time stops I am not the Kaiju slayer Juzo but I'm the young man Daigo who loves to play video games with his friends and take funny pictures. I try not to cry but a few tears streak down my face.

I looked down to see Kura was in a similar situation. We smile at each other and I'm just overcome by emotions I tilt her face up and I kiss her. She pushes me back into my room before she breaks the kiss and locks the door.

“I want no distractions,” she said hungrily. Then pushes me onto the bed where she kisses me again. She caresses my face. My arms slide up and down her waste unsure of where to move or how to go.

“Wow you're green,” she teased as she came up for air between kisses.

“In sorry I haven't dated while being in an almost one-man war for the past year and a half.” Sakura chuckled and shook her head

“No like your lines are green. They were dark brown before,” she said laughing to prove her point she moved my hand to her chest and I could see the teal lines over my arms.

“Oh yeah they change colors,” I said embarrassed.

“I like it,” Sakura said as she smiled before bringing me into another kiss. I felt her tongue give an exploratory poke into my mouth she broke this kiss and looked at me. “Tell me everything,” she said as pupils grew to the size of dinner plates as she lifted her shirt. I quickly get the memo and undress. sakura smiles

“So after I last talked to you I walked outside to see the invaders (they refer to themselves as Carnothians) abducting people. I tried to run but was grabbed by one and then everything got muddy until after the evolution pits.” I say as Sakura and I reconnect. My hands caress her perky breasts and she moans. She grinds her sex on mine as our bodies connect for the first time.

“You're bigger than I thought.” Sakura cokes. I groan and reply

“You're so tight.” Sakura giggles as she begins to grind a bit harder. I groan again overwhelmed by all the sensations and emotional build-up. Sakura looks at my eyes with a somber but happy look.

As I thrust in and out of her she said, “I thought you died. I felt so alone. We'd been playing together for 3 years and then you went and disappeared. I never touched Warframe again. I couldn't. the pain was too much to bear.” she said as she went for a particularly deep rut.

“Oh god yes!” she yelled as she ruffled her hair. She threw her head back as she pushed me flat onto the bed. “Squeeze my tits and tell me about the Flesh pits.” she groaned sensually.

I began to remember and my body lurched and not in a good way. Sakura noticed and asked “What's wrong ?” she looked down to see my lines change from a tranquil teal to a chaotic crimson, as my mind flashed back. Before anything else could escalate I lifted Sakura off of me. She tried to stop me but couldn't. Most likely due to the gap in strength. Sakura looks at me confused and a little hurt until she sees the torment in my features.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to push too hard” Kura exclaimed

I shrug and respond, “It's fine kura. I just…am not ready to talk about it right now.”

“No, I get it. I mean your lines changed. I felt and saw the change.” Sakura reassured me. I smiled and kissed her forehead.

Sakura rolled her eyes, “I didn't take you for the sappy type.”

“Oh, I'm very much the sentimental type.” I fired back and Kura smiled.

“Gosh I missed you, you big dummy,” Kura said with a smile. She nestled to my side to cuddle. I pulled the blanket over us as we lay in the bed together.

“We are going to finish what we started” Sakura muttered

“Deal,” I said Kura turned to face me and kissed my nose. She then moved my hands to her breasts again as she turned around.

“I know you like them” Kura teased

“I mean what straight guy doesn't.” I defend, “You also have a nice butt too” I add. Kura smiles

“Thanks, pervert.” Kura teased

“Nah you started this.” I retaliate as I nestle closer to her. I rest my chin on her right shoulder and she keeps me close. I kiss her cheek as we sit tight together. “This is so weird”

“Why?” Kura asked

“I would've never imagined my gaming pal would be such a beauty,” I answered. Kira smiled then turned to me and we started kissing again.

After an hour of cuddling and kissing my stomach growled. Kura had her tongue down my throat as winning our tug-of-war match. I had been rock hard and waiting for the green light to go to the next step

as she said, “Okay let's try this again.” Kura’s stomach growled. I chuckled

“Okay well let's get food before we defile each other. I joke sakura gives me a toothy grin as she gets up, and for some reason, the way her perfect ass gently sways triggers something in me. Something old something ancient something primal. I got up. Smacked Kura’s perfect ass and slid my cock into her tight snatch.

“Oh yes,” Kura moaned. As rested her hands on my desk. I grabbed Kura’s soft waist and thrust hard and deep. Kura yelped with Joy. “Yes claim this slutty pussy.” she said as I thrust again. By the thrust, she was a moaning mess and she came, but before I could finish there was a knock on the door. Kura and I looked at each other before she raced to my bathroom and handed me my sweatpants and t-shirt. I open the door to see Yunjin waiting patiently.

“Hey, have you seen Sakura? She was supposed to meet me for lunch and never showed,”

I didn't know Sakura’s reputation or the rules of interpersonal relationships here so I employed tactical omissions of details or TOOD for short (patent pending) “I don't know where Kura Chan is right at this moment.” Yunjin eyes me suspicious

“Kura chan?” she asked

“Yeah, Kura Chan.” I affirmed

“You know only one person calls well called her that,” Yunjin said

“Really who?” I asked

“Well, apparently you Daigo.” Yunjin teased

My eyes widened and I told Yunjin to keep it on the hush.

“Don't worry Don't worry your secret is safe with me. (she leans into my room) hey Sakura are we still on for JJK tonight?” Yunjin asked My bathroom opened and Kura gave Yunjin an annoyed look.

“You couldn't let me have this?” she asked annoyed

“Not a chance. For all the times you caught me linking with Tobi it seemed fair to give a little of that back.” Yunjin said

“They were accidents” Kura stated. Yunjin rolled her eyes.

“Bring Daigo and snacks,” she said before leaving. I closed the door and Sakura huffed

“It was 2 times.” she huffed

“Kura it's okay” I reassure her

#kpop fanfic #le sserafim sakura #miyawaki sakura #miyawaki sakura smut #izone smut #le sserafim #le sserafim smut

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suguru-getos · 1 month

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| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 5 |

Part: 4 / 3 / 2 / 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna

Chapter Summary: After doing your much needed due-diligence with Satoru, he’s backed you up against the wall in the school corridor again. Things are a little… different however.

Warnings and A/N: For a change we have no such warnings here :3 Just Satoru Gojo sama 🙇🏻‍♀️ getting a little in his senses and grieving when the Reader-chan opens up a little. <3 Angst? Yeah.

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot @whydohumansss @nyahctrl @a-trashbag @yoontaedotin @tojisworm-5 @mo0nforme @luciledreamz @camilo-uwu @sassyfoxunknown @bitchyinternetinfluencer @bakananya @mizzowizzo @k1y0yo @bl0odycutz @daidaiseam-blog @flirtyjen @jihyuniepark @stupiditystaar @lu-lynds @aymasakusa @creative1writings @roscpctals99 @eravariety @nanananananaiknow @b4tm4nn @milkm4nz @millimacis @bubera974 @ranhanabi777 @bleachisfood @thealphagirl @pinkprincessglitterzombie @tojisslxtt @chilichopsticks @deegausserr @tremendousdinosaurpizza @shittyhair234 @trisharay13 @luvvmae @tremendousdinasourpizza @stuckinaoaktree @ropickle @onlywaytobesane @mayumemehhh @lovernatashaa @rott3npoetry @ilovebattinson @qxdlx2 @herelegancy @megumisthirdog @k-sv @lyah17 @roscpctals99 @polarbvnny @eyes-ofhell @kazuahhh @theitchbbbb @millimacis @victoria1616

Can’t add more people in the taglist I’m sorry, it’s throwing me an error that I can’t add more than 50 users. If anyone has a workaround for this please 🙏🏻 please let me know. 🫡🩵🥰 Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! 🙇🏻‍♀️✨

"Can I please have some money." You want to recoil and kill yourself right now. The scrutinizing gaze of your mother is like leech on your skin, itching your core. You don't like this, but after what you had done today in the cafeteria; you really want to get this over with. There are still flashes of Satoru's face in front of your eyes. He looked devastatingly beautiful with those bangs drenched with water. Pale skin reddening at the coldness of the water. He looked so harmless. So… human. The way he extended his hand to you, he didn't seem like he had any malice or could ever harbour any.

"For what?" Your mum asked casually, "We have given you enough money to be comfortable, Sweetheart. I don't see the point." She dismissed, sighing at you. She couldn't care less about you suddenly being a tad too needy over finances.

You expected this, which is why your lips are unable to part in resistance. You open your mouth in false hopes that a sentence will come to aid you, against your mother, against Satoru Gojo. It doesn't.

She has given birth to you, you'd like to be in the disbelief that she can't see the stress in your face. You get up, "That's fine, nothing important actually." Your shoulders droop in defeat. You don't want to be mistreated, called irresponsible, told that you should be careful, less egotistical, more bendable to people's wills, told to tone yourself down, to mellow your aura, to water yourself down…

"What is it, Y/N?" She called your name softly, "haven't seen you go and attend Kickboxing classes either. Want to do something else? You always pick up new things and abandon old ones. No discipline- no consistency-" normally, you're professional in letting her words linger through one ear and part from the other. Not today.

"Yeah, thanks for being so appreciative. Love that for me." Ignoring the chastising replies, you stomped to your room. Yeah, you can't be free of Gojo Satoru so easily. You can't even hope to fathom what he will do with you tomorrow in school.

---

Meanwhile, Satoru's not changed his shirt, even after returning from school, sitting in his room and replaying back your words and your actions over and over like a tape he wouldn't get sick of, even if he tried his best. Lips parted and huffing. He's hurt. His ego is bruised but his heart doesn't feel okay after watching the repercussions of the damage done to you either. Part of him feels rightly treated, now you wouldn't see him with that petrifying look of disgust he hates. His hands slump over his face as he leaned his back over his California king sized bed, sighing in dishevelled breaths. Truth is, yes he collided against you in the cafeteria after all this began. Yes he did purposely and you called him out for it in front of everyone. Someone who is calling The Gojo Satoru accusingly was hard to digest. Be like other people and apologize, or even better, act grateful that he talked to you. No, you didn't do that. You were fierce and stern, you were like burning coal, warm… capable of burning when held the wrong way.

He still feels better than the nonchalance you presented him with when he abided you in a contract. That wasn't the you he hoped to meet, he hoped to meet the 'you' he met today in the cafeteria. The 'you' who holds the guts to obliterate him and anyone else when angered. The 'you' who isn't scared of things like financial status, powers, influence.

He likes you so much.

He likes you so much…

He likes you so, so much…

It's sickening, his heart pangs at the way the subtle hints from his mind about having a crush on you are now intensely, brutalizing storms he can't ignore. The only revolting thought that curdled his brain was how he would like to kiss you. Maybe he should have bullied you like that - that way, at least, partly, it would feel good to you and would have given him a safe bet to reach out to you later. Even right now, all he can imagine is his long, thick, looming fingers wrapped around your waist, pressing you plush against him, rendering you immobile. How great would the then-faint scent of your perfume would now intensify when you're in his hold. How good would it feel to taste you on his tongue, to feel you crumble and to…

To trust him enough to crumble…

Suguru was right, what an stupid thing to do. He couldn't give up, you didn't give up. Now he's forced to see through his mess he wishes to pretend never existed.

Would grovelling help?

What about the copious amounts of unhealthy egoism he wears?

Fuck that… would you forgive him even after he bore his heart out to you? It would be worse than getting physically naked. Satoru Gojo can't take rejection. Even more than that, he can't take being vulnerable in front of anyone. Vulnerability is sacred, and Satoru isn't sure there's anyone worthy enough to carry his weakness and still shielding his ego. Maybe he should try… the worse you can do is reject him and his company. As if he's not making an exquisite pathway for it since the very beginning.

His thoughts are making him insane, they are making him lose his grip on his mind.

Which is why, you both are here. Satoru's had you pinned against the wall in school the next day, the same way this all started. You're struggling and wiggling to no avail. Panting heavily. "Please- stop it!" You whimper out, gasping out when his eyes land on you in a sternly arrogant manner. Why do you hate him so much god damn! Oh wait, he knows…

"I'm not going to hurt you or manhandle you or be an asshole. Just here to talk, hard to believe right?" He smirked, looking at you in a little tender undertone now that you're eyeing him curiously. You pouted, gnawing at your lip. "I don't believe you, especially after what I did yesterday. It was water though! You can't really get marks from water! I don't owe you any money."

Gosh you are hilarious without even trying, he leans back a little. Having no sense of personal space anyway.

"I don’t want the money. Okay? I thought that you would have a month to… get to know me and to talk to me." He pouts, sighing. It's so hard to suddenly talk to you after being an ass. You don't trust him anyway. It's visible with the way you look at him, trying to dig any ulterior motives.

"So what you just needed your ass kicked to stop?" Gosh your mouth…

"I'm being nice, little bitch. The moment you realize you don't have to pay me back your tongue is back to dancin' around shitty words, eh?" Satoru grips your face with his hand, sneering a little with an amused grin.

You roll your eyes, "not scared of you since day one." You half-lie. He does… intimidate you. You wouldn't admit it though. He has made you cry, he has made you miserable. You are not going to let it slide so easily anyway.

"Uh huh, I know." He leans back, embracing the weird and awkward silence that accompanies you both. You nibble at your lip and look down, "Look, if you don't want the money. We don't have any reason to talk to each other." You tried to sound as nice as possible.

Technically, you both do not have any reason anyways. Which is why Satoru came up with this ego-inflating scheme. Now that he's officially decided after much contemplation to hook you off. He can't shove you back in. He looks at you like a kicked pup. Something you haven't seen in his eyes. He was always controlling you, tossing you around.

"There's no reason to, unless… you'd like to tolerate me." He grins wide.

"I'd not like that." You smile. Bouldering over him with your words.

"Well… alright."

Satoru walks away, he can't really do anything about it. You just rejected the possibility of a conversation, let alone entertain the idea to have him close to you. After a few steps, he comes back stomping & you almost cower beneath him.

"I.. well, I- may have been, an asshole."

To be honest, you have no idea what he means suddenly and what does he want. He is emotionally stunted and somehow lacks the comprehension of anything else except what he wants. "May have?" You raised a brow in disbelief, what does he mean by 'May have'?

You grit your teeth, "I've cried myself to sleep twice because of you, I dreaded going to school, I wanted to give up and change my school, I wanted to ask you why are you so mean to me? I wrote things a thousand times as asked for you to 'review' as you said cause I talked to Geto san!" You winced, the memories are hurtful and scathe you badly. It aches. What you tolerated was essentially for nothing! It hurts. FUCK IT HURTS.

Satoru looked stunned as well, you have been appearing so normal he could never believe you were impacted. Which is why he was only trying harder… oh no. "I wished to be as rich as you so I could have ended this then and there and wouldn't get blackmailed." You sighed, and that sentence makes him fall into decay.

"Well, if you could have just-" his voice is meek and submissive and you're quick to cut it down.

"Could have just what Gojo san? Apologized for something I never did? You're going to give me that I collided against you by my own mistake when it was 'you' who did that purposely and kicked me for raising questions on it? Then proceeded to make my life hell because I didn't back down? Could have what? I could have begged you to be merciful like a caged prisoner? Asked you to show me some kindness for something I didn't even do?"

Oh will you stop? Will you please stop? Satoru can't take this, every sentence feels like a deep gash on his heart. His throat feels hoarse and there's a rock hindering his speech. He just- did it- without thinking so much upon it. Satiating his ego and getting a rise out of your little reactions. God he wants to undo this so bad.

How can he undo this? He can't…

"I- uh- I'm sorry." He finally manages to croak out a small mouthed apology. Though he means every word of it even if he knows that wouldn't do anything.

"You should be."

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