#Icy got a new job!!!

[zephyrchama]

(Based on that one scene from B99)

“Lucifer, your wrist looks kind of funny.”

All eyes turned to the Avatar of Pride when Leviathan pointed this out. They were supposed to be organizing the house library, but it was a long and boring task. One that everyone wanted to finish quickly, yet nobody could find the motivation to make any real progress.

“Oh no! What happened?” Asmodeus leaned over a table to try and steal a peek. Lucifer’s wrist was, indeed, bent in an odd manner. He used his non-dominant hand to shuffle some papers in order.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, Asmo!” Mammon jeered. “Back off, leave the guy alone.”

Lucifer ignored his brothers, icy gaze focused on the documents in hand. They were papers that had been misfiled and did not belong in the library. He reminded everyone in the room to “behave yourselves” before disappearing into his office.

Curious eyes followed him until he was truly out of sight. Then, the brothers exchanged fascinated looks. It’s not every day that Lucifer get injured.

“Alright, everybody bring it in. Huddle up.” Mammon ushered everyone to come close with a sweep of his hand. The boys reluctantly formed a loose circle.

“What are you up to now?” Belphegor asked with a sigh. “I want to finish this already.”

Mammon pretended not to hear as he whisper-shouted, “so, he wouldn’t say what happened, which can only mean one thing.”

”He’s in a fight club,” Beelzebub suggested.

“No. He did it doing something he’s embarrassed by.” Satan was quick to catch on to the truth.

Beelzebub followed up with, “oh. Could be a sports injury. I sprained my wrist playing fangol last year.”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Belphegor said.

Leviathan asked, “you think Lucifer was playing fangol?”

A deep growl suddenly came from the doorway. There was no warning or indication that Lucifer would be back so quickly. Yet, the man in question had returned. His menacing quickly caused the group to shut up.

“I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office, but I don’t think it’s relevant to your jobs. The jobs you should all be doing right now. Get to work.”

The brothers scattered like roaches back to their respective corners of the library. All except for Satan, who Lucifer beckoned over with his finger. Satan hesitated at first, but it was better to go along with Lucifer when his mood was sour. The two stepped out for a minute, far enough away that no one else would overhear.

“What?” Satan was fed up with this conversation and it hadn’t even started.

“Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Satan’s eyebrows flew up and he took several seconds to think about the question. What an odd offer. There was nothing for Lucifer to gain by telling him this, was there? Though, if he spent too long thinking Lucifer might change his mind and leave his little brother wondering what happened forever. With an oddly docile tone of voice, Satan responded, “...Yes.”

While Satan was busy wondering how to respond, Lucifer had taken out his DDD. He was scrolling through a menu in search of something. “I was hula hooping. Diavolo and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.”

“No way.” Satan's true thoughts leaked out. It was so dumb, it couldn’t be true.

Lucifer raised his phone to Satan’s eye level. The proof was there. ”I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss. The tornado. The scorpion, the oopsie doodle.”

With each and every silly name, Lucifer swiped to a new photo on his phone. There he was, doing the pizza toss. Showing Diavolo how to do the scorpion. Performing a flawless oopsie doodle. Satan was stupefied, his mouth ajar.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because no one…” Lucifer selected all of the images. He tapped on a trash can in the corner of the screen. The images, every last one, disappeared. “…will ever believe you.”

“No!” Satan lunged for the phone in vain. “You sick, twisted, son of a-”

“You got your answer," Lucifer told him. "Get back to work."

[emacrow]

Danny had a very rough week of not sleeping....

Five days straight of non stop ghost hunting, barely focusing on whatever their parents new inventions were and sabotaging them..

Then Saturday began...

There was skulker with him, ghostnapping and chasing him at 12am in the morning to 3:20am in some new extravagant hunting ground in the ghost zone which ended up backfiring on him later when it wasn't even his hunting ground as the original ghost owner started chasing skulker.

Then there was Johnny and kitty argument and dragging him along as an unwillingly victim because johnny was flirting with some ghost girl as he was trying to fly back to his family portal around 4am.

Accidentally crashing into Youngblood ship who rather excited to play again for the 28th this week and it fucking Saturday man..

He finally back home at 10am.. only to noticed that his parents left him to go on some honeymoon field trip since Jazz was in gotham for her collage and part time job as a assistant turned into a full time therapist in Arkham because she actually got a break through with Scarecrow with his childhood trauma and the Arkham are still flabbergasted by her abilities and immediately slapped her a full time sponsorship.

He tries to go back to sleep only to get notifications at 11:03am from tucker that Techno and Vortex teaming to cause a full blown out town wreacking havoc with a literally tornado dragging machines into it for some grand plan which was a fucking pain in his ass because his thermo also got caught in it.

Danny is dragging himself back to his bed after souping both Techno and Vortex, flopping onto his bed to finally catch those zzz when it about 6:29pm

Only for fucking Vlad to start his own bullshit with a new invention.

Danny is about to fucking snap at this point, vlad doesn't know what he released over a week of sleep deprived danny.

Maybe because how tired he was at that moment to not noticed the ray gun that vlad had looked oddly like the one his parents were making yesterday only to get hit by it directly...

Only to noticed he not in his bed anymore..

He was in snow.. iced cold snow in the middle of freezing temperatures and near some icy like palace..

He could cry right now..

He thought he got sent to the Far Frozen, welp this would be a great spot to take some much needed sleep. His mind is too muddle right now to even takea glance on small his form is now at the moment.

Flying a bit loopy through the icy palace, not noticing humaniod like giant crystallized statues with a S on their chests blinking some kind of alarm.

Making himself right at home as he made a nice snow like fluffy blankey that Frostbite once taught him whenever he went through his daily shots and stay the night there..

Drifting off to sleep finally with the sound of the silence..

He was already too far gone into unconscious to be awakened at this point..

Unaware that his presence brought alert to a certain Superhero.

Whom found a tiny little boy in the Fortress of Solitude, sleeping peacefully like the dead despite his heart beating very very slowly to health concerning matter.

Trying to wake him up only brought him a tiny punch to a face so hard and fast that it actually hurt him.

Which made Clark froze as he realized that punch actually hurted...

Which brought a major misunderstanding that slowly became a much bigger one later on in the dna scanner.

[bet-on-me-13]

The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

[lucid-loves]

simon slowly falling in love with reader after hating her for a long time⁉️

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

Nuclear Date Night

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader, weaponsengineer!reader, codename: Byte)

Word Count: 12.8k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, mention of violence, hate to love relationship, rivals, competitive, competence, realized feelings, smut, body praise, deep kissing, licking, fingering, biting, p in v

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Ghost hates your guts. Even since you joined the team as their new weapons engineer two years ago, he’s hated you with his whole chest. With your high and mighty attitude, bewildering intellect, and unwavering confidence, he can’t stand you. You hate him too with his unreadable face, demeaning protection, and lack of grace. When an undercover mission requires the two of you to get closer, though, the both of you realize your hate for one another has turned into something else entirely. 

You ignored the icy cold glare the lieutenant kept on your figure as you explained how the new sniper-focus worked. Your comrades stared at your invention in wonderment, once again reminded just why you were part of the team. Thanks to your countless all-nighters and delicate hands, you managed to invent a focus that can attach to any sniper, calculate notches and wind speed, recommend the gun-adjust accordingly, and hit a target perfectly with over 98% accuracy. No matter the distance, no matter the weather, your focus powered with A.I. calculated assistance can kill any target. 

Everyone was impressed. Save for Ghost. 

“Aim at the target, give it a second to calculate, and then listen to the adjustment with the earpiece. After that, just adjust the aim and fire. Pretty simple stuff, really.” You demonstrated, large sniper in hand. 

The wind blew through your hair, dust coating your strands like moth to a flame. From a distance, a whipping dust devil was forming across the golden sands of the desert. It was dry, it was hot, and it was windy as hell. It was the perfect place to demonstrate your brilliance. 

When you joined the team two years ago, you knew that you had to put your heart and soul into this job in order to be taken seriously. You weren’t especially muscular or tall. As a soldier, you did train for instances of defense in case it was needed, but your true power relied on your smarts. A rather overlooked sign of an excellent soldier that often invited ridicule from the more traditional soldier. 

That’s exactly what Ghost did when he first met you. 

“You sure this shrimp can handle herself? Be one of us? She looks like she can barely lift a spoon without straining her wrist.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the memory, muscles tensing as if you were in that moment once again. The memory of your response quickly took over. 

“Are you sure this meat-head can handle my science? He looks like he can barely use a blender without getting confused by all the buttons.”

You both left a bitter taste in each other’s mouths that day. The taste has lingered ever since, tainting nearly every interaction you had. It was a wonder how you haven’t killed each other yet. 

Setting up the sniper, you prepped for the real demonstration. While you did final adjustments to the focus, you called over your rival. “Ghost, test this for us.”

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig? I don’t need a fucking robot to focus my aim anyway.” He protested, every cold tone in his words deliberate. 

The team shifted uncomfortably, even after all this time still not used to the spats the two of you got into. Attempts to resolve the bad blood have always failed. It was easier to just let the two of you spit your fire until you ran out of fuel. 

“Alright then, tough guy, you can aim without it. Go ahead, hit the target.” You nonchalantly agreed, confident that things were going to go your way this round. Ghost noticed that easy acceptance you gave, his eyes narrowing at you as he tried to figure you out. What was your game this time?

Not one to back down, he approached the sniper and aimed it normally, your focus set to default. No robots, no artificial intelligence. Just plain-Jane markers for distance. Looking through the scope, Ghost looked for the little red flag that indicates the location of the fake target used for practice. After a while of looking at nothing but sand, he spotted the target just past the dust devil. 

He would have to account for that. You planned for this. No wonder you insisted on dragging them all out to this dry wasteland. He clenched his teeth, blood simmering as you tried to make him look like a fool in front of his team. Backing away, though, would make him lose this game. Shooting and missing would also give you the victory point. Either way, both scenarios made him look incompetent.

God, he fucking hated you. 

Suppressing a malicious smile, you antagonize him. The feeling of beating him made your heart race in excitement. “Any day now, Ghost.”

He hated the way you drew his name out like that. The way you so easily said it like it was nothing but air to you. Like bubblegum being blown and popped at your will. His name should’ve struck fear and intimidation. Instead, you chewed on it. Popped bubbles with it. 

Aiming the scope, he lined up his shot, and fired. Watching the bullet carefully, he saw it shoot forth with speed right on the dead center of the target, whip back from the dust devil, and hit sand with an explosion of grain. 

It took everything in him not to fucking leave right then and there. 

“Good shot if you planned on missing. Now, use my focus.” You continued to tease, twisting the knife further into his already wounded pride. There was little snickering coming from his men, Gaz and Soap not being able to contain themselves. They would admit that sometimes your fights were funny. It was a way to cope with the discomfort it brought. 

Silently, Ghost switched on your focus. Out of the side, a small earpiece ejected out. He took it and fitted it into his ear under the mask. Of course, you programmed the artificial instruction with your own voice. Serious, stoic, and purposeful. “Awaiting aim to calculate.”

He aimed once more at the metal target using the scope, the dust devil blowing the sand around violently to protect it at all costs. The scope projected its calculations as if he was staring at a screen. Within a few seconds, it completed its estimations. A green dot appeared way over to the left and bottom of the notches, marking the shooting point. Your voice rang in his ears. “Target confirmed. Aim and fire.”

This seemed way off. There was no way this could be right. Was he really meant to aim so far off? The green dot stayed perfectly in place as he adjusted the aim, his center notch in line with your tech’s mark. He hoped that it would miss.

He fired and watched the bullet sail through the air, ride with the dust devil like a wave, and hit the target with perfection. He became slack-jawed bewildered at the precision. The fact that it could calculate aim with even an extreme factor such as swirling winds was undoubtedly impressive. 

This was your clear victory. And he hated it. 

You relished in his fiery disdain of your genius. A small smirk played at your lips as you saw just how the rage froze his muscles. He looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“God damn, Byte! That was phenomenal!” Soap loudly praised, his eyes wide in true marvel. The others agreed, all wanted a turn to use that focus of yours like it was a new toy. Every invention that you gave them has felt like a new toy. It made those days feel like Christmas morning. You were great at your job and they couldn’t be happier to have you on the team. 

Of course, except for Ghost. Even if your engineering prowess was the best in the world. 

“Really great work, Byte! Are the blueprints all ready to copy?” Kate smiled appreciatively while tapping on her smartpad.

“All ready for production.” You simply answered, proud of the work that you had accomplished. Another one for the books. 

While the boys played with their new toy, Ghost stepped back and crossed his arms angrily. 

He hated everything about you. Your unmatched intellect, your confident plays, your arrogant personality. He hated that his team was wasting money on technology for weapons when a true soldier shouldn’t need the handicap. Real skill was earned by yourself. Not with the assistance of technology. It should be a tool, not a crutch. 

Ghost believed that people who couldn’t aim a sniper on their own and hit a target didn’t deserve to be snipers. And you just made him unworthy of being a sniper when against your tech. 

You looked up at him, taking note of how hard he threw daggers at you. You made him look stupid, and that was your goal. It felt like you had the world in your palm when you did. Someone as respectable as Ghost being bested by a brainiac was always the best. You proved that you didn’t need muscles or height or even intimidation to be better. You just needed your smarts. 

A huff of a laugh escaped you as you turned away from him, knowing that that would just make him even more angry at you. Good. 

You hated everything about him too. 

~

“What you do really is modern magic. Seriously, Byte, how does your brain come up with such things?” Gaz inquired, raising a bottle of beer to his lips. The team decided to celebrate your new invention at the usual bar. Of course, your drinks were on them as a reward. They knew that you put a lot of work into what you did. The least they could do was pay for your rum and cokes. 

You raised the cold glass to your lips, the sweet and spicy cocktail hitting your tastebuds. “The pros of being a genius. Thank you for the praise. It feels nice to be appreciated for my work around here.”

That last past was said a little louder, loud enough to make sure that Ghost could hear it on the other side of the bar. He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes at you, not willing to open himself to any more of your antagonizing today.

The victory was as sweet as the drink you were nursing. Addictive too. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of success. When you finished an invention, when you helped your team complete a mission, or when you bested Ghost, they all gave you that sweet sense of accomplishment. 

Soap slung his arm around your shoulder, nearly causing you to spill. He was already a couple drinks in. “Yeah yeah yeah, good work! But all we ever talk about is work. Been two years, Byte. Tell us what that genius does outside of work, huh?”

You shifted in your seat, becoming a little uncomfortable with the sudden questions about your personal life. They knew tidbits here and there about you. Some failed relationships, favorite songs, distaste for certain foods. But your answer to all of that was usually straight-forward. “We broke up.” “I like this song.” “I’m not going to eat that.”

Something that the team noticed early on was that you were a workaholic. You hung out with them on rare occasions, you were usually confined working in your lab while they had offices, and you usually departed events early to be in said lab. Besides minor details, they really didn’t know much about you outside of your work personality. They have been trying to pull you more out of your shell over time, but it was a slow process. 

Gaz frowned at Soap’s bluntness. “Come on, Johnny, leave her alone tonight.”

“It’s fine, Gaz.” You put your glass down roughly, the clink of the glass on polished wood sobering Soap up pretty quick. It made Gaz look away in shame. That was at least one thing they knew about you most intimately. You hated being treated like you can’t take care of yourself. When they stepped in on your behalf, answering a question that was meant for you, it made you want to hit them. You knew they only did it to protect you. That you were one of them and this is how they treated one of them, but you could never let it be. 

You didn’t need anybody to stand up for you. You will make that a point for forever if you had to. 

The air grew thick with tension as you silently scolded them for hitting one of your pet peeves. With a sigh, you caved in, wanting to restore some of that fun from before. “What do you wanna know? Anything is on the table.”

Soap’s face lit up like a match to a gas station. “Seriously?! Anything?”

You gave a little nod and braced yourself for the worse. Soap’s lack of personal boundaries was quite well known. It was coming from a place of genuine curiosity and ease, never ill-intent. It was just one of the quirks of Soap that you were still coming to terms with even after all this time. 

“Well. . . what’s your sex life like?” 

Gaz began to choke, coughing on beer stuck in his throat. Price tapped his back to help him out, his sharp gaze falling on Soap for such a personal question. Yet, he didn’t say anything. He knew that if he did, you would get angry at him. He has been pretty good about avoiding your pet peeve and he didn’t want to break his streak.

Clearing your throat, you composed yourself. You weren’t expecting such a blatant question either, despite inviting this kind of open question. It didn’t mean that you weren’t going to be honest, though. That just wasn’t the kind of person you were. You never stepped away from a challenge. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Soap grinned widely, happy to talk with you finally like you were just like one of the guys. “Body count? Preferences? All of it. I wanna know what a genius views sex as.”

Slowly, you drank the rest of your rum and coke before signaling for another one. While you hailed the bartender, you noticed that Ghost was staring intensely at you. He hated you, but even he was curious on how anyone could tolerate you enough to sleep with you. 

Once you were halfway through your second drink for some liquid courage, you began to talk about one of the most personal details of your life. “Body count of five. All men. Most were one-night stands or sex-friends.”

You liked sex. There was no question about it. At least, you were interested in it. Despite the amount of people you’ve been with, they always left you wanting more. It was always a little unsatisfying when they were finished. It always felt like there was a black hole inside of you that needed the right meal to be satisfied. 

The exact reason why was no mystery either. Unless you were masturbating alone, you never came. No matter how much time and effort went into foreplay, none of your partners have ever made you orgasm. 

Just because your sex life was active didn’t mean it was great. 

“Wow, that’s a little surprising.” Gaz admitted, finally over his coughing fit. Price shook his head, a little embarrassed to hear about his men talking about sex so freely with you. As a captain to a group of mostly boys, he has shared details with them to bring the group together. It felt a little strange to have you participate in this. Even Kate wasn’t pressured into sharing such details. 

“Our little genius gets some then! How is it? Any experience noteworthy?” Soap persisted as he ordered another round.

“Not especially? Average, I suppose.” You shrugged, answering the questions becoming much easier the more you poured rum and coke into your system. Warmth crept along your cheeks, blossomed in your ribs. You felt yourself opening up like a dormant flower. 

You ordered another drink. Soap continued to pry. “Average? What does that even mean?”

“I never came before.” You suddenly blurted out, the blending of your naturally blunt personality and alcohol turning into a pretty dangerous combination. It seemed like the rum in you was getting to your brain faster than you thought. 

This time, it was Soap’s turn to choke. Gaz was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to comfort your plight. Ghost just stared as if he was watching the news. However, his mind was thinking all sorts of things. He wanted to mock you. Say that that was what you deserved for being so arrogant about your intelligence. He felt the instinct to trash talk you to recover some of the pride he lost today. 

Yet, he couldn’t. In fact, he began to feel a foreign pity for you. If you knew that he was pitying you over something like this, you would absolutely rip him a new one. That didn’t stop his eyes from softening for just a moment, though. A moment that you noticed with those sharp eyes of yours. 

Finishing your drink, you slammed the glass on the counter, nearly shattering it. How dare Ghost look at you like some tragic whore! So what you never orgasmed from sex! You were doing just fine when it came to solo-sex escapades. You didn’t need anyone to satisfy you. You only needed yourself. “I do perfectly fine when I masturbate. Don’t get it twisted. Other people just don’t satisfy me. It’s whatever.”

In a simmering fire, you got up from your chair and left the bar for the night, leaving your teammates wondering what the hell got you so worked up all of a sudden. 

Only Ghost knew the answer to that. 

~

Arriving back on base on your motorcycle, you headed straight to your lab. It was quiet. The dead of night. Everyone else was either back home, sleeping in the barracks, or partying it up downtown. You had an apartment to go back to, but you always found yourself coming here instead. 

Settling your helmet and jacket on the coat-rack, you made yourself at home. Dim-emergency lights softly illuminated unfinished projects on tables. Pieces of wires, circuits, and bolts littered every corner of the room. The place looked small and cramped during the day, scientists and engineers squished together in a lab that was second priority compared to the more athletic-based facilities. In the night when no one was here, the place looked like a tech graveyard. Vast, dark, and cold. 

You headed towards your usual workstation, a large workshop desk that was overflowing with unfinished blueprints of inventions that haven’t panned out just yet. A lot of the struggle came from lack of funding. Some of it came from unrealistic expectations. Science was an investment, something that most military dogs failed to realize. It’s why you always pushed yourself to work constantly and prove what the proper time and resources could bring. 

You were essentially killing yourself in order to make them see the worth of your department. 

Looking through the blueprints, you settled on one that was worth revisiting. A Russian Doll bullet that would save ammunition and materials to build said ammunition. The idea was to invent a bullet that would be compatible with most firearms, shoot an outer layer of bullet without shooting out the inner layer, and repeat until the last of the bullet is gone only to be replaced by another Russian Doll bullet. 

It would effectively turn a six-shooter into a twenty-four. It would save so much ammo and save many soldiers the reload time. 

The only problem you haven’t solved yet was the instability of gunpowder. 

That’s what you decided to work on tonight. Taking a seat in your worn out swivel chair, you opened your drawers and pulled out your materials. Bringing a magnifying glass close to you, you began to disassemble a few bullets. It was always a good idea to build things by first taking things apart. 

As you worked, you heard the sound of the lab door open. It was still much too early for the morning crew to come in, so you wondered who it could’ve been. Maybe Price had come to lecture you about how you left things at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to talk to you about your temper. 

Turning around, you were surprised to meet your rival, peering over all of the electronic corpses on the tables. He didn’t come here very often. You were always here after all. He knew you were always here. He shivered, noticing just how chilly it was inside the lab. The air conditioning was running on full blast. “Feels like a meat-locker in here. How can you work like this?”

“What do you want?” You sharply retorted, nerves already on edge at his presence. The lab was supposed to be your refuge. Your paradise. And here came the snake. 

“Relax. I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to talk to you about the focus.” He treaded carefully, his own instincts waiting to fire off like they were used to when he was with you. A lightbulb in his head just went off just then. He realized just how bad the relationship between the two of you was since his first real instinct was to yell at you. Ghost knew you felt it too. 

He was supposed to be the 141’s Lieutenant. He was supposed to bring the team together for his captain. And here he has been for two years, trying to push you out. 

Ghost has never even approached you without the intention to fight or yell or demand since the first day he met you.

Christ, was there any recovery from this? Ghost took a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully for once. “The focus is great. You did a good job.”

“Don’t fucking pity me.” You snapped, turning back to your desk and igniting sparks as you bonded metal with heat. A hurricane brewed in your chest. Did he seriously come all this way to pity you? The gaze in his eyes should have been enough. It made you leave the bar!

Ghost felt that fire rising in his throat, wanting to say something back that would hurt you. Old habits die hard. It was a tough pill to swallow. “I’m not trying to pity you. The focus is going to help a lot of soldiers. It’s going to save a lot of people.”

You paused, unsure if his words were genuine or misleading. You’ve fallen into that trap before, hearing what seemed like a compliment only for it to be backhanded. It was unfortunate that you didn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth. “Why did you look at me like that at the bar?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he wished he didn’t. He didn’t really want to talk about your sex life when it was just the two of you. Especially not when the two of you haven’t even had one decent interaction with each other. Goosebumps prickled all of his skin, his teeth nearly chattering. How could you keep it so fucking cold in here?

“I felt sorry for you.” He admitted, finding himself unable to lie to you or change topics. At least from the beginning, he has always been honest with you. 

As you heard the words you loathed to hear, you put down your tools, hands becoming too shaky to handle them with all the rage storming inside you. “I-”

“I felt sorry that no one has liked you enough to satisfy you.” 

Well, that didn’t exactly sound right.

Your mouth opened in shock at his dig. His eyes widened as he heard the words coming out of his mouth, realizing that it sounded completely fucking wrong. He held his hands up in defense, scrambling to explain himself before it was too late. 

The hurricane was in full swing, though. But instead of bringing thunder, it only brought rain. The corners of your eyes prickled with tears before streaming down your flushed cheeks. A lump choked in your throat choked the air out of you. You thought you could say something hurtful back. You always did before. But this time, his words cut a little too deep.

None of your relationships have lasted long. Not even with people you agreed to just be sex-friends with. They always ended up leaving. Whenever you asked what went wrong, they always blamed it on your demeanor. Your personality was too particular. Your interests were too complex. Your high expectations were too much. 

It was one of the reasons you kept a distance from the 141. They loved your company as far as you knew. But only in small doses. Who knew what would happen if they really spent time with you? They would probably get sick of you over time too. Ghost hated you since day one after all. 

No one liked you. You thought that you were fine with that at this point, but clearly you weren’t.

Ghost stood frozen in time, completely taken aback by your sudden tears. He expected screaming. He expected hitting. He expected icy retorts. That’s all he has ever known you as. He never in a million years expected tears. 

It made him feel like he was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know what to do about it. 

All of his years of hatred for you melted away as he watched you crumble, your distrust for him putting up more walls between the two of you. Jesus, how does he fix this now?!

“Byte, I-”

“Don’t you think I already know that no one likes me? You think you’re the first person to hate my guts?!” You spat, some of the lightning finally coming out. The tears kept coming, but it was somehow better for Ghost. He felt more used to that dangerous spark you had. It made you easier to approach now. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Poor choice of words. Honest. I just meant that. . . I . . . Everyone deserves to be loved enough to the point of satisfaction. You work hard and give us countless advancements to use. You deserved to be satisfied. You deserve to have someone that will put the work into you too.” He finally managed to find the right words, nearly running out of breath with all the effort he had to find them. He was never really good at heart-to-hearts. 

You looked at him in shock once more as he attempted to salvage the hurt he caused you. This was beyond confusing for you. Your brain that worked so hard everyday, that could think up a million things at any given time, was at a loss for words. 

In your uncertainty, you followed your instincts. And that was to turn back around to your desk, wipe your eyes, and get back to work. It was the only constant in your life that you could rely on. The best way to think. 

Ghost didn’t blame you for returning to work. He probably wouldn’t know what to say either if it was him. Instead of pushing it any further, he decided that it was probably best to leave. Before he headed out of the lab, he turned back and looked at you. 

You did the same, the moment of work gracing your senses. In the end, he did try to pay you a genuine compliment. You were always the type to reciprocate fairly. “Thanks, Ghost.”

There was a certain way you said your thanks that made Ghost’s heart skip a beat. A sense of gentleness that he’s never heard from you before. The way your eyes shone bright from leftover tears had him stunned. Were your eyes always that pretty?

He turned quickly and left, the back of his neck heating from the intrusive thought he just had. As he walked back to the barracks, he sighed. The air outside was much warmer than the environment of your lab. So much easier to breathe. It felt suffocating being in there. Out here, he could let his mind relax.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. 

~

The two of you didn’t fight as much anymore. Sharp words slipped out every now and then, but neither of you kept feeding the fire once they were said. Most of the time, you two were just back to avoiding each other. Though, the both of you had your own reasons. 

You found yourself just at a loss of words when he was civil. It was that distrust that still lingered that made it hard for you to interact with him. It was especially difficult to be around him when he was actively being polite. Praises for your work, helping you carry heavy boxes across base, or prioritizing processing your submitted paperwork was always done either curtly or in silence. It was foreign to you.

And the energy you saved now that it wasn’t spent on fighting was now put to use by noticing him a little more. You always couldn’t help but stop and stare as he helped carry equipment with you from the lab to the armory. The way his biceps flexed with ease at the heavier load. The way his eyes remained stoic even as he embraced your inventions. Ghost was now more on your mind than ever, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Ghost, on the other hand, was now always thinking about you. He felt the urge to get closer to you. To get to know you better. To help you out in a way that didn’t look down on you like he’s always done. He couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes too. How bright they were under the sun or moon. How they watched him under such careful supervision, trying to decipher if his good will was real or not. 

Even in moments where he didn’t want to think about you, he found his mind wandering anyway. Ever since that night in the lab, he felt his feelings change. Two years of anger and resentment for you have nearly melted all away only to be replaced by something else. And he didn’t know how to explain it. 

All he could do was try to keep cool. Remain civil. Avoid too close of interactions with you. 

It was working for the both of you for months until you were assigned to a mission together.

The team had noticed that the both of you were getting along in the loosest sense of the term. They wondered what caused such a shift, but they never asked out of fear of resetting the apparent progress. Instead, Price tried to push more progress by assigning the both of you to work an undercover mission. 

A wealthy investor of nuclear weaponry was suddenly pouring a lot more money than usual into a country with a rising dictator. The investments coincided with less threatening ideas such as climate change prevention and DNA study in order to balance out interest. The goal was to detain this investor, question him about his relationship with this dictator, and then hopefully stop a dangerous man from getting his hands on advanced nuclear power. 

The way in was at a formal event promoted by the science community. Conservationists, biologists, engineers, and more were going to be present to try to win over some other wealthy investors that would be there including celebrities, CEOs, and politicians. It was a high brow event which made the need for scientific knowledge apparent. 

And who knew more about such science than you?

Intimidation invitations in hand, Ghost waited in a hotel lobby, a crisp, black tuxedo hugging his form as if tailored to him. The skull balaclava was swapped with a simple black face mask, covering enough of his identity which made him feel better about all of this. Looking at a nearby mirror, he checked his blonde hair. He’s never dressed so formally in his life. 

He suddenly wondered if you would like it. 

You still need a moment to get ready, always one to check twice to make sure you had everything you need. Your heart raced in your chest, your nerves tingling with adrenaline as you prepared to see this mission through. You’ve been on the field a couple of times. Never under-cover. The fact that you would probably have to do most of the talking made you nervous. 

People didn’t like you. That weakness of yours was clouding your confidence. Being a woman in science was already a tough world. Would you be able to keep your personality in check if you faced such a conflict?

Nervously, you headed down to the lobby, adjusting every dress each step of the way down. When you spotted Ghost from a distance, you froze. You have never seen him so cleaned up before. When you were coming down, you half expected him to appear like he always has. Military uniform, skull mask, strapped with obvious weapons. 

You didn’t know that his hair was so. . . 

Finding yourself at a loss for words again, you steeled yourself. As you got closer, you realized that your heart was racing for an entirely new reason. Your lieutenant was much more attractive than you thought. 

And he was technically your date for tonight.

Ghost caught your figuring in the corner of the mirror, making him turn around. Time stood still for you once again as you appeared before him looking like someone straight out of a romance movie. Your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, every strand of hair was styled beautifully to frame your face, makeup only highlighted just how beautiful you naturally were. 

How could he never see just how beautiful you were before?

You walked closer and cleared your throat, that voice he thought was so annoying before now sounding like the sweetest violin. “Lieutenant, you look good this evening.”

This was the first compliment he’s ever received from you. It made his stomach do flips. What was happening to him? Pull it together!

“Thanks. You look great tonight. Ready?” He offered his arm, waiting for you to take it. 

Your heart could barely take it as you looped your arm around his, touching him so intimately for the first time. Heat radiated from his body. The biceps you found yourself staring at before felt solid under your touch. You looked up into his eyes, the glacier blues melting into a deep ocean. Looking away suddenly, you attempted to hide your blush. He was looking at you so intensely that it startled you.

“Do you have to stare?” You questioned a little too sharply than you intended. You braced yourself for him to say something equally sharp, something Ghost felt in your arm that was hooked around his. 

He averted his gaze, now conscious of the way his eyes naturally followed you. His mind searched for an explanation for his lack of discretion. The unexplainable pull that you had on him. Jesus, it was like he was. . . 

Oh. Oh no.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, trying to keep his feelings in check. How could he spend two years praying for your downfall to all of a sudden being-

He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t even want to entertain the likely possibility. Even if he wanted to act on his feelings, did he really deserve to after all the fighting for two years? You would probably never truly accept him after all the things he’s said and done. You weren’t completely innocent either, but Ghost had to face the fact that he was the one that started it all. Before even knowing your name, he insulted you, unable to keep his opinion on tech in weapons in check. A matter that wasn’t even your fault to begin with. 

What the hell was wrong with him back then? What the hell is even wrong with him now?

“Hey, Earth to Ghost. You okay?” You asked, noticing how he seemed to be just staring into space as they waited for the car to pick them up. There was a brightness in the night, a rain having just finished its pour. Puddles on the ground reflected the city’s lampposts, cars flashed their lights, and much to Ghost’s dismay and pleasure, your eyes shined replaced the stars. 

His voice was deep and agitated, more so upset with himself than with you. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

At that you smirked that devilish smile that he hasn’t seen in a while. It pissed him off to no end before, but now it made his heart flutter. “Wow. The great Lieutenant Ghost has nerves. Never thought I’d hear that. Makes me feel a lot better, though.”

“And why is that?” He inquired carefully, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

You shrugged, actually starting to feel at ease for the first time in his presence. The butterflies were still there. They were just much more manageable now. “I am nervous as well.”

Before he could question you further, the designated car pulled up in front of the hotel. Gaz, parading as the chauffeur for tonight, got out of the car and held open the passenger door for the both of you to get in. Soap wanted to do this job, but Price refused. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to shut his mouth if he saw the two of you together like this. Gaz at least had a filter.

He played the role to a tee, onlookers staring as he took off his hat and bowed. “Good evening. You both look dashing tonight. Especially our lady.”

The cover was working smoothly. Together, they really looked like A-list people. The civilians would have never guessed that they were all just soldiers. Drinking in their looks, you let it replenish your confidence. You got into the car followed by Ghost, Gaz shutting the door once everyone was settled. As he drove to the venue, he went over the mission details. 

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire time. We have access to all the venue’s cameras and we have mics hidden throughout the building. Some security is our own too to keep an eye on things. This place will be packed full of civilians, so violence must be kept to a minimum. Non-existent preferably. If anything does go wrong that we don’t notice, use the codeword.”

You nodded at all of the information that will keep you safe, reading the mission file to brush up on before the big show started. Ghost looked over your shoulder, also reading the file once again. Mostly though, he noticed how intensely you studied. You didn’t want to be the reason why this mission failed. You couldn’t afford that. 

When the car slowed in front of the venue, you looked out. At least a hundred people were outside, dressed to the nines, ready to spend their money or ask for money. Your blood suddenly became cold as you looked at all the people. There must have been hundreds more inside.

Gaz parked the car and stepped out, getting ready to open the door for you. However, you were a statue. Unmoving. There was panic in your eyes. You looked the part for this. Could you talk the part too?

A warm, large hand landed on your shoulder, gaining your attention. Ghost looked at you with steady eyes, his tone slow and soft as honey. “You got this, Byte. You’re probably smarter than everyone here. I’m right by your side too.”

It was relieving hearing those words come from him. He was encouraging you like he was your lieutenant. Like you were part of his team. Your heart swelled as you looked into the eyes you’ve been trying to avoid. It looked like he was finally seeing you after all this time. 

With a deep breath and a new steely expression, you nodded to Gaz through the window. He opened the door and Ghost stepped out first. You took the hand he offered you and came out, the buzz of intellectual conversation in the air. 

Gaz drove off, leaving the mission to the two of you. Ghost led the way up, your arm in his like it was always meant to be there. Miraculously, the two of you looked like the ideal date. It made getting into the venue easy as Ghost handed over the invitations to the guard at the entrance. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Have a fun night!”

The both of you couldn’t help but blush at the shared name. To be referred to as Mrs. Riley gave you ideas that you never thought you would think about. It strangely had a nice ring to it that made your senses prick up. 

Ghost thought the same thing as he guided you in. Tonight, you were Mrs. Riley, his beautiful and intelligent wife. 

The two years of hating each other seemed to feel farther away as the night stretched on. 

The marble floors were packed with esteemed guests. Large, crystal chandeliers reflected off gold jewelry and champagne glasses. A live orchestra played with precise rhythm. Everyone mingled, trying to see where the best place to put their money was. Likewise, scientists tried to advocate for their foundations. All of the talk made Ghost’s head swirl. He was used to undercover missions, however, this was truly out of his realm. 

You were better at picking up the jargon. They spoke a language you understood. The language that only the people in the lab on base understood. It was like hearing your native tongue after years of speaking foreignly. Military culture and science culture was so different, that you often missed this. 

A couple approached the two of you, led by a middle-aged woman with a large, diamond necklace and fake lilies in her hair. “Aren’t you two the most adorable couple! I must compliment you on your gown too!”

This was it. This was their test to look like a real couple out as each other’s dates. You put on a fake smile and held out your hand. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m Mrs. (Y/n) Riley. This is my husband.”

The name slid easily off your tongue, yet it sent electricity through you. There was no way you were going to get used to that name tonight. It made you feel lightheaded when you said it. How could you get so embarrassed by a fake name?

Ghost was having trouble getting used to it too, a part of him wishing that the name was real against his will. Clenching his jaw, he looked out at the crowd, trying to spot the target. His large height helped, but there were too many people around. They all crowded around each other. Talking, laughing, flaunting. A slight tug on his arm brought his attention back to you. You were just sending the lady on her way after a simple, pleasant conversation. Through that, you were able to figure out if the target has shown up yet. 

“Let’s go to the main ballroom. According to the recent intel, our target would be there if he’s shown up. Something about him not being able to resist a shrimp cocktail.” You directed, your confidence becoming stronger as you weaved through the crowd. Ghost couldn’t help but take in your courage, finding it hard to believe that you were once nervous. Then again, this was your crowd.

The ballroom floor was also filled with people, but also now with clear advertisements from scientists. Small signs indicated programs with their representatives, helping investors find the right place to put their money in. You read the signs carefully, recognizing a few of them along with who was supposed to be running it. At some of the names, you grimaced. 

“You alright?” Ghost asked, trying to keep his own expression solid as if he was playing poker. He found himself worrying about you now that you looked so pained. 

You shook your head, trying to clear unpleasant memories as best as you can. “I’m fine. I just. . . I hope I don’t run into any ex-colleagues.”

As if the devil was listening himself, you heard your name being called from afar, a surprised tone countering the determined piano filling the room. “Y/n? Is that really you?!”

Putting on your game face, you smiled and turned towards your former colleague and, unfortunately, ex-lover. Of course, this was going to happen. Almost always one thing goes wrong during a mission. A part of you wished you didn’t accept this mission now that you were face-to-face with someone you tried to leave in the past. 

“Dr. Emmanuel. It has been a long time.” You greeted politely, taking extra time to keep your tone in check. The last time you spoke to him was during the breakup. He dumped you after a quarrel about a missing blueprint. You were working on a project together when you were both interns at a scientific space-engineering facility. The blueprint was supposed to help the both of you land permanent positions, but it was made clear that there was only room for one. 

When you heard the news, you both agreed that neither of you would take credit until you talked to the head of the facility. That was, until the blueprint went missing. From there, you fought and accused him of taking the blueprint for himself to get the job. Your hunch was right when you saw the new employee ID card he hid in his wallet. 

You called him a traitor. He called you deplorable. You claimed that most of the blueprint was your design. He reasoned that if you had the job, you would neglect him anyways with your workaholic nature. He then dropped the bomb that he hated working with you, that you made him feel insecure in bed with your inability to orgasm with him, and that you were just becoming into someone he loathed with your particular personality. He accused you of not loving him enough.

So he took the credit and ran, leaving you to figure out what the hell you were going to do about a job. That’s when you decided to join the military as a weapons engineer. Some time after, you joined the 141. 

“It has been some time, hasn’t it? I’m surprised to see you here? Are you here as a scientist or an investor?” Your ex inquired, sizing you up as someone to take advantage of or as competition for investors. You knew his game and you knew it well. You only had to learn the hard way once before you learned your lesson. You never made the same mistake twice. 

Ghost noticed how your expression hardened, yet you maintained that fake, pearly smile. What was this man to you? How did you know each other? 

Why did he care so much?

“He is the investor and I am the scientist. This is my husband, Mr. Riley.” You announced, now saying the word “husband” with your full chest. Your ex’s eyes widened briefly before twisting into a smile that showed hints of disgust. 

Nonetheless, he held out his hand for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley. It is an honor meeting a man that could tame such a work-driven woman.”

Before you could shoot back some venomous words that were bubbling up on your tongue, Ghost took his hand and gripped it tight with that soldier strength of his. Your ex seemed distraught as pain shot through his hand that was being crushed. Ghost didn’t let up. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t look down at my wife, doctor. I love her just the way she is. I’m sure she has accomplished much more than you as well.”

“Now, if you will excuse us, we have better things to talk about with other people.” Ghost finally let go, bruises already starting to form on the crushed hand of your ex. While you normally would pop off at him for standing up for you when you could’ve done so yourself, you were too busy thinking about his words. The L-bomb he dropped seemed to flow so naturally from him. It made you feel flustered. 

As Ghost led you away, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. He took your flustered expression as you being upset. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were upset with him or your ex-colleague. He knew he triggered your pet-peeve and he wanted to apologize. For now, though, he had to settle with a raincheck. “We’ll talk about that later. Do you see our target yet?”

You snapped back into action, being reminded that you have a mission to accomplish above all else. Looking around, you tried to spot the target. As predicted, there he was, gorging himself on shrimp and champagne. “10 o’clock.”

He looked over and confirmed. “Target spotted. Good eye. Ready?”

Taking a few deep breaths to reset your brain, you nodded. Swiftly, the both of you approach the target just as he was taking another flute from a silver tray. You changed your serious demeanor into a more graceful one. Someone worth giving money to. Someone that the target will like. “Mr. Marston. I was hoping to finally meet you tonight. I am Y/n Riley. This is my husband. You are such an inspiration to both scientists and investors.”

“Ha! A couple of fans with good taste! A pleasure to meet such a handsome couple! I’ve been in the business for a long time though, so I know you must want something. Can’t pull the wool over these eyes, even if they are old.” He laughed cheerfully as he raised more alcohol to his lips. 

It seemed that this would be easier than you thought. People like Mr. Marston made you sick. People with way too much time and money on their hands to shape the world as they saw fit, regardless of the good of the people. Nuclear war would be a disaster. And yet, this man treated it as lightly as the glass in his hand. Careless. Spilling over with each movement. Such a fragile thing away from one wrong move before shattering into a hundred pieces. 

“With age comes experience and wisdom. I am a scientist looking for an investor. Though my studies tend to be a little. . . unconventional.” You buttered him up before casting your line. All he had to do was take the bait.

And that he did. His eyebrows rose with interest at your choice of words. He felt his wallet burning a hole in his pocket. “Unconventional, you say? Well, I am all for out-of-the-box solutions to our world’s problems. Care to elaborate on your odd studies?”

You looked up at Ghost, awaiting some sort of signal that you may proceed with luring the target to where you needed him to be. He gave a single nod, disguising it as full support for his lovely wife. You were handling this much better than he expected. Or perhaps, this is how you always were under pressure. His judgment was always just too clouded with contempt to see it. 

“We would love to talk about our project, but such a thing is rather sensitive in nature. I would hate to upset some over-hearers. Perhaps we shall meet later once the formal is over?” You played cautiously, not yet reeling in such a loose bite. 

“Oh my, now you really have my interest! There are a few study spaces at this venue reserved for investors and scientist contract negotiations. I haven’t committed to any facility yet, so why don’t I start with reviewing you? What do you say?”

Hook, line, and sinker. “That would be most ideal, Mr. Marston. Just lead the way.”

Grabbing a few shrimps to go, the target led the way to a more private area of the venue. Everything was smooth, all according to plan. The crowd parted away for the richest investor here, making the exit quite swift. Once the three of you separated from the main event down to a much quieter room, Ghost detained him with cuffs. A button on his watch was pressed, signaling to the team that the target was in custody. 

“Wh-What?! What is all this now?!” Mr. Marston protested, hoping that someone would come to his rescue. 

“Lieutenant Ghost and Sargent Byte. You are being taken into military custody for involvement with nuclear investments. We just need to ask you some questions.” You explained carefully, trying to keep the target calm so you didn’t attract unwanted attention. Cool, calm, and collected. Ghost thought it was a good look on you. You weren’t normally involved like this, so he couldn’t help but think so. 

He had it worse than he thought. Seriously, what was with him?

While Ghost took his hands off the target for a moment to reach for his phone, feeling an incoming message, the target swirled around and tried to bolt. Not in the direction of an exit, though. Instead, he was running straight to you, binded fists raised to strike you. Thanks to your self-defense classes through the military, you acted on pure instinct. You dodged his fists and struck his jugular with a sharp strike of the side of your hand. He gasped for air and collapsed, tears streaming down his face as if he would die from the loss of oxygen. 

Ghost’s attraction to you increased tenfold as you nonchalantly fixed your dress like a meager wind just caused only slight agitation. He forgot just how capable you could be physically, not just intellectually.

Right on time, Price waltzed in wearing his common military uniform. He didn’t even bat an eye at the struggling target. “Transportation is outside. Well done, you two! It was about time you worked together on something. I hope to see more of this in the future!” 

You made some distance between you and Ghost, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. For some reason, it pained Ghost to see you put up that wall again so soon after the mission. Was this the first and last time you would get along so well with him?

No, he decided. He told you that he would speak to you later about the interaction with Emmanuel. Then, he would knock your walls down. Finally get to know the real you.

From there, we can really determine if his feelings were just a fluke or not. 

~

You were back at the hotel, wiping your makeup off and stripping yourself out of the formal dress. Your muscles ache at the new freedom, having been fed up with such a fitted dress and heels. After showering and putting on some pajamas, you got into bed and began to read. You were rewarded for your work with a one-night’s stay at the luxury hotel, and you were taking full advantage of it. 

After reading, you were going to order hotel service and then go to bed. The life of luxury that was more than enough for you. As you began reading the next chapter of your book, you heard a knock at the door. Sighing, you bookmarked your page, and answered it. You were surprised to see Ghost standing there, smelling like fresh maplewood and citrus soap. A plain shirt clung to his torso and pajama pants made him look like a new man altogether. He had his black facemask on still, but once he let himself in, he took it off. 

This was the first time you have ever seen his full face uncovered. You noticed the small scar on his upper lip that matched the one on his right brow. His jaw was strong as if chiseled from marble. You couldn’t deny it. Ghost was a very attractive man.

“Sorry to barge in like this. I said we were going to talk, so here I am.” He explained, taking a seat on the edge of your king bed. He was drinking you in too. The pajama shorts that showed off your thighs, the cami that exposed your delicate shoulders. Your hair was still damp and scented with lavender and vanilla. His heart picked up speed as he felt a pull of attraction to you. 

How could he have ever hated a beautiful thing like you?

You found it a little rude that he just barged in, but you let it slide for once. From his tone, he didn’t seem like he wanted to fight. Besides, those deep blues were starting to melt your icy heart little by little. Just for tonight.

You took a seat on the bed next to him and looked up. “What is there to talk about? He’s just a man from my past.”

At that, he felt his muscles tense. He knew that there was more to the story. Ghost detected your evasion of the subject as clear as day. It was something he experienced nearly every day before this. He knew your tell. “I know it wasn’t just that. What he said, how you looked. What happened?”

Out of all people, you least expected Ghost to hound you about this. He has never been interested in your personal life before. Then again, your relationship has changed dramatically since the night in the lab. Before you knew it, you started to feel yourself open up to him a little. 

You stared down into your lap. “He’s an ex. We were interns together, he took all the credit for a project we did, he got a job, and I didn’t. He insulted me, dumped me, and then left. I left to work in the military. That’s really all there is to it.”

While your tone tried to keep it casual, Ghost knew it was really a tragedy. No wonder you didn’t trust easily. Now he wished he broke that guy’s hand when he had the chance. 

Did he really have room to talk though? He made you distrust people even more easily when he first met you. It was about time he apologized for it all. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry. About everything. For the two years of fighting. All the insults, all the exclusion. Everything. I should have been a better teammate, lieutenant, and even friend to you. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say, a new trick of his that seemed to have worked time and time again. The tick of a classic clock filled the silence as you thought about his apology. The sound of him using your real name echoed in your ears. You blamed him for everything that transpired. And now he was sorry about it. Yet, the way he looked at you didn’t indicate the need for forgiveness. He wasn’t entitled to it, and he knew that. Instead, his gaze was filled with certainty. The certainty to do much better by you from now on. 

Two years to lead up to this moment. You never thought you would live to see the day. Just like him, you slowly found your rage for him melt down to almost nothing, instead to be replaced by something soft, warm, and electric. 

You gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry too. I know I can be pretty unlikable.”

“You’re not unlikable.” He reassured, his hand naturally taking your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life. Ghost didn’t even realize that he did it at first. And before he knew it, he was going in for a kiss, unable to resist those pretty lips of yours for a moment longer. 

Your cheeks began to burn as he kissed you so suddenly, yet you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. Something was pulling you deeper into him. A passion that was always there from the beginning. Hate or love, you have always been passionate about Ghost. Maybe that was why you truly hated him in the first place. 

Ghost couldn’t stop himself, deepening the kiss with each second that passed, reveling in how sweet you tasted on his lips. He’s been obsessed with you since the beginning. A fire within him had always burned for you. He just wished he realized that it was actually love much sooner. Perhaps if he did, you really would’ve been Mrs. Riley tonight. 

All the things he hated about you before were things he loved about you now. Your soft lips, your silky hair, your amazing intellect. All of the things that he could never match. You were better than him. However, he didn’t care anymore. He actually appreciated it now. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am.” He whispered as he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his embrace. You felt his firm muscles against you so much better now than before, the shirt he was wearing leaving little to the imagination with how fitted it was. 

It honestly turned you on. 

You took the initiative to reconnect your lips, your mouth opening to invite his tongue. Nerves fired off in every inch of your skin as his slick tongue met yours. Your toes curled as he felt you up, groping your thighs and waist like they would disappear any moment. His hands felt so good on you that you shivered, yearning for more. 

Things were getting out of control, but Ghost didn’t care. Tonight, he wanted you more than he has ever wanted anything from you. To appreciate all the things he was too stupid to notice before. You were sexy beyond belief. Always have been. When you were working over your desk with such a focused look, when you were gloating about your new invention, when you demonstrated a new gun so naturally in perfect stance. 

His pants tightened as his erection grew strong with each taste of your tongue. His hands roamed into your hair, gripping slightly to pull you closer. The both of you moaned when you ended up grinding against his hard cock. Once you got a taste for that, you couldn’t stop. Your hips grinded into his, sending earthquakes of pleasure through you. You could feel your panties get damper each minute as the makeout became even hotter and heavier. It wasn’t helping that it has been a while since the last time you had sex. It made you feel more sensitive than usual.

Finally, Ghost flipped you around and settled you back on the bed. He has never been so turned on in his life and you were the one doing this to him. 

There was something he needed to make clear first, though.

“I’m going to make you cum.” He promised, flashing you a determined look that had you weak. 

You blushed and averted your gaze, your voice low. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll do it. No matter how long it takes. I’m going to be the first man to make you cum tonight.” He reassured, gladly ignoring your warnings as he leaned down to kiss your lips again. As he took control of your tongue, his hands began to explore your skin under the shirt. You were unbelievably soft under his fingertips, delicate from your lack of experience on a battlefield. He now loved that about you. You didn’t need to be in the throws of battle to be part of the team. 

“You’re so soft, you know that?” He praised, deep rumbles of his voice making your brain turn into mush as it entered your ears. His kisses traveled to them, making you shiver uncontrollably as he softly bit down. 

He chuckled, a sound that was once always reserved for his male teammates unless he was making fun of you. Now, they teased you so pleasantly that your breath hitched. “Someone’s ears are sensitive. You like having them played with?”

Just as you were about to answer, he slid his hand up to touch your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you jump. “Ahh~! Ghost!”

“Call me Simon.” He demanded, yearning for the sound of his real name coming from you. It would be the first time you would call him by his real name. 

You played with it in your head, noting how foreign it felt just sitting on your tongue. Nonetheless, you gave him what he wanted. “S-Simon. . .”

“Again.” He encouraged, suppressing a shiver that traveled down his spine. It was like getting a dose of the sweetest drug. Fireworks exploding in his chest. He loved how his name sounded on your lips. 

“Simon. . .” You sighed as he peppered kisses all over your neck. Your cami was now raised up to reveal your chest, kisses traveling further and further down to taste all of you. As much as Simon wanted to fuck you already right then and there, he had a promise to keep. He had to take it slow and let it build up. He had to make you cum first.

He took a stiff nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around before taking it between his teeth in a gentle bite. His other hand twisted your other nub between his fingers. The way he tweaked them hard sent waves of pleasure through you, all the way down to your cunt that was still soaking your panties. It felt so good to have him touch you like this. You wanted more. 

Arching your back, you took your top off completely. Simon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and trailing his kisses down your stomach. As he felt your stomach on his lips, he buried his face deep into it. To think that he could’ve had this so much sooner if he was just nice to you from the beginning. “So soft. . .”

You squirmed a little under his slow, deep kisses to your body. No one has ever taken this much time on you before. All foreplay was pretty exclusive to your breasts or cunt with your previous partners. Simon was taking the time to appreciate your whole body. It felt so intimate. “Simon. . ?”

God, he loved it when you said his name. “Y/n?”

You were starting to like the sound of your name coming from him too. A blush swept across your cheeks. “You can be a little rougher.”

He smirked, this time making you tremble in excitement rather than rage. “Is that what you like? You like it a little rough?”

“I like the firmer sensation. Nothing too crazy.” You elaborated, always one to speak your mind even in a moment like this. If you were going to have sex with Simon Riley, if he wanted to make you cum, information like this was important.

Simon hummed against your skin, his hands working to pull off your pants. The vibrations made you sigh. Once your shorts and panties were off, he settled himself between your legs. Your dripping cunt was such a pretty sight. Pink, wet, and sweet. He bit the inside of your thigh, making you gasp in pleasure. “Like that? Is this what your previous partners did to you?” 

“N-No. . .” You admitted. Your previous partners never really listened to what you liked even if you told them straight-forwardly. At least not enough to get you to tremble like Simon did. It seemed like the man you hated before was really the best so far in bed. 

“Good. Their loss.” He murmured, biting down on your thighs soon after and leaving a deep love-bite. You bit your lower lip and whimpered, the sensation sending shockwaves. Simon kept going further and further down on you, relishing each time you moaned and quivered. He wanted more. He wanted to make you scream.

His lips latched onto your swollen clit, biting it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. He tasted your nectar on his tongue, a taste that instantly made him addicted to it. You arched your back and grabbed his hair suddenly, silky soft strands feeling nice between your fingers. 

Just like he wanted, you moaned his name over and over again. His tongue kept lathering your clit firmly and with even strokes. Fingers prodded at your opening, spreading your wetness all over you until he was able to put two of his fingers inside. God, you were tight. 

“Ahh~! Right there, Simon!” You encouraged, your ability to speak your mind unwavering. Simone found that insanely attractive as he pushed his fingers in further and curled right at that spongy spot that was driving you crazy. His teeth pulled at your folds before being soothed with his tongue. Your clit twitched as he pressed his tongue up against it once more, all the while pumping his fingers into your soaked pussy. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter as he kept pushing you to the edge. The sensation made his own cock twitch under his clothes, making him press it up against the mattress to grind into. He wished it was your pussy he was grinding into already, but you were so close. He could feel it. You could feel it. 

He didn’t stop his pace. Strong, even, and slow. You tightened around his fingers each second, feeling the wave approach closer and closer. You could already tell that this was going to be a big one. Your first orgasm with a partner ever. 

Tilting your head back, you moaned louder and louder. You begged for more and more, praying to a god that Simon wasn’t just going to leave you hanging. Now that would be pure evil. The worst thing he could ever do to you. But he didn’t. He just kept nipping, sucking, biting, and licking to the point that your head was spinning. 

Before you could warn him, your vision saw white and you screamed. Simon could feel you suck in his fingers so tight that he smiled as he still landed kisses on your clit. Your legs trembled, aching to close or kick out the electricity that coarse through you. Your cum was spilling everywhere. All over his fingers down to his wrist, coating your thighs in a sweet glaze. 

While you tried to catch your breath, Simon licked up every drop. “How was that? Everything you thought it would be?

You looked down to see his eyes ablaze with victory and a sexy smirk on his lips. You sighed and nodded. “Credit where credit is due. That was really good.”

“Good. Because you’re not done yet.” He decided, already stripping off his pajama pants to reveal his rock hard erection. He was bigger than you expected, all that shit talk for two years making you believe that he was making up for something. But he was blessed with the girth, the length, and the look that you knew would be amazing.

He positioned himself between your legs, coating his length with your slick. Shivers started again as the tip rubbed against your clit. The both of you sighed, enjoying each other’s bodies to the fullest extent.

Suddenly, Simon pushed all of his cock into you, bottoming out within a second. You gripped the sheets tight in your fist as you cried out. He stretched you out so pleasurably, so fully. You’ve never felt so full in your sex life. 

Simon hissed as you clenched around him. “Fucking hell, you’re so tight. . .”

Slowly, he began to move. Long even strokes that rubbed every inch of you and him. As he looked down at you, face twisting into such a pleasurable expression, eyes only on him, he heard his heart beat in his ears. God damn, you were gorgeous. 

Your eyes widened as he came down for a kiss, his tongue taking full control while his hips remained steady. The sudden rush of the kiss and his cock reaching deeper made you scratch at his shoulders. He was eating up all of your moans like candy. 

“F-Fuck~! Simon, wait!” You begged, the sensation getting overwhelming with each deep thrust. He could feel you getting tighter. Wetter. He knew that you were getting close to another orgasm, and he wasn’t going to stop for a second.

He sat up and pushed your legs down by your thighs, spreading you wide open and making you take all of him as deep as you can. You clawed his hands as your climax approached even faster, Simon ignoring all of your cries for him to wait. The sounds of your wet sex echoed in the room along with your sensual moans, causing you to get even more aroused. Christ, his cock was so good!

You were plunged into an orgasm, your whole body quaking as you arched and screamed it out. Simon felt your pussy wrap tightly around him, trying to take everything from him before he was ready. It was dizzying how good your insides felt coiling around him. He loved how you soaked his dick and crotch full with your hot cum. 

Simon grabbed your thighs tight, squeezing hard and clenching his teeth while he tried to stop himself from climaxing too soon. He wanted to stretch this night out for as long as he could.

While you settled down from your second orgasm, you gazed up at Simon who was struggling to keep himself together. You lifted your arms and touched his strong, muscular chest that was shimmering in sweat. You could feel how hard his heart was beating under your fingertips. You could feel him twitch hard inside you, aching to fuck you again. Your body was weak, though. You didn’t know if you could last for much longer. Every nerve in your body felt like it was melting. “Si-”

“I know. Your body won’t stop shaking. Just until I cum, yeah?” He observed, fingers tracing your trembling curves.

At the idea of Simon cumming, your body regained new energy that you didn’t know you had. You wanted to see it. Feel it. You wanted to see your lieutenant crumble from the power of your body. “Fuck me then, Simon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. His hips went into overdrive, thrusting in and out of you with ease from all of your slick. You felt him hit that wonderful spot of yours that made you see stars over and over again, your body already on the edge once again. 

Simon picked you up off the bed and turned, settling you on his lap while he laid back. He didn’t relinquish any control, however. He just wanted to grope your delicious ass while he thrusted up inside you, hitting nice and deep. With the new view and new places to touch, he was losing his mind. 

You weren’t expecting this new position, but you didn’t reject it either. In fact, it felt heavenly. He hit that g-spot at just the right angle and you loved how he manhandled your butt so roughly. You liked how his eyes never looked away from your body, drinking it all in like the finest wine. From this position, you could feel his solid cock twitch inside of you.

Struggling yourself up, limbs feeling like jelly, you fell onto his chest, your tits pressing firmly into him. That sent him over the edge, his grip on your ass making his nails dig into your skin. Once you felt that first rope of cum enter you, you came for the last time.

Hot cum mixed together, making a mess out of the both of you. His chest fell and rose with heavy breaths, groans coming out with each rope he couldn’t hold back. Your tightening pussy wasn’t helping, milking him of everything to the point where he even felt tingles travel through him. Once he was finally done, he felt exhausted. 

You were exhausted too, your lungs struggling to regulate air flow. Your heart was beating so loud that it drained all other noises. Your body felt slightly numb from it all, your head getting fuzzy with each second. Simon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you both calmed yourselves. 

“That was. . .” He began, losing the right words to describe just how amazing that was. He’s had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never like this. No one could quite compare to you.

“Yeah. . .” You agreed, your eyes closing as you felt the afterglow take over. You felt the covers pull up over you, Simon still holding you on top of him, not willing to let go just yet. 

He could never imagine letting you go now. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[hairmetal666]

The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

[navybrat817]

" Scraping their teeth over your neck to have a shiver of arousal run down your spine. "

With Bucky. 🥺

This probably didn't go the way anyone wants, nonnie, and I'm sorry!

Give Me a Name

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Tension, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, pet names, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Because who doesn't want a mob boss obsessed with them? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Today was a not-so-friendly reminder that mistakes in your job weren’t so easy to fix. You had been in pursuit of a target for weeks and finally managed to catch him. The rookie agent, however, didn’t secure the cuffs and the bastard managed to get a hard hit in when he broke free. The dizziness from the blow was enough to let him get away.

The rookie went after him, but you knew he wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to start all over with tracking him and you didn’t even get a chance to go home to lick your wounds. Not when Bucky’s men showed up and put you in a car.

You should’ve known they were close by.

“I can walk!” You argued minutes later when they brought you to the Barnes mansion. The mob boss had a few homes, but this one had been in the family for years. He had invited you here before, but never took you by force.

Until today.

The men carefully arranged you on a leather sofa in the den before one of them went to get their boss. He hadn’t left the room before the door flew open, the very man he went to find standing there with a look thunderous enough to kill. He snatched something out of one of his soldier’s hands before he went to you, no one daring to speak a word.

You held your breath as you glanced at Bucky. He had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up as he assessed you, the veins in his arms popped out as he clenched his fists. He was built like a soldier with his massive frame, his life story told in the tattoos and scars that adorned his covered skin. The notorious crime lord more than earned his reputation and he promised he’d tell you his story himself one day.

Today wouldn’t be that day.

He brushed some of his long hair from his eyes before crouching down beside you. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he dabbed at your cheek with the cloth. He stopped when you winced, but you gave him a small smile to let him know he could continue. You didn’t expect tenderness from such a rough man, but you were different to him, weren’t you? You had been since the two of you crossed paths some time ago. Why?

What made you so special?

“Who did this to you?” He asked in a low voice. You could hear that he tried to keep the raging storm inside of him, but his icy eyes showed you everything. The growing fury was bound to come out. Who would he destroy in his path to sate the beast?

“Bucky. I’m fine,” you croaked as you tried to sit up more, but he stopped you from moving. “The guy got lucky and it isn’t anything I haven’t faced before. Just let me get back to work,” you said.

You noticed most of the men nearby avoided eye contact when you looked around. They had every reason to be afraid. James Buchanan Barnes was downright terrifying when crossed.

And crossing you was a worse offense in his eyes.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, though he didn't raise his voice. “Tell me his fucking name so I can take care of it.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. If you did, he’d kill him. No, he’d torture him first. Likely for days on end before he begged for death. And you needed him alive.

That was your job.

Yet, you could never find it in yourself to bring Bucky in.

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

You froze at the cold tone before you realized Bucky didn’t direct that statement at you. One of his men standing feet away turned his head to the side because he got caught staring. You should’ve known better. Whatever cat and mouse game you and the mob boss were playing, it was for him to catch you in his trap, but never hurt you.

Not when he wanted to keep you.

“I’m sorry, boss,” the man promised, his tone wavering when Bucky reached for one of his pistols. “I-”

“‘Cause I’ll do it in a heartbeat and never look back if you glance at her again,” he promised. He was a man of his word. “Leave us. All of you. Now.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you assured him as they filed out. The men were dangerous, but you weren’t about to let him shoot the poor guy for looking your way.

“It isn't okay. Someone put their hands on you,” he nearly growled, the soft touch to your cheek a stark contrast to his voice. “You think I can let that go? I can’t. I won’t.”

You brought a hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. His eyes shut for a moment and grabbed your wrist before you could pull away. He dragged your fingers through the short beard along his jaw, like he was starved of your touch and needed more. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted him.

Not when you belonged in different worlds.

“You don’t have to ‘avenge’ me, Bucky, because I’m not yours,” you said carefully. Were you telling him for his sake or yours? “Let it go. Please.”

The storm continued to rage in his eyes when he opened them and you wondered who would win the battle of the wills. You held your breath again when he moved close, the scent of his woodsy cologne making your head spin. Instead of brushing his lips against yours, he brought his mouth to your neck. Scraping his teeth over your pulse, you couldn’t stop the shiver of arousal that moved down your spine.

“You are mine, Kisa,” he whispered, giving your neck another nip as you tried not to whimper. “And I’m going to find out who did this whether you tell me or not. And I’m going to kill him.”

Your heart shouldn’t have raced faster at his declaration. “If I tell you, will you let me go home?”

“You are home,” he replied, pulling away and looking into your eyes so you could see how serious he was. “And I’d feel a lot better if you got some rest in my bedroom.”

You shuddered because you both knew you wouldn’t get a wink of rest if he took you to bed. And if you slept with him, there would be no turning back. “You can’t keep me prisoner here, Winter.”

The cold and ruthless man who only wanted you.

“You’re not my prisoner, Kisa,” he said, pressing his lips softly to your pained cheek. “But I’m never letting you go.”

He’d prove that to you.

I don't know about you lovelies, but I kind of love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[daisystwistedgarden]

if you can't date for love, date for money.

ruggie bucchi remembers receiving this advice well. back when the news of his acceptance into night raven college felt like a dream, when the congratulations and well wishes from his neighbors back home clung to him like the subtle glow of streetlights at night. those days felt... fragile. breakable. there was a subtle tension in the air as he pondered whether the haughty halls of the academy would change him into someone he didn't recognize. he knew hunger pangs and cool nights on the savannah, not whatever bullshit academia had in store.

some of the folks his age-- deeper into their twenties, a bridge he had just begun to cross, with more life experience and cynicism under their belts-- had made jokes about him getting hitched to someone with enough money to give him a good life. money. status. no worries about where your next meal is coming from or if treating a broken leg can leave you homeless. hey ruggie. make sure you pick real good, okay? maybe if your in-laws are rich enough, you can get us all out of here!

ruggie was never one to have romantic fantasies. his ideal partner had a fat wallet and a retirement fund, a formless blob devoid of anything other than the sense of security only money can provide. rich kids just didn't get it. the scars of poverty ran deep.

why, then, did he not follow that advice given to him all that time ago?

his feet carried him across the icy steps of ramshackle, dry knuckles shoved into a threadbare coat, letting the puff of warm air from his tired sigh keep his nose from freezing over. he let himself into ramshackle dorm with a customary knock. the warm crackle of the fireplace greeted him, chasing away the clod draft he'd brought in as he left the entryway.

"i got some extra thaumarks from leona today." he announced upon spotting you in the common room.

"and i got my paycheck from the mostro lounge!"

your smile was infectious. an involuntary shyeheehee left his lips as you scrambled up to your feet, throwing your arms around him in greeting as he teased you for your eagerness.

getting paid was the excuse you had for making dinner together biweekly. when the strain of bills felt less heavy and spirits were lifted, you'd venture out to sam's shop and pick up something to make together. it was a night of luxury, of indulgence, the two of you feeling spoiled to have a meal your classmates would more than likely scoff at.

you were not the rich suitor of ruggie's dreams. magicless and lost in a new world, you'd managed to scrape by doing odd jobs and living in the rickety shack known as ramshackle dorm, all without complaint. he saw himself in you. scrappy. clever. there was an optimism in you that enticed ruggie to stay, even if it meant scraping by for the foreseeable future. "date for money, not love" was a proverb lost to the wind the moment you held a spoon up to his lips and urged him to try whatever you'd been mixing in that pot across the kitchen.

... well, not all advice is good advice. ruggie would rather spend the rest of his life shoving thaumarks into mason jars with you than in some spoiled rich person's mansion, anyways.

a/n: ruggie bucchi, contender for Most Boyfriend twst character of all time

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

[chlorinecake]

— GYM BROS | 20th birthday special for @wonbinisbabygurl

⚡︎ PAIRINGS : fitness trainer!chaemin x gym rat!sungchan x subby!wonbin x desperate fem!reader

⚡︎ PLOT : in search for a hot body to match your plans for a hot girl summer, you seek out the council of your city’s most famous fitness trainer, Lee Chaemin… however, you never would’ve guessed that his intentions to get you in shape would turn out to be a team effort…

⚡ ︎WARNINGS : BIG DICK AGENDA, foursome, sungchan's kind of a perv in this, wonbin’s on the subby side, and chaemin's somewhat mean!dom coded, kissing, breath play, spanking/marking, dry humping, finger sucking, praise & degrading kink, oral (m. r) & fingering (f. r.), cum eating & breeding kink, ft. aespa’s ningning

⚡︎ WORD COUNT : 5.8k | co-written w/ the lovely @squoxle !

THERE HAD BEEN a time in your life where guys often threw themselves at you, gracing you with compliment after compliment in hopes that you’d spare them a prolonged glance… or perhaps, even a chance at hooking up with you somehow…

But then, your high school graduation happened, and coming up promptly on the adulthood menu, college applications and job searching.

Academia was simply something you weren’t interested in at the moment, so you took the work route, being employed at a 9-5 desk job until you got sick of that and terminated your contract before the summer.

Now, introducing your best friend Ningning Yizhou, someone you’ve known since high school yet only recently reconnected with within that past six months.

Your bond flourished as if time and personal journeys had never even separated you two, which is precisely why you found yourself where you were today:

Enjoying a sunny afternoon while walking arm-in-arm beside her, exploring the side shops of an outdoor strip mall from a distance…

The sunlight casted long shadows of the surrounding trees across the worn asphalt pathways trailing from the boutiques, the air meddling with scents of freshly cut grass, expensive perfumes, and tasty treats from the nearby food stands.

Back to Ningning though, the poor girl just wouldn’t stop raving about this new workout program she found online, excitedly informing you on all the details about this celebrity status fitness trainer who co-owned the company.

A strand of her long black hair danced in the wind as you both continued to stroll the area, her dainty sunglasses framing her round face as she nudged your shoulder slightly.

“Girl, you gotta try this with me,” she protested in between taking a sip of the fruit smoothie she held in her free grasp.

“Oh, come on ____,” Ningning whined this time, “how are we supposed to have a hot girl summer if we’re not looking like hot girls?!… The math is basic, to be honest…”

You let a soft sigh escape your lips as your gaze fell down towards the hoodie you wore, its fabric feeling heavier than usual, acting as a direct testament to your own lacking commitment to fitness.

“I’m just not too comfortable with the idea of wasting my money on some poor excuse for a fitness trainer,” you sulked, the sweet and icy nectar of your berry blast smoothie providing you with an extra layer of comfort beneath the blazing afternoon heat.

It had been far too long since you’d laced up your sneakers to exercise, your body looking a little too soft for your liking especially on top of the sedentary job you worked for months.

“Well, the lady who runs the program says that her trainers are licensed professionals,” Ningning continued passionately, despite the uninterested look on your face.

“Uh huh,” you nodded plainly, “and by that, you mean she hires people who wasted their money getting a license to help people do push ups, right?”

“Look, if we sign up now, we can get our first month free,” she stated, halting the pace of her steps to turn and face you directly this time, “so do you wanna do this with me or not?…”

The pressure was starting to kick in now, and although you had been trying to keep up your stubborn act for as long as you could, all of Ningning’s talk about sculpted abs, toned legs, and the perfect bubble butt was enough to spark even the smallest flicker of appeal within you.

It was a simple fact, really… like most women, you wanted to get in the best shape of your life this summer, possibly granting you a much needed injection of excitement into your otherwise mundane single life.

“Fine, I’ll join the stupid program,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically, a bright smile creeping across Ningning’s lips as she cheered for joy, exposing her cute round teeth.

“Yes! Hot girl summer, here we come!”

You let yourself giggle at your friends enthusiasm, her energetic aura always having a way of radiating onto you anyways…

And yes, you still felt a bit hesitant about venturing back into the gym after such a long hiatus, but with a little push, a little sweat, and a little confidence, you were ready to accept that maybe this whole workout thing was exactly what you both needed…

AFTER AGREEING TO enroll into the program, you decided to do a little research on your own back at home, and from what you could tell, the website looked fairly promising.

“Once I joined, I just couldn’t stop coming,” one review read, another following comment stating that they couldn’t remember the last time their bodies looked 'this great.' 

And strangely enough, you found yourself convinced from that alone, jotting in your name, age, and other necessary credentials on the website's "SIGN UP" front page.

Wrapping a hoodie around your waist, you slipped into your fitness shoes, tossing your gym bag over your shoulder and making your way to your first fitness class.

Initially, you were under the impression that your trainer would be another girl by default, so you didn’t put too much effort into your appearance. 

To be honest, your outfit was giving more of a “I just fell out of bed on a lazy sunday and decided to go for a jog” look rather than “Oh my God, this is my first workout class and I wanna make a good impression!”

Not like you cared all that stuff anyways, though... you were here to work up a sweat and get your dream body, not win a fashion competition.

Sprinkling a peach flavored electrolyte pack into your 40 ounce water bottle, you gave it a few shakes in your hand, watching closely as the powder dissolved before taking a sip and walking into the daunting building ahead of you—

“Alrighty, it looks like you’re all set, Miss ____. Your personal trainer will be waiting for you in the Private Training Room, code number 210B,” the older lady at the front desk smiled, straightening out the consumer information sheet you had just filled out and sliding it into the file drawer beside her.

“Ok, cool! And I'm sorry, but where do I go from here?”

“Just take that elevator to the second floor, hun. From there, you're gonna need to take a right, and room 10 should be right there!”

“Ok, thanks,” you nodded in a friendly voice before walking off, deciding within yourself that you'd take the stairwell instead of the elevator given the long line of people waiting there.

That's when the sound of humming treadmills, heavy metal clinks, and a mix of strained grunts hit your ears as you navigated around the second floor, taking a right turn just as the receptionist advised.

And there it was... Room 210B in all of its mysterious glory.

Your eyes wandered down to the soft natural light peeking from beneath the door, the handle twisting with a gentle creak as you walked in.

“Hi! You must be ____,” a deep male voice immediately greeted you. “I’ll be your fitness instructor and personal body trainer for the entirety of this program,” the man went on with a smile, extending his hand to shake yours, “My name is Lee Chaemin, but you can just call me Chae or Coach.”

What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself, struggling to properly return the handshake given the way your eyes ogled at him now.

He was criminally attractive, and you doubted wholeheartedly that you'd be able to function efficiently in his presence, let alone under his piercing gaze—

“V-very nice to meet you,” you somehow managed to choke out, making him quirk a brow at your flustered demeanor before going on to outline the criteria of your workout plan.

But your inner thoughts... God, they had gotten so loud that you could hardly even process a single word that escaped his lips, imagining within yourself how nice his hands would feel while wrapped around your neck...

At this point, you had completely missed the part where you were supposed to answer his question.

“Huh? I mean uh- Sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked if you had any particular body goals in mind?” He repeated with a faint chuckle, eyes flattening out into pretty crescents as he tilted his head at you. 

Shit, his smile is absolutely perfect—

“Hmm... I mainly just wanna tone up and lose some body fat, y’know?”

“Yea, of course... in that case, we’ll start you out with some basics so I can get an idea of your current strength... then, we can work our way up from there,” he said, just as he made his way over to the wall and grabbed two yoga mats.

“I’ll demonstrate the poses and you can just cop me. Don’t worry if it feels a little awkward at first, I’ll guide you into position if you need,” he smiled again, laying down the mats for you two.

You joined him on the ground now, eyes following the movements of his body as twisted into various different stretches before finally coming to one that nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh, hold on! I gotchya,” he huffed, grabbing hold of your waist as you bent over with your legs spread apart. Even though you knew he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, you couldn’t help but internally melt at the feeling of him standing behind you like this...

Eventually though, your stretching period was finished, following up with a few simple pilate-like exercises and a mile run on the treadmill right after.

Fairly easy enough for my first day, you thought to yourself again, noting that if there was anything you learned today, it was that this Chae guy or whatever the hell he wanted you to call him, was sickeningly sexy, or in other words, just the extra vessel of visual motivation you needed to keep going on this journey...

BY THE END of the first week, you had changed up your wardrobe completely, not wanting any extra fabric to get in the way of you copping a feel here and there.

Besides, wearing a tight pair of yoga leggings with a mini crop top was much better suited for your hot girl aesthetic versus your usual hoodie and baggy gym pants.

As expected though, the next few classes became progressively more challenging... similarly to the rock hard bulge resting behind Chaemin's pants.

You were already seeing some promising results, too, despite how it had only been a few weeks since you first started... Ningning was in a more dance-focused class than yours, but her results were just as amazing, making this little hot girl duo between you two really worth the effort.

Unfortunately though, your free trial was coming to an end soon, so with the last few hours you got to spend with Chaemin every week, you hoped there'd be a chance for you to get a little something more out of him.

“See ya after class, babes,” Ningning waved with her typically warm and optimistic energy, making you flash her an equally friendly smile as you waved her off in the same manner, walking off into Private Training Room.

“Today’s gonna be a little different,” your trainer started to speak as soon as you opened the door.

“Different how?” You asked, sliding your gym bag from over your shoulder and placing it on the carrier shelves beside you.

“Well,” he continued in between clearing his throat, “one of my friend’s will be joining us in the room today, if you don't mind... He’s a personal trainer, too.”

Your eyes widened slightly as his words as a neutral pout overcame your features. “Oh, well yea, I don't have a problem with that,” you reassured him, making Chaemin flash you a thankful smile as you got started on laying down the yoga mats, just as Chaemin reached in his gym shorts pocket to pull out his phone.

“Perfect... I'll get started with you in a bit, though... I'm just texting him to verify how much longer it's gonna be before he gets here–” 

“Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” a new voice called out from beside you as the room door slung open, the sound of layered footsteps hitting your ears as the newcomer invited himself into the space, cutting Chaemin off mid-sentence. 

“Oh- Hey, Chan! I was just about to text you,” Chaemin let himself chuckle slightly before dapping up his friend.

“____, this is Sungchan, the trainer I was telling you about earlier...”

“Nice to meet you, ____,” Sungchan nodded with a gentle smile, a feeling of butterflies rushing through your lower stomach aa you found yourself having to look up to meet his face.

That's when the source of the second pair of footsteps became clear to you, just as a slightly shorter but equally as attractive guy joined the space.

“Wonbin,” the third boy introduced himself plainly, voice a bit feathery as he nervously shook your hand.

“Don’t worry. We shouldn’t bother y’all too much. Me and Won are gonna be training over here, but if you need anything just let me know, okay?” Sungchan went on, looking directly into your eyes, practically knocking you off your feet.

“Cool! Me and ____ are gonna get started over here, then,” Chaemin clapped as you started your first round of cardio, which today turned out to be a 10 minute jump roping circuit to help warm you up.

Chaemin kept track of the time as usual in between barking out a few words of encouragement, even though you could definitely tell another set of eyes were on you...

Glancing in one of the mirrors, you caught onto to the way Sungchan shamelessly stared at your body as you jumped up and down, a small smirk staining his features as the sheen of sweat decorated you slightly exposed chest now.

He was supposed to be spotting Wonbin at the bench press, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the life of him, almost in disbelief at the way you clearly started to put on a little show for him, letting your breath come out in high-pitched pants as you continued jumping.  

“Nice work, ____,” Chaemin exclaimed as your timer went off, right before he suggested that you work on a bit of strength training for the next 30 minutes.

“I think I need a little more time to calm down before I hit the weights, Coach,” you huffed out tiredly, explaining to him that it'd be better if you just worked on something a little less strenuous for the time being...

Glutes.

Of course, Chaemin wasn't going to make you overwork yourself, especially since you claimed to be feeling a bit more spent than usual...

By now, you had fully memorized the glute routine he made you do twice every week, including a rep of squat variations, lunges, bridge lifts, and fire hydrants.

Chaemin usually stood behind you whenever you did squats, guiding your waist with the lightest touch he could to make sure your form was on point.

This time though, you noticed that he wasn't even within three-feet of your presence, having his backed turned to you as you pushed out your first set of sumo squats, watching him walk even further away in the mirror ahead of you. 

“Hey, where're you headed?” You asked through slightly labored breaths, still counting in the back of your mind how many squats you had done so far...

“Oh, I just gotta take care of something really quick... Sungchan'll be here if you need him for anything.”

“Alright then,” you nodded, feeling that familiar burning sensation course through your hips, “take your time!”

“Thanks,” he replied, walking over to where Sungchan stood near Wonbin and exchanging a few words with him that you couldn't make out through all of Wonbin's grunting, leaving to room shortly after.

Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty, you lazily counted out each squat in your head, letting yourself take a few conscious breaths just as Sungchan made his way over to you now.

“Looks like it’s gonna be just you and me then, huh?” he began with a smirk, scanning your body with his eyes. 

“Well... not exactly,” you returned quietly, peeking over his shoulder to find Wonbin adjusting a pair of headphones over his head.

“He's not one to bother people, trust me... It’ll be like he’s not even here,” Sungchan reassured you, just as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair and walked closer towards you, “Now... I say we freestyle a bit and try out a few exercises you've probably never done before, yeah?” 

The word 'intrigued' didn’t even begin to describe the way you felt right now... the look on his face was so mysterious yet so telling at the same time... you could hardly make any sense of his behavior, but you had a pretty good feeling his mind was on the same thing as your own wandering one:

A quick fuck sometime with no strings-attached.

His heads rested at your shoulders now as he positioned himself behind you. “Let’s start with a stretch first since you just finished a pretty intense cardio set,” he suggested with a slight rasp to his voice, a familiar and alluring feeling washing over you as he spread your legs apart with a strong hand.

“This will help stretch out your hip flexors,” he continued, keeping his touch secured around your inner thighs. “Just get down as low as you can for me, 'kay? You can stop if anything starts to hurt...” 

You couldn't help but blush a bit at his choice of words, following his instructions carefully as you squatted down as far as you could, poking your hips out a bit before coming back up to a standing position.

“So,” his still voice sounded from behind you, “you enjoying this little program so far?”

“Yeah, actually... I had low expectations in the beginning, but it's turning out to be a really good thing for me,” you answered while peddling your feet, hands glued to the floor.

“Oh, cool! That's always good to hear... What do you think about Chaemin, though?”

“What about him?” You returned with a bit of confusion to your tone.

“Well... I'm just curious to know if he’s been a little… touchy with you,” Sungchan hummed as you laid on your back, forcing your legs apart gently with his hands as your breath hitched slightly.

“I uh…well... not really,” you exhaled through your nose, feeling the sudden pull in your muscles.

“Oh?... I would’ve expected something different from him,” Sungchan shrugged while pushing his weight into your thighs even more... the position was already a bit erotic in itself, but it really didnt help now that his bulge had grazed up against the growing wetness behind your yoga pants, making your stomach tighten with need.

And it was written all over his adorably mischievous face, too... how much he enjoyed stretching you out passed your limits—

“Ngh!” You winced through furrowed brows, slightly turning your head to the side with your hands framing your head on the yoga mat.

He chuckled softly, letting his eyes wander from the sight of your puffy pussy poking through your leggings before making eye contact with you suddenly. “Sorry about that... Let’s work on a different position...” 

You shook the tightness out of your legs before standing to your feet, letting Sungchan guide your body into a downward dog position, leaving your ass high up in the air and your legs spread wide open to the point where almost nothing was left to the imagination now... 

You're not sure why, but every single thing this guy said or did in this moment was turning you on... from his voice, his body, and even to his scent, Sungchan had you fully enthralled by him in just a matter of minutes—

“So,” he started again, “how long have you been training with Chae for?”

“Just a few weeks,” you huffed back, voice a bit tight given the stretch you felt in your spine.

“Really? That’s impressive,” Sungchan exclaimed from behind you, eyes obviously falling to the view of your cleavage in the mirror ahead before flickering back up, “your physique already looks so amazing, ____.”

“Please,” you scoffed, a warm feeling erupting in your stomach given how close he was to you, “but I appreciate the compliment, Channie… your friend Chaemin’s a pretty good coach, y'know…”

“Yea, that might be true, but,” Sungchan’s voice trailed off in the same manner that his hands trailed from your thighs, applying pressure to your lower back as he forced you abdomen closer to the ground, “he can be a little mean with his clients, if you ask me…”

In all honesty, you didn't fully understand why Sungchan kept bringing up Chaemin, but you couldn't say you disagreed with his opinions about him...

Chaemin did have his moments where he was a little tough on you, but the horny slut inside you didn't mind his dominance, anyways...

“Agreed,” you sighed, letting your muscles relax into the position, “but if he’s so mean and what not... what does that make you?”

“A well-balanced personal trainer,” Sungchan replied with pride almost instantly, “considering that Chae often forgets to include the ‘personal’ aspect when it comes to fitness… he’s more—”

“Physical... like you said,” you budded in for him, making Sungchan chuckle, “and you’re personal… gotchya…”

“But what’s your preference?” He asked, voice falling a little closer to your ear as he forced his palm into your back even further, the curve of your ass sitting right at his front.

You knew there was more to Sungchan's question than what met the surface…

Briefly reasoning within yourself, you moved from the stretching position, turning to face Sungchan as you leaned towards him.

“I suppose I’m open to both,” you whispered seductively, resting your hand just inches away from the mound between his legs.

His breath got caught in his chest now as your hand started to tread even closer to his center, moving upwards until you suddenly stopped, looking back into his eyes. “Think you can meet both those needs for me… Channie?” You went on in a voice soft as silk yet as seductive as a siren, batting your eyelashes at him as he licked his lips slightly.

“How about this... I’ll offer you a free trial before we make anything official,” Sungchan whispered, trying to keep his lingo as indirectly suggestive as possible, “but it’s only a limited time offer…”

His voice faded away, just as the eye contact he held with you wandered off to the wall bench just a few feet from you both on the stretching mat.

And before you could even turn to meet his face again, he was already standing up, flashing you a knowing expression as he walked to the bench, taking a seat and shamelessly manspreading right before your eyes.

He reached for his water bottle sitting on the ground, raising the liquid to his lips and taking a few gulps, your eyes watching the line of veins trailing up his sculpted neck and shoulders as you simply accepted that fact that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore…

Not while this horny, of course...

Besides, if there’s anything a hot girl did best it was hot girl shit, annd you’d be a fool to let Sungchan sit there and do nothing about the boner obviously growing behind his gym pants.

Limited time offer, huh? You thought to yourself before standing up from the mat, zipping down your workout top a bit to let your tits breathe.

Well it’s a good day to be impatient…

You climbed onto Sungchan's lap, wrapping your thighs around him as you felt him pressing into your core, a feeling that excited you more than you cared to admit.

"Oh so we're doing this now?" The tall boy asked, smiling as you got comfortable on top of him.

"As if this wasn't the goal since you set your eyes on me," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his plump lips.

Sungchan hummed within the contact, letting his eyes flutter shut before speaking...

"You just look so fucking hot in these yoga pants," he mumbled with your lower lip snug between his teeth before lightly pulling away "can’t wait to get ‘em off you..." he continued raspily, gripping at your hips before kneeding the flesh there in his hands.

In the midst of all this, Wonbin was completely oblivious to what you and Chan were up to, too focused on pushing out his final reps of bench presses, silver headphones secured tightly around his sweat-drenched mane as a certain tune blasted in his ears.

That’s when he caught onto the faint sounds bleeding beyond the audio from his headset, plain curiosity getting the best of him as he hooked the barbell back to its power rack, ending his set to get a peek at his surroundings.

He took off his headphones and sat them neatly on the equipment, giving his damp hair a slight shake before turning his head to the noise behind him, only to find a breathless you situated in Sungchan’s lap.

The eldest flashed Wonbin a look with the most shit-eating grin plastered across his deer-like features as your tongues intertwined sloppily, even though Wonbin’s attention had clearly darted toward your ass by now, both enticed by and shocked at the way you grinded against his friend’s lap so shamelessly. 

You soon noticed the way Sungchan’s face wandered from yours slightly, provoking you to turn for yourself to see exactly what had caught his attention. 

And there he was, an utterly flabbergasted Wonbin meeting your eyes with his own hesitant ones, an even more evident bulge resting behind his gym shorts now as blood rushed to the tip of his cock, getting harder and harder with every breath he took. 

Sungchan returned his lips to your neck now, nibbling at the skin there while still keeping a grip on your tight ass, "Don't think I can wait much longer baby..." he groans against you, almost as if the taste of you alone was making him hungrier for any sort of stimuli.

"What are you waiting for then, big boy?... it's not like anyone here has a problem with us... isn't that right, Binnie?" You pressed, biting your lip while looking the reluctant boy up and down.

But Wonbin remained quiet, only giving you a shyly desperate look as his lips part slightly, making way for his tongue to run over his lips greedily.

He felt like he had never contemplated something so hard in his entire life while in this moment.

"C’mon, don’t be shy… you can join us if you like..." you continued, flashing Wonbin your signature blowjob eyes as Sungchan obviously began to appear a bit thrown off by the boldness of your offer towards his friend, making his plush lips cease from marking you for a moment despite his initial playfulness…

Still, and oddly enough, Wonbin’s nervous demeanor had a way of exciting Sungchan even more, especially with how dirty you and him were getting during what was intended to be your training period.

"Get over here, Won... she doesn't bite as much as I do..." Sungchan mustered encouragingly, even though Wonbin’s feet were already moving towards you two at the wall bench.

He sat down next to you both, watching dumbly as you suddenly stopped grinding against Sungchan’s lap.

"W-...what do I do?" He asked timidly, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap as you simply smiled back at the gorgeous men before you.

"Pull your pants down," you said bluntly, "both of you..." 

And with that command, it didn't take long for Wonbin to start working with the waist tie of his shorts, pulling at the strings and sliding the fabric past his hips.

And once you climbed off of Sungchan’s lap, he proceeded to do the same, hooking his thumbs at the hem of his pants before shimmying them down like you asked.

You got on your knees between them, exchanging one more look of consent before taking their sensitive members in your hands, alternating between either stroking them or letting their dicks take turns basking in the warmth of your skilled mouth. 

The sounds of their pleased grunts and hums layering over each other was more than enough to get your pussy dripping with need.

You admired the feeling of Wonbin’s long and pretty cock gliding down your throat while also savoring the girth of Sungchan’s throbbing dick as you pumped him in your fist at the same time. 

The eldest of the two had his mouth hung open, head thrown back against the wall as his hips lifted into your hand, desperate for more friction than what was already being offered…

And on the other hand, Wonbin tried to keep his lip bitten firmly between his teeth as an attempt to hold in his moans, only to fail miserably once you licked around a certain spot along his shaft... his sweet spot… 

"Oh, you like that baby?" You asked rhetorically, watching as his chest began to heave with each stroke of your tongue against his log of nerves, his lustful eyes wandering to the sight behind you as another person invited themselves to witness the filthy scene ahead.

It was none other than Coach Chaemin, who judging from the outside, appeared as though he practically expected this to happen… finding a horny you slutting it out with his close mates in the private training room at the first opportunity you got... 

Still, he wasn't gonna let you get away that easily without first inserting himself into the fun... and I mean that quite literally, here. 

Chaemin kneeled himself behind you, tugging down your yoga pants and landing a hard smack to the curve of your ass, snickering at the fact that you didn't even have panties on.

And it all happened so fast that you didn't even have a chance to react properly before his thick fingers were lodged inside you, curling against the spongy spot that never failed to make your back arch. 

"F-fuckkk," you mewled erotically, turning your head back to find your trainer fucking his digits into your heat, this more openly dirty side of him finally coming out to play... 

"Turn back around," he ordered, just as Sungchan already helped himself to guiding your chin back to face him, shoving your lips over his cock and hitting the back of your moist den with his tip.

His veins were even more pronounced now as intense pleasure coursed through every cell in his 6-foot-something body, gently smacking his cock through the side of your cheek to tease you.

"Shhh," he cooed facetiously as your teary eyes met his taunting ones, the mascara you put on earlier bleeding at the corner of your eyes as your grip around Wonbin's cock tightened with your growing urge to gag. 

Sungchan went on, almost chuckling now as he slowly pushed your head further down his length, whispering within the mere air separating you two, "You like choking around my dick, huh pretty girl? Like it when I stuff your mouth so full with my cock that you can’t even think straight, don’t you?”

All you could do was dumbly nod around him, eventually gasping out loud once he finally released your head from his hold, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

But at this point, Wonbin was already spilling his load over your freshly manicured fingers, a reddish hue rushing to his cheeks out of embarrassment of how fast he came.

He stuttered out your name in between his hiccupy moans, Chaemin’s narrowed eyes catching sight of the sticky situation, just as he landed a wet smack against your ass again with the same hand he just fingered you with.

"Lick it up, babyface… or else my fingers are all you're getting from here..." Chaemin ordered in a deep and almost threatening tone, making you clench your pussy around nothing as he slid his hand beneath your workout top, smacking your tits as a means to encourage you.

And already being too desperate for the lost feeling of his fingers inside you, you leaned over Wonbin’s lap almost immediately, clinging to his toned thighs as you lapped at the pearly release, making his abs clench at the returned stimulation. 

"So fucking hot," Sungchan mumbled, fisting himself at an aggressive pace as you kept catching Wonbin’s cum on your extended tongue, keeping eye contact with him the entire time as he groaned out his high, gently caressing the side of your face.

“You’re unreal, ____,” the long haired boy hummed, almost feeling lovesick at the way you kept licking at him.

Being so distracted in the way Wonbin gazed at you in this strangely intimate moment, you didn’t even realize that Chaemin had already slipped his shorts down, letting a bit of spit dribble from his tongue to help coat his length before sliding it into you.

The stretch genuinely caught you off guard, a shaky whimper slipping past your lips as you covered your mouth, trying to hold in your cries.

“Aww, too big for you, sweetie?” Chaemin taunted, watching the way your pussy practically struggled to take all of him, but he didn’t care, knowing that it’d only be a matter of time before you started begging for more.

“I can be gentle if you want me too… is that what you want?” He went on, landing another smack to your tits as he leaned closer to your ear, nibbling at the flesh there.

You couldn’t even attempt to get a word out once you felt his length slide further into you, amazed in your own mind that the stretch you felt earlier was only from half of his cock.

“Didn’t think so,” Chaemin smirked, his dick twitching at the tightness your hole provided before moving away from your ear, grabbing hold of your hips again as he slowly started to move inside you.

“Move your hand, angel,” Sungchan mumbled again, desperate to hear any more sounds from you to help him reach his high. “Need to come so fucking bad, baby… open your mouth for me,” he groaned, letting you take his tip in your mouth as your sealed your lips around him, only to break away suddenly as Chaemin thrusted roughly into you this time, grunting at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re pussy’s perfect… so tight,” he said with a rasp voice, struggling to stop himself from fucking you any faster than your tightness could take, “afraid I might split you open if I keep going, princess…”

All you could do was whine pathetically as Chaemin kept thrusting into you from behind, a burning sensation mixing with the growing pleasure from his length stretching you out.

“F-fuckk- Shit!” Sungchan groaned desperately, jerking his cock to the point where his seed ended up making a much bigger mess than intended, spurts of his cum getting everywhere but in your eyes at this point.

Your hands still rested at Wonbin and Sungchan’s thighs, and although Wonbin seemed a bit relaxed now, he was simply waiting for his next chance to get off, Sungchan slowly relieving his cock from the relentless strokes of his own hand before leaning down to kiss you, moaning at the taste of himself in your mouth mixing with your saliva.

Wonbin watched closely as his friend's tongue ran up against yours in the messy contact, the sight doing nothing but making the poor boy stiff all over again.

“Hey… wanna take a turn?” Chaemin asked Wonbin through a breathless voice, his question almost getting lost between the series of whines spilling from your mouth, Sungchan’s hand holding your face in place as he looked into your eyes, whispering dirty nothings against your lips as you took Chaemin from the back.

“Fuck, please,” you cried out for reasons you didn’t understand, face a mess of streaky makeup as you laved at Sungchan’s thumb in your mouth.

“It’s okay, baby… we’re taking good care of you, see?” Sungchan smiled, just as the feeling of fullness left your core as Chaemin slipped out, moving over for Wonbin to take his place.

“Gonna make you feel so much better,” Wonbin said from behind you, lining up his tip with your gaping entrance before fully sliding in, much easier than Chaemin did.

While Wonbin’s fucking you from the back, Chaemin swaps places with Sungchan on the wall bench, tapping your lips with his slimy cock with a smirk on his face, all before sliding himself in and fucking the daylights out of your throat. 

And your eyes were practically popping outta your head at this point given how rough he was being… you couldn't help yourself but to scratch at his thighs like a helpless kitten, making Chaemin wince as you marked his honey-colored skin with thin, red lines.

Meanwhile, Wonbin was still getting busy behind you, his hips grinding against you at a slow pace, clearly contrasting between Chaemin’s more aggressive sexual nature. 

And it was only a matter of time before Sungchan joined Wonbin where he was on the ground, discarding himself from his pants completely now as he held his cock in one hand and stroking over the curve of your ass with the other, utterly mesmerized by your feminine figure.

“C’mon, Wonbin, you can fuck her harder than that, huh?” Sungchan huffed sarcastically, jerking his cock once again with his fist at the sight of your hole gushing with arousal, your fluids creating the most heavenly sheen around Wonbin’s length as he took heed to his friend’s words, fucking into you faster and deeper despite how much it overstimulated him.

“Yeah… that’s it… keep fucking her just like that- mmm, fuck yeah,” Sungchan groaned, sliding his hands between your legs and letting his fingers find your heat, slapping a bit at your pussy lips before circling your throbbing clit.

You felt like you were going completely dumb now given all the sensations you were experiencing, Wonbin’s tip working wonders in your cunt as he hit all the best parts inside you, his own eyes becoming watery now as he felt himself approaching his high again, mumbling tiny words of praise from behind you.

But Chaemin… oh God, he was a complete menace in this moment, calling you his good little cum slut as he continued fucking your face full of his shaft, your jaw going slack as you cried dumbly around his veiny cock.

That’s when you felt a burst of warmth enter you from both ends, Chaemin’s seed coating the back of your throat as Wonbin collapsed over your back, stilling his thrusts as he spilled his release all over your walls, heavy grunts coming from both of them now that they’d reached their highs. 

“Awww, fuck,” Sungchan moaned this time, feeling himself draw closer and closer to the point of no return as Wonbin backed away from you, knowing that Sungchan had every intention of getting to stuff your pussy with his length just like the others did.

That's when you felt Sungchan grab your waist from behind, right before pushing his dick into you.

You couldn’t help but whine as you felt him stretch you open, gasping at the feeling of his hand wrapping around your throat, still feeling a bit sore from Chae's ministrations earlier.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as cum and saliva dripped down the sides of your lips, trailing down your neck as he humped into you hard and fast, causing your breasts to bounce freely from the force.

And seeing this only drew Chaemin's attraction to the perky flesh of your best as he found himself sucking on one of your tits, grazing his teeth over your skin.

“Get over here, Wonnie,” Sungchan grunted, watching as his friend sat tiredly by himself... “There’s a pretty tit for you, too,” he chuckled before smacking your ass, making you yelp at the stinging sensations traveling all the way up to your face.  

“She’s still not making enough noise for me,” Chaemin huffed before jamming two of his fingers into your mouth, causing your eyes to tear up even more.

“Scream for me, slut,” he grinned while he roughly stimulated your clit with his free hand, Wonbin's tongue never ceasing in sucking at your nipples, moaning at the taste.

At this point, you struggled to keep your balance, feeling your body begin to shake uncontrollably as Sungchan held your body tighter, hips still drilling into you at a relentless pace.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby,” Sungchan sucked through his teeth, a bit of saliva filling his mouth as the pattern of his thrusts slowed down, his hips ripping away from your heat as you fell into the two other boy's before you, your body fucked completely dumb now.

There was so much cum inside you at this point that you're sure it'd probably be leaking out of you for weeks after this...

You felt Sungchan’s dick slide out as he rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing the skin there before sighing against your neck and saying, “That was pretty fun, huh, pretty?”

You couldn’t really get a word out in this moment, and he caught onto it, talking for you instead of trying to get any words out of you…

“We should do something like this again, y’know?…I’m sure Wonbin would like it too,” he went on with a chuckle as Wonbin’s cheeks flushed red, running a bashful hand through his bangs down as he worked on fixing his shorts back.

“This’ll only last for another week before your free trial expires,” Chaemin began with a hoarse voice while keeping his eyes trained on you as he pulled up his shorts, too.

“Well, that’s only unless she doesn’t come back for more,” Sungchan pitched in, lifting his weight from your body and helping you guide your yoga pants back over your hips.

Although you are were currently unsure as to whether or not you would proceed with paying for the full program after such an unexpected encounter, you couldn't deny that being tossed around by three hot guys had your head spinning in the best way possible…

And as the four of you stood all sweaty and sticky in a circle, still trying to catch your shaky breaths as the fitness session neared its end, the idea of your average workout sessions with Chaemin seems much less appealing than the full-body workout you experienced today.

⚡︎ AUTHOR'S NOTE | My sister and I definitely got a little carried away with the plot this time, but hopefully someone out there enjoyed reading the hot mess of a story as much as we did when writing it for our dear mutual... And once again, Happy belated Birthday @wonbinisbabygurl !!! Cheers to another year of your beautiful life <3

⚡︎ TAGS | @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikisvanillaccola @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

⚡︎ Feel free to check out my RIIZE masterlist if you’re interested in more works by me!

[savannahsdeath]

hii i have a little ellie request. so can we maybe have an enemies to lovers where reader and ellie “hate each other” but in reality ellie just wants to be with reader and she ends up using the strap roughly bc reader didn’t wanna confess after years? (sorry this seems long😭)

i absolutely love this idea omg??

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

PART1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, 'enemies' to lovers, strap (r!receiving), mean!ellie kinda??, rough!ellie, reader is also mean at first !!

writers note: i love receiving requests like yall are so creative and idkk its just easier to write a req than my own idea🫣🫣 also this turned out to be longer than i expected (my longest fanfic yet!) but even the anon said it seems long so ig thats how its supposed to be🙏

It was another PE lesson you hate so much. It wouldn't be that bad, if not the fact that you're in the same team with Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams.

She would get mad at you for every little mistake you made. You absolutely hated her.

You had to admit she was... pretty. Especially when she had the mix of mad and stern expression on her face. Sometimes you provoked her just to watch her insult every little thing about you she could but you didn't mind. You just sat there with a smirk, sometimes making a mockingly worried face to piss her off even more. Sometimes. Sometimes you weren't in mood for that and you'd actually get offended. Sometimes even hurt. But you couldn't really blame her, that's how it works.

This day, you were literally rescuing your team. Every point was because of you. Every 'that was close' situation was only 'close' because of you. But your luck, or whatever made you win, had to run out eventually. You missed one time.

"What happened? Got holes in your hands? Tired? Not so good anymore?" Ellie asked you with that mocking tone.

Everyone ignored your interaction - they knew what's starting and they didn't want to get involved in that.

"I've done pretty much everything for this team, and the only thing you do is complain, Williams." You said and you could feel your temper rising.

Ellie didn't hesitate to respond to that.

"Well at least I don't do a half-ass job like you. You're really so full of yourself, aren't you? Why not just give up and let someone actually capable take over, huh?" She barked sarcastically.

The other team members didn't even try to hide their excitement now, they just sat back and enjoyed the show, even the teacher was having a hard time holding back the grin on his face whenever Ellie came up with a new insult.

And now, there was no going back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Williams, did your precious little ego get hurt from that? Are my skills threatening your so-called pride? Well if you don't like it, suck it up." You shot back.

If this kept up, you were going to end up with another detention for sure. Everyone knew that you two were like oil and water, but nobody really expected you to get into a shouting match over PE class. Especially, not this early in the morning.

The teacher finally decided that it was enough trouble, and he stepped between the two.

"Ladies, settle down! If you can't figure out how to work well together in a simple PE session, then you'll need more than one detention to figure it out. Go sit down." He ordered, and you two sat down, next to each other.

As if following a silent order, all the other students just went about their business and pretended like nothing had happened.

"You should learn how to shut up sometimes." You said quietly, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You should stop thinking you're so damn important." She snapped back, completely ignoring your advice as she stared at you with the same icy cold look as before.

The teacher came over to the two of you and handed you a form, which you quickly read over. "Maybe it's rough but that's what you both deserve after arguing in every single class. And if that won't help... I don't know what will. Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything, understood?."

In short, the file was saying you'll have spent a month after school doing little school works, like cleaning the gym, with her. It was a frequent way of dealing with problematic students in your school.

You weren't even surprised - the teacher was right. Your little bickers were the main gossip topic and there was no way they'll go unnoticed.

Still, you couldn't help but frown.

"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath. Spending a month after school doing odd jobs with Ellie was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You knew there was some sort of punishment coming, but this was extreme.

Ellie overheard your muttering, and she rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of cleaning, what's wrong, can't handle a little hard work?" She mocked.

"And why are you so happy? Maybe you wished to spend more time with me?" You chuckled, finally looking up at her.

Ellie seemed caught off guard, but she quickly recomposed herself. "Who said I was happy? Sure, I'll love to see you grovel and scrub floors while I sit back and relax." She replied in a sarcastic tone.

You decided to press your advantage, and give Ellie a dose of her own medicine. "Aww, is someone actually admitting that they like spending time with me? I'm so honored." You said with an overdramatized fake fluster.

Ellie didn't even let you finish your sentence before she cut in with her usual sarcastic tone. "Pfff, don't get so ahead of yourself there." She chided. Even then, you could hear some slight annoyance in her voice.

Ellie may have been a jerk, but there was something about her you couldn't help but like. You couldn't explain it, but you liked this banter between the two of you.

Oh, who were you trying to lie to? You liked her. You were just good at hiding it.

You were just about to open your mouth to respond to Ellie's last snarky remark, when you were cut off again.

"Enough."

You both turned to see the teacher staring at the two of you. He sounded more annoyed than before, and you decided it was better to stop your feud before you got in any more trouble.

"You two are already going to spend a month together doing odd jobs. The last thing we need is for you to add another week to that sentence." He warned.

You wanted to say something back, but you decided to shut up before the teacher had to make it worse. You and Ellie just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before you rolled your eyes and got up from your seat.

After a few more classes, the time of  fulfilling your penalty came. You sat down at the gym benches, waiting for Ellie. You waited, and waited, but no one came.

Ellie was faster than you with getting up. She smirked and said; "Well it's not like you actually had anything worth saying anyway, so it's easier for you." With that parting jab, she walked out of the gym.

You expected something like that from her, so you stood up and a few minutes later you were standing in front of her room. You knocked to the door, patiently waiting for her to answer.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps, before the door finally opened. Ellie stood in front of you, her face as annoyed as ever.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be bothered right now.

"Uh, hello? We're supposed to be doing the clean-up, remember? You haven't forgotten, right?" You said, trying to stay as polite as you could.

She sighed and motioned for you to come in, clearly not ready to go just yet.

You slowly stepped into Ellie's room, your eyes taking in the decorations and mess. It was clear that this was Ellie's world, but you couldn't help but feel a slight curiosity towards her.

"So, why exactly weren't you at the gym?" You asked, finally breaking the tension. You didn't want her thinking you were here to start another argument.

"I had stuff to do." Was the terse response you were met with, nothing else.

"Yeah, of course." You rolled your eyes. "Your room could use some cleaning too."

Ellie smirked when your tone turned from polite to annoyed when she gave you her response, but you couldn't help but notice that she slightly recoiled when you mention how messy her room was. For someone with such a sharp tongue, she sure wasn't enjoying that same kind of treatment.

"Oh yeah? So maybe we should have you clean my room instead." She shot back.

"Actually, boarding school is still school, so that'd count too." You smirked, not so sarcastically anymore. You'd really rather stay in her room than running all over the building with a mop and dirty cloths.

Ellie raised one eyebrow at your reply, clearly not expecting you to just accept it without some kind of snarky remark or argument.

"Alright then." She replied simply, and she walked over to her bed and started to clear out the clutter. You couldn't really deny that her room was in a pretty messy state.

You explored the room, looking for something to start with.

Just then, near other scattered clothes, you saw feminine underwear. Clearly not hers.

"Um, Ellie..." You laughed. "Who's this?"

She walked up to you, not seeming surprised or embarrased at all. "I dunno. There's lots of girls visiting." She smirked.

You knew the smart thing to do would be just to drop the topic, but your curiosity got the best of you. Just who was Ellie Williams hanging out with?

"Really? And how many of them leave a pair of underwear in your room as a souvenir?" You asked, trying to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help but be amused by the situation.

Ellie just laughed, and you couldn't help but grin at her confidence in that moment.

"If you're asking if I'm dating someone," Ellie said, looking at you with an amused expression, "then no. I wouldn't call it dating."

You knew Ellie was always too stubborn and proud to just admit it normally, so you decided to push her just a little bit further.

"So it's not just a single person then? What's it? A new girl every day?" you asked with a smirk, knowing you'd hit a nerve there.

The slight flicker of annoyance on Ellie's face told you that you'd hit the mark.

"So what if it is? Are you jealous?" She teased in response, just adding fuel to the fire.

Now, she had the smirk on her face, and you just knew you'll regret what you started.

"Not really. Everyone knows you fuck every girl in the school anyways. Well, almost every." You suggestively pointed at yourself. "That's honestly sad. You should focus on one person, don't you think?"

Ellie took this as a challenge, she just couldn't resist it when you made yourself the exception.

"Oh, you think you're a special case? How cute." She snickered, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with that response after how much you two had been annoying each other for the past month.

"What do you think, should I consider dating you? It seems like you're interested, isn't that why you keep sticking around?" She asked, looking at you, knowing very well what kind of effect her words were gonna have on you.

"Me? Interested? You're the one finding excuses to talk to me every day, even if it's just another argument!" You shook your head and looked down, trying to hide that your smirk turns into a honest smile.

You felt Ellie's eyes studying your face as you tried to hide your genuine happiness, you tried to play it off, but you knew that it wasn't working in your favor. You couldn't even deny it, because it was true, you were interested in Ellie. Maybe not at first, but after spending time together, you grew to like her, her arrogance, her wit, the snarky smile on her face... and her eyes.

"Oh, so you do care!" She quickly cut in, sensing your weakness as your smile grew.

"Come on, don't tell me you've been enjoying this little game of ours, haven't you? Don't you look forward to it every day? Don't you love the adrenaline that kicks in when you're about to say something that's bound to start an argument?" She asked, taking a step closer to you and lowering her voice.

You could almost see the sparks fly as the two of you stared at each other, both feeling the tension in the air. You were almost tempted to take her up on the offer, but your pride got the best of you.

"You're just full of yourself, aren't you? Thinking everybody craves that attention." You said after taking a deep breath.

Ellie just smiled and walked straight to you, getting up close and personal.

"Well, I know you want it. So stop putting up a facade and admit it."

"I'm not like these sluts you fuck, Williams." You said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.

Ellie just smirked in response. "You're right, you're not like them. You're better than them. And maybe you are a little special, considering how much you manage to piss me off everyday." She took a step back and looked you up and down. "I kinda like it." She said, and you couldn't help but feel your heart rate go up a little when she said that.

You just stared back at Ellie, not really sure what else to say in this situation. Both of your egos were too big to give the other one satisfaction, and neither would be making the first move.

She finally spoke up; "Your turn to be honest now. Admit you're into me."

She was awfully close to you now, daring you to say something.

"Don't push it, Ellie." You told her confidently, and even though you really wanted to say it, your pride was holding you back from admitting it.

Ellie just smirked and moved even closer to you, until her face was just an inch away from yours. "Say it." She whispered.

You felt your heart pounding faster as you just looked at her, not able to break her stare.

You shook your head. "No way."

She just chuckled at your response. "I knew you'd say that. And now, I'm gonna make you say it yourself."

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Ellie pulled you close, just enough to make your lips meet. You just stood there, completely stunned by how bold she was, but at the same time, the feeling of her lips against yours was so new and so good as well. You hadn't felt this type of rush before, and you didn't want it to end.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a gasp followed by a moan into the kiss, which made her even bolder.

"I'll show you how lucky those so-called by you sluts are." She whispered after pulling away from you, but not for long.

While Ellie's mouth aggresively covered yours, you felt her slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You were barely able to think now, as your adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. Your back hit the mattress, and Ellie continued to push you down as she climbed up onto the bed on top of you.

That's when it hit you.

You realized that your little feud with Ellie wasn't going to end after all, except this time you weren't fighting her.

Instead, you were just enjoying the moment with someone you could almost call a friend.

It felt like there was nothing else in the universe, just a rush of new sensations that you didn't want to end.

Ellie was the one in control now, as you felt her body pressing up against you, her lips pressing against yours, her hands moving around your body without hesitation. You weren't even thinking straight anymore, you just let her embrace you, letting her take control entirely.

You felt her break the kiss for a moment, just to whisper something in your ear. "Say it."

You knew what she wanted you to say, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Before you could answer, you felt her slowly undressing you. Her lips were tracing paths along your throat, not letting you let out a logical word from it - only little whimpers.

You felt every curve of her body as you felt her lips against your neck, every touch sending chills down your spine.

When you felt her hands move towards your pants, you felt your body respond in the only way you could.

You couldn't think of anything else but her embrace, her warm breath against your neck, and your body slowly being freed from clothing.

Ellie knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Before you could catch your breath, you were left shaking, as her hand slipped into your underwear, which was soon on the floor too. She was teasing your clit in almost painful slow way, watching you squirm.

"Speak up, babe." She whispered mockingly.

But you couldn't. Not because you didn't want, or because your ego didn't let you - you just couldn't. You even asked yourself 'What does this girl wants from me?' as you already forgotten her previous wish. You just weren't thinking straight.

"Come on, do this for me." She kept looking at you with overdramatic concern. You saw her fastening her belt and sliding of her jeans, revealing an obviously-way-too-big strap, which purple color didn't surprise you at all as you imagined it the same way in your dreams.

When you finally came back to your senses, you constructed a whole full sentence answer. But as soon as she saw you opening your mouth to speak up, she slid a few inches of her toy into your soaking cunt. Your planned reply quickly got replaced with another gasp.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked, her hips started thrusting. She had some sympathy for you, so she didn't make it too painful, but she wasn't also so merciful.

You cried out, at first clenching your thighs from surprise, but she was too strong for you to actually succeed.

You leaned your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut causing a few of your pathetic tears soak into the sheets.

She held your hips, so she won't miss your sensitive spot, but her grip was so hard you swore you can already see the bruises creating right beneath her fingers.

"Honestly, I'm really happy it ended like that. You have no idea how often I'd imagine you instead of some random girl. But it's good to have you really there." She chuckled, not slowing down but not speeding up either.

Your eyes opened wide at this confession. Before today, the nicest thing she said to you was 'what's wrong?', even though it was in an obviously mocking way. And know it turns out she liked you for a long time. Just like you liked her.

"W...Wh- What?" You managed to stutter out, leaning on your elbows to look at her before your vision turned blurry again so you fell back on the pillow.

"You didn't know?" She laughed. "I mean, you were always oblivious, so I shouldn't be shocked but... I thought it was clear." She was speaking slower than usual as every single word coming from her mouth was synced with the moves of her hips. While saying this simple thing, she pushed her strap into you at least twenty times. And she wasn't taking her time, oh, no. She was fast and rough, like you're just a sex toy without feelings. Did you mind? Hmmm...

When you started getting used to the size of her cock and your mind wasn't completely blank anymore, you remembered one important thing your PE teacher said. 'Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything.' None of you were either at the gym or putting up flyers around school. They're going to think you ditched it. Even though you'd rather get into more trouble than end whatever you were doing now, you felt you need to tell Ellie, just in case.

"El-s..." You moaned out and quickly realised it won't be easy.

"What is it?" She asked, seeming honestly interested in what you got to say. "Ready to admit you're absolutely obsessed with me?"

You clenched your fists, squeezing the bed sheets between your fingers.

"Th- no... We should..." You couldn't help but cry out again.

As soon as she heard the two keywords - 'we should' (and she hated when someone was telling her what to do, so that pissed her off) - she understood what you're trying to say.

"Behave? Fulfill our duties? Or...?" She chuckled.

You wanted to speak up, just to not feel so vulnerable as you really were. You only managed to mumble 'we' before one of her hands started rubbing your clit, just like at the start - painfully slow. The feeling made your thighs tense and move closer to each other, wanting to close the gap between them. But Ellie didn't let that happen as she quickly separated your legs.

Her hips also didn't stop moving, and all the sensations connected made you go silent again. Well, not silent - unable to speak. And that were two completely different things.

"I'd take that as a 'we should continue what we're doing right now'. Isn't that what you want?" Even though you're eyes were closed, you could feel her intense stare on you. Then, her mocking tone came back. "What is it with you being so quiet all of sudden? You spent a few of the past years yelling at me, and you can't even say a word now?"

"I ju-st..." You said but then she hit your g spot again, and again, and again... making you go silent.

Your stomach started feeling funny - probably because of how deep in it Ellie's strap was. At this point, you thought you can even feel it in your throat and that's what's blocking your words from coming out. But the funny feeling had a different origin - your release was getting awfully close, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"We're going to have lots of fun this month." She whispered, leaning in to stroke your cheek.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

it's the next best thing - part one

part two || part three

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson || ~22k, complete || phone sex || accidental love confessions || there was only one bed || getting together || mutual pining || porn with plot || smut || wet & messy || friends with benefits || oral sex || rimming

This is my gift for @eyesofshinigami for @steddieexchange! This is part one of three, as it got a little long for a Tumblr One-shot. I hope you like it!

It’s been hours since Robin clocked out, and Steve’s barely hanging on. He misses spending entire shifts sitting behind the counter as Robin threw balled-up receipts at the back of his head, squabbling like children over who gets to pick that night’s movie. But Keith’s all up in a tizzy over their labor numbers, and so he’d split their dynamic duo right down the middle.

They’re like ships passing in the night now, and Steve’s bored.

The stupid bell on Family Video’s stupid front door hasn’t jingled in long enough that Steve’s begun melting into the front counter, head pillowed on his folded arms, legs barely keeping him upright. Mondays have always been the slowest night of the week, and as winter sinks its icy claws into Hawkins, fewer and fewer customers are showing up past six p.m.

Robin’s going to be mad when she opens tomorrow and finds all the tapes he’d been supposed to rewind still stacked by the TV in the back room, but sue him—the shine’s wearing off real quick on this entire job without her at his side.

When the phone rings shrilly in his ear, it’s almost a relief. He’ll take Mrs. Carruthers nagging complaints on the state of kids’ movies these days over another moment of this endless, lonely, monotony. He doesn’t raise his head as he reaches fumbling fingers across the counter to snatch the phone from its cradle, pressing it to his ear.

“Thank you for calling Family Video,” he drones out in the customer service voice he’d learned at Scoops and perfected during Friday night rushes, made worse when the new releases hit the shelves. “How can I help you?”

It’s silent for a moment aside from the staticky sound of an open line. But then there’s laughter drifting down into his ear, alternating between braying and giggly—Steve would recognize that little donkey snort anywhere.

He’s already smiling into the meat of his forearm when another voice, deeper than it usually is, asks, “what are you wearing, big boy?” before dissolving into peals of elated laughter, mixing perfectly with Robin’s own hiccuping giggles.

Steve straightens up. He catches sight of his own face reflected back at him from the dark windows and for the first time that night, he’s glad no one else is here. It’d be hard to explain the force of his grin and the way his cheeks have turned splotchy and pink even in the cold air.

Steve dutifully waits for a break in the laughter to answer Eddie’s question. “White sweater, green vest, blue jeans, white sneakers,” he lists out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fights against himself to maintain that same droll tone.

The laughter starts up again, spurting like a sprinkler on the fritz. Something crashes over the line, and Steve knows without having to ask that it was Robin as Eddie’s laughter takes on a hysterical edge. Steve’s smiling again, face hurting with the strain of it. He wishes he could be there, sitting between the pair wherever they are, but if he can’t, this is the next best thing.

“That’s so cute, baby,” Eddie replies when he finally gets a handle on things, that same deep tone telling Steve that the bit is still going on. It doesn’t stop warmth from pooling low in his stomach as he bites his lip, the term of endearment ringing through his ears.

“Thanks,” Steve says, wincing when it comes out all breathy. He clears his throat and diverts the topic of conversation. “You stealing my best friend?”

Eddie gasps, sounding almost affronted as he replies, “of course not! We’re leaving a space right in the middle, just for you.”

“You were the tie-breaker for the movie pick, dingus!” Robin calls, voice faint like she’s a little too far away to be properly picked up by the receiver.

“You always side with Robin, Stevie,” Eddie sighs. Steve can picture it—Robin and Eddie on separate sides of the Munson’s couch, passing a joint back and forth, pausing long enough in between each hit like his ghost might want to have a pull of its own. “It’s enough to make a guy think you don’t like him.”

“I like you,” Steve blurts, wincing and closing his eyes when the words register.

The silence rings louder than any response Eddie could have given, deafening Steve in the quiet of the abandoned video store. It’s all too much, made worse by Eddie finally responding with a stilted, “I—oh.”

Steve rubs at his closed eyes, suppressing the groan creeping up his throat. God, why can’t he just stick with the joke? Why does he have to spew his stupid feelings all over everything?

“Well that’s—” Eddie starts when it becomes clear that Steve’s not going to be saying anything to make this moment any less awkward. But suddenly, he just…doesn’t want to hear what Eddie has to say.

“Uh, customer,” Steve interrupts, hoping the lack of ringing bell isn’t obvious over the phone. “Got to go, bye,”

“Oh, oka—”

Steve slams the phone down hard enough that the plastic creaks. Now, alone with his racing thoughts and poor life decisions once more, Steve drops his head down on the sticky counter with a groan.

It’s going to be a long, lonely night.

*** 

As Eddie listens to the dial-tone filter down the line, he smacks his head into his kitchen cupboard, the shitty door rattling loosely on its hinge as he tries to strangle himself against its plywood surface.

“Why did you let me do that?” Eddie whines, even though “let” is a strongly misleading word. Robin, ever the shit-stirrer, had dialed the number herself and shoved the ringing phone into his fumbling hands just before Steve’s tinny voice had come through the phone’s speaker.

Robin hiccups, and it sounds wet enough that Eddie finally puts the phone back on the cradle and turns around, limbs loose and uncoordinated from the pot brownies they’d burnt to a crispy charcoal but eaten anyway. She’s on the floor where she’d collapsed mid giggle-fit and been unable to get back up. But she’s all out of smiles now as tears trail down her freckled cheeks.

“’m sorry,” she cries, rubbing her closed fist against her streaming eyes, hair haloed out against the dirty linoleum of the trailer’s small kitchen. “Just missed him.”

“You saw him this morning,” Eddie snorts, but lays down next to her, resting his head against her stomach. Her clumsy hands paw at his head, fingers catching in every knot as she tries to sooth him.

“But it’s Steve,” she says, like that will explain everything. And really, it does. He is Steve, and he and Robin were surgically disconnected in the womb or something. They’re going to grow old and die together, and Eddie’s only a little bit bitter about not fitting into that same equation. 

“Yeah, Robby, I know,” Eddie sighs, blinking up at the flickering fluorescent lights drilling through his skull. He can’t seem to get up, though, thoughts swirling around themselves, making useless patterns in his brain that are impossible to follow.

They’re quiet aside from Robin’s waning sniffles, her heels kicking rhythmically against the tile like she’s keeping count, fingers tapping against the top of his head like she’s practicing her fingering for one of the songs in marching band. Eddie loves her so much. He should have known to never, ever give her drugs.

“Is it just me or did he sound sort of flustered?” Eddie asks, and Robin’s fingers drop back to his head, clutching at the roots of his hair hard enough to hurt as she dissolves into cute little giggles again, knees pulling up as she curls into the fetal position around his head.

“Uh, customer, got to go, bye!” she calls, rushing it all together in her haste to mock her best friend’s fumbled sign-off.

Eddie laughs right along with her, but there are butterflies fluttering around in his ribcage, rabbiting his heartbeat up to an alarming gallop.

Steve drops from the conversation after that, and it doesn’t come up for the rest of the night. Not when the munchies get the best of them and they order a pizza, or when Robin shoves one of her stupid subtitled French films into the VHS player and they both squint at the screen, too out of their gourds to follow the confusing plot.

Robin might have forgotten the entire thing; Eddie does not.

It lingers in the back of his mind, creeping over him like mold until he finds himself in front of the phone the next night right around the same time, hand hovering over the number pad, fingers damn-near shaking with the desire to punch in the number he’d had to scour the phone book for. The one he’d written down and stuck onto the fridge with a magnet, hoping Wayne wouldn’t ask any questions when he inevitably catches sight of it.

And that’s the thing. He couldn’t even claim it was spur of the moment this time. It was premeditated. And it feels that way as he finally dials and listens to the line ring.

“Thank you for calling Family Video. How can I help you?”

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks. It comes out of his mouth on a raspy whisper, rumbling deep in the recesses of his throat.

Steve laughs, sounding downright delighted as he asks, “Robin put you up to this?”

Eddie can almost see the smirk that must have crept across his face. He twirls the cord round and round his finger, wishing desperately he could see it in person.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says, voice three octaves higher than it had started out, feeling hot all over as he jumps up onto the counter and settles his head back against the cupboard. “Your better half has fled the coop.”

Steve laughs again, and Eddie wants to drown himself in it. Instead, he clacks his heels against the cupboards behind him, trying to keep from blurting out something stupid.

“So, it’s your idea this time?” like he knows Robin well enough to know she’d dialed the number and put the phone in his hands. He’d be jealous if he wasn’t in love with both of them in his own special way.

“All the better to make you laugh, my king,” Eddie replies, cringing at the stupid little voice that comes out of his mouth. “I would be failing in my court jester duties if I didn’t perform at my king’s behest.”

“You think you’re that funny, do you?” Steve asks around a laugh.

“Well, at my count, you’re at three laughs already, your highness.” Eddie counts them out on the fingers still tangled in the phone cord, like Steve will somehow be able to see them from miles away. God help him if he can, with the way Eddie’s twiddling his fingers and blushing like a schoolgirl on her first date.

Steve scoffs, but there’s another laugh hidden beneath it, so happy and warm that it lodges itself in the recesses of Eddie’s chest. He presses the phone hard enough against his ear that the cheap plastic creaks, unwilling to miss even the smallest of sounds Steve might make.

“Fine, fine, you’re funny, Munson,” Steve says, voice lilting up like he’s still fucking smiling. “You can call your king anytime.”

“How gracious, your majesty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, snorting at Eddie’s antics. “Now what’ve you been up to all day? Preparing your material to call little old me?”

“You’re just jealous that some of us aren’t forced to be capitalist monkeys,” Eddie replies.

“Monkeys?” Steve asks, laughing again—Eddie’s count is now up to five.

“Yeah, you know, with the whole monkey suit you’re forced to wear.”

“It’s a vest,” Steve huffs before putting on a voice that’s soft-spoken and sultry. “With how often you ask what I’m wearing, it seems like you would’ve remembered by now.”

Eddie sputters as Steve’s sibilant whisper slips down his spine, making him shiver. Steve isn’t supposed to turn the flirting back onto him. There are rules, goddammit.

The conversation segues into Steve complaining about the absentee parents barely paying attention as their kids smear candy all over the VHS’s on display, really only proving Eddie’s corporate monkey crack right. Eddie doesn’t mind—anything to get Steve not to use that voice again.

It goes on for minutes, Eddie hanging on every word, every laugh, every sound, like this is something they do. Even though this is the first time they’ve ever talked on the phone without Robin back-seat talking behind one of them. Even though they don’t even really hang out alone, always sequestered in groups.

All the better to keep Eddie’s stupid, ridiculous, hopeless crush from exploding out of him and killing everyone in the line of fire.

But, as Steve hangs up with a rushed, “customer, sorry!” this time with the accompanying sound of the bell on Family Video’s front door, leaving Eddie to listen to the staticky dial tone instead, he can’t regret calling. Not with Steve’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

He stands there clutching the dead line to his ear for an embarrassingly long time.

*** 

Steve means to tell Robin about it the next time they share a shift. Really, he does. But then she spends the first thirty minutes of their two-hour overlap talking about her most recent one-on-one hangout with Vickie, and Steve spends the rest of their time before the after-work rush hits, hyping her up to finally make a move. By the time Robin’s punching out, Eddie’s name hasn’t come up even once.

He can feel his window of opportunity dwindling as Robin grabs her bike from where she’d stashed it in Keith’s office that morning, wheeling her dirty tires toward the front door.

“Hey, Robin?” Steve asks, just as her hand settles on the door, ready to swing it open.

“Yeah?” she says, focused on rifling through her pockets, making sure she has her house key after one too many times making it all the way home to find her house locked up tight, and her keys dropped somewhere between Family Video’s shelves.

Steve watches her, and feels the moment pass him by. “Want a ride to work tomorrow?” he asks instead of saying, I really like Eddie, or, do you know why he keeps calling, or, do you think I have a chance? It feels more like a bathroom conversation anyway, and if Keith catches them both in there again while the front of the store remains unmanned, he’s going to fire them.

“Always,” she says, waving half-assedly toward him without turning back around.

And just like that, she’s gone, none the wiser to Steve’s inner turmoil, spiralling into full-blown anxiety the closer it gets to what he’s beginning to think of as Eddie’s usual call time. It’s just—they don’t do this. They don’t call, they don’t hang out without Robin or the kids, and they sure as hell don’t ask each other what the other is wearing in that deep, wanting tone of voice.

At least, that’s what Steve had thought two days ago. Now, he’s not so sure.

When the phone rings at exactly eight p.m. that night, Steve knows who it must be on the other side of the line.

“Eddie?” he asks, forgoing his usual customer service spiel. He’s rewarded with a bright, happy laugh that hits him straight in the sternum.

“Is that how you greet all your paying customers?” Eddie asks, smile audible in his voice.

“As if you ever pay.”

“I have!” Eddie cries indignantly. “Wait, no you threw me off! What’re you wearing?”

“This again?” Steve asks, groaning as if the question doesn’t send his guts squirming every single time Eddie’s voice drops into that suggestive register. He shouldn’t answer, should nip this whole thing in the bud before it spirals entirely out of his control.

But Eddie doesn’t break the silence—Steve can’t even hear him breathing, and Steve’s never been that strong-willed. “Striped polo, jeans, sneakers, work vest. There, you happy?”

“I don’t know, Stevie,” Eddie replies, and Steve can practically see the teasing smirk on his face as he asks, “what color are these stripes?”

“Grey and blue,” Steve says after looking down to double check. It’s his only long-sleeved polo and the store’s a bit too cold for anything else.

Eddie whistles, shrill and sharp through the phone like he’s catcalling Steve from across the street. “Jesus,” Steve cries, yanking the phone away from his ear until he can’t hear it anymore. When he presses the phone back to his ear, Eddie’s cackling. “Prick.”

“Sorry, hot stuff, just couldn’t help myself.”

“You could try,” Steve replies dryly.

“You’re not supposed to change for a relationship, Stevie.”

Steve’s breath stutters in his lungs. It’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop his fingertips from tingling like he’d set them on fire. The other side of the call’s gone dead silent, the words settling between them with more weight than Eddie could have meant.

So, Steve mutters, “this is more like a hostage situation,” and wonders if he’s just imagining the relief he can hear in Eddie’s answering laughter.

Steve’s heart’s always been a little too easy to snatch—Nancy and Robin perfect attestations of that. But it’d worked out okay with Robin, shifting seamlessly into platonic soulmateism as soon as the name Tammy Thompson had come out of her mouth.

Maybe he can do that with Eddie, too. If only he’d stop calling; if only Steve would stop answering. He’s off shift tomorrow, so if Eddie calls anyone, it’ll be Robin.

As their conversation ends, Steve tells himself he’s fine with that.

*** 

When Eddie calls Family Video like usual, it’s Robin that answers the phone.

“You’re not Steve,” he says, without thinking, cringing when that makes her snort. “Not that you’re not a delight and a treasure to us all, Buckley!”

“Mmmhmm,” she cuts in, sounding even more droll than when she’d droned out her canned customer greeting.

“It’s just that Steve’s always the one that answers, so I was starting to think he was super glued to the front counter, you know?”

Silence rings down the line long enough for Eddie to let his dangling heels smack noisily into the cupboard three times, but then Robin says, “he’s at home,” and continues before he can respond, “you do this a lot then, huh?” she asks around whatever pilfered candy she’s snacking on.

Eddie’s entire body freezes as he runs what he’d just said through his head and comes to the startling realization that Steve hasn’t told her.

“Uh, no?” Eddie asks, hating the way his voice cracks with the lie. “I mean, sometimes I want to call before making the long trek up there. Check if you’ve got anything good on the shelves, you know?”

“Mmmhmm,” she says again, sounding even more doubtful now. They both know it’s a measly six minute drive, but she doesn’t call him on it. “Well, what are you looking for tonight?”

He almost blurts out Steve’s name before remembering his stupid lie. “Uhhhh—um—what about The Fly?” he asks, wincing as Robin scoffs.

“That’s not released yet, dingbat,” she replies, like Eddie doesn’t already know that. It’s just the first movie he’d thought of, having seen its name lighting up The Hawks marquee just this morning.

“Well, call me when it is, okay bye!”

He hangs up the phone on Robin’s indignant sputtering. Because he’s the bane of his own existence, he immediately flips through the white pages and dutifully writes the number he finds listed beside Steve’s yuppy parents' names on the note beneath the long-since memorized number for Family Video.

He doesn’t hesitate to dial.

“Harrington residence,” Steve greets because he’s a bit of a yuppy himself. Eddie hates that he finds it charming.

“You always answer the phone like that, big boy?”

“If I’d known it was you, I might not have picked up at all,” Steve replies, but he sounds like he’s teasing, so Eddie just clutches the phone tighter, smiling around his empty trailer, glad that Wayne’s at work. “Now, did you actually want something?”

“Just wanted to know what you’re wearing.”

Eddie shoves his fist into his mouth and bites down to contain the whine at having said such a god awful, stupid fucking thing for the fourth god awful fucking time.

“Sweats, an old gym shirt, and some socks,” Steve replies, like that’s not enough to rewire Eddie’s whole fucking brain.

Eddie’s never seen him anything other than entirely put together—jeans stain-free, shirt pressed, not a hair out of place. He’s a man after Eddie’s own heart, curating an aesthetic with all the careful consideration that he’d use picking songs for a mixtape. But, unlike Eddie, Steve looks so put together that the thought of him messy has Eddie’s heartbeat ratcheting up.

Are his sweatpants stained? Is the gym shirt stretched out? Is his hair all fucked up? God, Eddie would kill to know, but he can’t think of a normal way to ask, so all he says is, “oh, yeah?” wincing when it comes out embarrassingly squeaky. He clears his throat and continues, “no work today?”

“Nah, it’s my day off,” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of furniture settling, a sigh, the rustle of fabric. Did Steve just lay down? Does he have a phone in his goddamn bedroom? Is he splayed out on his bed, cozy and warm. Eddie’s never seen Steve’s bedroom and god, suddenly he wants to so badly it hurts.

He wants to lay down beside him, wrap him up in his arms, see how fucked up his hair gets by the early hours of the morning. He just—wants.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, sounding frustrated, like he’d tried to get his attention a few different times. “You there?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says before closing his eyes and bashing his head into the cupboard. Sweetheart? Lusting after Steve was one thing, but fucking sweetheart? This is rapidly becoming dangerous. “Wayne just got home, so I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Oh, oka—”

Eddie hangs up the phone. He stares at the empty trailer, heartbeat rabbiting away in his chest like he’s back in gym class trying to run the mile.

He should stop this, throw Steve’s number away and go cold turkey—hide his heart deep within the recesses of his ribcage and keep it safe.

Eddie’s never been that smart, and he knows, no matter what his stupid brain thinks, he’ll be picking up the phone again tomorrow night. And besides, he’s already got both numbers memorized.

*** 

It’s still Steve’s day off, but he drives Robin to work, just like he always does. She stuffs her bike in the trunk in case he’s not around to pick her up after her shift’s done, and then she climbs into his passenger seat, still looking half asleep as she pulls down his visor and uses the small mirror to messily apply her eye liner. Steve drives slow, careful of potholes and speed bumps, a part of him always terrified she’ll stab her own eye out.

She doesn’t talk to him until she’s finished both eyes and stashed her pencil securely into her bag.

“So, Eddie called yesterday,” she says, and when he looks at her sidelong, hands clenched on the steering wheel, she’s looking back, smirking as she watches her comment land. He jerks his gaze back to the road.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, relieved when his voice comes out even.

Robin knows him though, so she just snorts, and when he looks back toward her, her arms are crossed and she’s got one eyebrow raised bitchily in a way he knows she learned from him. And now here she is, using it as a weapon against him.

Steve clears his throat, glancing away again as he pulls into the vacant Family Video parking lot. “He… calls sometimes.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Robin replies with a snort.

“Robin,” Steve whines, all sense of decorum lost as he drops his forehead down on the wheel hard enough that his horn honks, sharp and loud in the quiet morning. “It’s not like that.”

She reaches over to pat his back, all dripping condescension as she asks, “for him or for you?” before hopping out of the car and going to unlock the front door, switching the Open sign on.

Steve loiters in the parking lot for an embarrassedly long time, her words running through his head. He hits play on his tape deck to drown it out, peeling out of the parking lot like a demo-dog is on his heels.

Metallica’s Orion drills through his head all the way home.

Steve fritters away his day, wandering around his big, empty house, scrubbing floors, dusting shelves he hasn’t even glanced at in years, reorganizing the pantry, lest his anxious energy shake his organs right out from beneath his skin.

He loses himself in the monotony of scrubbing, wiping, and pilfering through cupboards until he comes out of it, covered in dust and smelling of chemicals with the little hand of the clock in the kitchen pointing damningly close to the eight.

Steve takes a shower, scrambling with shampoo and conditioner, rubbing his bar of soap roughly down his body, trying to get the smell of bleach off his skin.

When he hears the phone ring, Steve rushes out of the shower, dripping water all over the tile as he slips his way into his bedroom to snatch the phone off his desk before it rings out.

“Harrington residence,” he replies breathlessly. He tries to tell himself it’s because of his mad dash to grab the line but as he holds his breath, waiting for that familiar voice to filter through the speaker, he knows it’s a lie.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks.

Because he hasn’t lied yet, Steve bites his lip before hesitantly replying, “uh, I just got out of the shower, so…”

Eddie gasps, breath stuttering dramatically, and when he asks, “so, a towel?” his words come out high pitched, almost squeaky, like he’s doing one of his little voices for his nerd game. But, an idea is growing in the back of his head, infecting his every thought with a nagging sort of hope he thought he’d sworn off years ago.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing isn’t just a bit at all, no matter how it had started. Maybe this is Eddie’s ridiculous way of starting something. If it is, Steve can’t bear to pass it up, even if all Eddie wants is the sound of Steve’s voice whispering dirty things in his ears.

There’d been a few girls back at Hawkins High who’d liked to call Steve up, have him murmur sweet nothings into their ears as they giggled, doing things to their own bodies that they were too shy to ask Steve to do himself. 

If that’s all Eddie wants, Steve will give it to him. He’ll give Eddie anything he wants. 

“Steve?” Eddie asks, still like his breath has been punched out of him. Steve wants to hear how breathless he can make him. 

“You actually called mid-shower, so I didn’t have time to dry off,” Steve says, voice low so he can catch any little noise Eddie might make. “I didn’t even grab a towel.”

Steve’s not disappointed—Eddie whines, high and strained before the sound cuts off abruptly enough that he can almost picture the way Eddie must’ve covered his own mouth, nails digging into his cheek to keep himself from letting anything else slip. Steve grins, blood heating up even as the water begins cooling against his skin.

“I’m dripping,” he continues, voice low and suggestive. Eddie doesn’t reply aside from the haggard edge his breathing gains. Steve hasn’t even done anything yet, and Eddie sounds like he’s on the knife’s edge of coming. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Steve,” Eddie whines.

“What?” Steve asks, “you started this, Eddie.” Eddie moans as Steve says his name. God, he’s easy. 

“It was just a joke,” Eddie argues, but his breathing’s still hitching, and he doesn’t sound like he wants Steve to stop. 

“I thought you’d enjoy me playing along.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve interrupts. He will, if Eddie asks, will stop playing this little game and ask him how his day was, wait for Eddie to ask him in turn. They can go back to the way things were before, no matter how much Steve doesn’t want to. 

“No, don’t stop,” Eddie replies, quickly, desperately 

“Oh, are you just selfish then?”Steve asks, gratified when Eddie hisses like Steve had touched him. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself, too?” 

“No, no, no,” Eddie replies in that same high-pitched, stuttering voice that he’s rapidly becoming addicted to, so desperate to please Steve. “Not selfish, not—”

“I don’t know, this is starting to seem a little one-sided,” Steve cuts in, Eddie’s protestations sputtering out into nothing. “You haven’t even told me what you’re wearing.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt!” Eddie answers so fast he can’t have even thought about not replying.

“A little overdressed, aren’t you baby?” Steve asks, making note of the way Eddie moans at the slipped term of endearment. “Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?”

“But, I’m in the kitchen,” Eddie replies, whispering like he’s imparting a secret. It snakes down the line and sends a shiver up Steve’s spine. He’s been to Eddie’s trailer before, settling on one side of the couch, Eddie on the other, with Robin playing buffer in the middle.

He can picture the Munson’s small kitchen, barely cordoned off from the rest of the trailer, the separating wall just enough to block the fridge and sink from view.

“Is Wayne there?” Steve asks.

“He’s at work, but—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve asks. “Afraid he’ll come home and figure out what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Eddie whines, but Steve hears the sound of him rearranging the phone followed by the rustling of fabric. “There, happy?”

Steve pictures it: Eddie, standing shirtless in the kitchen, phone clutched to his ear as he pants down the line. Is his face flushed with embarrassment? With arousal? How far would the pink go down? He wants to follow it with his tongue, trailing over tattoos and into his dark happy trail.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, and Eddie moans, dark and guttural.

Steve strains his ears, swears he can hear the rustling of clothes, the metallic clinking of what must be Eddie’s stupid handcuff belt that he’s dying to get his hands on. There’s a hitch of breath a moment after before it evens out. After having heard him be so loud, Steve’s got his own suspicions about what activity he’s trying to cover up.

“I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Steve asks teasingly as he finally settles his shower-damp body into his clean sheets.

“I’m—I’m not,” Eddie replies, voice still higher than he’s ever heard it.

Steve grins, settling more comfortably into his pillows, phone cord stretched just a bit in order to reach. “So that wasn’t the sound of you sliding your big, strong hands into your pants?”

There’s a clatter on the other side of the line, like Eddie’d dropped the phone before hastily picking it back up to reply. “I—Steve, I wouldn’t—”

“You’re easy,” Steve says, cutting off Eddie’s lie before he can commit to it. “Just the thought of me naked and you had to touch yourself, didn’t you?”

“Steve—”

“Or have you been doing this every time?” Steve asks, just to hear Eddie’s protests. He knows he hasn’t, would have heard the hitching breaths and stifled moans. “Calling me up at my job just to fuck your hand and listen to my voice, baby?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie protests again, but his breathing’s gone ragged.

“Was Wayne sitting in his recliner so you had to be quiet, listening for any movements from the living room while you shoved your hand in your pants, too desperate to wait?”

“No.” Eddie asserts, but he’s panting now, like just the thought of getting caught in a compromising position is getting him there. “I wouldn’t, not—not with Wayne home.”

“But he’s not here this time is he?” Steve asks. “And you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Steve.”

“I bet you look real pretty like that.” Steve’s own arousal is making itself known, dick hardening as he listens to all the delicious sounds Eddie makes. “Hand moving in your jeans, all hot and bothered as you take what you need.”

Eddie’s not talking anymore, just gasping wetly down the line as Steve speaks. He doesn’t mind, he can conjure up enough visuals to work with as he grasps his own shaft and gives it a tug.

“Sound pretty too, don’t you?” Steve asks, getting an affirmative grunt that has his own hand moving quicker. “Moaning for me like you just can’t help yourself.”

He’s not even thinking about what he’s saying anymore, spewing garbage out of his mouth as he strips his dick, now lubricated enough by precome and lingering shower water to ease his way.

“I might have to stuff something else in there just to shut you up,” he grunts.

That’s apparently all it takes because Eddie’s whining turns high and reedy, muffled like he’d stuffed his own fingers down his throat on Steve’s command.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve says, talking him through what must be one hell of an orgasm with the way he’s panting. “Bet you look so pretty when you’re coming, making a mess in your stupid tight jeans.”

Eddie moans again like even when he’s spent, the sound of Steve’s voice is almost enough to get him there again. Then he’s back to panting. Steve listens to his wet, staggered breathing, closes his eyes, and pictures what Eddie must look like, collapsed on the floor of his kitchen, hand stuffed in his now-stained jeans, bangs matted to his forehead.

Steve wants to smell him, wants to lick him, wants to brush his bangs back and kiss his sweaty forehead. And that’s all it takes to send Steve over the edge. He bites his lip, suppressing any noises from spilling out of his mouth as he shakes through the aftershocks.

Embarrassment begins curdling in his gut as soon as he comes back to himself. Not at what he’d said, or the noises he might’ve let slip, no. Eddie’d liked it—he had. But, that’s not what had been Steve’s undoing. No, it was the tender, domestic thought of kissing his forehead. Horrifying.

But then Eddie starts laughing, manic and gleeful the way only the best of orgasms leave you, and Steve elects to leave that particular panic for after he’s off the phone.

“Same time tomorrow?” Steve asks, like he hadn’t just listened to one of his closest friends jack off to his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie says, sounding downright shy now that he’s coming down. Steve can’t handle it. “Yes? Yes.”

“Talk to you then,” Steve replies, hating how soft his voice comes out. “Night, Munson.”

“Night, Stevie.” Eddie whispers.

Once the phone call ends, Steve gets up to shower off more than a little dust this time.

part two

[maxiine]

Start of something new

Bakugoxreader F/reader in mind

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The time was 7:20pm

The agency was set to close in 40 minutes but you were on night watch tonight. You sat mindlessly atop the building keeping an eye on the city below. Your quirk gave your senses enhancements so to say you could hear, see and smell a crime from above was not an understatement. The rest of your colleagues and most of the pros in the surrounding cities had requested this special night off to celebrate the congratulated no.2 pro hero shotou. Of course the reason was not stated to the public but you may have overheard your boss talking. However you were happy to be the honored sidekick to be left in charge while everyone was away, it wasn’t often you were given hefty or important jobs but tonight was your chance to prove how useful you can continue to be to everyone.

You even took some time out of your lunch earlier to cover some paper work that the oh so great dynamite hated doing.

You had seen a multitude of social media posts from the group dinner. All you could do was smile at how wholesome and happy every one seemed. I mean it’s not everyday you can catch up with the ones you grew up with so you were happy they could all meet up again- all of them together. You’d often over hear Bakugo speaking with Kirishima or even Midorya about how they wanted to see everyone again, it had been awhile. You’d also see how brooding bakugo would become when he hadn’t seen any updates about his friends in the polls. He was just a nosey but caring guy.

To be completely honest, you had grown completely fond of him. Not just as a boss or in the way he ran things; but in the way that he spoke to civilians and kids who had gotten hurt. Or his bluntness towards ridiculous reporters trying to fish for info; maybe even in the way he would smile and laugh when he was out on the field with some of his closest friends. There was so many things, big and small, that fed into this thought of how grateful you were to work here.. with him.

You couldn’t get overly carried away though, you still had a lot to learn. So much room to grow. And thinking of your boss in not so professional ways was not going to help aid that goal.

*ding*

Your phone had vibrated in your pocket and dinged. A notification.

You reached into your back pocket while trying to still keep an eye out on the streets below, the time was 7:45, meaning you had a bit left before you were assigned to street patrol. You took that thought and decided it wouldn’t hurt to see the noti.

*✔️k.dynamite posted to their story*

You assumed he was posting more of the dinner party, and as nosey as you accused him of being, you weren’t much better. You click his circle icon on instagram and are immediately met with shotou, midorya, and himself taking a group photo. Shotou is wearing a sweet bright smile and of course midorya is following up with the same cuteness. But bakugo is wearing a smug grin, his sharp canines making an appearance. In small texts he wrote “congrats icy hot”, a nickname you heard he gave him way back in high-school. You hadn’t noticed the smile you had on your face as you went to heart the story post. But before you could ponder any longer- you put your phone back and gather yourself to head down to start patrol.

_____________________________________________

11:20

It was well late into the night now. Almost time to head back to the agency where Soon the over night patrol would be in to relieve you of your shift. The night wasn’t very active which was surprising to say the least. Some bar fights and kids messing around was all you had run into. Oh and one guy trying to break into a car but you got him handled nicely and escorted to the police. Now you were just walking back. Your hero suit made it difficult to find warmth in cold nights like these. Especially where you weren’t doing much, so you were left to be chilly. You held your self tight, mumbling small tasks you needed to do once you got back. Gotta finish the paper work, check in with the reports, clock out, clean the front, then leave to hopefully get some dinner. It may have seemed like alot but you’d most likely be home by 2 am which is actually earlier than you’d usual be out. You were a chronic over worker, but most sidekicks were; money won’t make it self right?

Finally you had made it back and had already begun your trot to your office (which was really an empty table in the meeting room.) you had worked through most of bakugo reports before you decided to start on your own.

—————————————————————————

Katsuki’s pov-

Katsuki was gripping his steering wheel pretty tightly on his way back. Dinner was great, and his talk with midorya? Well not so great but he was happy to help him do something he had put off for so long. Kirishima being the bestie that he is, couldn’t let him live it down so he begrudgingly teased him all the way back. Despite all of that, he had a pretty good night. However he still had his own goals and priorities and thinking about what work he has left for him was driving him insane. He wouldn’t be able to sleep easy unless he had it done or at least a head-start.

With ease he drives himself to his agency. It was 1:26 am and he was set for work at 7am but that didn’t matter. He probably could just stay up and shower there if he really needed to. The street lights shower a soft glow on to his face as he wears a concerned expression. Not intentionally but no one was around anyway, so he didn’t mind. He was anxious . Not just about his agency or the left over reports he didn’t finish. But.. about you. He had made sure not to put too much stress on you so leaving you to be in charge while he was away was enough to have this man run back immediately. It’s not that he didn’t trust you. He just wanted you to be safe, and he would feel much better if he was around to insure that. He couldn’t exactly remember when he started to feel that way. It could have been as soon as you were recruited but he wasn’t going to waste his time thinking of trivial things.

He arrived back. Walking from his sleek black car to the entrance and he couldn’t help but feel strange. He walked in after placing scanning his badge at the door, allowing him personal access through security. Once he was in, he noticed your badge placed on the front desk where the secretary would be. He felt panic, why were you still here? Were you even here or did something happen to you? Did you forget your badge but then how would you have left? He quickly assessed the situation, and the only way your badge would still be here is if YOU were still in this building. With that thought he quickly marched his way towards your work area while also quickly checking every other room. He couldn’t believe you were still here. Over working your self like damn usual.

He finally saw your hunched figure, you seemed to be resting your head? No maybe looking at something? All his thoughts stopped as he heard your soft snoring and slow breathing. You were asleep. You were safe and sound sleeping in HIS agency. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a heavy sigh, thankful and worry free to see you. He walked over, and noticed you had completed his paper work while also checking yours.

“Tsk. Idiot” he mumbles to himself softly, trying not to wake you. He carefully grabs the papers and files from under you and Gently places them else where. After much thought, he decided on waking you up so you could get some sleep in the rest area or at least let him take you home. However, with every nudge and poke, you weren’t even stirring in the slightest. He couldn’t find the heart to try any further. So while it wasn’t the best idea, he pulled back your chair and carefully picked you up. Taking you back to his office where he has a couch. He would put anyone else on the coaches at the front or even on one the cots stored away. But he knew his couch was the comfiest as he had spent many nights there himself, you deserved some comfortable rest.

He placed you down gently, then covering you with one of his blankets stored away. It wasn’t big nor was it the best quality but it would do the job. With a sigh he decided to let you sleep while he finished up your reports since you’ve done all of his. Yours would probably be much easier anyway since you were just a rookie sidekick.

—————————————————————————

He continued to type and write away, giving a soft melody to the air.

you could’ve slept for awhile longer if your senses hadn’t woke you up.

Shit! You thought to yourself, you fell asleep. But you were so warm, and your back fell on something soft.. weird.

You opened your eyes and understood now, you were lying on a couch. But who’s-

“You up now?” A grumbled voice speaks to you from behind a desk.

And it was none other than bakugo himself.

You quickly shot up fixing your hair and rubbing your eyes, trying to regain any sort of composure possible in this moment.

“Dynamite sir, I’m so sorry!”

“ idiot. Listen don’t apologize, you had a long night so just” he pauses for a moment and looks up at you. “Go home and get some rest.”

“But sir- I haven’t finished my reports.” You got up to gather your files.

“I already did them. You’re fine now go. And I’m taking you off of patrol tonight, so no excuses.” He said in his usual bossy tone.

“Wait why? I can still work or is this a punishment? I’m really sorry- I.. wait what do you mean by excuses?” You stammer over your words before questioning the blonde.

“You have no excuse not to comeback 100%. I’m giving you the day off so shut up and please just go.” It was way too damn early to be dealing with all of your questions let alone trying to get you to go home and take care of yourself. You were stressing this poor man out.

“Oh. I see, well um” you put your hand behind your head nervously before finally deciding it’s better to actually just go.

“Thank you for letting me sleep here. I promise it won’t happen again.” You tend to make false promises, especially when it came to your overworking habits.

“You better mean that, or I’ll kick your ass. Got it?” He barks at you. Only because he cares so much. He wanted you to care too.

“Got it.” You chuckles softly and you couldn’t help but hope to actually keep this promise. You share a small moment of contact with the blonde. His red eyes staring right into you, as if reading your mind. You shake the feeling and turn to head out.

“Have a good day then dynamite.” You begin to head out.

“Just call me katsuki. When we’re off duty.” He says casually but the small tint of pink on his cheeks tells you he was nervous to say that.

Alright then

“I’ll see you later. Katsuki.” You say his name softly, almost like a whisper before finally leaving for the day.

The time was 6:45am and you were getting ready for bed in your own home. You knew you’d be falling asleep thinking of him. Not the pro hero dynamite, but Katsuki Bakugou. The off duty hero who has your heart in a choke hold.

It has been so long since I’ve written for Bakugo, but I’ve never posted him on here so :) glad I finally did. He’s my fav so maybe I’ll post more of him <3

Also! I’m sorry I get lost in detail and back-round >.< I’ll work on it

[ur-local-wizard]

Ink & Ivy

When you start a seemingly regular shift at Ink & Ivy, a new bookstore, an old friend's prank backfires.

fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!!! brother's best friend (kinda? like 2 sentences), graduated au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, i think that's it

w/c: 1k

masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long to put out! it's just my first fic I'm putting out there so i was getting really finicky

The ding of the front door rings through the book shop. Icy wind blows at your hair, abruptly being cut off as the door shuts behind you. Relishing in the warmth of the fire burning in the corner of Ink & Ivy’s front room, your footsteps sound off the creaky wooden floors.

The place smells like parchment and coffee, and as you walk down the hall to the employee’s break room, you pause as a shelf catches your eye. It looks oddly empty. “Why didn’t Susan restock last night?” You whisper to yourself as you resume your walk to the break room. Susan Bones was a fellow Hufflepuff during your time at Hogwarts, and although you two never talked during school – your brother Theo always dragging you along to participate in some stupid prank – you two became good acquaintances after you applied for this job.

After shedding your winter attire in the break room, you clock in. The hours tick by, and that empty shelf keeps nagging at you. Shooting a glance out the window, you determine that now is a good time to journey to the stockroom. It looks like nobody is going to venture in any time soon, so you might as well do something useful.

The door to the storeroom squeaks as it opens, and you stop in your tracks. A head of curly brown hair was poking through a window. “What the fuck-” 

He looks up, and you instantly recognize your brother’s best friend. It’s Mattheo, the boy who would always tease you at school. You haven’t seen him since you graduated three months ago. 

“Oh- Well- I-” He stutters, clearly caught off guard. 

“Mattheo, you don’t even work here. Get out of the damn window so you can explain yourself.”

You watch as he awkwardly maneuvers himself through the window, dusting himself off as he stands up to his full height. You can’t help but giggle when you see his sour expression. 

“What?” He asks, his tone defensive. 

“Nothing. You’re just ridiculous. But I’m not surprised; you have been since we met in first year.”

After reading a label on a box and making sure it’s the right one, you pick it up and begin to walk back to the front room of the shop. Surprised, Mattheo scurries after you. 

“I wanted to play a little prank,” he explains as the two of you walk down the short hallway. You stop in front of the empty shelf from earlier and set the box down, intent on restocking it. “And I haven’t seen you all summer. Would it be weird to say that I missed you?” He asks sheepishly, making you stop in your tracks, looking over at the man next to you. 

Putting the book you were holding back in its box, and you study his expression. He looks embarrassed. Maybe a little nervous, even. “Why?” You ask, ignoring the hope fluttering in your heart. 

You’ve had a silly crush on him ever since he bought you an expensive quill you wanted in sixth year. And now that he’s standing in front of you after visiting out of his own free will, saying you’re flustered would be an understatement. 

“Your reactions are adorable when I tease you. And that one time when we replaced your wand with a trick one, your reaction was priceless.” 

You swat his arm in frustration, retorting, “That wasn’t funny! McGonagall got so upset with me. I was afraid I was going to get detention because she thought I wasn’t taking class seriously.”

He laughs, but his expression seems to soften. “Sorry, princess. Didn’t realize it got you into trouble. But what can I say? I don’t regret it.” 

You huff and roll your eyes, but stay quiet. It’s in the past now, no use saying anything. The two of you restock the shelves, and before you know it, the shelf is full again. “I’ll take this box back to the storeroom. You go back to the register, ‘mkay?” 

You nod and let him take the box to the back, heading for the register like he said. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you again, his elbow in the table, hand perched in his palm. 

You raise your eyebrow, “What now?” 

“Just looking.” He stands back up. “I remember you used to read all the time... What have you been reading lately? Any books you’ve been eyeing?” He asks, looking at you expectantly. 

You sigh and tell him what you’ve been reading, along with explaining that your TBR is endless. “I can’t decide on anything,” you complain. 

“Well then send it to me. I’ll decide for you.” He pauses before speaking again. “You get commission, right?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?”

“Let me buy you a book.” He’s smiling like an idiot, and it makes you blush a bit.

“You’re kidding.”

“You think I’m kidding? Darling, I’ve had a thing for you since fifth year. I like buying you presents. Hasn’t it been obvious?” His blunt confession makes your jaw drop, cheeks burn, and butterflies break out of the cage you so painstakingly put them in. “And I would say you share the same feelings, if the blush on your cheeks is anything to go by.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you look for something to say, shocked by his bold words. “Why tell me now?” Your voice is quieter than you intended it to be, and his expression softens. He walks around the counter to stand next to you and gently puts a hand on your cheek, making you look up at him. “Theo isn’t here to pound me into a pulp for falling for you anymore,” he explains, chuckling. “And he can’t stop me from doing this." With that, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, holding your face in his hands. The kiss is chaste, nothing too crazy, as if he’s afraid of pressuring you. 

As he pulls away, you look at him with wide eyes, watching as he grins at you like a school boy. “So what book do you want me to buy?”

Ty for reading! I hope you liked it <3 Let me know if there's something I need to fix, and if you wanted to be added to the tag list let me know!!

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