#I just want my own place with a roommate or two and being able to afford some hobby supplies. Why does it feel like peak luxury even with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mockerycrow · 1 year ago

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UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin

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luvergirl21 · 2 months ago

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🫵 roommate hamzah 👅

hamzah x reader smut...nsfw warning

hi everyone!

below is my first ever smut so please be nice!

it ends on a pretty big cliffhanger so let me know if yall want a part 2. and i hate coming up with my own ideas so pleaseeeee send me prompts i will love you forever.

summary: you and hamzah are roommates and best friends. but when hamzah comes home pissed one day, y'all hash it out and things get heated.

warnings: nsfw under cut. if you are under the age of 18, do NOT read please.

word count: 3076

You and Hamzah had been roommates and best friends for around four months now. It all started when you moved to Toronto and needed a place to stay. You had collabed with Slushy Noobz multiple times before, being a vlogger/gaming youtuber yourself, so when you arrived in Toronto, practically homeless, Hamzah offered for you to stay with him in his small apartment while you get yourself back on your feet.

Tonight was a crisp fall evening, and the two of you had just come back from carving pumpkins for Mandy’s vlog. Hamzah had driven the two of you home in silence, which was unusual, as normally the two of you were blasting music and laughing while in the car. When he pulled into the small driveway, he killed the engine and exited the car without a word. Normally, being the silly gentleman he was, he would come around to your side and open the door, but instead, he opted to leave you alone in the car, speechless. You scoffed, and exited the car, running to catch up with the taller man.

“Hamzah!” you call out, entering the house. The dark-haired man was in the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for what you assumed to be his late-night snack-fest. “Hamzah,” you deadpanned, coming up right behind him. He continued to purposefully ignore you. You grab one of his broad shoulders and, with all the strength within you, whip him around so that he’s facing you. His big eyes widened at the sudden strength that had taken over your demeanor.

He looked down at you. “What?” he asked harshly, not a single trace of empathy present in his rough voice.

Anger seized your mind. “What?” you mocked in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘What’? What is up with you, dude? You’ve had, like, the strangest attitude since we left Martin and Mandy’s.”

Hamzah’s brows furrowed. “Just go upstairs, y/n,” he said. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.”

You laughed harshly. “You’re ‘too tired’?” you asked in mock disbelief, air-quoting his own words. “That’s not an excuse. You’re never this rude to me.”

Hamzah made a noise low in his throat, almost an animalistic growl. “Go the fuck upstairs, y/n.”

His adamance and unwillingness to explain himself was starting to really piss you off, the small ember of anger burning inside you expanding until you were engulfed in hot rage. You shoved him backwards and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the sink. He looked at you with an emotion in his eyes that you were unable to discern. Before you were able to really process what the hell had just happened, Hamzah was upright and closed the inches between you two in seconds. He grabbed you by the front of your hoodie, before roughly backing you into the counter. Your hip slammed into the corner of the wood and you winced. Tears welled up in your eyes, but Hamzah didn’t seem to notice. He was breathing heavily, hunched over your smaller frame, face inches from yours.

“I want you to go upstairs, y/n,” he said, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Ugh!” you say loudly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You shoved the taller man backwards. “That fucking hurt, you asshole!” Before you know what happened, your hand connected with his face, a loud slap that resonated throughout the whole apartment. Hamzah’s head whipped to the side and his eyes widened, his hand instantly reaching to the wounded area. You gasped and covered your mouth.

“H-hamzah,” you whispered, stuttering over your words. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear, i-i-it just came out of me.” Hamzah looked at you with that same look from before: pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, plush lips that his tongue flicked out and wetted. His chest was heaving up and down. He made a move as if to come towards you, but before he could, you fled upstairs to your room.

You slammed the door shut behind you before sliding down to crouch on the floor. You curled your knees into your chest and breathed heavily. What the absolute fuck just happened? Your back was sweating, and there was a pounding knot in your stomach that you didn’t even want to think about. The way Hamzah had looked at you…fuck. It was almost primal, like he was about to throw you around and fuck you until you couldn’t breath. It was embarrassing to admit it to yourself, but you wanted him to; you wanted it so badly that right now you couldn’t think of anything else, and that pounding in your stomach just got louder and louder.

You shook your head and stood up, legs trembling with desire. What the hell am I thinking about right now? You thought. This is Hamzah, my roommate, the guy who was kind enough to let me live with him for four fucking months, and I’m over here fantasizing about him railing me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You went over to your closet and changed out of your sweaty clothes. You put on a cute pair of floral boxer shorts and one of Hamzah’s t-shirts. You liked wearing them for two reasons: first, they were way too big on you and usually fell to just above your knees, and second, they smelled just like him, even after washing. You wandered over to the mirror, gazing at yourself in the reflection. You pulled on his shirt, lifting it up to your nose and inhaling his musk. Your own dilated eyes reflected back at you, almost the exact same look that Hamzah had given you earlier.

Fuck it.

You exited your room and beelined it for Hamzah’s. Your mind was blank except for an unquenchable lust that infiltrated your brain, conjuring inappropriate thoughts that fueled the incessant pounding in your cunt. You reached his door and pressed your ear to the wood. Hearing the tell-tale clack of his keyboard, you knew that he was working at his desk. You knocked on the door, once, twice, nobody answered. Knowing him, he probably had his big ass headphones on and couldn’t hear shit even if he wanted to. You opened the door a crack and, just like you predicted, Hamzah was sitting at his desk in the dark with his big headphones on, the only source of light coming from the monitor. You crept up to him. His big eyes were glued to the screen; he didn’t even hear you come in. You leaned down until you were right next to his ear.

“Hamzah,” you whispered. The curly-haired man almost jumped out of his seat, letting out a girlish scream. When he saw it was you, he clutched his heart, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you said, once he took his headphones fully off.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you scared the fuck outta me,” he said.

You giggled. “Yeah, my bad. I didn’t know how else to get your attention,” you said sheepishly. Hamzah was looking directly into your eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier, slapping you and shit, I don’t know what came over me.”

Hamzah laughed. “Nah, I totally deserved it. I was being a dick. I was just pissed off about something and I took it out on you.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to get aggressive with you is all.”

“What were you so pissed off about?”

Hamzah chuckled awkwardly. “It was nothing really.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” you responded, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Come on, man, we tell each other everything.”

“Well, it was just about this conversation I had earlier with Martin,” he confessed.

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Um, well, I-” he stuttered over his words, alternating between holding eye contact with you and the floor. “I kinda like this girl, I guess, and I keep giving her these hints but she just doesn’t seem to understand.”

Your face flushed. You felt embarrassed walking into Hamzah’s room in a horny state when he had a crush on someone else. “I see,” you said in response to his confession.

“I was talking it over with Martin, you know, and I just couldn’t figure out how to confess it to her. We’re friends and I love that we’re friends and it would be stupid to fuck up our friendship by confessing my feelings.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?” you asked.

“I mean I don’t, not really, but I’m 99% sure that she doesn’t.”

“Well, you’re never gonna be 100% sure unless you tell her,” you said. “Besides, whoever this girl is is hella lucky. She’s going to be dating the most beautiful, funniest guy I know.” Hamzah grinned at you, teeth and everything, as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Really?”

“100%” you responded.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked. You grinned at him, jumping up from the bed. Hamzah lept up from his chair and ran to you. He leaned down and you wrapped your hands around his neck. His big arms gripped your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around. You giggled into his shoulder. He put you down and the two of you stood there for a second, arms wrapped around each other. Hamzah’s head nuzzled deeper into your shoulder, and you felt his hot breath tickling your back.

A wide grin broke your face. “Dude, are you smelling me?”

Hamzah broke away from the hug, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe…you just always smell really good.” His eyes looked you up and down, grazing your bare legs to the t-shirt you were wearing. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Bashful, you felt your face growing flushed. “Yeah, it is. I can take it off if you want though.” You turned towards the door to go change, but Hamzah reached down and grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Looks good on you.”

You felt your face heat with an uncontrollable flush. “U-um thanks,” you said. Hamzah didn’t let go of your hand and you looked down at your intertwined fingers. Hamzah looked down too and audibly gulped.

“Y/n?” he said.

“Mmh?” you said, not taking your eyes off of your hands.

“Look at me, y/n,” Hamzah said, his voice rougher than usual. You lifted your eyes to Hamzah’s face and almost gasped at the expression that painted his countenance. It was the same one from earlier: the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks, the plump, red lips. Your lashes fluttered. Hamzah grabbed your other hand and, holding both of your hands in one of his big ones, reached up to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from your bun behind your ear. “I need to tell you something,” he whispered. His big brown eyes bore holes into your own, and the intense eye contact made your hands sweaty and your core pound.

“I, um, I’m in love with you, y/n,” he confessed, at a decibel so low you were unsure you heard him right. He got louder. “And if you don’t feel the same about me—which you probably don’t—we can forget about this whole thing and just go back to how things were if that’s—” You cut off his rambling and leaned up, pressing your lips against his. You pulled back and smiled, gazing into his eyes, which were so dark they looked black. “Holy fuck,” he breathed out, smiling widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“Yeah,” you said. “Holy fuck.”

Hamzah looked down at your hands, which were still intertwined with his. “C-can I kiss you again?” he asked.

You giggled. “Yes, Hamzah,” you responded. If it was possible, he smiled wider still and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. At first, the kiss was sweet and light, but slowly, the two of you began breathing heavier and heavier, and Hamzah’s hands began to roam your body. Desperation filled your body rapidly as Hamzah’s hands alternated between squeezing your waist, your hips, and your ass. His hands were so much bigger than you thought, they were almost able to completely engulf your entire waist. He pulled you closer to him still and you reached up to tug on his dark curls. As soon as your hand made contact with his hair, he groaned deep in his chest and the sound reverberated throughout your entire body, landing especially in your throbbing core. The hand in his hair seemed to spur him on further as he reached down to grab your ass, lifting you up effortlessly. He walked you over to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress and crawling up towards you. He pulled your hair out of your bun, letting the strands splay across the pillow.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he confessed, before diving down to kiss your neck. Sucking and biting and nipping at the delicate skin by your collarbones. Your hands delve into his curls, yanking at them, letting out a breathless moan when he begins to suck on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Hamzah’s hands snake underneath your shirt, playing with the underside of your boobs. You tug at Hamzah’s shirt and he stops kissing you to remove it. You spent a few seconds admiring him. He’d been going to the gym more recently and it had definitely paid off. His broad shoulders and biceps were lean and muscular, but he still had just the right amount of tummy to make your core tighten. You sit up too and begin to take your shirt off, but Hamzah stops you.

“Keep it on, baby,” he says, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my clothes.” He goes back to kissing your neck, reaching his hands underneath your shirt to squeeze your tits. “I’ve always thought that,” he says in between kisses. “Whenever I see you wearing my clothes, my shirts, my hoodies, it made me so fucking hard I can’t think straight.” You let out a breathless moan at his words. He abruptly stops kissing your neck and stands up.

You look up in confusion. “What are you doing?” Hamzah says nothing, reaching down to grab your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed, your knees dangling over the edge. He kneels between your thighs, leaning down to press soft open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs.

You suck in a sharp breath. “Hamzah,” you say breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes wide and dilated. He looked like he was salivating, desperation written all over his face.

“Are you sure?”

He lifted one of your thighs onto your shoulder. “Ever since we first met, when I saw you for the first time, your big eyes, your little waist, I knew that I wanted to taste you. Half of the time I’m around you, I can’t think of anything else other than fucking you with my tongue, your hands gripping my hair until you cum on my mouth.”

“Holy fuck,” you breathed out, your core throbbing almost painfully. Hamzah just grinned at you. He lifted your t-shirt up slightly and slid his fingers into the waistband of your boxers before pulling them down and throwing them somewhere in the room. Coming face-to-face with you soaking pussy, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding in.

“Shit,” he said. “You’re so fucking wet.” He leaned into your pussy, shoving his big nose into your folds and inhaling your scent. You let out a hiss at the sudden contact. He lapped at your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his deft tongue. “You taste better than I dreamed, baby,” he confessed. Your head was flung back in ecstasy and your hands reached down to grip onto his curls. When he hit a particularly good spot, you tugged on his hair tightly and he let out a moan that vibrated through your core. You looked down at Hamzah whose doe eyes were holding intense eye contact with you, watching your reaction for what felt good and what didn’t. You noticed that his hips were undulating, thrusting into sheets at the end of the bed. For some reason, it made the situation even hotter that Hamzah was turned on just by eating you out. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release as your legs began shaking aggressively.

“H-Hamzah,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m close.”

Hamzah inserted one, then two fingers into your wet, overstimulated hole, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Come on, baby,” he said roughly. “C-cum for me.” Your legs shaking and nose scrunched, you cried out and came all over Hamzah’s face. The second he felt you cum he let out a long whine that vibrated throughout your overstimulated pussy, and you noticed his hips slow to a stutter at the end of the bed.

“Holy shit, Hamzah,” you said, as you came down from your high. You looked down at the dark-haired man. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were glossy. A mixture of spit and your own juices covered his mouth and you felt another throb go through your core.

“Hamzah?” you repeated.

He looked up at you with those glossy eyes as if just remembering where he was. “Shit, y/n,” he responded.

“Hamzahhhhh,” you whined, crawling towards him near the end of the bed. “Will you let me return the favor?”

“I- um, I-I mean,” he stuttered, face flushing a deep shade of pink. You reached the end of the bed and noticed the dark, wet splotch spreading in his pants. Holy shit. You thought. He came from eating me out. That’s…that’s really fucking hot. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, standing up to clean himself off. You shoot to your feet, grabbing the hand that was about to enter his pants.

You look up at him with lust-filled eyes. “Let me,” you said. He looks at you with dilated pupils before nodding his head with frenzied agreement. You pull his sweatpants and boxers down. His softened cock was covered in cum, but as you gripped it in your hand, barely able to close your hand around it fully, it twitched to life again. Hamzah lets out a shaky sigh at the contact and you smirk up at the flustered man.

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah x reader smut #hamzahimagines #hamzahsmut #hamzahfic #slushynoobz #hamzahiskindameaninthisonebuthemakesupforit #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x you #hamzahthefantastic x you #youtube #youtuber #youtuber x reader #slushyvirus

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sugrhigh · 10 months ago

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BOY NEXT DOOR 4 - ( c.s )

part three

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, slightly suggestive MEOW

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: PART FOUR! i promise u guys are not ready for what’s coming next 🫨 thank u to everyone who’s been reading along i love u all so very much!! my inbox is always open and i hope ur having a wonderful day (also doesn’t that first pic look so much like chris i screamed)

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @cupidsword @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @hearts4chris @rubyjaneaxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs

“wow, someone looks extra hot tonight.” cassidy comments as she walks into your room, which is laughable coming from her.

she’s an angel, literally glowing in her multi-colored halter. you swear you shop at the same places, and yet she somehow always finds the gems.

“god, says you.” you joke, unable to keep a straight face as you stand up from your desk.

but you’re all done up too, dressed in a red tube top and some black jeans that flare out a little, hugging your hips just right. and yeah, you’re a bit smug knowing that you’re going to chris’s party looking extra great, but you embrace the post-pregame confidence.

“are you sure you want to go? we really don’t have to.” cass asks as you pass by her into the upstairs hallway.

“i mean, why not? i can never turn down free alcohol.” you shrug, and it’s part of the truth.

paying for yourself at the bar is never as fun, and the chances of somebody buying your drinks is usually slim. plus it’s on shithead’s tab tonight, which makes it that much sweeter.

“i totally agree. i just…” her smile falters a little, and she sighs, “i just don’t want you to get hurt or anything.”

it makes you pause, hearing her say that. you’d ended up talking to both of your roommates after chris came knocking on your bedroom door, and they’d been rightfully wary of his excuse.

but her words kind of confirm your worries; that chris is someone to be feared, someone to keep at a distance. like you won’t be able to resist the charm.

like you’ll fall.

“he can’t hurt me if i don’t let him.” you reply, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince her or yourself.

“okay, i won’t push it. i know you’re tough, but i can’t help but check in.” cass nods at you before you head down the stairs.

“i appreciate it, but i’m good, so let’s go get bombed.” you’re grinning again, still buzzing from the two drinks you’d finished while doing your makeup.

ramona is already downstairs, bopping along to the beat of the music she has playing on the tv. she’s midway through a shot of tequila as you round the corner to the kitchen, swallowing so she can bite down on a slice of lime with her free hand.

you and cassidy both chuckle at the grimace that passes over her face.

“you ready party animal?” cass teases.

“always.” she replies once she’s calm, placing the tiny glass into the sink before screwing the cap back onto the bottle of alcohol.

each of you shove your old beat up shoes onto your feet, and mona turns off the television seconds after. you can still feel the bass vibrating, but you know it’s coming from the house beside you, which makes your heart jump into your throat.

you walk out the door, one behind the other like a row of ducks as you trample through the thin layer of snow from a few days prior.

tonight, you can tell chris has his own mix on, because you recognize the yeat song that’s currently playing. you’ve always liked his taste more than the others.

you’ll never admit that to him, though.

it’s way louder now that you’re up close, and you can literally feel the party raging. ramona leads the pack, stepping inside and swinging the door open for the rest of you.

the darkness swallows you once you step inside, but your eyes adjust quickly. you recognize some people as you shift through the crowd, regulars who are usually here and a couple of guys on the team.

you try not to look for chris, instead choosing to focus on the back of ramona’s head while you guys shuffle to the kitchen for drinks. there’s a few people chatting as you step through the archway, one of them being ben. his sandy blonde hair is pushed away from his face, and he smiles at your arrival.

“hey there neighbors!” he greets each of you guys with a side hug, clearly already drunk even though it’s only eleven.

you just thank god he set his cup down, because you know he would have spilled it all over.

“benjamin, always a pleasure.” cassidy laughs at his slightly sloppy demeanor.

“chris is gonna be really happy.” ben shoots a smirk your direction, and you roll your eyes, opting to move to the bottles of cheap vodka on the counter.

“i really don’t care.” you snark, pouring a hefty bit of alcohol into your cup before setting the handle back down.

“feisty tonight, woah!” he holds his hands up in surrender.

your friends follow close behind, making their own drinks and pouring them equally as strong.

“where’s your girl, benny? haven’t seen her around in a minute.” ramona asks with a small smile, clearly trying to change the subject.

“she’s out at the bar. girls night or something.” ben shrugs as you add some sprite to your drink and take a sip.

it’s extremely bitter even with the mixer, but you choke it down and deal with the burn. you’re still not tipsy enough, so you’re playing catch-up to try and reach the level you want to be at.

mona nods at this as she slides back up next to you, cassidy joining moments later when she’s done making her drink.

“well, tell her to come around soon, i miss her.” she requests.

“i miss her too, i’ll pass the message along.” ben points a finger at her like he’s locking in a promise, loopy grin morphing his features.

“alright, we’re going to dance, but i’m sure we’ll see you later.” cass waves her free hand goodbye before you all make your way back into the masses, shoving your way into the living room.

it’s pretty packed tonight, as usual, and a sheen layer of sweat already covers your skin. you run a hand through your hair while cassidy meshes into the crowd, making enough room for you guys to move around.

bodies bump against yours as you all dance to the music together, sipping your drinks and laughing at each other’s silly moves. you swear you’ve seen connor now too, and yet you still haven’t spotted chris.

you suppose this is a good thing, because the sensation of being inebriated is only just beginning to wash over your body, and you don’t want to deal with him sober.

so you dance, and drink, and dance and drink some more, letting the hazy lights illuminate you as you bop around with your friends.

you’re knocking back the last of your fifth beverage of the night when you feel someone come up behind you, hand snaking to hold your waist gently. your first assumption is chris, and your heart leaps into your throat, but you’re wrong.

it’s a guy you don’t recognize. his black tapered hair is a mess on his head as he gazes at you hungrily.

“dance with me?” he asks over the music.

cassidy and ramona are seconds away from stepping in, but you shake your head at them to indicate you’re fine. for once, you don’t really mind being hit on, especially because he’s kind of cute and you’re definitely drunk.

it’s not like it means anything anyways.

so you back up slightly, his front flush against your spine as you move your hips, rolling them into his own.

your friends grin devilishly as the two of you sway together, so close it almost feels like you’re one person. his hand presses flat against your stomach, holding you so he can feel the friction of your ass grinding against him.

you swear it’s only been a second before the crowd parts slightly, revealing a pissed-off looking chris as he barrels his way past the other people in the living room. his eyes are ablaze, and he yanks you away from the mystery man the second he’s close enough.

“get lost, jamie.” he snaps at the boy you were with, whose eyes are wide in fear now.

he must be an underclassman then, because he scurries away instantly, too scared to stand his ground against the captain of the team and the host of the party.

“what the fuck, chris? i was having fun.” you cross your arms over your chest, slurring ever so slightly as you glare at him.

he doesn’t respond to this; instead, his chest heaves like he just ran a marathon, and his dark gaze trails up and down your body. he grabs your wrist and tugs you toward the staircase without a reply.

your friends watch in awe as he drags you away, though neither of them bother to interfere. they’re swallowed by the swarm moments later, and your stomach flips at the fact that they’re gone.

it’s just you and him now.

the foyer blurs by as you reach the stairs, and you nearly stumble trying to keep up with his pace. you’ve only just made it to the privacy of the upstairs hall when chris drops your arm, whirling around to face you.

“what is wrong with you?”

your mouth falls open slightly at his tone, at how animalistic he looks standing before you, blocking you against the wall. his white shirt is unbuttoned slightly, and you can smell that fucking dior on him.

“what the hell does that mean?” you retaliate, already flushed in anger.

“i didn’t even know you could dance like that, let alone with my teammate.” chris snarls.

“everyone can dance, and i had no idea he was on the team. it’s not like you were talking to me anyways.” you stand your ground, meeting his judgmental gaze head on.

“did you want me to?”

“i mean, you’re the one who invited me to this stupid party, so i kind of expected to at least see you.” you tell him truthfully, and you know it’s the alcohol talking now.

“one second you hate me and the next you’re angry i’m not giving you attention. i can’t figure you out, and it drives me fucking crazy.” he continues to stare down at you in frustration, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

you hate how fast your heart is slamming against your ribcage. every time he’s this close to you it’s like the air is sucked out of the room. you can’t even breathe.

“why did you really pull me away, chris?” you ask quietly.

you already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it out loud for once.

“because you should only be moving that pretty ass of yours against me.” his voice is low, and he takes a step forward.

you cancel out his movement, completely backed up against the wall now. he can’t help but let his eyes roam down to your chest, to your exposed cleavage.

you’ve been taunting him all night, though you weren’t even aware. chris has just been watching you in your element, staying to himself and letting you do your thing with your friends for a bit.

after his last conversation with you he felt like maybe he should back off, but then seeing you with somebody else was even worse. it shouldn’t be this way, he shouldn’t be so fucking obsessed so soon.

but you’re looking at him with those wide eyes, soft lips parted, and there’s no way to resist. one hand travels to the back of your neck and the other grabs at your waist, pulling you into his own hips as he smashes his mouth to yours.

it’s somehow even more passionate than the first time, messy and rough, how you both like it most. chris bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away a minute later, kissing your cheek and jaw, then down your neck.

his cold fingers make their way underneath the hem of your shirt as you feel his teeth close down on the sensitive skin. a strangled moan escapes your mouth before you can bite it back.

“i like that sound a lot, princess.” he says into your ear before his lips focus on that hollow sweet spot you love so much.

you know he’s going to leave a mark, but it feels so good you don’t care. yet you choke down the whimper you feel crawling up, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much you like it.

“c’mon, i know you want to.” he mumbles against your throat, and you can literally feel him smirking.

arrogant bastard. two can play at this game.

you put your hands on his chest so you can drive him backwards into the opposite wall. he’s surprised by you taking the lead, and you press your body flat against his, connecting your mouths roughly once more.

chris’s hands roam to grip your ass, a delicious pressure that you shouldn’t enjoy so much. your fingers nimbly travel to the waist of his jeans, and you feel his body tense under your touch.

you can’t help but grin into his lips as you move your hand lower, underneath the band of his boxers, grazing the warm skin of his hip tantalizingly slow.

you shift your focus to his own neck, sucking harshly and running your tongue over his skin until you finally hear him groan, a noise that you relish. his fingers dig into your flesh harder, and you can feel him grind against your thigh.

but you already got what you wanted, so you break away and take a step backwards. the shock on chris’s face after your abrupt departure is clear, his lips raw and hair tousled.

“and you had the nerve to imply that i’m the one who wanted this.” you smile and shake your head, making a move toward the stairs.

“you’re seriously just going to leave?” he asks in disbelief, which makes you turn.

“what did you think was going to happen, chris?” you smirk, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before swiping your thumb along your bottom lip.

his own mouth slowly turns up as he stares at you with a certain kind of ferocity in his eyes, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his messy hair.

“nothing, i guess. but whatever we didn’t get to will happen eventually, you know.”

“no, it won’t.” you reply, a bit too quickly to be convincing.

“i think it will. who knows, maybe next time you’ll let me use my mouth somewhere else.” chris says lowly, hand ghosting across your hip as he passes by you, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression of self-satisfaction.

then he heads back down the stairs, vanishing around the corner like nothing had even happened.

days ago you were swearing up and down that you’d never kiss him again, that nothing would happen. and now you’re standing alone in his house while the music thumps, knees weak and breathing heavy with a hickey on your neck.

the scariest part of all is that you’re still craving more, even though you don’t want to.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #hockey!chris #hockey au #neighbor au #new series #fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut

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melobin · 9 months ago

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behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #27

✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan

✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate

✧ wc. 2.9k

✧ warnings. smut, light choking, unprotected sex, semi-public sex.

behind the screen masterlist

✧ ✧

“you look so pretty” you giggled as you got into sungchan’s car, closing the door behind you and turning to where he was sat in the drivers seat.

“you saw me this morning”

“so?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb gently rubbing over your skin as you nuzzled your cheek against his hand “you always look pretty” he leaned over the centre console of the car to kiss you, his lips were soft against yours. you giggled as he pulled away, sungchan looked at you with a sweet smile on his face “you’re so giggly”

“im happy”

“i am too” he leaned back in his seat, his hand falling onto your thigh as he pulled the car out of its parking spot and began to drive. you leaned the side of your head against your seat as you watched him, his thumb brushed over your thigh every so often as he navigated the roads. you thought it was a great day to wear a skirt.

sungchan was undeniably handsome, his jaw clenched slightly as he kept his eyes on the road and his bicep flexed as he gripped the steering wheel. you almost found yourself pressing your thighs together at the sight of him but you stopped yourself, his thumb running over your inner thigh reminded you of just how close to you he was.

“everything okay?”

“hmm?” his question broke your trance, you almost felt embarrassed when he laughed at you.

“you seem out of it”

“i just got distracted” you looked down at where his hand sat against your thigh, bringing your own hand down to place on top of it, curling your fingers around his whilst doing so.

“what’s on your mind?”

“nothing special” he turned to look at you as he stopped at a red light.

“you were staring”

“was not” he raised an eyebrow at you and laughed, turning his head back to the road.

“we’re almost there, no need to get embarrassed now” you looked back down at where your hand sat atop of his, opting to not look in his direction for the remainder of the drive to save any pieces of sanity you had left.

your skin felt cold once sungchan removed his hand from your thigh, only for your body to heat up once he placed his arm behind your seat and look behind himself so he could reverse into the parking spot. you let yourself look at him again and regretted it instantly, you could have cursed him for being so attractive.

you kept your head forward as he parked the car, not risking looking at him again and not wanting to be caught staring at him, again. sungchan laughed to himself when he saw your eyes focused directly ahead of you, he could feel the heat radiating off of your body onto his arm that sat behind you. you were cute, he thought.

“stay here for a second” you tilted your head to the side as he spoke to you, parting your lips to question him but not being able to due to him already being out of the car. a few moments later he appeared outside of your window with a smile on his face, he opened the car door before stepping back to allow you to step out of the car “my lady” he bowed slightly, you narrowed your eyes at him and laughed.

“you fucking nerd” he closed the car door and laughed loudly, he placed his hand on your back as he guided you into the restaurant he had picked out for lunch. it wasn’t anything special, in fact it was the palace the two of you normally found yourselves in when you went out to lunch together. yet, something about being there this time felt different.

sungchan kept the gentleman act going all the way to the table, pulling out your chair, helping you tuck it in once you’ve sat down, handing you your menu and then holding your hand over the table. his actions made you feel shy and you worried that you weren’t hiding it as well as you thought you were when he looked at you.

“you look so pretty”

“you’ve said”

“so? i’m telling you again” you struggled to hide the smile that was creeping onto your face as he looked at you, his thumb ran over the back of your hand as he spoke.

“you look very pretty too sungchan” he giggled and you felt your blood run hot. it seemed somewhat impossible to you that you had gone from squeezing your thighs together at the sight of him in his car to fighting back your smile from how cute he was at the table. you had a sinking feeling that sungchan was going to be more dangerous for your heart than you had first anticipated.

“do you want me to order for you?”

“if you wouldn’t mind” he smiled at your reply, thumb stroking the back of your hand one last time before he pulled his hand away to look at his own menu, eyes peaking over it to look at you every few moments. sungchan wasn’t sure about much but he was sure that he was prepared to give you the world and anything else you wanted alongside of it.

dinner went by like a breeze, sungchan paid just as he promised, he held your hand as you stood up from your chair and opened your door for you, again, when you returned to the car. there was a sense of sorrowness around you two as you returned to your office building, neither of you had wanted your time together to end.

“we live together sungchan, you’ll see me later” his fingers laced through yours over the centre console of the car, he leaned the side of his head against the head rest of his chair and looked at you, his eyes sparkled in the sun that was shining through the windshield.

“at least let me walk you up, you still have like 20 minutes don’t you?”

“fine, but don’t make me late” he smiled as he got out of the car, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walked into the building.

“have fun?” you smiled at chaewon as she leant against her desk.

“always”

“wonbin will be happy” she gestured to the boy who was leaning against you causing him to respond.

“don’t worry i’ll tell eunseok you said hi” his response prompted her to close her lips and narrow her eyes at him, you laughed as the two of you walked past her.

“eunseok” he shrugged his shoulders as the two of you stopped at the elevator “you’re coming up?”

“for a little, if that’s okay” you nodded and stepped into the empty lift, he stepped in beside you, letting you press the button.

the moment the door closed sungchan turned to you, his hands fell to your waist and he pressed you against the wall, your arms laced around his neck as he kissed you. the kiss was deep, his tongue pressed against yours and he groaned whilst dropping one of his hands to your ass, squeezing the muscle through your skirt.

“have i told you how pretty you look?” he broke the kiss for barely a second to speak.

“about three times”

“good because you look so fucking good” you moaned against his lips when he pulled you closer to him “spent the whole of lunch thinking about pushing up your skirt and bending you over the table” you whimpered again, finally breaking the kiss to pull away and look at him.

“you can’t fuck me in the office sungchan” he groaned and buried his head in your neck.

“no one will notice i promise i’ll be quick” he lifted his head to look down at you “i’ll make you feel good, promise” you pushed him away as you neared your floor and looked at him before sighing.

“there’s an employee bathroom that’s usually locked, wonbin has the key i’ll get it from him” sungchan smiled sweetly at you, not the kind of smile you would expect from him after telling him he can fuck you in the bathroom at your workplace. the elevator doors opened to let the two of you out, you promptly made your way over to wonbin’s desk with sungchan following closely behind.

“can i have the bathroom key?”

“what for? you never use that bathroom” wonbin looked from you to the boy who stood behind you, waving back as sungchan greeted him before laughing “you’re serious?”

“very”

“you slut”

“just give me the key wonbin” sungchan laughed at your interaction “will be quick, sungchan just needs to pee” wonbin nodded, the expression on his face showing how unconvincing your excuse was.

“go now if you want to be back before your lunch break ends” you nodded and walked to the bathroom. the door locked behind you only a moment before sungchan pressed you against the wall, hands falling straight to your waist as he kissed you again.

“you brought a condom right?” ’sungchan broke the kiss and panicked at your question, guilt flashing over his face “you done all this and brought no condoms?”

“i didn’t plan to fuck you here”

“i don’t believe that” he kissed you again, softer than before, he slowly parted your lips before speaking sweetly to you.

“i won’t cum inside of you, promise” you looked at him momentarily, eyes tracing the features of his face.

“i’ll kill you if you do” he smiled before kissing you one last time.

the hands sungchan held on your waist turned you around, he pressed your front against the wall and his hands scrambled to push your skirt up. you felt him push down on your lower back causing you to arch it out, sungchan groaned as he looked at the way your underwear hugged your ass. he would’ve gave anything to sink to his knees and press his tongue against your cunt in that moment but he knew better, he knew he had a time limit and he needed nothing more than to have you wrapped around him.

he pressed his fingers over your panties, pushing down against the wet spot that your slick had left behind. his mouth watered at the feeling of your panties sticking to your cunt, he could feel how wet you were over the fabric, heat radiated out of you. it all only made him harder. he pushed down your underwear, letting them pool sit at your ankles as he spread your legs a little wider. his fingers reached around and found your clit, he circled the slick bud a few times whilst undoing his jeans with his other hand. you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against the wall, your balled your hands into fists and bit down in your lower lip. you knew you couldn’t make a sound and you feared just how difficult that would be once he pushed his cock inside of you.

sungchan pulled his fingers from your clit in order to release his cock from his briefs. he was hard, almost painfully so at that point, the excitment of fucking you in such a public place went right to his cock. he knew getting caught would be the worst thing possible, especially for you, but there was a thrill in the air that filled sungchan with anticipation and need.

he fisted his cock in his hand, the slick that you’d left on his fingers was spread alongside the side of his cock. he let go of it, bringing his hand round under your mouth.

“spit, baby” you collected as much saliva as you could in your mouth before spitting it onto his hand, the action felt so crude and dirty, you almost moaned after doing it.

he brought his hand down to wrap around his cock, holding the base of it before sliding it up to the tip and bringing it back down. sungchan shivered at the thought of your spit coating his cock, almost groaning at the thought of your slick replacing that in a few moments time.

“are you ready?” you hummed, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss under your ear “use your big girl words, baby” you whimpered at his voice, feeling his hand squeeze your ass as he spoke.

“i’m ready channie” he looked down as he guided his cock forward, pressing the head of it against your cunt before pushing himself inside of you.

sungchan moaned into your ear as he sank himself into you, your warm cunt swallowed him. it dawned on you instantly that sungchan would be the one struggling keep himself quiet instead of you. he couldn’t help himself, you wrapped so perfectly around his cock, the raw feeling of your pussy made his legs feel weak and his cock ache. sungchan had imagined feeling your raw cunt around him countless times before but nothing compared to the actual feeling of it. it was heavenly. sungchan wished that it had happened anywhere other than in the bathroom of your workplace but he wasn’t going to be picky. being inside of you was a dream come true for him no matter where the two of you were, raw or protected.

“god you feel so fucking good” he moaned again, bucking his hips forward so you could take all of him. you bit down on your lip as he filled you up, swallowing back your own moans as he began to fuck you. he reached a hand back around your body to attach his fingers to your clit, keeping his promise of making you feel good as he began to rub them against the bud in time with his thrusts. his other hand wrapped around your throat, fingers lightly pressing into your skin as he fucked you.

sungchan whimpered into your ear as you clenched around him, trying to keep himself quiet as he fucked you harder. there was a light sound on your skin slapping together echoing throughout the room but neither of you could care in the moment, sungchan’s cock made you feel like nothing else ever had and you made sungchan feel like a broken man. literally.

he struggled to keep himself together as he buried himself deeper inside of you, the more he fucked you the more ruined he began to feel. your cunt wept onto his cock, your wetness made it easy for his fingers to glide over your clit in quick circles.

“i’m gonna cum” you whined out, your body growing hotter and your legs beginning to feel unsteady as sungchan brought you closer to the edge. he was just as desperate as you were, he felt as if he was sweating as he fought off his orgasm, wanting to keep his promise of not cumming inside of you.

sungchan fucked you through your orgasm, being eager to feel you squeezing his cock tightly as you let yourself go and finish around him.

the moment you whimpered from overstimulation sungchan pulled out of you, your hand wrapped around his cock before he could do it himself. you turned around shakily and leaned your back against the wall, jerking him off whilst he placed both of his hands on the wall either side of your head. you let him rest his head against your shoulder as your hand moved on his cock. you could hear him whimper as he began to release over your hand, some of his cum dropped onto your thigh, his whimpers stopped as your hand slowed down, his breathing was heavy. he let out a deep breath as he lifted his head to look at you, he kissed you gently before he stumbled away to get tissue to help you clean up. after pulling your panties up and fixing your skirt he looked at you sheepishly, fixing his own jeans as he prepared to leave the room.

“i’ll go first, i’ll see you tonight sungchan” you smiled at him as you placed your hand on the door handle, there was a slight limp in your step that you could only pray wouldn’t be seen by anyone in the office. sungchan watched as you left the room, smiling sweetly at you as you shut the door behind you. he let out a deep breath, shaking his head and laughing to himself as he made his way out of the room and to the elevator.

he was overwhelmed, surprised that things had happened so quickly between the two of you but he wasn’t disappointed about it. he loved every second of his time with you, he loved being able to reminisce about it too and he hated being interrupted when he was thinking about you, just like he was when a hand stopped the elevator from shutting

“sungchan?”

“anton? what are you doing here?”

“i was about to ask you the same thing” sungchan narrowed his eyes at the boy as he pressed the ground floor button.

“i dropped y/n off after we had lunch” anton nodded.

“i was here to see my dad” sungchan nodded back, there was an air of awkwardness surrounding the two, sungchan decided the best thing to do was get back to work where he wouldn’t be left alone with the younger boy.

“i’ll drop you back to work, come on”.

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buckysdollbarnes · 5 months ago

Text

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader series #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes slow burn

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ssentimentals · 5 months ago

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seventeen members as love tropes: joshua

soulmates

'hand in hand, you and me. today, tomorrow, forever.'

when 00:00 glow green in the darkness, you clutch your bedsheets tighter, feeling light burn on your right wrist. it's happening. what everyone talked about, waited for, dreamed of. it tingles for few seconds and when it stops, you know that name of your soulmate is now etched on your wrist with black ink which will not come off no matter how hard you'll try. unspilled tears sting your eyes and you're about to go to the bathroom, when you hear careful knocking and gentle 'love?' from the other side of the door.

'joshua?' you question loudly before jumping from the bed and rushing to open the door. just like you predicted, your boyfriend is waiting on the other side, wearing oversized hoodie on top of his light blue pjs. 'babe, what-'

'your roommate is here?' he asks, interrupting you gently. at the shake of your head, he then points inside. 'can i come in then?'

for the first time since you started dating you hesitate. should you let him in when you don't know if it's his name on your wrist and vice versa? there are so many things on the tip of your tongue: have you checked? is it my name? am i your soulmate? your insides are churning just from the possibility of someone else's name being written on his wrist. joshua takes a second to assess your state and it doesn't take him long to understand what's happening with you. he's always been good at figuring out your feelings even before you did, always knew what to say or do to calm you down. before you can voice out your fears, his arms find their way around your waist, gently but firmly pulling you towards him. 'shh,' he whispers, hugging you tight. 'i know, love, i know.'

'i'm scared,' you mutter, hiding your face in his neck. and it's such a familiar place for you, you can't imagine not being able to do that, can't bear the thought of not having joshua this close to you.

you didn't know how joshua felt the same, how holding your trembling body in his arms made him want to tuck you away from this world and just forget about everything. if the stars decide that you two are not meant for each other then he'll write his own story, create another univerise in which you are his and he is yours because that's the only correct way of how it should be. he hasn't looked at his wrist, mostly because he is scared too but also because he doesn't have to look at it to know who is his fate. gulping, he tightens his arms around you, leaving small kisses on your shoulder.

'have you looked?' you ask in a small voice, biting your lower lip. 'what if-'

'look at me,' joshua asks, leaning back until you move your head and make eye contact. 'i haven't looked. we're both going to look right now but before we do, i just want you to know that it won't change a thing, okay? you are it for me and i don't care if universe agrees with me or not.'

'b-but, if it's not my name..' you start, not being able to finish that sentence because every word breaks your heart.

'then i will cover that name with yours,' joshua says with sureness of person who will not change his mind. 'i will go to the tattoo parlor right now and will make sure that only your name is on my wrist. i love you. do you love me?' at your nod, most beautiful smile blooms on his face. 'ah, i'm just the luckiest guy, aren't i? universe already blessed me with your love, let's check if it blessed me again, shall we?'

it's scary. your throat tightens up and heart rate slows down in anticipation. you didn't think that figuring out who's your soulmate will happen in the middle of the hallway of your dormitory with your boyfriend right in front of you, but life has its own plans. grasping sleeve of your sweatshirt, you look up at joshua, who's already looking at you with impossible fondness. you are it for me, he mouths and with this rolls up his sleeve, looking down. you don't have to look down at your own wrist, because watching surprise and happiness glow on joshua's face is the answer enough for you. when he looks back at you, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

'it did bless me again,' he whispers, not looking away from you. his eyes are filled with awe and he brings your faces close, so close that your foreheads are almost touching. 'i would've created another universe for us but i don't have to. you are mine in this one.'

what comes out from your mouth is a mix of hysterical laughter and whimpering sob. joshua smiles and takes your hand in his, showing you both his own name written prettily on your wrist. he strokes it lovingly with his thumb as you stare transfixed, not being able to utter a single word. relief floods your system and you sag against him, smiling at the way he keeps on leaving small kisses anywhere he can reach.

'you are my soulmate,' you let out, still in shock. 'josh, you are my soulmate.'

he chuckles, nodding. 'yours, baby. forever and ever.'

he hugs you tight, looking up to the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whoever is responsible for this to happen. he prayed yesterday, promised that he won't ask for anything else as long as he'll get this wish right. i will never ask for anything else, he thinks, mentally sending this message to the universe. you gave me everything.

a/n: oh the feels :') impossible to picture anyone else for this au, so of course it's joshua. tell me how you liked it! - nini

my other works can be found here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #joshua hong #joshua imagine #seventeen fic #joshua seventeen #seventeen fluff #joshua x reader #seventeen scenarios #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong imagine #seventeen #seventeen joshua hong #svt joshua #seventeen x reader

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mattitties · 11 months ago

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sworn enemy - matt sturniolo

I don’t have many enemies in my life. I try to get along with most people, and even if I don’t like them, I do my best to be friendly no matter what. But there’s one person that I absolutely cannot stand: Matt Sturniolo.

I moved to LA about six months ago, and the triplets were some of the first people I met. I got close with Nick first, then Chris, and I attempted to get close with Matt, but he was so closed off and became outwardly rude to me every interaction we had. I have no idea why he hates me so much, but I will not tolerate him giving me that kind of attitude for no reason when I’ve tried to be his friend.

So I don’t try anymore. I’m over at their house more than I’m at mine, and I’ve gotten to the point of completely ignoring that asshole when he comes into the room. Is it rude to ignore someone in their own home? Sure, but none of this would be happening if he didn’t make it abundantly clear from day one that he has no interest in being my friend.

Nick and Chris invited me over tonight to watch a movie, so of course I accepted. Despite everything with Matt, I absolutely adore Nick and Chris and would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with them.

“Helloooo,” I say when I walk into the living room, where they’re already setting up the movie.

“Hey!” Nick smiles as he gives me a hug. “Movie’s almost ready, you wanna get some snacks?”

I nod and head to the kitchen, saying hello to Chris in the process. I’m so invested in rummaging through their fridge that I don’t even notice Matt walk into the room until he groans.

“Oh joy, look who’s here!” he says as I turn around.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you,” I tell him as I grab some drinks. “Just go back to your cave and it’ll be like I’m not even here!”

He rolls his eyes. “I can feel your presence even from there. Seriously, who invited her?”

“We did,” Chris says. “Come on dude, isn’t this getting a little old? It’s time to get over whatever dumb shit you have against her and grow up.”

Matt shakes his head as he takes a box of Goldfish to the couch. “Nah, I’m good. So what are we watching?”

“Oh, so now you wanna watch with us?” I ask. “Two seconds ago you were acting like it was the end of the world that I’m here.”

“Well, this is my house, and I should be able to watch a movie in my house even when little annoying creatures are sitting on my couch,” he smiles sarcastically at me.

I say nothing in response. He’s such a dick.

“Oh, before I forget, do you want to come to TopGolf tomorrow night with us and our friends?” Chris asks me.

“I wish, but I’m going to a bar tomorrow night with my roommate,” I tell him.

“No worries, we’ll go another time. Matt’s not going either because he’s just too good for all of us, isn’t that right Matt?” Chris teases and pokes Matt’s stomach, earning a punch to his upper arm from Matt.

I roll my eyes at Matt’s clear inability to have any fun and sit back as the movie begins.

I should not have gone out tonight. I’m having the worst night. I should have gone to TopGolf with Chris and Nick. All my life choices are being regretted.

My roommate is currently in the bathroom probably sucking some random guy off, and I have somehow gotten in the middle of two drunk guys fighting over god knows what. The place is crowded and I’m being swallowed in a sea of people as I desperately try to get away from the fight before punches start being thrown.

I’m unsuccessful.

In the midst of the chaos, one of the guys accidentally nails me right in the eye as he goes to hit the other. He doesn’t even notice and continues going after him, but other people do notice. I really wish they hadn’t. I want nothing more than to just get out of there.

I push my way to the entrance and ignore the small crowd of people following me and asking if I’m okay.

“I’m fine,” I tell them, speeding up and breathing a sigh of relief when I make it outside.

The pain in my eye doesn’t even register until I open my camera and see it: red, bloody, and already starting to swell. I’m tearing up, and I can’t tell if it’s from the pain or from the disaster that is tonight. I need to go home, but there’s no way I’m going back inside to get my roommate, and she definitely won’t see if I text or call her. I could Uber, but I’m terrified of Ubering alone, especially in Los Angeles at 11 PM. I don’t want to bother Nick and Chris while they’re out, even though I know they would drop everything to get me.

A pit in my stomach rises as I click Matt’s contact name and text him.

are you up? kind of in a situation here and need a ride

Bruh

Call someone else

i wouldn’t ask unless i really needed help

please

I hate how desperate I sound, especially to him, but I’m cold and scared and in pain, so at this point I really don’t care.

Jesus fine where are u

I send him my location and wait. He pulls up ten minutes later, and I do my best to hide my tear stained and bloody face as I get in the car.

“Thank you so much,” I tell him, trying to control my shaky voice. “I’m really sorry, I just–”

“Are you okay?” he asks. I’m barely looking at him, but I can feel him staring at me.

“Yeah, why?”

He turns my face towards him with his thumb. His eyes widen when he sees my eye, which definitely looks worse than it did 10 minutes ago. “Dude! What the fuck happened???”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I tell him, my eyes starting to well up again.

“You’re not fine. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Nobody did anything, I swear. Two guys were just fighting and I couldn’t move fast enough and I got hit. It’s my fault, but I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt,” I explain unconvincingly as I start to cry.

“If it doesn’t hurt, why are you crying?”

“Because I just wanna go home, Matt! Can you just take me home?” I sob.

“Okay, okay,” he says gently as he switches gears to drive. “Can I take you to my house? We need to clean up that eye.”

I nod and look out the window as he drives us home. He is the absolute last person I want to see in this state. I know he’s going to use this against me in a few days and he’s never going to let me live it down.

When we get to the triplets’ house, I make a beeline for Matt’s bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” I mumble. I look awful. My eye is completely swollen and it’s turning purple. I have a gash in my cheek. “Why the fuck did I go out tonight?” I say as Matt walks in behind me. “I have to go to work looking like this! I’m not gonna make any tips! People are gonna throw up looking at me!”

“Okay, calm down,” he tells me. “Sit on the toilet. I’m gonna clean it and get you some ice and then you can just chill here, okay?”

I nod and sit down on the toilet lid as he gets a cotton ball and some hydrogen peroxide. He tilts my chin up to look at him. “Little sting,” he mumbles. I scrunch my face at the feeling of the peroxide on the cut. “I know, I’m sorry, almost done.”

He dabs the cut a few times and throws the cotton ball out. “Come on,” he says, motioning me to get up. “Go lay down and I’ll get ice.”

I silently oblige and lay on his bed, giving him a small smile when he returns with some ice chunks in a ziplock bag covered in a paper towel.

“It’s the best I could do,” he says when he hands it to me. “We don’t have any actual ice packs.”

“It’s great, thank you.”

He lays down next to me and turns on the TV. I’m not even paying attention. All I can think about is trying not to ask the one thing I desperately want to know. I almost keep myself from saying it, until it just comes out of my mouth like word vomit.

“Why don’t you like me?”

He looks at me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What?”

I immediately regret everything, but I ask again. “Why don’t you like me? I mean, Nick and Chris both like me, so I would assume you would too, but like… did I do something to you?”

He sits up and turns the TV off. “I dropped everything tonight to come save you from a bar. Why don’t you think I like you?”

“You’re just so mean to me. You have been since the day we met. And I don’t understand what I did to deserve that. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, I just want to know why.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I do like you. I never meant to make it seem like I don’t, I thought we were just playing around. Like friends tease each other, ya know?”

“Well yeah, but… you’ve never done anything to make me think we’re friends, so…”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but then closes it.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothin. Do you want to stay here tonight? I can get you something to change into.”

“Oh,” I reply, completely taken aback by this. “Yeah… yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He offers me a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt which I take into the bathroom and change into, discarding the ice pack in the process. I take another look in the mirror and sigh.

“God, I look fucking disgusting,” I say when I climb back into his bed.

“You look beautiful,” he says so quietly I have to double check if I even heard him correctly.

“Don’t tell me that just because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m not.” He turns on his side to face me. “You are beautiful.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

His eyes are moving between my eyes and my lips. I’m starting to put the pieces together, and it’s terrifying.

“Because I’m tired of pushing my feelings down and making it your problem,” he says. I don’t say anything, I just give him time to explain. “I didn’t want to like you because you were Nick and Chris’ friend first, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I thought being a dick would make my feelings go away. It didn’t.”

“I like you, Matt,” I whisper. “I have since I first met you. It made me so sad to think that you didn’t like me. And I’m sorry I’ve also been mean to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I deserved it,” he says. “Do you still hurt?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Good,” he says before lightly holding my cheek and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I freeze for a moment, not fully processing what’s happening, and then I hold his wrist and kiss him back, our lips moving perfectly together.

It’s clear that neither of us have any intention of taking it further tonight. We continue to kiss for just a couple minutes until we separate, doing nothing but staring into each others’ eyes.

“Goodnight, Matt,” I say.

“Goodnight.”

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

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yummyuta · 5 months ago

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under the same roof | l.j ft l.m

♡ genre: smut - mdni! slight angst | roomates to lovers | word count: 2,455

♡ pairing: lee jeno x f. reader

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f. recieving)

♡ summary: tensions rise when your roommate mark goes out of town for a few days, leaving you with your other unfamiliar roommate jeno. will you be able to bridge the gap between the two of you or continue to avoid each other until mark returns?

♡ authors note: this idea was based off a dream i had (not abt these members) but i wanted to adapt it.

♡ song recommendation:

"should I just move out? i don’t want to cause any problems,” your voice tinged with unease. mark turned to you, his gaze softening. he took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. the voices from the movie you were watching fading into the background. "dont be ridiculous, i want you to stay,” he said firmly before pausing. “however you aren't going to like this. i do have to go out of town for a few days for work.”

your eyes widened, and you felt a pang of anxiety. “please don’t go. or at least take me with you,” you pleaded, clinging to best friend and fellow roommate's arm. mark frowned, his expression a mix of sympathy and practicality. “if you get uncomfortable, you can stay with chenle or haechan or literally anyone else. i don’t want you to feel stuck here with jeno.”

just then, jeno emerged from his room and observed the exchange from the doorway, his expression inscrutable. "he hates me mark and i dont know why or how to fix it," you said, voice low. upon hearing that he shook his head and retreated back into his room.

it had been a few months since you had moved in with mark and one of his close friends, jeno. you felt like a burden, suddenly interfering on their space like this. you had unfortunately found out your boyfriend was cheating and had just gotten dumped, leaving you in a tough spot. with nowhere else to turn and mark being a saint, he offered his help to you. upon your arrival, you were told that jeno had a puppy like deamenor to him and that he was harmless. however, as soon as you stepped through the door, boxes in your arm slightly blocking your view, you crashed into his strong figure. looking up at him, apologizing profusely, he had an unreadable expression on his face, barely holding eye contact with you. without saying a word, he brushed past your shoulder and entered his room. since that day, you tiptoed around him, unsure of how to proceed. you weren't a very outgoing person to begin with, and making new friends was always an adjustment for you. mark tried to bridge the gap between you for the first few weeks, but it was no use, jeno wasn't budging. "hes stuck in his own ways. thats just jeno, but eventually, he will come around." mark was quick to say whenever he noticed you getting upset.

the next day, mark was gone and the apartment was eerily quiet. you wandered into the kitchen having just woken up, before spotting jeno. you barely acknowledged each other. reaching up for your coffee mug in the cupboard, you felt jenos gaze fall on you. "why are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, his voice slightly accusatory. jeno hardly ever spoke to you, not used to hearing him, you froze in place and muttered, “fuck,” under your breath. “i thought it was mark's. the laundry must have gotten mixed up." you studdered out looking at your feet, not wanting to meet his eyes. "but I can give it back.”

jeno's eyes softened slightly, a smile peeking its way onto his lips. he reached up behind you, outstretching his muscular arms, grabbing the mug you were having a hard time reaching from the shelf with one hand. he lingered for a moment, the sounds of your heart ringing in your eardrums. “keep it." his body pressed against yours, the other hand that was by his sides, brushing the hem where the shirt met the tops of your thighs. "it looks good on you.” he whispered in your ear. with that, he set the cup on the counter next to you and turned to leave the room.

later that day, you found jeno in the living room staring intently at the tv screen playing video games. you hesitated but eventually joined him on the couch. you didn't speak at first, his voice shocking you for the second time that day when he asked if you wanted to play with him. as the hours passed, you became more comfortable and ended up stretching out with your legs draped over his lap. jeno's hand lightly rested on them occasionally tapping or rubbing them when he wasn't pressing the controls on his remote. the awkwardness was fading as you got used to his presence. what was once an intimidating aura quickly softened and became comforting.

getting bored of staring at the tv screen, you and jeno began to further unwind with drinks and music, sitting criss cross on the living room floor, trying to break down the walls that had surrounded you. what better way to do that than with a game of truth or dare. eventually, the conversation turned to why jeno had been distant with you.

"i was nervous,” he admitted, his tone sincere. “i didn’t know much about you before you moved in. you’re one of mark's closest friends, and to be honest, i thought there might be something going on between you two, so i wanted to be respectful of that.” you laughed, and jeno jumped at hearing the sudden sound. it surprised him, but it was adorable, and he wanted to hear it more. "mark is like a brother to me, we ran around in our diapers together as kids"

jeno's cheeks flushed, a ting of embarrassment present on them. he moved closer, his eyes studying yours before continuing. “well, i think its cute how you cling to him.” you rolled your eyes playfully, you couldn’t help but feel flustered. “trust me, we aren't normally like that. i was only clingy to him because i couldn’t even go near you” you confessed, barely even registering what you said. jeno scooted closer to you, placing a hand on your bare knee. “looks like you can get close to me now,” jeno said softly, faces inches apart. your eyes flickered from his fingers, clutching the skin of your leg to the darkening pools in his eyes. you cleared your throat "um its my turn, i think," your voice becoming hoarse. "so what will it be truth....or dare" jeno quipped, lips curling upwards.

you felt a rush of emotion go through you. you didn't know if it was the liquid courage that you had, or if you were finally reaching a turning point but unable to resist, you whispered, “dare,” before leaning in. "i think you know what i want," he said in a hushed tone. his breath was mingling with your own, as you contemplated. just earlier today, you were terrified of the man, but that fear had turned to lust and greed. "fuck it" you murmured, placing your lips on his. jeno immediately took both your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in closer. the minute you moved in and crashed into him, you bumped him off his axis. he was flustered, and that never happened to him. you were beautiful and he knew he had to control himself for the sake of keeping the peace but now here you were in his arms, kissing him with such force, you knocked him even more off his guard.

you slipped your hands up his black tee. he was toned and felt incredibly hot against you. you broke away from the kiss, gasping for air. the sexual energy in the room was turned up 10x when he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the rest of his body. you had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight. to be honest, the moment you met jeno, despite how he treated you, you felt drawn to him and maybe that's why it upset you so much that he didnt feel the same or so you thought.

it had been so long since you had been intimate with a man. every atom in your body was relishing at the feeling. you were extra sensitive, his hands gripped your...well his shirt and hiked it up to your belly button, as he kissed down your neck, to your collarbones, practically ripping the shirt in all directions to get as much access to you as he could. once he reached the top of your underwear, he sunk his teeth into the fabric, pulling down. honestly, he wasn't sure what had overcame him. this urge was unlike anything he had ever felt. on one hand, he felt like he had to prove just how sorry he was for how he treated you before and showed you that he wanted to do better. on the other, he had heard about your breakup from mark before you moved in, and as be observed you this whole time, he couldn't imagine why any man would be dumb enough to cheat on you. he wanted you to forget all about the hurt and finally move on with him.

he looked up at you, searching your eyes for any hint of hesistation, but all he was met with was the same desire mirroring his own. "do you trust me?" he asked, wanting confirmation. you wrapped a hand around his neck, pushing him closer to where you wanted him. thats all it took for him to wrap his lips on your clit. a surge of electricity surged through you, his mouth hot and tongue wet and skilled. he flicked the nub before moving down to your entrace, diving in deeper and twisting and turning to hit all the angles in your walls. if this was his form of an apology consider all to be forgiven.

you tasted like hints of cherry from the soju you had been drinking. your thighs tightened around his head, entrapping him and closing any potential opportunity for air to seep through. he chuckled against your heat, sending vibrations further into you. the noises you made and movement of your hips pressing into his face, he could tell you were close, and as much as he wanted to taste you completely, the throbbing in his pants was becoming unbearable. he was griding into the floor, the thought of your pussy sucking in his cock was swimming in his head as he swirled his tongue in circles around your nub once more. he pulled himself away from you, and before you could protest, he leaned up, pressing his clothed dick in between your thighs and buried his face in between your tits.

"do you still think i hate you?" he whimpered into your chest as he continued his movements. precum was leaking through his sweats mixing with yours, but before he could continue, he wanted to be sure the sex filled air was clear. you brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, you were seeing the puppy look for the very first time. every worry, negative thought, any resentment you had felt towards him melted away. you brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you becoming insufferable. you realized then that you didn't need any more space from jeno. space was a response to fear, and you had no reason for that any longer. "i think we have come to an understanding now" you said before filling in the gap.

you were fully locked in to each other, his hips swaying and snapping into yours. your pussy was like a void, minds going completely numb as pleasure took over. it wasn't enough for you, as you clawed his shoulders and back, wanting his body as near to you as possible. your lips moving in harmony to the feeling of his cock curling into you. you felt like you were falling through the floor, your back digging into the carpet below you as jeno pushed and bent your body to his will. if you had known that you were living with a sex god, you would have made amends with jeno long ago.

curse words littered out of your mouth, your orgasm teetering over your head. you were clinging onto it for so long, unable to let go of this feeling. when jeno had his way with you, would he go back to pretending like you didn't exist when mark got home? you didnt want to think of it, you wanted to place your faith in jeno. it was only one night, realistically how much could this actually change things between you two. jeno slowed his movements down for a moment, noticing how you had tensed up and tears began forming in your eyes. he couldn't bring himself to fully stop, not when you were both this close to being fully enveloped in each other. he kissed away the salty tears as they fell, moving his hand that was leaving bruises on your hip to your chin lifting to meet his tender gaze.

"stay with me, i promise i won't leave you alone again." he said confidently. you saw a twinkle of hope in his eyes, the sparkle of the truth. your mind began to settle, nodding your head and blush, finding its way onto your cheeks. jeno sped his hips up again, knocking your foreheads together as he smashed his lips into yours again, drowning in them. your orgasm thrashed over you moments later, finally feeling at peace. the war between your mind, body, and heart was settling. you lay there with jeno on the carpet of your living room, basking in the feeling of acceptance of one another.

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

you woke up the next morning in jeno's room, having moved from your previous spot after you had regained yourselves. remnants from your late night sexscapade still hanging in the air. you were still groggy when you heard mark’s voice calling your name from the living room. "y/n? are you here?" mark’s voice was full of concern.

you jumped out of bed, shaking jeno awake. "jeno! get up! go distract mark and keep him in the kitchen!" jeno rubbed his eyes, looking confused but nodded quickly. you scrambled to throw on some clothes. the urgency was palpable—you and jeno's stuff was scattered in the living room, and mark was dangerously close to discovering it. as you finished collecting your things and hiding them, you heard mark's voice getting closer and nearly collided with him as he exited the kitchen. reacting instinctively, you threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"whoa, you missed me that much?" mark laughed, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "was it really that bad without me?" he winced. you managed a laugh, "yeah, it was the worst." glancing over mark's shoulder and catching jeno's gaze. he was standing behind mark with a knowing look. you sighed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

you all settled down on the couch and started to fill mark in on the events of the past few days. "so, jeno and I spent some time together, and we actually got closer." mark looked intrigued. "oh, really? that’s great! what did you guys do?" you hesitated, choosing to leave out the more intimate details. "just hung out, talked a lot. it was... nice." mark offered a smile before wrapping his arms around both of your shoulders. "maybe i should go out of town more often then. i told you he would come around eventually." you could feel jeno's eyes lingering on you, and he added, "yeah, you should," offering you a wink.

♡ ending authors note: i was getting really into it and decided to split this up into another part, so that will be uploaded very soon! i hope you enjoyed

#yummyuta #nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #nct hard hours

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yesimwriting · 9 months ago

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Would bestie reader just say that she and felix are soulmates?

For example: her and farleigh are talking about the future and what they want to do and she just says "i would probably work and move somewhere sunny because felix doesnt really like the rain". " You want to live with felix?" " OFC, hes my soumate"

Felix: 🥺

yes yes yes! omg they so would pull the platonic soulmate card

You don't know who decided to label group study sessions as 'productive', but you're convinced they've never actually been to one. As a concept, they're the perfect way to balance social needs and academic responsibilities. It's a way to focus on your school work without isolating yourself completely.

In practice, group study sessions are an academic-hang-out purgatory.

"Y'know how you asked to not be interrupted until you finished your organic bio reading, unless there was an emergency?" Farleigh's voice has now yanked you out of the world of protein and enzyme molecules.

You sigh. If this is him giving into his inability to not snark at you, you might have to pick up your text book and hit him over the head with it. "Is there an emergency?"

The dryness of your response does little to dissuade him. You lift your head slightly. The reading break that's being forced onto you is an opportunity to get ready to copy some bullet points into your notebook. You reach for your highlighter, but before your fingers can grasp it, Farleigh's pulling it out of reach.

You straighten, back pressing into the wooden back of the library's chair. He ignores your glare, thumb pushing the neon pink cap upwards before snapping it back into place.

"I'd be careful, Farleigh." Felix's chair shifts with a soft groan, all four of the chair's legs fully settling on the ground as he sits up and flattens his feet. "That's not one of her nice looks."

"You'd know."

You frown, some half thought out sarcastic retort balancing on the edge of your tongue. Felix beats you to the punch. "You'd know if you had any real friendships."

Farleigh presses down on your highlighter's cap, a quiet click interrupting his silence as it clicks into place. "Friendship. Is that what we're calling it?"

There's a knowingness to the comment that has a hint of warmth attempting to tinge your cheeks. You're used to the jokes and little comments about you and Felix, especially from Farleigh, but his tone hints at a sharpness you're not in the mood for. Sometimes he feels like pushing, turning his jokes and comments into something more. You've been in the library for some time now, you're sure the stillness is making him restless in a way that will only add to that.

"Is this the emergency you interrupted my reading for?"

He shakes his head once, forearm moving to rest against the table in front of you. "Theoretically," he starts, the single word drawn out in a way that has you rolling your eyes, "If Madison was seen leaving a party with Abigail's ex-boyfriend, would that count as an emergency?"

No way. Your jaw drops. Madison and Abigail, roommates that seem perpetually trapped in the outer orbit of Felix's friend group, started the year as total best friends. Then, one day, for reasons that no one you know has been able to figure out, everything turned into a sort of unspoken competition between them. It's such an odd dynamic, you and Farleigh have to talk about it every time there's an update.

"What?" You set your arms over your textbook, leaning forward to better listen. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You wanted to read organic bio."

Farleigh knows exactly what he's doing. He sat on this piece of information and only dropped it when it became convenient to have something worth saying. "You knew before I said that." You turn in your seat to look over at Felix. "Did you know?"

"I spent the entire night with you," he says, "I know what you know."

Yeah, you and Felix were particularly invested in your own world the last time you went out together. The two of you spent most of the night trying drink combinations you'd normally never get, Felix laughing as your negative reactions grew more theatrical as the night went on. "Well, you're not very invested."

It's not an accusation. You know Felix well enough to know that he's rarely particularly interested in most gossip. A part of it might come from the fact that everyone goes out of their way to present themselves in certain ways when around Felix. Rumors about palpable passive aggression seem a lot less real when the people the rumors are about are constantly trying to gloss over any imperfections in his presence.

"You two are too invested." He turns his head to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. "You only get along when you're gossiping."

You straighten, lifting an arm off of the table to poke Felix's arm. "We all need hobbies." You then turn your head forward to look at Farleigh, "Okay, tell me everything and do it in less than 5 minutes, or I'm not going to go back to studying."

Farleigh's eyes briefly drop towards the textbook in front of you. "You worry too much." The way he says it feels less concerned and more like an observation of something he finds grating. "We all know you're going to end up at John Hopkins." It lacks any type of inflection. It feels like fact. An inevitability.

Graduate school is currently a foreign, distant concept, and you'd like to keep it that way. You're not sure why, but picturing your future education isn't as easy as you had hoped it would be. It's as if there's some kind of mental wall blocking your ability to connect with the next step in becoming a doctor, when all your classes will revolve around the subjects you don't love and you'll have to dissect and watch more surgeries than ever.

You tap our fingers against the wooden surface in front of you. You're not sure what the right kind of response to this type of thing is. "Uh--realistically, John Hopkins is far from everyone I know, and I don't think Felix would like Maryland, so..."

Farleigh raises an eyebrow as he finally sets down your highlighter. "You're factoring in Felix?" The question is still registering as Farleigh gestures in Felix's direction. "You want to live with him?"

"Yeah." While a lot of your future is blurry in your mind, Felix is clear, certain. "Yeah, he's my soulmate."

Farleigh's eyes widen slightly at the candidness of your admission. It didn't feel that heavy when you said it. There are a lot of ways for someone to be your soulmate.

"You want to--to live together after this?" You turn your neck to look over at Felix. He's already facing you, but his eyes are focused on his lap. "Like with me?"

"Yeah..." You admit again as you pull your hands towards you. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything without thinking. "Do you not want to live with me?"

"No, I do," he forces out the words quickly, his gaze briefly falling towards you. "I didn't realize you were--" He clears his throat, forcing himself to straighten. "Soulmate." Felix's hand reaches for the underside of your chair, pulling you towards him with no warning. "I'm your soulmate."

You're never speaking without thinking again. "There are a lot of ways to be someone's soulmate, so don't start."

His fingers move up the edge of the chair before finding your knee. He's beaming. "'M not starting anything."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix #saltburn x reader #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 6 days ago

Text

Cariad | Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader | One shot 2.3k

After a forced night out with your fellow fae ‘friends’ ends in a trail of your fairy dust, it’s your werewolf roommate who takes the blame.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of violence, blood, bad friends and bad ex boyfriends. Bucky is a cutie pie puppy (werewolf) and reader is a fae with wings.

A/N: Very loosely based on the story of Beddgelert. Cariad - darling in Welsh.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Come on, you can’t stay cooped up in your flat all night.”

Your friends pounded their fists on the door of your apartment, calling through the keyhole and begging you to come out with them.

Friends might be too generous, women who also worked at the shitty diner down the street and also happened to be fae was more accurate. That seemed enough license for them to come and bother you, but it was never quite enough for you to really open up to them or for them to offer you a place to stay when you left your disgusting ex, John.

“I don’t want to, I’m fine here,” you shouted back, lounging against the arm of the sofa, your feet in your roommate, Bucky's, lap and a bowl of popcorn on your own. You tossed a kernel across to Bucky and he caught it with a snap between his preternaturally sharp teeth. You giggled and he grinned, flashing his long canines, before returning his attention to the terrible reality show you were both watching.

The two of you had been watching the series from the start and had become increasingly close over the last six weeks since you moved in. Bucky always made sure you had popcorn, a blanket, which he spread over your legs, and something fun to drink, either a cocktail, a glass of wine or, one week, a huge hot chocolate covered with marshmallows.

Despite your reservations about moving in with a were, he was really a lovely roommate. He kept mostly to himself apart from your TV nights, which you looked forward to more and more, enjoying the feel of his warmth so close to you, the heady scent of his musky cologne and his ringing laughter that always made you smile.

In fact the only downside seemed to be that he shed hair like a large dog, but then you left fairy dust everywhere so it worked out evenly in the end.

Plus after living with John and his volatile nature, being able to predict Bucky’s mood around the moon cycle was actually more reassuring than scary. You’d expected him to be grumpy, snappy, even a little mean when the moon was full, but instead he just stuck around the flat and, if anything, was friendlier, touching your elbow or the small of your back, brushing his leg against yours on the sofa and, as he was now, massaging your feet after a long day at work. His instinct was to nest and seek comfort, following you around like a lost puppy, a huge, muscular, lost puppy.

“You can go out if you want, doll, don’t stay in on my account,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Bucky liked to stay in around the full moon. It wasn’t that he was dangerous as a wolf, he could still control himself, but everything felt so much…more. He was always a little more territorial when the moon was at its fullest, seeking the comfort of a familiar space and, increasingly, wanting to make sure that you were protected.

In reality, he’d have liked to keep you exactly where he could see you and keep you safe, but he’d never been the kind of guy to trap someone like that. He liked seeing you smile. If going out made you smile, then he’d try and suck it up… okay, he’d be a grump, but he certainly wouldn’t be letting you know that, even if it meant you wouldn’t be here to scratch behind his ears to keep him calm when the moon rose.

“I like staying in with you.” You poked him with a fluffy sock covered toe and earnt his fingers tickling you in return.

“Well, that’s settled then. Go away!” he shouted at your friends, still banging on the door.

Quiet reigned for all of two minutes before your phone started pinging.

You’re allowed to leave,you know?

Tina, of course, was always starting the arguments about Bucky.

He can’t control you

Morgan, desperate to be the ringleader of the group, but falling very far short.

So that was two of your friends chipping in, that just left Jenny.

Leave the dog at home and come out with us, I promise we won’t see John.

She was the biggest barrier to your friendship. Their personal attitude towards Bucky went way beyond the suggestions that he kept you trapped in the flat somehow and ended up in slurs. She’d use any opportunity to take a dig at him, especially if she knew he could hear.

No.

You text back, slamming the phone down on the arm of the sofa, but they continued to text and text and text until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ugh, God fine!” you bellowed across the room, your wings glittering and flashing red with fury, sprinkling fairy dust in your wake as you stomped across the room and yanked the door open.

“One fucking drink and then I’m coming home, just to prove that I can leave whenever I want.”

You glowed with anger as you slammed your bedroom door, emerging a few moments later with a crumpled dress on and a pair of heels. On your way past the mirror, you rubbed a finger below each eye to tidy your makeup.

“Have fun, Fairy, see you soon.” Bucky smiled, squeezing your hand over the back of the sofa. “I promise I’ll watch something else so we can see who gets voted out together.”

Dutifully, he flicked the TV off.

“Let’s go,” you said, allowing your friends to drag you out of the door while Bucky waved them off.

There was no way Bucky was really going to let you go out alone on the full moon. Although you’d have that gaggle of fae around you, he didn’t trust them not to abandon you at the first sign of trouble and, despite his lone wolf status, he knew that there were plenty of other wolves and shifters about just waiting to pounce should the opportunity arise.

Waiting until you’d at least left the building, Bucky sprang up from the sofa, looking out at the last of the sunset before he shook off the blankets, then his clothes and then his human form. Dragging his nails along the hardwood he clambered out the window and onto the fire exit. Scenting your perfume as you rounded the corner onto the next block, he couldn’t help but let out a howl, leaping onto the roof of the adjoining building and beginning his watch.

Fairy dust.

It was everywhere, sparkling like glitter, the scent of vanilla frosting, but twice as sweet. It glimmered a path towards the alley way and, as Jenny rounded the corner, it was all she could see.

Despite the sparkling impairment, she could still hear your scream, ringing in her ears.

Tina and Morgan fell out of the side door of the nightclub, stumbling on their heels and dominoing forwards until all three fae were piled together on the cold, filthy ground. The golden shimmer of your fairy dust was all that let them know you’d been there.

Sometime after the third round of shots and your fourth complaint that you wanted to go home, you’d edged away from them, towards the exit. That’d been fifteen minutes ago, when a were approaching Morgan at the bar had prompted the conversation to turn to Bucky again and what a disgusting, unsuitable, roommate they all thought he was. You rolled your eyes. If only the knew how bad John had been.

Tina had only stopped when they’d all had a chance to complain about his taste in clothes, his solitary nature and even his smell, when she noticed that you hadn’t said anything in a while and their hunt for you began.

Eventually, trailing a story of you and a tall man with dark hair from the bar to the back doors, they had ventured outside.

“Look!” Jenny declared, spotting a spec of blood higher up on the alley wall. She fluttered her yellow wings and got closer to inspect it, running a finger through the smear, blood. “It’s blood! Call the Police!”

Tina immediately started to dial as the three fae set off as fast as their wings could carry them, following the trail of blood.

The trail wound between each block from the club to your street using the darkest back streets and alleyways. Morgan had conjured a ball of light to follow, but the three fae were still anxious to be back in the street lights or, better yet, back inside their own locked homes.

It was a full moon after all, a foolish night to be out, drunk and alone.

Everyone they met confirmed that an injured fae had passed by with a brunette man and the trio’s imaginations ran riot, thinking of all the horrible things they were sure Bucky was doing to you for leaving the flat.

As they turned onto your street, the blood seemed to stop but, at a run, they continued towards your apartment building.

From the outside, it looked as if Bucky was still watching television, the blue and white flashing of the screen lighting up the window and the patch of ceiling they could see from the doorstep below.

Then a figure appeared, a huge figure with pointed ears and long arms ending in claws that seemed to go on forever, elongated by the shadows cast across the walls. It reared up and then, just as quickly, it ducked down. No doubt to complete whatever awful ritual it was that weres enjoyed on the full moon, killed and eating fae no doubt.

Jenny screamed and began running up the short steps to the foyer, forcing her way past your confused looking neighbours.

In the street, Morgan, rooted to the spot in horror, watched as the werewolf lifted a body in its arms and moved away from the window. Tina grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs to follow Jenny.

Blood. Blood. Blood. That was all Bucky could think as he paced the living room, his fur matted with it, the scent filling his senses, stinking and hot and foul. He took a deep shuddering breath, willing the wolf inside of him to quiet. It paced in his mind, snarling and growling at any thought he sent its way, the thought of another man’s hands on you, the thought of you at the bar, unprotected and alone.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He heaved a breath in and dropped his head into his hands, groaning as his body calmed. He tried to stay still, not wanting to cause anymore damage or spread the blood any further than his stumbling body already had.

You were covered in it too, your wings heavy and drooping down your back. The iridescent shine was dulled, your breath coming in shallow, rasping sobs.

But no sooner had Bucky caught his breath than the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his senses telling him that danger was still approaching.

Looking up, he finally saw Tina, Morgan and Jenny standing in the door, staring open mouthed at his blood covered body. His fur, where it was longer across his head, was matted together and his paws left red marks against the white walls when he pulled away, shrinking back, ears flat to his head and tail tucked between his legs.

Jenny screamed, a blood curdling, piercing scream causing the neighbours to open their doors. Bucky’s ears twitched, and his soulders slumped, his hearing enhanced by his current form.

“He killed her! He killed her! Look at that blood!” Jenny screached.

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, unable to do anything but let out a low howl of pain at the thought of doing anything to hurt you.

“We know it’s her blood, on you!” Morgan shouted.

Bucky was shaking now, the wolf desperate to fight back while Bucky tried to tame him. He knew being aggressive would make it worse, but he was having a hard time keeping his body in check in such a small space. He backed his way to the wall and slid down onto his hackles, the hair on his neck still raised, and gave a sharp bark of warning.

“We knew you’d turn on her, you were mad she went out!”

He shook his head again, his howl now a constant, pained, wail.

Then he couldn’t hear anything.

Tina, Morgan and Jenny had brimmed with magic as they cornered him, but now he was behind a wall of light watching your friends and neighbours back away, forced out of the door by your power.

Bucky grabbed around your waist so he could get close enough to press his muzzle into your neck, scenting you roughly in the hopes of calming the wolf.

You fell back into his arms, spent from using the last of your energy on defending Bucky, but safe in his arms.

“I’m okay, Buck,” you whispered, tired and breathy, digging your hands into his fur.

He scooped you up into his arms again, the same way he’d carried you home after John’s attack just an hour before and held you close.

“I’m with you, I’m okay.” You gave a weak smile, placing your hand on his muzzle as the fur faded and the wolf disappeared for another month, leaving your hand on his stumbled cheek. He turned into your warmth, placing a delicate kiss on your palm and kept you there for a moment, your eyes locked and then he dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky #fae! reader #fairy!reader #were!Bucky #werewolf bucky barnes

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fadingdaggerr · 6 months ago

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omfggg I just finished reading truth be told and it was so amazing and good and wonderful and wow wow wow you're so talented!!! can you please please consider writing a part 2 where r and Mel slowly start dating and Mel starts bringing them back around her family and introducing them to the Abbott crew and everyone is like 👀👀 and then Mel asks them to marry her and everyone is Mel's family is like FINALLY.

truth be lived

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: part two of truth be told, based on request above | 9.6k

includes: useless lesbian disease, fluff, more fluff bc the last part didn't have enough

warnings: they/them pronouns used for r, slight insecurity, kissing/making out

translation: peluche (italian - teddy bear)

italics are flashbacks

note: god this took me so long i’m sorry. my brain is an evil being. but N E ways how shocked are we that this is way fucking longer than part one? we aren’t? that’s what i thought. swear my dumbass can't make it easy on myself, but i just really wanted to grow the relationship and not just throw it out there yk?? excuses excuses, i know

It’s almost worse than when Barbara made her go a month without caffeine. Scratch that. It’s fifty times worse. It’s been a week that Melissa has gone without getting to see you. The week that will finally come to a close once the clock strikes seven and you show up at her door.

Saturdays, as of late, the two of you spent nearly three hours in a coffee shop, talking endlessly until your macchiatos went cold. Catching up on over a decade apart was slowly patching the dam that gave out all those years ago. A month of this gravitated to getting lunch together during the week, sitting together on a bench in the halfway point between your jobs. A couple more weeks, and you started going to the bar on Fridays to get your whiskey sours to celebrate the end of a hard week.

It was over stealing a cherry from your drink that Melissa got brave enough to ask you what had been on her mind since she saw you again. She knew it had to be her move, after all that had happened before.

“Next Friday night, you busy?” Melissa asks as she picks the stem off.

Your tongue ghosts over your lips, “not at all. And for you, I’m always free.”

“Would you wanna go out? With me?” An exhale rattles her chest, “Like a- like a date?”

Scanning her face, all you can see is sincerity in her question, and not a touch of restraint. The corners of your lips fly up, creases around your eyes deepening as you take in the sight of a nervous, but hopeful, Melissa. What you wouldn’t give to cradle those flushed, pink cheeks and kiss her right now.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you answer, “name the time and place, and I’m there.”

A grin that’s equally dorky as yours appears on Melissa's face, her smile prevalent in her voice, “you worry about nothing. I’ll pick you up.”

Green eyes flick from the Tucci mug in front of her to the clock over the door. Only eleven hours and forty minutes, not that she’s counting. A sigh passes her lips at her own desperation. She went nearly a decade without you, half a week shouldn’t be this hard. By God, though, it is.

By lunch, it feels like another week passed her by. A sense of freedom fills Melissa, finally able to dig her phone out of the bottom drawer of her desk where she previously jailed it, too tempted to check for texts from you or send her own. For added proof of her restraint, she doesn’t allow herself to look at the screen until she sits at the table next to Barb.

The moment leather pants meet the hard plastic chair, her phone is ripped from her pocket, glasses perched on her nose. Glossy lips stretch into a smile immediately.

Peluche: any idea how to make 6.5 hours into 0?

Peluche: asking for a friend

Tell your ‘friend’ if I knew, I would have done it.

The little smirk on her face does not go unnoticed by the others in the room, though none are brave enough to ask about it. Jacob eyes his roommate from across the room. He’s seen the weight on her shoulders fly off within the last few weeks, the oven door hasn’t slammed once, she didn’t even make fun of his new kombucha. Early excuses to retire to her bedroom were becoming more frequent, and after a very brave snooping session, Jacob heard tiny bits of a phone call. Breathy giggles coming from his roommate made him step away, an act to save not only his room, but also his life.

The little grin that would appear on her face, before she scurried upstairs, was the same one that she wears at this very moment. It takes the willpower of a thousand Ava’s in a hookah bar to not jump up and down at the thought that Melissa may be seeing someone again, someone clearly better for her. With all of his self-control, held together with sheer desperation, he glances at Barbara. God’s number one soldier is smiling to herself, giving a little nod as she feels his gaze on her. Confirmation.

There’s a certain pep in her step the rest of the day. Not one eye roll as Janine breathlessly recounted her walk back from the deli, no pinching the bridge of her nose when a student asked a question she’d answered seven times already today, not even one occurrence of biting her tongue to save herself an elbow from Barbara. Blissfully happy Melissa is almost more terrifying than angry Melissa, her stiff walk replaced with a certain bounce that didn’t diminish.

“Alright, little eagles, it is go-time! Move it, move it! If you’re not out the door in ten seconds, you’re spending the night with the Abbott ghosts!” The kids all run past Melissa in a flock of giggles as she mentally counts each one, making sure everyone is accounted for before locking up her room. Giddiness grows in her chest, T-minus four hours, and she finds herself just as motivated as the children to run out the doors. Uncharacteristically, she tries to avoid Barbara on her way out, trying to get home as fast as humanly possible, knowing she would be in a frenzied overdrive once she starts getting ready to see you.

“Melissa!” She cringes as she hears her name at the end of the hall, stalling her in her place. Turning on her heel, the redhead faces the floor to hide the pained expression she wears, before looking back up. “Girl, where are you going in such a hurry? You’re moving like the devil is on your heels.”

“The devil couldn’t catch me if he tried,” Melissa snorts, “and I’m just tryna get home, I got plans tonight.”

Barbara raises a brow, “plans, you say? With whom?”

“No one,” she replies, but the sly grin and pink cheeks give her away.

The kindergarten teacher hums, “well, you have fun with no one. I expect a debrief Monday morning, maybe Saturday if you find some free time.” Pink cheeks go as red as Melissa’s hair at the insinuation, only managing a little huff and nod as a response before slinking off to her car.

—☽—

Melissa had given you only one direction for tonight, being that you should dress warm. As much as she knew the limited information would bother you, she hoped you trusted her enough to go along with it, and you did without question, but not without a half-second of hesitation. She could already picture the game of eenie-meenie you would likely play when you went to pick out a sweater or sweatshirt.

And she would be right. With an hour left before Melissa was to arrive, you stood half-naked in front of the closet on your fifth round of the game in trying to choose what to wear. Though every time you reject an option, you’d manage to find a potential reason to go with it, and the cycle keeps going. Deciding to let fate take its chance, you throw an arm over your eyes and blindly swing the other to randomly grab something to wear, at this point you don’t even care if it’s the matching Bluey sweatshirt you share with your nephew.

Fate is on your side it seems, the blind reach procuring a loose fitting, dark grey sweater, one you’d owned over half your life. One that Melissa had stolen many times before, that you had to steal back from her. Without a second thought, you put a longsleeve on before the sweater, just in case it finds a way to pass ownership.

Similarly to last week, you find yourself tense and jittery, waiting on the edge of your seat for the text that tells you that you’ll be able to see her again. Bosco nudges at your hands to be pet, clearly noticing your nerves, attempting to snuggle them away. He’s an expert, your shaky hands stilling as you scratch gently around his neck, dodging his wet nose before it meets your eye. Utterly in the zone petting the spaniel, your phone pinging pulls you from your trance.

pretty girl: Ready when you are.

i’ll be right down, just a sec

pretty girl: Take your time hon.

You, in fact, do not take your time, but what Melissa doesn’t see, she can’t possibly know. Panting at the bottom of the stairs, you take a spare few seconds to catch your breath before walking towards the only car in the lot with its lights on. Leaning against it was Melissa, picking at her nails with pursed lips, a tell-tale sign of her nerves. The closer you get, the more clearly you can see her. Her bright pink hoodie is clearer now, contrasting against a pair of leather pants that almost rip the air from your lungs.

The words leave your lips before you can really stop them, “you’re beautiful.”

Bright eyes look up from the pavement, wide with surprise from your seemingly sudden appearance in front of her. Heat spreads from down her face to her chest at the compliment, feeling every bit of it from head to toe, reveling in the warmth of your attention. It’s been years since you’ve looked at her like this, much less spoken.

“You-” she breathes, “you’re wow.” A second wave hits her when she sees what you’re wearing, that fucking sweater. She’d stolen it more times than she can count, straight from the closet or even directly off of your body, and now it was within arms reach again.

“Should’ve asked first, wearing your sweater and all,” you say lightheartedly, hoping that it will calm the nerves between you both.

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” Melissa chuckles, looking down bashfully. “You ready to get going?”

All you manage is a nod, far too excited to be in her presence to get anymore words out. Ever the gentlewoman, Melissa slides in front of you to open your door, closing it once you’ve slid into your seat. You knew better than to ask where you were going, the redhead already told you three times that she wasn’t spoiling anything for you.

The entirety of the twenty minute drive, it takes a god-like amount of effort to keep from staring at Melissa’s hand on the gear shift. Shimmering rings just beg to be fiddled with, hand asking to be held, but you refrain from crossing the line. The late time keeps the road relatively empty, though Philly streets are never silent, a cacophony of horns and yelling seems to linger regardless of the sun’s presence.

The car pulls into a lot of a building, only a small deli on the first level, the rest appears to be utterly vacant. Slowly, you turn to face Melissa, looking at her with pure confusion and a need for an answer.

She peeks over, sensing your gaze on her. Putting the car in park she simply says, “just trust me.”

“I do,” you reply without hesitation.

It takes very little persuading for you to begin following Melissa, in through the deli where she greeted the man at the front desk. From the little Italian you still remember from being around her family, you pick up something about a door and the two of you being allowed to do something. All the fishing for translation in your mind halts when a hand goes to the small of your back, guiding you to the back of the shop towards the stairs. At the top floor, Melissa reaches around you to put the code into the door, opening the roof access. Three thick blankets stacked on top of one another, with a cooler holding them down, greet you when you turn after watching the redhead prop the door open with a brick.

A sort of wonder takes over, just following her movements as she sits on the blankets, patting the spot next to her. Taking residence next to her, you scoot closer without even an attempt of subtlety. Glossy lips curve into a smile at your action, Melissa immediately trying to hide it by reaching into the orange cooler.

From the cooler, she pulls out a shaker and a bottle of whiskey, peeking at you with a mischievous look in her eye. Without breaking eye contact, she lifts out simple syrup and lemon juice. Simultaneously, both your noses scrunch, leaning into each other slightly as you snicker, feeling juvenile in the excitement of it all.

Despite taking the time to garnish both your drinks with maraschinos, you pretend to not notice the sly reaches to pull them out of your drink. As far as you’re concerned, she can have whatever she wants if you get to hear that quiet, satisfied giggle.

Reaching into the cooler again, Melissa pulls out a small radio, checking her watch as she fiddles with the dials. After a few moments, you hear what sounds like the opening credits of a movie. Knocking her knee with your own to get your attention, she points to a screen a little ways away, a small drive-in theater that you didn’t even know was in the city. Squinting a little to see the title from the distance, you see that it’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of her father’s favorites. The thought alone makes you smile, he’d gotten you both into westerns once you were ‘old enough to appreciate them,’ meaning when you were well into your twenties.

It takes little time for the two of you to end up pressed against each other, everything packed away and forgotten off to the side. The two of you stay quiet as you listen to the movie, both mouthing lines you remember. Your eyes long to look at her, so you look down to grab your drink, shifting your eyes to look at Melissa.

Once you do, all you can do is watch her, her hands, her eyes, her lips, how content she is written on her face. It’s hard to take your eyes off her, it always has been, but right now it feels more difficult than ever. Yellow street lights barely illuminate her, everything you can see is because of the sheer closeness of your bodies. The warmth radiating off of her is grounding, the chill around you nonexistent.

Feeling your attention on her quickly has Melissa turning towards you. She’s met with a nose brushing against hers, both of your eyes widening at the newfound closeness. Neither of you even attempt to move away, completely engrossed in each other’s gaze; the closest you two had been in a decade, here and now.

“Can I-” She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Please.”

Lips rush to press against yours, moving quickly, but so carefully that you can’t help the whine that crawls out of your throat. It takes even less time for your hands to slide up to her face, holding her close as her own hands wander to hold your sides. Needy fingers weave into her hair, tugging lightly at soft copper. Melissa groans into your mouth, tongue swiping against your lips, being met with instant entry and a cross between a sigh and moan.

Any remaining gloss that wasn’t sticking to the plastic cups was spread across your lips, giving you a taste of cherry and lemon, whiskey shared between you. The feeling of her tongue is intoxicating, and all you can manage is to haul her closer, wanting her entirely against you. Catching on, Melissa pushes further into you, leaning you down onto the blankets. The change in position seems to bring a moment of pause to both of you, parting for a moment to catch your breaths.

Slowly, you open your eyes, meeting jade eyes with blown out pupils. Detangling your hands from her hair, you bring them back to hold her face. Stroking your thumb over her cheek, her eyes flutter shut as a deep breath leaves her chest. You gently pass over her cheekbone, following the slope to her lips, kiss-swollen and lovely. Brushing against her lips, you see her eyes open again, watching your attention on her skin. You can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her.

Tugging her down gently, you press a soft kiss to her lips, easy and slow. A silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, that you want this just as much as she does.

The entire drive back to your building, Melissa keeps her hand in yours, enjoying the feeling of your grip tightening around hers every now and then. Uncharacteristically, she drives the speed limit through the streets, wanting to prolong her time with you as much as she can. Pulling into the lot, she lifts your hand to press a kiss to it before hopping out, rounding the car to open your door.

“What a charmer,” you joke, voice bubbly and light from pure adoration for the woman. Humming, Melissa’s fingers tangle with yours as she walks you to the door. Leaning against the cold brick of the building, you pull her in closer, wanting her in your orbit a little longer.

Her thumb glides over your knuckles, “thank you, for tonight.”

“Thank you. Next time, though, I’m planning everything,” an easy smile crosses your face as you fiddle with her rings. You watch a barely suppressed excitement cross her features, feeling your heart swell at the sight.

Subconsciously, you both lean into each other, no words spoken between you. Your eyes flick to her licks, catching her attention. With a barely there touch, Melissa presses a kiss to your lips, lingering as you just barely keen into her. As she pulls away, she forces herself to take a step back, knowing if she stays close that she’ll never leave.

“Can’t wait,” she says, a smile on her lips that never fades when she’s around you.

“Text me when you get home?” You have to keep a hand on the wall behind to keep you in place, too drawn to Melissa for your own good.

She chuckles, taking a step back, “it’s a five minute drive.”

“Just text me, please,” your head drops to the side, looking at her through your lashes.

The only you get is a little nod, reveling in her little smirk as she turns away. Your eyes stay on her, intent on seeing her safely to her car, but she seems to have other ideas. Before she even reaches the fence, Melissa turns on her heel and quickly walks back up to you. Without so much as a warning, she holds your face in her hands and plants one more solid kiss to your lips.

When she pulls away she sees your brows raised and a dumbfounded look on your face, it leaves her with a little spark of pride in her chest. Her thumb passes over your lip before she steps back, slowly walking backwards, “I’ll text you.”

—☽—

The trudging of Jacob coming upstairs shakes Melissa from her last minute indecisiveness about her choice of shirt, registering her open door, throwing the green shirt over her bra-clad form. Quick feet land her in front of her vanity, plopping in the seat to seem busy instead of fretful. Silent prayers that he leaves her alone go unanswered, peeking in as she unscrews the wand of her mascara.

“What’re you up to tonight?” Jacob asks, practically hopping up to her.

She purposely avoids looking at him, “noneya.”

“Oooh, come on Mel-Mel! Spill!”

“Stop calling me that,” she lets out shortly, carefully blinking on mascara. “I’m just going out, that’s all.” Melissa promised herself the second you came back into her life, she wouldn’t refer to you as just a friend. Not until you told her that’s all you want from her, she couldn’t blame you for that choice after all of her own.

You are beginning to run out of things to fill the time until Melissa arrives. The kitchen was wiped down and swept, the living room vacuumed, shit, you even wiped down the blinds. A nagging part of your mind keeps ringing that maybe you should change the blanket over the back of the couch, but the others don’t match the pillows and that will only make your skin crawl more.

A slammed door in the hall makes you startle out of the near catatonic state you’re in, eyes glazed over as they stare unfocused at the coffee table. Your eyes jump to the clock, the little hand getting closer and closer to the seven, only twenty minutes until she’s here. You let out a deep breath before it hits you, only twenty minutes.

Nearly crashing to the floor as your socks glide on the carpet, you rip the top drawer of your dresser open, brain rushing to figure out if the fluffy socks are a bad look or not. Eyes clenching, you sigh at the immaturity of your own thoughts, feeling like a middle schooler trying to get their crush to like them. It’s all frivolous, really. But, God, you want her to like you.

With five minutes left to wait, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV screen as your leg bounces hard enough to cause a six-point magnitude earthquake.

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa has been sitting in the lot of your building for ten minutes, working up the courage to walk in. If she didn’t get here early, she is sure she would’ve been late walking inside. Melissa stretches out her hand from the tight clenched fists they had been, crescents in her palm from her pink acrylics. She has to reread her text about a million times before sending it.

Just pulled in.

Peluche: i’ll be right down, give me 30 seconds

Creaking of a heavy metal door takes Melissa out of her thoughts where she stands on the steps, turning to see your head just barely popping out of the door. Neither of you can help the little grins that come to your face, both of your attempts to hide them being useless against the other. Wordlessly, you wave her in, and Melissa is quick to obey. It’s quiet as you both climb the stairs, until you arrive at your front door.

The moment you press one number on the keypad, Bosco is barking up a storm on the other side of the door. When the door opens, he is just as quick to start jumping on Melissa, clearly remembering his friend that he hasn’t seen in almost three months.

“Bobo, dude,” you almost whine, trying to tug him away despite his excited hopping, “alright, enough. Bed, now, little freak.”

When you turn back to Melissa, her face is pink from laughter, the lines around her eyes deeper from the smile on her face. Slipping her jacket off her arms, she asks, “is he like that with everyone?”

“No, not everyone,” you answer, stepping forward to grab her jacket from her to hang up, “he’s usually only that excited when I get home or when my neighbor stops by, but he never jumps on him since the man’s like eight thousand years old.”

Melissa tries to ignore the shivers up her spine, “probably just remembers me, or I’m just that special.”

“Two things can be true at once,” you say sincerely, taking the bottle of wine with you as you search for the corkscrew. “I’ve only got stemless glasses, that okay?”

“Blasphemous,” she jokes, leaning against the counter, resting her weight on her elbows.

Lightheartedly, you roll your eyes, pouring her glass first. Melissa’s eyes light up as you swirl the wine in the glass before handing it to her, something she does before she starts any glass. It’s a pointless little thing she has done since Nonna began allowing her a small cup of wine at dinner when she was fifteen, she never thought you would remember something so miniscule.

It takes less than two minutes of sitting on the couch for Melissa to realize that she had made the biggest mistake telling you that she didn’t care what you watched tonight, that you had full reign of choosing. The Conjuring pops up on the screen, the ominous tree makes her groan. Dropping her chin to her shoulder, she stares at you. The pursing of your lips and strict avoidance of her eyes makes the stare turn to a glare.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she says with a facetious anger, “you’re fucking with me.”

Turning slowly, you put on a failing face of innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Melissa laughs through her words, “you’re trying to get me to walk outta here.”

“No! You said I could pick whatever I want,” you gesture towards the TV.

Melissa heads tilts down, but her eyes stay on you, lips turning up, “you tryna get me all scared like a cliche little movie date? Real sly.”

“So what if I am?” Your expression is playful, but there’s something in your voice that makes Melissa feel warm.

A deep breath leaves her lungs, “if this jump scares me, I’m hitting you with a pillow.”

“Thankfully, I have several,” you mumble, a sated smile on your lips as you press play.

Two glasses of wine later, you find yourself relaxed into the arm of the couch, while Melissa sits curled into a ball, fully leaned into the back of the couch. For someone so confident and brave, it has always humored you that she was so easily scared of horror films. She nearly suffocated you when she came over one night all those years ago, Candyman left you with the redhead clinging to you like a baby koala.

A pitchy squeak pulls you from the reminiscing you can’t seem to escape, eyes scanning the screen, seeing the exorcism scene, before looking towards Melissa. With her hands over your eyes, you can see her mouth moving, quiet mutters of God dammit and mother fucker leaving glossy lips. It’s impossible to suppress the little chuckle that bubbles in your throat, and squinted green eyes stare you down.

“Shut up,” Melissa mumbles, looking at you rather than back at the movie.

“I didn’t say anything,” you can’t even say it with a straight face, “you’re the one that said I could pick the movie.”

Melissa throws the pillow in her lap at you with a weak arm, “you know I don’t like this scary shit. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll put Fox and the Hound on after,” you offer. Olive eyes give you an unimpressed look, but the corners of her lips turn up before she gives a little nod in silent thanks.

Her eyes don’t leave you as your attention falls back on the screen, watching as you become fully engrossed in the happenings she refuses to acknowledge. Melissa’s mind churns over your earlier statement, how you might’ve just chosen this for her to get closer to you, and she wishes she could say your not-so-subtle plan wasn’t working. Yet, here she is, thinking that if you were holding her, this would feel like a Pixar film.

Slowly, as if you were the spooked one, she slowly shifts closer. After scanning for discomfort that she doesn’t find, Melissa leans closer, praying you’ll catch on.

“Get over here,” you mumble through a huffed laugh, shifting to rest your back against the arm, putting a leg down on the floor to open up space. Not wasting a second, Melissa lays down on top of you, tucking into you enough that only one eye is able to see the TV, but only if she strains to look up.

It takes zero time for your fingers to find the ends of her hair, the feeling only making Melissa settle in further. Your free hand gets a hold of the remote, turning off the movie before it’s even ended. While you’re looking for the cartoon, Melissa fishes her phone from her back pocket, not bothering to move as she checks her messages.

Jacob: sooo am i leaving the porchlight on or are u coming back in the morning

Put the light on, please.

Jacob: am i allowed to ask questions????

The redhead feels your laugh more than she hears it, peeking up she sees your smirking face. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “you’re right, he’s nosy.”

“Told you. If we were at my place right now, we’d be getting interviewed until next week,” Melissa grumbles. Your only answer is a hum, attention moving to the annoying task of typing out the name of the movie.

You just did.

Your chest rumbles with silent laughter at her response, only holding her tighter when her phone drops on the table and her nose bumps against your neck. The meandering fingers that twirl loose curls around them are a constant distraction for Melissa, the voices of Copper and Tod not even reaching her ears as she settles into a comfort she’s been longing for for years. Nothing will ever quite match the feeling of your lips pressing to her temple.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti is picky. Name a topic, she’s got a steadfast opinion on it. The Seahawks? Wanna-be Eagles. Mashed potatoes? Better when a little lumpy. Sleeping? Her bed is the only place she can feel rested. She’d grown all too used to sleeping in her own bed alone, it feels foreign to wake up with someone beside her.Well, her opinion may have changed on that last one.

Curled under a thin blanket, Melissa wakes slowly as the little rays of sun work their way under the curtains. Attempting to stretch her legs, she tries to turn on her back, but is met with resistance. Her movement makes the arm around her tighten, a head nudging into her shoulder blades. Her fingers run up and down the expanse of your arm, quietly asking for you to loosen up. With newfound freedom, she turns to face you, meeting half open eyes and a dopey grin. Tucking yourself into her, you press a lingering kiss to the junction of her neck, mumbling into warm skin.

“What was that, baby?” Melissa rasps out.

“Phone went off,” you grumble a little louder, shuffling closer to her.

Blindly, the redhead reaches around for her phone. Huffing, she forces her eyes open enough to catch face unlock, but they immediately bulge out of her head.

Jacob: hey u coming home tonight?

Jacob: mel mel?

Jacob: barbs said u were fine but can u just answer

Jacob: melissa?

Melissa flies up, your arm dropping limply beside her. A high pitched whine climbs out of your throat as you sit up, leaning against her side with your head on her shoulder. Glancing at her screen, your eyes go as wide as hers.

“If you need to call him, go for it,” you say quietly.

She sighs, “I don’t like lying to him. I’m just…”

“I know,” you reach to hold her hand, “just do whatever feels right for now. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Melissa only gives a nod in response, clearly still in her head. Giving her space, you press a kiss to her shoulder before climbing out of bed. Green eyes follow as you walk out of the room, nearly stumbling into the door as you go. She gives herself another moment to watch you by the coffeemaker before glancing back down at her phone.

Once you’ve taste tested the coffee you made for Melissa, you carefully walk back into your room, trying to not spill a single drop. Glancing up from the mugs, you see that Melissa’s eyes are scrunched, clearly hating the conversation that was happening, but accepting the consequences. Opening one eye and seeing you, she presses a finger to her lips as she puts the call on speaker.

“-ad me worried! You could’ve been dead in a ditch, or worse! I’m happy that you’re happy and having a good time, but you need to be safe! Wait- that sounded weird, I meant physically safe. But that kinda safe too!” Her roommate’s, well warranted, rant continues, leaving you both struggling to breathe from the laughter you try to hide.

Melissa takes a deep breath to compose herself, “Jacob, again, I’m sorry. Wasn’t looking at my phone, but I’ll be better about it.”

“Cross your heart!” The sixth grade teacher was clearly not playing games.

Despite him not being able to see her, Melissa actually draws an X on her chest, “cross my heart.”

Laughing inwardly, you leave Melissa to speak with Jacob as you pad around the room, grabbing your clothes for the day. You feel eyes on you as you move, chest warming under her affection. Peeking over your shoulder as you go down the hall to the bathroom, you send her a wink that makes her grin.

When she finally hangs up with Jacob, Melissa flops back onto the bed, mulling things over in her mind. Telling her friends about you couldn’t be so bad, could it? Starting slow could help, but that means starting at home, and Jacob’s mouth is far too big to keep anything to himself. Telling Barbara will be easy, she already knows about you, just not current events.

She knows that Barbara will love you, that you will love Barbara. Deep down she knows the two of you would be two peas in a pod, and the thought of that alone makes Melissa want to throw caution to the wind. As much as she hates to admit it, acceptance of you from Jacob is something that weighs on her. He’ll probably be obsessed with you, and you don’t even have to say how much you want to meet him, she already knows. It could be so easy.

The spiral in her mind comes to a halt when she hears the bathroom door open. Suddenly feeling full of energy, a giddiness in her bones, she jumps out of bed to find you. Finding you in front of the microwave, reheating your coffee, she wraps her arms around your waist. The light squeeze you receive makes you smile, turning in her grasp to face her, arms encircling her neck.

“Hey, you,” you say, fingers twirling her hair.

“Hey, yourself,” she doesn’t even try to hide the lovesick look on her face, “I’ve got a proposition for ya.”

You snort, “you’re propositioning me?”

“Don’t even,” a hand playfully pinches your side, “it’s a serious question.” The little grin on your face drops, and Melissa can feel your hands freeze where they play with her curls. “Not super serious… just wondering if you’d wanna meet them? Barb, Jacob, maybe the others?

“You want that?” She nods immediately. “Are you sure?” She nods again. “Then, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

—☽—

How on Earth was she ever nervous about this? Seriously, how?

Janine had invited most of Abbott to her shoebox of an apartment for an end of year party, cleverly inviting Melissa and Barbara over early to get them in a cleaning mood. Everyone else wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half hour, you included. Melissa asked you to come later, hoping that there was less of a chance you’d be grilled if you arrived when the party was more full.

Forty sardines with master’s degrees fill the apartment, and Melissa is still finding little things around the place that need to be dusted and wiped down, but her momentum entirely ends when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Nearly dropping the vase in her hands, she fishes her phone out.

Peluche: i think i’m here

Peluche: the bouncer?? won’t let me in

An amused sigh passes her lips as she swerves through the sea of bodies to get to the front door, seeing Mr. Johnson with his arm barring the door.

“Mr. J, let them in,” Melissa laughs out, patting the man’s shoulder. He turns to look at her with scrutinizing eyes, but lowers his arm to allow space for you.

An arm wraps itself around your waist, immediately pulling you into her space, filling your senses with honey and the distinct smell of foundation on her skin. Guiding you carefully, trying to keep anyone from getting too close to you, she brings you over to where Barbara is fussing over a bookshelf. With a tap on the shoulder, the kindergarten teacher turns to Melissa before brown eyes land on you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so excited to see you in your entire life, and you don’t even know this woman.

“By the good lord’s graces,” she gasps at her own outburst, thrusting out her hand for you. “I’m sorry dear, it is lovely to meet you. I’m Barbara.”

Shaking her hand, you reply, “lovely to meet you, too. I’m-”

“Oh, I know exac-”

“Barb!” Melissa cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Your hand rubs her arm, trying to keep her from blowing a gasket, even if you’re fighting giggles next to her. Her attention falls back on you, all annoyance fading, “you want a drink?”

You nod, feeling her already beginning to tug you away. Rushing your words, you speak to Barbara, “it was nice meeting you!”

“You too, sweetheart. I’ll see you at brunch next week, I’m sure,” Barbara chuckles warmly. Accepting that this was the closest thing she’ll get to an introduction with Melissa.

Staying behind you with hands on your hips to guide you, Melissa leads you towards the kitchen. Everything feels like it’s underwater, with her hands on you, protective and, dare you say, possessive. For someone who had been nervous for days about you meeting everyone, she sure had no care in the world now. Quietly, next to your ear, you hear her counting down from five. Just as she hits one, a squeal pierces your eardrums.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh!” The voice is immediately recognizable to the one that had been lecturing the redhead over the phone in your bedroom only a few weeks ago. “Hi, hi, I’m Jacob, I work with Melissa at Abbott.”

“Also lecture her, from what I heard,” you joke, making Jacob pause.

Without a chance to blink, Jacob jumps up and down, “so you’re where she’s been lately!” Both you and Melissa wince and the sheer volume of it, but recover quickly when he calms, suddenly quiet and scanning you over, “you better be careful, not for her sake, but yours.”

There’s no malice in his words, it’s a pure warning. From the look on his face, it’s entirely about what he’ll do if she gets hurt, not what Melissa would do to you. From behind you, the redhead’s brows scrunch, mostly out of confusion, ready to tell Jacob off for talking to you like that. She feels guilty, she’s the one who messed everything up before, she deserves the questioning of her worthiness.

You take Jacob’s words in stride, “I’m counting on you to set me straight then, if I ever dare to step out of line.”

Jacob’s entire demeanor goes back to normal at your words, looking at Melissa excitedly, “I like them.”

“Yeah, me too. You ain’t special,” she chuckles, hand on your hip tightening, pulling you imperceptibly closer.

Within an hour, most of the partygoers are on the dancefloor, the two of you included. Cups with rum and whatever chaser Janine had left were teetering on spilling, holding your weight against her is all that keeps you from teetering as well. Sea Barbara stays happily to herself with her cardboard cutout dance partner, content to slow dance to the fast paced music. Singing and cheering around you feels far away as your drunken attention refuses to stray from Melissa, her attention staying on you.

It’s increasingly more difficult to not kiss you when you’re this close, but with warm bodies against her at every side, it’s less than ideal. If it were, it would just be the two of you. She’s so close to just asking if you want to get out of here, but she’s interrupted just as she ducks to speak in your ear.

“Melissa! Barbara! You’re supposed to be cleaning!” Janine yells, hands on her hips. You can feel Melissa groan more than you can hear it, loud music almost deafening you in the small apartment. Barbara tries to shoo the shorter woman away, but her drunk state doesn’t hold the same level of authority that it typically does.

“Janine, it’s a party. We’re partying,” Melissa says dismissively. Not once does her hand leave your waist, keeping you from being jostled by other people.

Her speaking up has Janine’s attention back on her, who quickly recognizes your presence. Brown eyes go from your face, to the hands on you, and back to Melissa’s face. Realization and excitement washes over her face, and the chattering that comes from her is hardly heard or understood from the bass boosts and liquor. Flapping hands keep moving as you try your best to gather her words, but she’s running off excitedly before you can even introduce yourself. You watch Janine bounce towards a lanky man, pointing in your direction, clearly telling him that Melissa brought someone.

Chuckling to yourself, you look back to Melissa, whose eyes are already one you. The universe seems to be both with and against her, because just as she tries to speak, the lights go out and the music stops. Warm hands pull you closer in surprise, and you can’t even be upset about your almost empty cup dropping to the floor. Murmurs around you get louder as everyone sits in equal confusion, but Melissa feels her opportunity.

Feeling lips brush your ear, heat rises to your cheeks, “wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes,” you say, shifting your hand from her arm to her hand, interlocking your fingers. Pulling you with her, she quickly gets to Barbara to let her know you’re both leaving, sneakily passing your phone to text Gerald while she gets her friend some water.

By the end of the night, neither of you could even find the energy to change out of your clothes after walking home. Melissa’s apartment being closer was a blessing, you didn’t even register that this was the first time you’ve been there. Neither did Melissa.

Brushing her teeth next to you in the mirror, pulling back sheets on the other side of the bed, becoming your personal pillow the moment you lay on the mattress. It just felt right.

—☽—

Bobbing your head along to Deftones, you mentally map out the drawing you’re supposed to be starting. The measurements they gave you make no sense, especially with the materials they requested. It’s like they’re asking for the building to concave on itself, not to house people. You’d pressed about giving them a consultation, see the inner workings of the old medical office yourself, but they rejected it ‘for time,’ which really means money. Little do they know they’re going to end up costing themselves more.

The song switches from Shove It to Mascara as knocking raps against your door, but they go completely unnoticed to you. So does the voice trying to get your attention without having to tap your shoulder, knowing it sends ten feet in the air in surprise.

“Boss… Boss… Boss!” Terrence gets no response for the third time before looking to the woman on his left, “you’ll have to go get ‘em, I guess. Lunatic keeps the volume to ear bleeding levels so they don’t have to listen to us, I swear.”

Melissa chuckles, “well, thank you anyways, hon. I got it from here.” Moving into the room, she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it to watch you for just a moment.

What she first notices is your button up, or lack thereof, disregarded on a chair on the other side of the room. Selfishly, she lets herself look you up and down, savoring bare arms and the hard look on your face. Melissa finds herself frozen, mind racing with images of you, subconsciously biting her lip as her eyes rake over you. Only pulled out of her mind by a groan that leaves your lips, she wills herself to get closer to you.

With your back still to her, you’re unable to see her slow movements as she tries to sneak up on you. Hands trail up your sides, clutching slightly when she feels you jump at the sudden touch. Turning in her arms, your bewildered expression dies when you meet green eyes, crinkled around the edges in amusement. Catching your breath, you wrap your arms around her neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you say softly, “but this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Missed you. I’ve barely seen you all week,” her arms tighten around your waist.

You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy feeling in your chest that’s spreading, “I’m sorry, they’ve got me practically chained to the desk until this draft is drawn up. Fuckers think it’s easy turning procedure suites into apartments, it’s not.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart,” her lips press to your cheek as she tugs you in, missing holding you, being held by you. “I have dinner with my family tomorrow night, though, so I won’t be around. Just wanted to get my time in with you before I go into withdrawals.”

You laugh at her words, “Withdrawal? Little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Me? Never,” she tries to keep a serious face, but her smile overtakes as she watches you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

A finger twirls a copper strand around, voice weary, “tell everyone I said hi?”

“Well…” Melissa’s face drops a little, knowing she hasn’t told her family that you’re back in her life. Her eyes scan your face, seeing the smallest hint of sadness, and hurries to correct it. “You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

The twirling stops, “you mean that? Because you can’t offer that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, I promise,” her hands sit more firmly on you now, “they miss you, they just never mention it. But they do. Especially John Anthony. And Kristin Marie, but she’ll never admit that, even to herself.”

The only answer she received is a strong kiss pressing to her lip, her eyes immediately fluttering shut at the contact. The hand in her hair tightens as your entire body pushes into her, groaning at the feeling of her on you mixing with the emotions of it all. How easily she asked you to come with her, to see her family, to be by her side for real this time. It feels too early to say what you want to at this moment, so you just kiss her harder.

Melissa spent half the day and the entire drive to the house telling you that no, her parents don’t hate you, and that yes, they will be incredibly excited to see you again. She kept the knowledge of your attendance secret, not wanting to be slammed with questions, but mostly because she wanted to see the look on her mother’s face when she saw her favorite not-her-child from all those years ago.

“Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t want to if you only offered because you felt like you had to. If I’m impos-”

“You’re not imposing,” she almost whispers as she cradles your face, “I want you there. It hasn’t felt the same since you stopped coming.”

Pressing kissing to your knuckles every now and then, Melissa manages to take some of the anxiety off your shoulders. Turning onto the familiar street, you immediately sit up straighter in your seat, checking your outfit and fiddling with everything, desperate to pick off lint that isn’t even there. Melissa lets it go, knowing there’s no stopping this. Part of her feels guilty, knowing she’s the reason that you felt they could hate you, that they wouldn’t be happy to see you. All she ever told them was you had a mutual falling out, never that it was her fault, especially not that it was yours.

Pulling up in front of the house, Melissa’s fingers tighten around yours. Looking up at her, you see the silent question in her eyes, giving her a nod that tells her you’re fine. To prove yourself, you hop out of the car to jog to her side, opening the door for her with a grin. Shaking her head with a half-hidden smile on her lips, she takes your offered hand and pulls you into her, walking with you to the door.

No knocking required, Melissa steps in first, only letting go of your hand for a brief moment to shrug off your jackets before her hand is back in yours. Chattering in the kitchen leads you to where everyone stands or sits, sipping on beers and white wine. Clearing her throat, Melissa gets the attention of the room. Silence fills the previously loud air.

“Yooooo!” You hear someone yell, a voice that you recognize all too well. Without a moment’s notice, you’re immediately tackled, hand being ripped from Melissa’s. You hug the person back, still trying to figure out exactly who it is, but the exaggerated leaning side-to-side gives you everything. Little John Anthony isn’t so little anymore, not that he ever really was.

Feeling another body against you, one arm reaches behind to give some level of contact as acknowledgement. Slowly people let go of you while others come in, and all you can feel is glad that everything is so busy, no one will see the happy tears forming in your eyes. Annette’s noodle arms let go of you, moving as she feels a tap on her back. When she moves, Melissa’s mother stands before you.

“Finally,” she says, cradling your face in her soft hands, “I knew you’d be back.” Patting your cheek, she finally moves out of the way for others to get a hold of you. Melissa can barely see you most of the night, but the warmth in her chest grows every time she sees you talking with someone new, hugging someone else as you talk. Kristin Marie hides her excitement well, but not well enough, though you let her get away with hugging you tightly without saying anything about it.

By dinner time, everyone’s been reacquainted with your presence, and Melissa can finally get her hands on you again. Scooching her chair closer, she mumbles in your ear while the conversation carries around the table.

“Told you, nothing to worry about,” her hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

“I missed them,” you say, running your fingers up and down her arm, “I missed this.”

Family dinner ends the way it always does, with everyone talking in the living room, sipping coffee or the remainder of their drinks. You take your place next to Melissa on the couch, leaning your head on her shoulder as she talks to Toni about something you can’t remember. You haven’t felt this at peace in so long, you missed your family. Annette and Vinny fighting, music playing from the TV, chattering around you in a mix of Italian and English, it’s comforting.

Looking up from your perch on her shoulder, you keep your eyes on Melissa. Watching her hands move as she speaks, how happy she looks, how beautiful she is. Turning slightly to put her glass on the table, she catches your gaze, the corners of her lips going up as she catches the lovesick look on your face. Fully knowing she’s being watched, fully feeling the warmth in her cheeks, she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Careful to not linger long, she pulls away and goes back to her conversation with her sister.

No more hiding.

—☽—

“Am I buying groceries for two people or three this week?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen, fidgeting with the pen in your hand,

“Mmm… Jacob mentioned maybe stopping by tomorrow night, so probably three,” Melissa answers, looking through the pantry, “and we need potatoes, I forgot to write that down.”

“Red ones?” You joke, coming up behind her to press your lips to the junction of her neck. Leaning her head back onto your shoulder, she lets you continue your path up her neck to her jaw, nipping at her ear. “I gotta get going before they close,” Melissa whines at the loss of contact, “I’ll be quick, might not even pay.”

She chuckles warmly, scrunching her nose, “right, sure you won’t, goodie-two-shoes.”

Pulling away, you jot down russets and give her another kiss, this one to her lips. “I love you,” you mumble as you part, “see you in a bit.”

The moment the front door shuts, the once cozy and nonchalant Melissa is replaced by a frenzied and excited one. Flying around the house, she begins to put her plan in place. Tealights are placed everywhere, the lighter checked for fuel, the small box from under her socks now buried in her pocket, she just had to open the bottle of Angel’s Envy. It took an embarrassing number of different liquor stores to find, but that was months ago, and this is now.

Melissa lights the last candle just as she hears your car door slam shut, then the trunk. Staying out of direct view, she watches you come in the door, looking at your feet as you walk. You’re in your own little world, completely walking through to the kitchen, dropping the bags off. Making your way into the living room, you almost drop the bouquet in your hands.

Candles all around the room, music playing softly from the record player, Melissa wearing your sweater. Your jaw drops, eyes wide as you stare at the redhead, utterly bewildered. She takes the chance to step a little closer, watery smile stretching across her face as you shakily hold out red chrysanthemums. Taking them carefully, she sets them on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you with her. Soft eyes watch her every movement, letting her move you around until you’re where she wants you.

“I love you,” Melissa says quietly, shifting from the couch to the floor, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I haven’t stopped once. Even when I didn’t know, I loved you. When I wouldn’t listen to my own brain, I loved you. When I thought I couldn’t, I loved you.”

“Mel…” Your voice comes out cracked, a wobbly lip stuck between smiling and sobbing.

“Let me finish, baby,” she says softly, stroking the hand she holds in her own, “you are everything to me, and it took me too long to figure that out. But now, I’m not taking a single thing for granted, not you, never you.” Melissa reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a small, emerald box, “I wish I could’ve had you my whole life, but all I can ask you for is the rest of it.”

Tears spill down your cheeks at her words, fingers clinging to her hand like a life source. You so badly want to reach out, cup her face, and kiss her, her words playing the strings of your heart, but you refrain. Too much restraint goes into not pouncing on her the second she pulled out the ring box, your lips practically begging to be on hers already. You can’t help the frown on your face when Melissa’s hand leaves you, properly holding the ring to present it to you.

“Will you marry me?” The smile on her lips only grows as she asks, knowing what you’ll say just based on the look you give her.

What she doesn’t account for was that all your restraint would break, and she’s knocked to the floor as you pepper her face with kisses, lips smacking against her skin. Moving from her forehead, to her cheeks, and finally, to her lips. All love, all want, all devotion, all you.

“Yes, yes,” you answer quickly, lips barely parting from hers, “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

Chuckling at your overexcited babbling, she manages to sit you both up, keeping you in her lap. A warm hand pulls your left hand from her face, sliding the ring on without taking her eyes off of you. Your hand immediately goes back to her face, pulling her into your kiss once more.

Morning back pain be damned, neither of you leave the floor of the living room the rest of the night. Waking up with your heart beating under her ear is all the consolation she needs, your newly ringed hand in hers.

At the next family dinner, all the cousins take one peek at your hand, eyes widening. Melissa and you both brace for shouting and to be lifted in the air by one of her brothers, but you were wrong. Maria Christina groans as she passes a twenty over to Seamus, who was getting handed money by at least four other people. He peeks up to see a very shocked you and Melissa.

“What? We all saw it coming, I just picked the right week. Ma said tomorrow.”

note: time for sol’s monthly novel <3 hope you enjoyed

feedback appreciated as always

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lgbtq #lesbian #lgbtq fanfiction

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viviennevermillion · 2 years ago

Text

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɢᴏᴏᴅ

❝ you see my heart i wear it on my sleeve, 'cause i just can't hide it anymore. i know that it's gonna take some time; i've got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind: this might end up like it should ❞ — daughtry

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: character x gn!reader, ideal dates

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: alhaitham, baizhu, capitano, cyno, diluc, dottore, kaveh, pantalone, tighnari, wanderer

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dottore's ideal date includes observing his creepy mad scientist experiments. he's sweet to reader but very much not a good person in this and neither are you

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: guess who is back? thought hitting 4.5k followers might be a good time to break my 3 month genshin hiatus and comeback with a 10 character headcanon post. comments and reblogs are appreciated! you're also always welcome to shoot me an ask about my works! 💙

ᴅɴɪ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇʀꜱ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴇɴᴛʜᴜꜱɪᴀꜱᴛꜱ, ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴜꜱᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘꜰᴘ

Alhaitham isn’t really the type to go out of his way to take you on dates if there isn’t a special occasion. Before the two of you got together, he would often ask you whether you’d like to go to the tavern with him after he finished up work or join him in the library. Once in a while you’d take a walk together and sometimes after you spent time, Alhaitham would invite you over to dinner at his house, apologising for his roommate in advance even though you found Kaveh to be not even half as unpleasant as Alhaitham thought he was.

“Dates” with Alhaitham always retain this character of a loose and relaxed hangout with a good friend, even throughout your relationship. Of course, Alhaitham will pay attention to your needs and make sure you don’t doubt his love for you, but he doesn’t really care for the conventional idea of a date. He mostly wants to spend time with you.

For Alhaitham the most important part of your dates are the conversations. He wouldn’t have fallen for you if he doesn’t love to have long, in-depth conversations with you about whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t matter if you’re as well-versed in a subject as he is with language; as long as you’re able to hold your own in a discussion with him, he’ll have a good time. If you manage to answer something clever and humorous to a question he asks you, you might get a chuckle out of him. It’s how you found out that Alhaitham actually has a very warm laugh that makes you feel content in his presence.

Being with Alhaitham means that sometimes you forget the fact that you’re even on a date. You’re so immersed in the conversation with him, his hand placed on top of yours as he takes another sip of his coffee, that the environment around you just fades away; whether you’re out in the forests or having a meal at the tavern.

Just make sure to not take Alhaitham to places that are too loud or too crowded. He prefers a quiet and calm atmosphere where he can focus on you and his thoughts. After all, he came here for some quality time with the person he loves rather than listening to a drunk scholar’s misadventures at the table next to him. He brings his noise-cancelling headphones along with him, but he still makes sure to get the two of you a quiet place away from the busy chatter of the townfolk.

Alhaitham loves to take you to Akademiya exhibitions or ruins in the desert. He’s well-aware that sitting over a book for hours and researching a topic may not be everybody’s cup of tea, so he likes going out with you to places where you can actually see the things he studies while he explains them to you. He’ll show you ancient scriptures and patiently tells you what they mean and why they were written.

Those days typically end with the two of you enjoying a nice meal that Alhaitham cooked at home and you resting your head in his lap; tired from all the walking and exploring, as your significant other picks up one of his books to read. You close your eyes and he places one hand on your back and lets you rest close to him. If you have any questions about the book he’s reading or need anything, don’t hesitate to ask him. He’ll answer if it’s you.

Baizhu would love to spend his day exploring Liyue with you, taking you to all the beautiful places you haven’t seen yet. But unfortunately, due to his condition, this isn’t always possible. He apologizes for this way more than he should. You and Changsheng tend to scold him for this. You’d cup his face in your hands and press a kiss to his lips. “As long as I’m with you, I’m having the time of my life”, you reassure him with a gentle voice and litter his face with soft kisses to drive the point home. With every kiss, Baizhu grows more flustered but his smile becomes wider. “Very well then”, he coughs and pulls you into a hug, “if you say so, I’ll hold you to it.”

Baizhu likes to go on spa dates with you. He takes you to a thermal bath in Liyue Harbor. You have to remind him that he already explained the health benefits of spa treatment to you multiple times, or he’ll do it again. Doctor’s habits. You chuckle at how he puts a hand on his neck and stumbles over his words when you two finish his sentence in sync; him having completely forgotten how familiar you already are with his medical rambles.

You two relax in the brine bath as slow music plays along with quiet white noise. Baizhu leans back against the wall of the pool and lets out a relaxed sigh.

Changsheng is resting on a miniature beach chair you insisted to bring along because you “thought it was cute”.

You twirl a strand of Baizhu’s long hair around your finger. “You’re so beautiful with your hair down”, you breathe and pull him into a deep kiss, which Baizhu readily accepts. “You keep telling me”, he chuckles but avoids looking into your eyes. “Well it’s true”, you insist and Baizhu once more can’t believe how you look at him like he’s the most precious thing you have ever laid eyes on. “You should have seen him the first time you told him that”, Changsheng raises her voice, “he was a flustered mess but he’s been smiling for days afterwards.” “I- Did you have to tell them that?”, Baizhu sighs. “This is still tame compared to that time she told me that you had to redo my prescription because you absentmindedly drew a heart next to my name”, you laugh and Baizhu’s head turns towards his snake companion in shock. “You did what-”

You’re giggling at this point. Baizhu just lets out a disappointed sigh,

“Did you know that the salt in a brine bath can help with various skin and even lung diseases and is a tried and tested remedy for them?”, Baizhu asks as you make another amateur attempt at braiding his hair. “Yes, you told me”, you kiss his cheek, smiling against his skin. “The high concentration of salt in the water also makes you float effortlessly, if you lie down in the water.” Against your protests, Baizhu makes you abandon your masterpiece (a loose braid you improvised without any idea what you’re doing) and holds you as you lean back, letting you float on the water as you look up to the ceiling. It’s the first time you notice that the owners of the establishment have actually crafted the ceiling above the pool to look like the night sky; false stars sparkling above anyone who might come to be in your position right now. “Isn’t it beautiful?”, Baizhu, who had been looking up to the ceiling, remarks. When his eyes meet yours again, he realizes your attention had already shifted. “You’re supposed to look at the ceiling, not my face”, he chuckles but you protest and brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Got distracted”, you wink and Baizhu leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

The two of you spend a relaxing day at the spa, sharing herbal tea and ending up in each other’s arms at every possible opportunity.

Capitano, on a day off from his duties as a Fatui Harbinger, prefers to spend the majority of hours at home with you; alone, where he can take off his mask. You’re the only one he has trusted to take it off around in a very long time. A small price to pay for your affection; the way you kiss his lips softly as if he was fragile, even though most would regard him as a monster. Throughout his lifetime he had internalized that his hands were ones meant to kill and lead his men into battle. How ironic it was then, how gentle Capitano was with you. How he held your face in his big hands and looked at you with unmatched adoration in his eyes, whispering how much he loved you while pressing kisses to your forehead.

Capitano likes to take you to the botanical gardens of Zapolyarny Palace. It’s a little project of his; taking care of some of the gardening in his freetime, planting new flowers and making sure they thrive even in a nation such as Snezhnaya. When you first met the Captain, you never expected a man like him to have a hobby like this, but now that you knew, you found it endearing. Just one more thing that you adored about the man.

Capitano takes your hand into his and the two of you take a walk through the garden. He has been working on it for over a decade now and you can tell that he is proud of the result, especially when he gets to see that you find it beautiful and like to visit. After having relied on brute force in his profession for a long time and with the sheer strength Capitano had, it was difficult at first to tend to small, fragile beings such as plants. But everyone has to start somewhere right?

Capitano, being one of the strongest and also one of the most trusted harbingers, has been sent abroad on a mission in the name of the Tsaritsa countless times. An entire shelf in his bedroom is just filled with travel logs that you love to browse through on a relaxing day together like this. You’ll be snuggled up in his arms, skimming through the pages and letting Capitano explain the story behind the pictures he took and the paragraphs he wrote. It was like each time you did this, you learned another new thing to love about him. For someone who was sent into war and all kinds of mysterious dealings, Capitano’s travel logs were surprisingly ordinary. They included the food he had for dinner in a foreign nation, how he witnessed the locals dance at a festival and the natural phenomenons he wanted to make note of. Perhaps these were the things that stuck with him; the experiences he wanted to remember.

In the evenings, Capitano takes you stargazing. Throughout his lonesome strive across Teyvat, the stars had been his trusted companion. Therefore, he knew quite a lot about the constellations and how to use them to navigate. He’d be happy to explain it to you or just sit there with you in silence by the side of a campfire, watching as a shooting star trails across the sky. “Are you going to make a wish?”, you ask, smiling at him from the side. Capitano shakes his head and takes your hand into his. “I have everything I want for as long as I have you.”

If you ask Cyno to pick a date idea, you know full well where this is going. You could have just asked “which deck are you going to use for Genius Invokation TCG today?” because that will be what you’re going to be doing if you let Cyno pick. If you’re as enthusiastic about the game as he is, even better.

The two of you could have a picnic or visit the tavern to play against other people, Cyno leaves that choice to you. He brings all of his cards, safely concealed within a limited edition Genius Invokation TCG card box, and you’re one of the only people who’s allowed to play with his most rare cards and the ones with a holographic layer.

He may ramble about how he obtained them and how the intricate design is symbolic for xy plotline in King of Invokations, his favorite novel, but that’s just how he is. A joke here and there, a TCG novel quote thrown in; if you indulge him and encourage him he’s over the moon for you, although he’s making a (bad) attempt at keeping it together.

If he plays against other people, he’s expecting you to back him up. Knowing you have his back and are cheering him on makes Cyno even more dedicated to win. “The strength you see now does not come from the fortune of my cards, but instead from within; a heart determined to not fail the loved ones who have put their trust in me”, Cyno’s expression becomes more serious as he puts his cards on the table in front of his opponents, “this is a quote from ‘King of Invokations’ that I have felt deeply the first time I read it.” You repress a chuckle and simply leave a kiss on his cheek before getting up to grab your drinks from the tavern counter.

“I believe I have earned myself a kiss”, Cyno smiles at you triumphantly after winning against the group of people he met at the tavern. “I don’t remember promising you one as a reward”, you tease and he smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Well I suppose if you don’t want to, it can’t be helped-”

He’s unsurprised by how you pull him into your arms, locking your lips with his and burying your fingers in his soft white hair. Cyno smiles into the kiss, squeezing your hand gently. The way he reciprocates your gesture shows how much love he feels for you in this moment.

Cyno only becomes more smitten the more you compliment him for his TCG strategies and his hard-won victories; feeling his heart beat faster as you trail a couple of light kisses down his neck. “I had no doubts you would win”, you smile against his soft skin and Cyno rests his forehead against yours. “Whether I win or lose, for as long as I am privy to your love, I will emerge from every duel victorious”, Cyno whispers and you laugh. “I can’t believe you’re still using King of Invokations quotes to flirt with me.” “They worked better back when you hadn’t read the novels yet”, he lets out a sigh, “it was the price that had to be paid for making you familiar with the lore around Genius Invokation TCG.” You chuckle and wrap an arm around his waist, nuzzling his cheek. “In turn, you can imagine my surprise when I read them for the first time and recognized some of the most memorable things you had said to me…tsk tsk, Cyno, you have to be more original.” Cyno takes your hand into his and looks into your eyes with an earnest look. “In my defense, I remembered them when I spent time with you and they happened to perfectly describe how I feel for you”, he explains before his lips met yours once more.

Cyno spends the afternoon helping you improve your own Genius Invokation TCG playstyle and he shares some snacks ordered from the tavern with you. You can see that he’s passionate and enjoys every second of this date, even if he tries to play it cool. His still obvious excitement is enough of a reward for you, even if you don’t win the game.

Diluc keeps things classic when he plans a date with you. He’ll take a walk with you through Mondstadt, especially on days when the city hosts a market with fresh food and handmade crafts to look at while you enjoy a nice and sunny day in the City of Freedom.

If you have your eyes on anything, Diluc might get it for you. He enjoys seeing the smile on your face when he hands the item to you. Diluc has more than enough Mora and if he can use it to add a little joy to your day? That’s all he could hope for. The cool summer breeze and bustling market reminds him of days long gone, when he’d go to the city with his father to promote the drinks created at Dawn Winery. If he’s feeling comfortable enough around you, he might even tell you about it.

“Ah, young Master Diluc…I haven’t seen you stop by in a while”, an older man calls out to Diluc as the two of you pass his stall, “and you must be y/n, right? I remember how quickly word spread throughout the town when it became official that Mondstadt’s richest bachelor had finally settled down. There were a lot of disappointed young ladies, let me tell you…” Diluc awkwardly chuckles and takes your hand in his. “This is Ralf. He’s been putting up this stall at least once a month ever since I can remember”, Diluc explains. The man laughs and turns to you. “You should have seen him when he was just a wee little lad. His father would always buy a bag of cinnamon curd balls for him and Cavalry Captain Kaeya at my stall and the two of them would fight over it as if it was their last meal on death row.” You chuckle at the image of Diluc and Kaeya having a brotherly quarrell over something as simple as baked goods. Although, imagining them as children, it seemed quite on brand for the two. “Ah, that”, Diluc runs a hand through his hair and looks up to the sky as he recalls the memories that seem so far out of reach by now, “looking back on it, it seems like such a trivial matter.”

As you leave through the city gates, Diluc holds your hand all the way back to the winery and if you ask him about it, he’ll tell you more about those simple days of the past when he’d visit the city on the weekends with his family; even smiling fondly at the memory despite the pain in his heart about the death of his father and the estrangement from Kaeya. You were glad your date together could make him recall the good aspects of those memories.

While you were out in Mondstadt, Diluc’s maids already prepared a nice candlelit dinner for the two of you. Diluc has informed them of what kinds of food you prefer and they will adjust the dishes according to your liking. Over a plate of regional food from Mondstadt, you and Diluc talk about all sorts of topics that have come up recently, and Diluc makes sure to also convey his feelings to you through his words more thoroughly than usual. As soon as you finished eating, Diluc sits down with you on the couch and lets you rest in his arms as you continue your conversation from the dinner table. The maids light up even more candles to provide for a romantic atmosphere and quiet instrumental music sounds from the record player.

Diluc lets his hair down and lets out a sigh. On days like these he decides to let the Darknight Hero rest for a night. After all you deserve for the conclusion of your day together to be sleeping in his arms throughout the night. You rest your head on his shoulder and watch the calming flames of the fireplace as Diluc runs his fingertips up and down your arm. “I apologize if I haven’t spent as much time with you lately”, Diluc whispers and pulls you into a kiss, “please know that I missed you dearly and I love you with all my heart.” You peck at his lips a couple times before reassuring him that you already know. “I love you too, Diluc.”

If you decided to date the mad scientist who earns his wages by experimenting on people you should have seen that one coming but Dottore’s idea of date night includes sharing the research with you that he’s so passionate about.

He lets you pick the experiment. Is there anything you ever wanted to know about the human soul? Our behaviours and motivations? Or perhaps the powers of the gods? The truth of this world? Look no further, because your beloved Zandik is going to get you some answers to them through his rather….unconventional methods. After all, knowledge is the one thing he strives for above all else; and as such it shouldn’t be kept away from the person he loves as well. Whatever knowledge you seek to have, Dottore will happily help you to obtain it.

“We don’t have all day, y/n. The experiment is scheduled to begin in a couple of minutes”, he sighs and reminds you to hurry up as you give your affection to at least five of his clones that passed you by on your way to the lab. They were always yearning for your attention; as Prime Dottore received most of it, and who were you to turn them down? “You were the one who thought it was a good idea to try and woo me when there’s at least 20 of you”, you tease and link your arm with the one he held out to you, “or are you getting jealous again?”

Dottore doesn’t respond to your teasing and simply takes the elevator to the underground laboratory with you. He wraps his arms around you and looks into the mirror inside the elevator at how the two of you looked together. The fact that a man like him who had taken so many lives was now so adamant about protecting and nurturing just one brought a chuckle to his lips. “I thought you said that you cleared the lab out safe for your clones”, you remark, “don’t you think it’s time to take that mask off?”

Dottore indulges you and does as you say. You cup his face in your hands. “I still don’t understand why you’d hide a face this beautiful behind a mask”, you smile and press some soft kisses to the scars on his temple. Dottore’s lips meet yours and he wraps his arms tighter around you, unwilling to let go of you just yet. He kisses you passionately. Your fingertips are buried in the soft teal hair that falls into his neck and Dottore sighs into the kiss, no intention of ending it anytime soon.

“I thought you said we don’t have all day?”, you smirk, pushing him back gently and leading him out of the elevator, “or is that only when I give affection to your segments?” “I’ll let you guess”, Zandik whispers into your ear and presses a kiss to your cheek before heading off the supply closet to get you your lab gear. He actually had it custom-made for you. He explains to you how to wear it properly, as lab safety is very important. “I’ve seen you come in here in a t-shirt and sweatpants”, you raise an eyebrow. “I’m experienced. Let it be of no concern to you. However, seeing you get hurt in my laboratory when the purpose of this day is to provide you with the knowledge you seek is the last thing I’d want.”

He presses a kiss to your hands before he slips the protective gloves onto your fingers.

Before beginning the experiment, Dottore lets you come up with your own hypothesis about the outcome. He’s curious to hear your thoughts and why you have this perspective on the experiment setup. He explains how he set up this particular experiment in response to your questions and lets you read the files of the test subjects.

All in all, Dottore’s research of that day doesn’t differ too much from a regular work day as a Fatui Harbinger, yet he finds himself enjoying to have you around and sharing his findings with you. He makes a note to ask you whether you’d be interested in becoming his assistant permanently.

Kaveh would love to take you out to the theatre to watch a play with you. He loves the atmosphere of the theatre; that he can forget about reality for a moment and just immerse himself in someone else’s story while also being led to think about the matter of the play in more depth. He wants to share this experience with you.

Kaveh is the type to bring you flowers before your date. He knows quite a bit about the language of flowers and carefully selects those kinds that would best convey his feelings for you.

He gets nice seats at a table near the stage of Zubayr Theatre for you and brings some drinks and snacks from the nearest cafe or tavern. Before the play begins, Kaveh reads through the leaflet that Nilou had given to you about this new play that would premiere on the night of your date with Kaveh. “I must say, I am really interested in how the story is going to play out, based on the summary they’re giving here”, Kaveh tells you, “it’s always interesting to see the prompt first and wonder how they’re going to make this work with the costumes and props.”

He goes on to talk about how he’d be sure to help the theatre out if they ever needed any advice on architectural styles during a certain time period or needed some designs for their props; but they have yet to commission him. And of course he rants about how Alhaitham just can’t understand the beauty of the performing arts. “I’m glad you get it though”, Kaveh takes your hand into his as the play is about to begin. You sit closer to him so you’ll be able to rest your head on his shoulder or wrap his arms around his waist while watching the play.

Kaveh is mesmerized by what is happening on stage and sometimes quietly rambles about the design of the costumes or the ways the actors express the emotions of their characters. You smile at him fondly as he’s watching the play, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and finding it amusing how much he’s already lost in the fairytale being shown. Your touch distracts him for a moment and Kaveh turns his head to you and presses a kiss to your lips before returning his attention to the stage.

The two of you laugh and talk a lot on your way back home; discussing all the facets of the play. At the end of the day, Kaveh just wants to be alone with you for a bit and be held in your arms. Luckily Alhaitham isn’t home yet, so Kaveh can avoid any quarrels with his roommate.

Kaveh rests his head on your chest and closes his eyes while you undo his hairstyle and run your hands through the strands on his head. He lets out a relaxed sigh and a smile finds its way to his face. “I love you so dearly”, he whispers and notices how warm your embrace feels. You press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, sunshine”, you chuckle and run your fingertips over the exposed skin of his back, which made Kaveh melt into your embrace and relax even more.

You cup his cheek gently and kiss him, pouring all your love for him into the gesture. Kaveh wore his heart on his sleeve around you and you always knew how he felt about you. In turn, you only considered it natural to express your affections for him in the same way. Kaveh longs for someone who feels as deeply about something as him and will understand him and love him the way he is. Today was just another day to prove that finally someone does.

You want to be taken out on a nice date? Well, look no further, because this man is going to go all out for you. Pantalone has all the riches in the world, as far as Mora is concerned, and why wouldn't he spend it on his dearest? It is said that the Regrator has a unique understanding of wealth and Mora is just one facet of that. After all, when it comes to love, isn't what we treasure most the memories with our loved ones? And if he can use his Mora to make this one the most memorable date you've ever been on; that's every reason not to be stingy with it.

It all starts with Pantalone joining you for dinner after his work for the day was done; pulling you into a loving kiss that made you drop whatever it was you were currently doing and just be close to him. Pantalone has always been affectionate with you, but with how clingy and appreciative he is today; you either suspect he had a bad day or just one of those days where his thoughts kept circling back to you and he missed you from the moment he left to the second he was reunited with you. Or perhaps it had to do with your anniversary that was approaching.

He pulls out a leaflet from his bag, putting it down on the table in front of you. You take a look at it, looking back up at him in confusion. "A tailor?", you question, still holding the advertisement in your hands. Pantalone nods. "I have recently met them in the city; their store is very new and quite exquisite. They will be here tomorrow to take a commission from the two of us. I have purchased an establishment in the far north and a ball will be held there on our anniversary. Please make sure to give the tailor a detailed description of the suit or dress you want to wear to it", Pantalone takes your hand into his and squeezes it gently, "please do not hold back. If you want there to be real diamonds on it, there's going to be real diamonds on it."

On the day of your anniversary, Pantalone procured a carriage with a portable heater to take you to your destination. Still, he makes sure to also keep you warm personally, holding you in his arms all the way. He kisses you deeply, pulling you into his lap as he showers you in his love and affection.

Pantalone has a nice suite prepared for the two of you in the luxurious building that the ball is being held in and upon arrival he asks you to change into the outfit that the tailor had prepared for you. "Do notify me when you're done and if you need any help, just call out to me."

However when you step out of the dressing room, Pantalone is nowhere to be found. Your questions are answered just a moment later as he enters the room again, wearing a custom-made luxurious suit and holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. "These are for you, my dearest", he kisses you cheek.

Upon entering the ballroom, you notice there isn't really anyone in it aside from the staff and the musicians that Pantalone hired to play your favorite songs. "Where are all the people?", you wonder. Your lover chuckles. "Darling, did you really believe I was going to put you through boring conversations with foreign emissaries and businessmen today?", he presses a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, then another to your neck, "no, this is just for the two of us."

"You're aware that you can just rent a location, right, you don't have to buy the whole thing every time?", you raise an eyebrow at him but let him indulge you. He gives you his signature smile with a hint of mischievousness. "Oh no, you misunderstood me, love, I had this built for you over the course of the last few months." "Wait what-"

Pantalone dances the night away with you and enjoys your favorite food with you that he hired famous chefs to make. If you want to sit down for a while or just kiss him and be in his arms, he's fine with that too.

"I love all of this, but why did we come so far out here for this date?", you ask as Pantalone takes your hand into his and gently rubs the back of it with his thumb. "Well, to top it off, once we're done dancing for the night, I'm going to take you to see the northern lights. They're quite beautiful, although they don't compare to you in the slightest", Pantalone pulls you into a hug, "and after that I'll have the staff prepare a nice bath for the two of us. How does that sound?"

Pantalone loves you with all of his heart and if he feels confident enough that you return his love in full....well there might just be another surprise waiting for you in the form of a diamond ring he brought along.

Tighnari's idea of a nice date includes a hike through the nature of Sumeru's rainforest. If you're not that into hiking, you don't have to go far and you can also walk as slowly as you wish to, Tighnari will adapt to you.

He prepared a picnic for you as well. Some of the food for it he bought at the tavern; a few of the items he made himself. Although….Collei definitely helped.

The two of you eventually stop by a dock near the Apam Woods. “This seems like a good place to rest, don’t you think?”, Tighnari smiles at you and takes his shoes off; sitting down on the dock and letting his feet meet the cold but calming water of the creek while pulling some of the snacks out of his backpack. You sit down next to him. “There’s even a little house here with a cooking pot and a small table on a tree trunk….I wonder who built this here…it’s too small for a human”, you muse and look to Tighnari for answers. “Well, legends speak of an ancient race of small forest creatures connected to the Dendro Archon. Those small houses are scattered all over the rainforest. The people of Sumeru tend to say that they belong to the Aranara. Although I’m not sure how much truth there is to that”, Tighnari shrugs.

You decide for the baklava Collei made as a snack and lean back to let the sun shine on your face. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”, Tighnari puts his hand over yours, “I just hope none of the adventurers happen to stumble upon me here and go ‘oh Forest Watcher, please help me; I put my hand inside of the mouth of a Rishboland Tiger and now my arm fell off; whatever shall I do?’ this time.” You grin and raise an eyebrow at him. “This wasn’t actually something that happened, right?”, you chuckle. “Kaveh calls that one ‘stylistic exaggeration’, if I recall correctly”, Tighnari laughs. “Fits perfectly with your usual sass”, you tease and your hand wanders to his ears, gently scratching one of them.

“Collei wanted to make a bet with me how long it’s going to take you before you start doing this once we sit down somewhere”, Tighnari sighs, “she said about half an hour. I didn’t even give you 10 minutes.” You pout and reach for his other ear. “I know you like this and you’re so cute, so why shouldn’t I?”, you press a kiss to his cheek, “don’t tell me this still makes you flustered?” “Not anymore, no”, Tighnari affirms but you recall how his cheeks heated up and he stumbled over his words the first few times you did this.

You enjoy your snacks together and get ready to move on but the weather has other plans as the rain pours down on you and your fox-like boyfriend. “I hope the Aranara doesn’t mind us using their house for a while”, you say as you enter the small structure.

Tighnari quickly ends up snuggled against you with his head on your chest and you holding his ears because the thunder hurts in them. “Sorry this hike turned out like this”, he apologizes but you stop him. “It’s not like you can control the weather or something”, you chuckle and nuzzle his ear, “we’re still together right? So what’s the harm of a little rain?”

It all starts when Nilou asks for your help while preparing for a special theatre performance. The actors would all improvise the story based on a prompt that was given before. As Nilou already knew the prompt, she decides to prepare for a play centered around the idea of lovers celebrating their anniversary together. But given that she doesn’t have much experience with love, the two of you decide to go around and ask your acquaintances what their ideal date might look like.

As luck has it, you happen to run into the Wanderer at the Grand Bazaar. So what harm could there be in asking him for his thoughts on the matter as well, right? Although, a part of you decided to do this because of your growing feelings for him.

You quickly explain the situation with the play to him. “If you must know, I don’t care for the idea of a romantic affair. Lovey-dovey stuff and flirting is just a pointless waste of time and makes my skin crawl”, he scoffs, “besides, the notion of two people being bound to each other for eternity simply because of their feelings for one another is ridiculous. Even those endeavors end one day and even someone who claims to love you might leave if offered the right price. They tell you that you mean something to them and then one day you never see them again. There’s no use in pursuing love.” You let out a sigh, not sure what you were expecting for an answer instead of this.

“Okay, great, now can we put your attitude aside for a moment?”, you roll your eyes, “just imagine you had someone you were in love with. What activities would be fun for you to do with them?” He sighs but muses that Nahida would probably scold him if she found out he didn’t help you with something as simple as an answer to a question. “Hmph. Fine. If I was to go on a ‘date’, I’d like to cook with them. The act of cooking together to produce the perfect meal feels much more intimate than any shallow flirting”, he answers.

“Oh that’s a nice idea!”, you respond before impulse gets the better of you, “we should cook together sometime-”

“Did you just ask me out on a date?”, he raises an eyebrow but blushes furiously. “Well, that depends on your answer, doesn’t it?”, you wink.

“I- I’m not necessarily against it”, he admits and crosses his arms in front of his chest, “ that is, if you can even cook properly.” He huffs and you let out a laugh. “Oh, whatever happened to ‘this is just a pointless waste of time and makes my skin crawl’, huh?”, you dramatically sigh, “if I recall correctly from what Yae Miko told me, in your homeland of Inazuma they refer to this as being a tsundere.” “I’m not-”, his blush darkens, “you should keep your mouth shut before I change my mind.”

Whatever happened to ‘love makes my skin crawl indeed, you think to yourself and smile as you watch the Wanderer carefully handle the ingredients for the meal you’re going to make. He explains every step of the recipe to you and you follow his instructions carefully.

When you accidentally cut your finger while cutting vegetables, Wanderer is at your side with disinfectant and bandaids in an instant. “What the hell are you doing? Are you incapable of cutting a couple of ingredients? You’re supposed to focus on the knive, why were you staring at my face instead?”, he fusses over you, pretending it was because he was annoyed with you. “Well…you’re pretty”, you quietly respond and he shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “You’re too much…” “Aw, you’re worried! If it calms you, you could kiss it better!”, you suggest, winking at him again. “Who do you think you’re talking to-?”, the blush is back on his face and he refuses to look you in the eyes.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll never trust you with anything again”, he mumbles a couple hours later after the two of you had finished your meal and he was sitting on your couch with you, snuggled close to you. “Oh, don’t worry, they’re going to know about it soon enough when some random stranger decides to flirt with me and you get jealous”, you tease. “You talk too much”, he scoffs and his lips meet yours in another gentle kiss. He didn’t tell you how he felt just yet, but his actions speak louder than words.

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