#friends to close friends to bitter enemies to enemies to maybe friends to lovers(?) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puppym3 · 2 months

Note

Heyaa! Is it possible to request an enemies to lovers one bed trope smut with bangchan? Like maybe reader and skz go on a trip but there’s not enough rooms so they decide to pair u guys up so that y’all can make up or whatever. Little did u know that Chris has a massive crush on u and was only being insufferable because he thought he didn’t have a chance but little did he know you thought he was cute too. Maybe he pops a boner while sharing the bed and becomes embarrassed but you decide to take matters into ur own hands and dom him for treating u liek shit lol 💀

↠ friction ↺ and ⊜ fire

*+:｡.｡ bangchan x fem!reader

wc: 4.8k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, smut, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, dom!reader, servicetop!bangchan, subby!bangchan, brat!reader, one-sided pining (kind've?), they're both idiots, piv, unprotected sex (sighh), they traumatize the other members, oral (m. rec), creampie, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: thank you so much for the suggestion anon hehe.. it was so good and i hope i served what needed to be served!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

*+:｡.｡

Stepping out of the van after a long, winding drive, you stretched your arms above your head, relishing the cool mountain air. The cabin loomed ahead, a cozy refuge nestled in the heart of the forest, promising a weekend of relaxation and fun. You were close friends with the boys and these trips were a regular occurrence. However, there was one member you couldn't stand.

Bang Chan.

Ever since you first met, the two of you had bickered incessantly over the most trivial things. Whether it was your taste in men or the way you folded your clothes, Bang Chan always found something to nag you about. You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. How could someone be so insufferable?

It reminds you of the time you had just broken up with your ex-boyfriend after you found out he had been cheating on you the entire time, you had unknowingly been the side piece throughout your relationship. Bang Chan warned you about him the entire time, saying he wasn't good for you. And now that things had crumbled, he was in your ear about how right he was. It frustrated you.

"Hurry up! We need to check out the rooms!" Felix excitedly called out, breaking your reverie.

You grabbed your bag and followed the boys into the cabin. As they scattered to explore, you took in the rustic charm of the place. It was perfect, except for one glaring issue: you only spotted eight bedrooms.

"Hey," Minho announced, holding up a hand-drawn map of the cabin. "There are only eight beds."

"Great," you muttered under your breath.

The boys gathered around, frowning at the realization.

"Well, who wants to share?" Seungmin said, glancing around.

"I don't mind sharing," Jisung shrugged.

Everyone seemed to share a knowing glance across the room.

"How about Y/N and Chan share a room?" Minho suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You and Chan simultaneously snapped your heads toward Minho, protests ready on your lips, but the rest of the boys quickly agreed.

"Yeah, maybe you two will finally stop bickering," Jisung added, smirking.

"Fine," Chan sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a challenge.

"Fine," you echoed, refusing to back down.

"Awesome," Jeongin laughed nervously, trying to defuse the tension in the room. "We can check out the rest of the cabin tomorrow, so why don't we call it a night?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted," Changbin agreed, calling out from his room, already laid out on his bed like a starfish.

You followed Chan to your room and set down your bags. The bedroom was spacious, but the lack of a second bed left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Guess you're sleeping on the floor," you smirked, taking note of the single queen-sized mattress.

Chan raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down.

"Like hell, I am. You can sleep on the floor," he argued, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You let out a scoff, but before you could open your mouth, Felix appeared in the doorway.

"You're both responsible adults, you can share a bed."

You shot Felix a glare.

"Goodnight!" He quickly ducked out of the room, leaving you and Chan alone.

Chan crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

"Don't get any ideas, pervert," you sneered, brushing past him to get ready for bed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

The rest of the evening passed in tense silence. The two of you were cordial when brushing your teeth and washing your faces, but once you were settled under the covers, you turned away from each other, as far as you could go without falling off the bed.

Lying there, staring at the wall, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the room. It was more than just annoyance; it was a palpable electricity that seemed to spark every time you argued. You hated to admit it, but there was something about Chan that intrigued you, something that made your heart race in the most frustrating way.

And you were overly aware of how attractive he was, secretly ogling him when he would perform on stage. It annoyed you, a lot.

You shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body and it was driving you crazy. The more you tried to ignore him, the more aware you became of his presence.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You rolled over, determined to confront him, but the words died in your throat. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, that you couldn't bring yourself to wake him. Instead, you watched him, admiring the way the moonlight illuminated his features.

You traced the line of his jaw with your eyes, trailing down to his full lips. Your heart skipped a beat as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him.

You quickly shook your head, berating yourself for even thinking such a thing. Chan was the last person you would ever want to kiss.

But the more you denied it, the more you thought about it. What if his lips were soft? What if he kissed you gently, his hands caressing your body?

The thought made your cheeks flush.

"Can you stop eye-fucking me? I'm trying to sleep."

Chan's voice snapped you out of it, and you quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks burning.

"I wasn't- I just, wanted to say something," you stammered, the defensiveness in your voice showing.

The fact that he was so cocky and attractive drove you crazy, you wanted to put him in his place then and there, you wanted to pick another fight with him, the fights you had him ignited a certain fire in you that you couldn't explain.

"What is it?"

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even form a coherent sentence around him.

"Just..." you scoffed, giving up when the words in your head scrambled.

"Goodnight."

With that, Chan rolled over, putting his back to you.

You huffed, annoyed at the way he dismissed you. You knew he was trying to get under your skin, and it was working. You glared at the back of his head, wishing you could slap the smug look off his face.

But even as you silently fumed, you laid in bed next to him. Unable to relax, you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. But the bed seemed to grow smaller with each passing moment, and the space between you felt like an infinite chasm.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his mere presence setting your nerves alight. You were overly aware of his breathing, his steady inhale and exhale. And the longer you lay there, the more restless you became.

"Will you stop moving?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound made you jump.

"I can't sleep," you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Try harder."

You scoffed again, turning your head to look at him, and before you could come up with something to spit back at him, your gaze lowered, and your eyes landed on the very prominent tent on the bed.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly averted your gaze, but the image was burned into your mind.

Your cheeks flushed, and your heart began to race. Chan was hard. The realization sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

Now this was an argument you could easily win, you could definitely embarrass him with this.

So why couldn't you say anything? Why was the heat in between your thighs growing undeniably unbearable?

You couldn't stop yourself from stealing another glance. Your eyes trailed down the length of his body, coming to rest on the bulge straining against his pants.

Chris turned over to face away from you. You couldn't help but smile. You knew he was embarrassed, and the thought of him being uncomfortable made you feel satisfied.

Without hesitation, you moved closer, pressing your body against his. Your chest was pressed against his back.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice in an innocent tone as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Don't act stupid."

You couldn't help but smirk. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and it only made you more confident.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"This isn't funny."

You couldn't believe how much this was affecting him.

"You're telling me," you purred, sliding your hand down his torso.

Your fingertips brushed over the hard outline of his cock, and you felt his breath catch.

You couldn't resist, he was a brat, and now it was time for payback. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his pants.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his hips jerked involuntarily. You bit your lip, trying to contain your own excitement.

"You're a fucking tease."

"Says the one with a boner," you retorted.

"I'm serious," he breathed.

"So am I," you said, tightening your grip.

The sound that escaped his lips made you shudder.

You knew that if you didn't stop now, there would be no turning back.

But you didn't care. You wanted this.

You grabbed his shoulder, pulling so he was lying on his back. His eyes were wide, his breath ragged.

Without a word, you straddled his lap, the thin fabric of your pajama shorts doing little to hide the heat between your thighs.

"You're a brat, you know that?" he groaned.

You smiled, your confidence growing by the second.

"Maybe, but I think you like it."

You rolled your hips, and his cock twitched beneath you.

"Fuck," he cursed. You couldn't help but smirk. He was clearly losing his composure.

"Don't get too cocky," he said, grabbing your hips and grinding up into you.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how turned on you were.

"That's funny, coming from you," you managed to say, rocking your hips against him.

He was rock hard beneath you, and the friction was sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The outline of his cock through his pants was aligned perfectly with your cunt, gently brushing against your clit through each movement.

It was agonizing.

You leaned forward, your lips grazing his ear.

"Is this what you want? Then beg me."

You could feel his resolve breaking, and the satisfaction was almost overwhelming.

"Please," he choked out, the shyness poking through his cocky demeanor felt rewarding.

"I'm not sure I heard you."

You rocked your hips again, the friction making your head spin.

"Fuck, please" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could tell he was embarrassed, but you didn't care. This was too good to stop now.

"You're a pervert," you whispered, tugging at the waistband of his pants. "Getting hard from sharing a bed with a girl?"

He couldn't meet your eyes, his face flushed red.

"It... it's not like that..." he murmured, but the tent in his pants told a different story.

You slipped your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length.

He gasped, his eyes widening.

"You-" he breathed.

"Tell me what it's like then," you teased, stroking him slowly.

His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was struggling to form words.

"I'm waiting."

"It's because- fuck, it's because of you."

His response caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice, and the way it caused you to clench around nothing.

"It's you," he breathed, his gaze finally meeting yours.

You could see the desire in his eyes, and it took your breath away.

"But don't we hate each other?" you protested, unable to hide the hint of confusion in your voice, feeling like maybe you lost the plot somewhere along the way.

"I don't hate you," he admitted. "I just- I thought I did. But it was only because I couldn't handle the fact that I liked you so much."

You couldn't believe your ears. Chris liked you? It made your heart flutter, a million fantasies running through your head in a second. Why did this excite me so much? Why did I like hearing those words coming out of his mouth?

"You like me?" you echoed, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

"God, you're dense," he groaned, his frustration evident.

Before you could respond, he sat up and pulled you in, his lips were on yours, and his hands were gripping your hips.

You melted into the kiss, the taste of his lips and the warmth of his skin setting your nerves on fire.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, and you moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth.

His kiss was fervent, lips melding with yours in a way that made your mind go blank. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both urgent and unrelenting. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of mint toothpaste and something uniquely Chris.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your back before settling on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked against him. Each touch sent sparks shooting through your veins, and the friction between your bodies was driving you wild.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his breath, heavy and labored.

When you pulled back, you pushed him back to lay on the bed.

"You really are a brat, huh?" he panted, his eyes dark with desire.

"You have no idea," you smirked, tugging his boxers down his hips.

His cock sprung free, and the sight of him made your mouth water. He was big, bigger than you expected, and the thought of him inside you made your stomach twist in anticipation.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly.

He let out little breaths, his head falling back. You could tell he was struggling to hold himself together, and the sight made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

This feeling wasn't unfamiliar, you felt this way sometimes when you watched him on stage, his expressions, his confidence, everything about him. It was why you pretended to hate him. You were attracted to him, and the thought terrified you.

But right now, in this moment, there was no room for fear. All you could focus on was the feel of him in your hand, the taste of him on your lips, the heat of his skin.

You moved down the bed, kneeling between his legs. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Fucking hell," he cursed, his hand tangling in your hair.

"I'll be gentle," you teased, wrapping your lips around his tip.

The sounds that came from him was unlike anything you had ever heard, and it only fueled your desire.

You swirled your tongue around his length, savoring the taste of him. He was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough.

You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently. Your hands searched his body as you tasted him, feeling every inch of his chest and every detail on his body.

He was shaking, and you could tell he was holding back. And you had no intention of stopping, not until you had your fill of him.

"F-fuck," he breathed, his hand tightening in your hair. The feeling of him tugging on my hair sent shivers down my spine.

You hummed in response, the vibrations making him gasp.

You worked him slowly, teasing him with your tongue and lips. He tasted amazing, and the sound of his breathless moans was music to your ears.

You could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth.

The power was intoxicating, but it wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You released him with a pop, his length coated in your saliva.

"Don't move, I'm going to ride you."

"What?"

You could see the shock on his face, and it only made you smile.

"I'm going to ride you," you repeated, climbing back onto his lap.

"But- wait- are you sure?"

His expression was comical, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Chris, do I need to spell it out for you?"

He shook his head, his eyes wide.

"Good, because I don't have the patience for it."

With that, you pushed your panties to the side, letting your legs spread wide so he could get a perfect view as you prepared yourself for him.

His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you slipped a finger inside yourself.

You couldn't believe how wet you were, your arousal coating your fingers as you stretched yourself open. You could feel him twitch beneath you, his length throbbing with need.

You added another finger, moaning as you worked yourself open. He was still watching, his gaze locked on the movement of your fingers as you fucked yourself on them.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your hips as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into you.

"Impatient, are we?"

He shot you a look, and you could see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck you," he said, though his words lacked any bite.

"I thought that was the plan," you teased, withdrawing your fingers and wiping them on his thigh.

"God, just- please," he breathed, his resolve crumbling.

"Since you asked so nicely."

You positioned yourself over him, his tip brushing against your entrance. You were already so wet, so ready for him.

"Are you sure, with no protection?"

"If you ask me one more time, I'll leave you here to take care of this yourself," you threatened.

You were on the pill, and you were too needy now to look back, the thought of feeling his raw cock stretching you out also made you super impatient.

You inserted the tip, the feel of him filling you up was overwhelming. He was big, bigger than anyone you've ever been with, and the stretch was almost too much.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you adjusted to his size.

"Fuck," you breathed, sinking down until he was buried to the hilt.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"And you're fucking huge," you replied, the pressure and heat building within you.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I've never had complaints."

"Shut up," you smiled, pulling him in for a kiss.

Your tongues met, dancing together in a messy tangle. He kissed you like he was starving, and you could feel his hunger for you.

You began to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips against him. His breath hitched, and his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"God, that's it," he groaned, his head falling back. His hands pushing at your inner thighs to spread your legs further.

His eyes intently staring at your body made you shiver, you grabbed at the hem of your shirt before pulling it off, giving him a better view to take in.

He groaned, his gaze roaming over your body. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hand trailing up your thigh.

"I could say the same for you," you replied, tracing the lines of his abs with your fingertips.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and the attention was overwhelming. You increased the pace, rolling your hips as you rode him. He was buried deep inside you, the sensation of him filling you up was incredible.

"God, yes," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moaned, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He was hitting all the right spots, and the pleasure was building, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't bring yourself to form words, the sensation was too much, your head was spinning.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, the taste of him only adding to the pleasure.

His tongue darted out, tracing your bottom lip.

"Fuck, Chris," you breathed, breaking the kiss.

He was breathing heavily, his gaze locked on yours. "Use me to come," he urged, his hands on your hips encouraging you.

"Chan," you moaned, his name on your lips like a prayer. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and the sensation was incredible.

"Come for me," he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

And then, the pleasure washed over you, the waves crashing into you with such intensity that you saw stars. You felt yourself tremble as you clenched over him, falling on his chest as you cried out, whimpering as you lightly grinded your high out.

He broke when he felt you cum on him, the soft breaths coming out of his mouth, and you could feel him twitch inside you, his cock throbbing as he came, his cum filling you up.

The feeling was unlike anything you've experienced, and you could feel the pleasure coursing through your veins.

When he finally stilled, the two of you were a panting, sweaty mess. You could feel the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through your body, and the sensation was incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"That's exactly what we did," you teased, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

He couldn't help but laugh, burying his face in your shoulder. "You're insufferable," he murmured, his breath tickling your neck.

"Oh, and you're not?"

"I guess we're perfect for each other then."

He raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. The sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but press a light kiss to his lips.

"Maybe," you conceded, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

"I'd like that," he smiled, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in for another kiss, a little longer than the last.

"So... I'm guessing this means you like me too?"

His question caught you off guard, and the thought made your heart flutter.

"You could say that," you replied, unable to hide the hint of hesitation in your voice.

He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "That's not an answer," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

You bit your lip, the uncertainty rising within you. You couldn't help but worry that this was a mistake, that it was all a joke.

"Hey," he said, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "Talk to me."

"It's just... are you sure? I feel like you're fucking with me again, this is just too good to be true," you said, completely honest and a little too vulnerable in front of him.

"Oh my god," he sighed, his frustration evident. "How much proof do you need? If it wasn't obvious, I don't usually let people ride me."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

"Fair enough," you conceded, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He hummed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I think I'm going to enjoy proving myself," he murmured, his fingers running along the curve of your ass.

"Is that so?"

He nodded, the glint in his eye making your heart skip a beat.

"I promise you'll be begging for it next time."

"That's a bold claim," you challenged, unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

"One that I'll gladly prove," he said, his tone playful.

"We'll see about that," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Don't challenge me unless you're prepared for the consequences."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the idea of him having his way with you was intoxicating.

You giggled, stealing a quick kiss before climbing off his lap.

You couldn't help but laugh looking at him, "God, you're so cute," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before padding over to the bathroom.

You woke up early, the sunlight streaming through the window and the sound of birds chirping outside.

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up.

The events of last night rushed back, and you couldn't help but smile, the memory of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the sting you felt on your legs from the workout.

As you looked around, however, you were met with an empty bed, the sheets beside you cold.

A wave of panic washed over you, the realization that he wasn't here was jarring. You couldn't help but think that it had all been a dream, the thought of us doing anything already seemed unreal to you.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and the sight of him made your heart skip a beat.

"Morning," he greeted, a wide smile on his face.

You felt way too giddy seeing his face, seeing him just made you want to plant kisses all over his face.

"Morning," you replied, the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You couldn't help but stare at him, the sight of him in a plain t-shirt and shorts, his hair tousled and his skin glistening from his morning shower.

"Well, you didn't snore." you teased.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture making you giggle.

"I'm glad my princess could sleep without any disturbances, then."

The words made your heart skip a beat, and you were left speechless. You couldn't believe how quickly he had gotten under your skin.

You couldn't deny the effect he had on you, the way your heart raced when he was close, the way your body craved his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to push down the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Yeah, just... I was worried, that's all," you confessed, unable to meet his gaze.

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "Worried? Why?"

"I thought... I thought it was all a dream, that I was just imagining it."

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room.

"You're too adorable," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I really do like you," you countered, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them.

His expression softened, the laughter dying on his lips.

"I really do like you, too"

You couldn't help but melt, the words echoing in your head.

You leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you.

Suddenly you heard loud pounding knocks at your door.

The door opened and Minho with a tired face walked in, Seungmin shyly trailing behind him.

"I'm glad you guys... 'made up', but for fucks sake," Minho complained.

"Couldn't you have saved that?" Seungmin joined in, equally mortified.

You couldn't help but blush, the thought of your friends hearing the two of you was embarrassing.

Chris, trying to keep a straight face, couldn't help but giggle a little.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry," you apologized, holding your hands up in surrender.

"Sorry," Jisung says, barging into the conversation, "I'm just so happy for you, I've had to endure this guy whining about you for the past 2 months."

"Shut up," Chan blushed, his cheeks tinted red.

"Oh my god, is that why you were such an ass? You were pining?" you teased, pinching his cheek.

"Don't," he whined, pulling away from your grasp.

"Well, Jeongin left last night, he fled to a hotel room." Minho chimed in. "I should've just done the same."

"Why didn't you?" Jisung asked, clearly amused.

"I don't know, I was hoping the walls would be thick enough."

"Lee know, oh my god," you blushed, hiding your face in Chan's shoulder.

"You were loud, we could hear you from our room, which is right next to yours. We can also hear everything," Minho complains.

"Okay, okay," Chan concedes.

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Felix pipes up.

"What elephant?" Changbin asks, who clearly hasn't caught on.

"These two fucked," he says, just now coming into the conversation.

"Okay, that's enough, I'm leaving." You say, your face red with embarrassment.

"I'll come with," Chris agrees, and you both get up and leave the room.

"Oh my god, can they just hate each other again?" Seungmin complains.

"For the love of god, yes," Minho agrees.

*+:｡.｡

#stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #skz bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan #bangchan smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #straykids #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader

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malfoyscoffee · 10 months

Text

did it work? ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x gn!reader about fluff | 0.7k words | friends to lovers warnings no warnings

The only thing on your mind was to run.

You gripped onto your black robes tightly, trying to get anywhere but where you just were.

The crowded halls became your enemy as groups of students were spread out in front of you, all socializing with friends during the passing period. You hoped that after a minute of running, you would have lost what was chasing behind you.

Although the atmosphere was loud due to all the conversations surrounding you, the sound of someone running behind you started to get evident. Your eyes widened and your heartbeat raced, maybe you should just pull out your wand and apparate to your dorm.

The moment you pulled out your wand, a hand tightly grabbed your wrist bringing you into the nearest room.

“Salazar, you scared me, Theo!”

Theodore Nott closed and stood in front of the door as if blocking your only exit to run. He towered over you, panting as if he just ran laps around the quidditch field. His face showed no emotion as he kept holding your wrist.

You looked around and realized you were inside an empty classroom. The silence was different compared to the noise on the opposite side of the door.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Theodore looked down at you, his eyes softer than before. You avoided his eyes, deciding to stare down at both your hands.

“I didn’t avoid you.” You looked up as Theodore let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes.

“That’s bullshit. Every single time I see you, you start leaving the other way.” Theodore used his free hand to cup your face so you would look right at him. “I haven’t even talked to you properly for the past month!”

You broke free of his grasp, not wanting to answer him. “I’ve been busy studying, Theo.”

Your mouth felt bitter with the lies coming out of your mouth. Theodore looked at you as if you had grown three heads.

“I spent the past month unable to sleep because my best friend was ignoring me, and this is the best excuse you have?”

‘Best friend’

You went towards his side, signaling that you wanted to leave.

“Now let me go, I have class and I don’t want to be late.”

Theodore looked down for a moment, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

You let out the biggest sigh, turning the opposite way around towards the empty classroom. Your hands started brushing your hair back, and annoyance and irritation started to form in your head.

Theodore saw your frustrated figure and decided to push on, “Come on, just tell me what is bothering you. Is it something I did?”

Your back was to him, your mind racing a million thoughts; the realization set that you couldn't avoid Theodore forever.

You turned around and let out a breath you’ve been holding. Theodore looked like he ran his hands through his hair a million times. It was truly now or never.

“I like you, more than friends.”

You stared at Theodore’s eyes which grew larger, the moment of silence starting to kill you. You decided to continue.

“I’ve known for a while now, but I really couldn’t take that you only saw us as friends. I figured that staying away from you would help get rid of my feelings.”

You looked down at your feet, starting to regret saying anything. Maybe you could run away now?

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?” Confused, you looked up at Theodore as he stared straight into your eyes.

“Did you lose feelings for me?” Theodore clarified.

You sighed, “No, that’s why I haven’t talked to you.”

Theodore suddenly smirked, walking towards you.

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing because I like you too, more than friends.” Your mouth opened in shock as he smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

“Now stop avoiding me because I’ve missed you.”

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ellieluvr420 · 8 months

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Friends? Never. Pt.1 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

New fic alert? Can you tell I've got a thing for the enemies to lovers trope? Sorryyyyyy. I have loads of ideas for so many stories but this one made me too excited :D I can’t tell if the writing in this is ass but i’m just setting things up hold out hope for me people…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Ellie opens the door of her new home only to see you, her least favourite person in Jackson, standing at her door with your suitcase in hand.

"No no no no no no no." You say as you immediately start walking away from her. You keep walking until you see Maria walking towards you.

"Don't even start-" She already knows what you're going to say.

"I am not fucking living with her Maria."

"Didn't I tell you not to start? You're wasting your breath anyway, this is the only way we can accommodate all the new arrivals."

"Why do you hate me?" You groan and she spins you around immediately marching you back to your new home.

"I don't, but you and Ellie are a pain in my ass, maybe make the most of it and try and get along hm?" She keeps you held firmly at the front door as she knocks three times.

"Back for more alrea-" Ellie pauses as she sees Maria standing there with a stern look on her face, she pushes you through the door and smiles.

"Enjoy setting up!" She calls over her shoulder and you're sure you hear her laugh.

"Fuck my life." You push past Ellie, bumping her hard enough that she stumbles slightly. You storm off upstairs to find your room huffing at your new reality.

You're unpacking all your belongings when you notice her standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you just gonna keep staring at me like a creep?"

"Are you gay?"

"Pardon?" You scoff at her bluntness but your heart was beating a mile a minute, you knew it wasn't a big deal, she's a lesbian herself, but for some reason you still found coming out to people so difficult. Your parents hadn't taken it well which is how you found yourself living on your own... well, with Ellie. You breathe in and regain your composure, turning to her and flashing a coy smirk. "Why do you want to know Williams? Got a little crush on me?"

"Ha! You wish. Just wondered seeing as you're nineteen and have never once even held a guys hand."

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to me, should I be worried I have a stalker?" She rolls her eyes at you obviously avoiding her question. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, just trying to figure out if I should be worried about you getting a crush on me and going all crazy."

You walk over to her until there's only inches between you. "You're so arrogant." You bump her in the shoulder and she stumbles as you walk past her towards the kitchen. "You're also not my type... at all." You call over her shoulder missing the look of bewilderment on her face.

"Wait... so you are?" Ellie calls as she follows you to the kitchen. She's close behind you as you march away until you stop dead in your tracks causing her to bump into you.

"If you must know Ellie, yes I am."

"Oh." Ellie felt her heart clench a little for you as she knows how unaccepting your parents are, that's why you stopped being friends all those years ago after all.

You had met Ellie on the first day she arrived in Jackson, she looked tired and a little gaunt but you still felt butterflies in your stomach when you laid eyes on her for the first time. You remember seeing her walk in and hand a gun she kept in the back of her jeans to Maria, you were gobsmacked because she looked the same age as you and you couldn't imagine holding, let alone using, a gun. You had been born in Jackson, only ever leaving to go on patrol in the last couple years so 14 year old you found the girl all the more intriguing. You had watched her from a distance as Joel spoke to your dad, you still remember the feeling of your stomach dropping when she looked up to see you spying on her. You hadn't spoken to her until later that evening when Joel and her had come to yours for dinner. It was awkward at first but when she saw your record player and limited vinyl collection, the ice thawed quickly, you became inseparable until your parents started taking an issue with your friendship with her, you never understood why they stopped you seeing her and stopped seeing Joel until two years ago when you told them you were a lesbian. Ellie had always known that they were homophobic but it still hurt when they stopped you seeing her, she saw red any time she was near you because she was so hurt that you could cut her out of your life just like that and within a couple months you were bitter rivals that couldn't share a nice word with the other. Her hatred for you was so overwhelming that it forced her to stop being so awkward around people because she was so focused on throwing as many insults your way as possible that her nerves when speaking to others dissipated.

Now, as you stand in the kitchen staring at her leaning on the doorframe you felt a pang of guilt for how you had treated her although it quickly disappeared the second she opened her beautiful mouth.

"Well er... you're not my type either so don't get any ideas." You laugh at the awkwardness of her statement knowing why she suddenly lost confidence in herself.

"Thanks for the clarification." You roll your eyes before busying yourself getting a glass of water, it was the middle of summer so all the moving and unpacking was making you feel severely dehydrated. Ellie watched as you gulped down the water, noting how a couple drops fall down onto your white tank top. She dragged her eyes away from you and cleared her throat.

"Well now we've established the feelings mutual we can go back to never speaking again. Or are you going to bother me constantly with small talk?"

"Oh believe me you have nothing to worry about on my end." You refill the glass again and walk over to her. "And if I'm remembering correctly you're the one that came and spoke to me, so I could ask you the same thing, no?" You jab a finger into her chest as you speak emphasising your point. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go wash this finger of your germs and finish unpacking." You push past her once again and she scoffs as you walk away back upstairs without looking back at her.

You continue unpacking methodically until everything is put away neatly and your decorations are in their new designated homes. As you collapse onto the bed picking up the book you were reading at the moment from your bedside table you breathe a sigh of relief at the breeze making its way through your open window. Your shared cabin was right on the outskirts of Jackson so your view was the beautiful woods that lined the north west section of the wall, as you looked at the greenery that was reflecting glittering spots of sunlight you reminisced on the times you and Ellie had spent in the woods when you were friends. You're interrupted from your thoughts by the growling of your stomach that prompts you to sneak back to the kitchen.

"Fuck's sake." You mutter under your breath as you walk into the kitchen only to be greeted by Ellie leaning on the counter savaging a bowl of cereal.

"You know you're spilling more of that down your shirt than you're getting in your mouth right?" Ellie looks down at her t-shirt only to see that you were correct when you said she was spilling milk down herself, she huffs and continues eating, this time being more careful as she brings the bowl right to her mouth.

"I thought I made it clear I didn't want to talk to you and yet... here you are talking to me." She mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. You roll your eyes and open the fridge only to see the leftovers you had put in there earlier were gone. You take a deep breath before spinning to give Ellie the dirtiest of looks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's the only food I had until I go out tomorrow. Why would you eat it?"

"Oh was that yours? My bad I got hungry earlier, it was really good though you gotta make me some more of that sometime." She smiles sweetly and your face twists into a scowl as you feel the rage boiling inside of you.

"Only we live here Ellie, if you're going to steal my food you could at least own it." You walk away and just before you leave the kitchen empty handed you turn back slightly. "Pussy." You go to walk away until you feel a hand enclose around your arm yanking you backwards. She pushes you up against the wall and leans her body weight on you so you can't move, relishing in your struggle.

"Say that again bitch, I dare you." Her eyes are dark and cold only mirroring yours, a devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in closer to her.

"You're a pussy Williams... and you don't scare me." You push her off with all your strength and rush away from her before slamming your door so hard you're shocked it doesn't come off the hinges. You pace around your room muttering and cursing Ellie before you stop, realising you actually have to live with her for the foreseeable future, every time you looked at her all you could think of is the screaming matches you endured with your parents when they banned you from seeing her and the look of defeat on her face as you ignored her for the first time when she came over to you while you were out with your parents, the nausea you were feeling only grew as the memory of when you came out to your parents flashes through your mind as it does multiple times throughout the day. You grab your book and begin reading once again trying to rid yourself of all these memories that Ellie was bringing up. As you finally feel the nausea calming there are three forceful knocks on your door that you ignore reflexively.

"You gonna open the door or what?" Ellie's voice is muffled but clear enough to make out what she's saying.

"No. Fuck off Ellie!" Ellie rolls her eyes before knocking harder this time and she doesn't stop, she continuously bangs on your door until you throw your book down in frustration to storm over to the source of your irritation. As you yank the door open you're greeted by a smirking Ellie. "WHAT? What could you possibly want? You eat my food, you piss me off, you pin me against a fucking wall, what do you want now Ellie?"

Ellie is taken aback by your harsh tone, typically it had a hint of playfulness to it but now you just sounded angry. She gulped before regaining her standoffish demeanour. "Calm down sweetie."

You scoff and go to slam the door in her face but her hand stops you and pushes the door back so hard you stumble backwards with it, you huff and walk away dropping down onto your bed once again.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure whatever. You're gonna do what you want anyway." She stuffs her hands into her front pockets and walks in as she looks at all the decorations in your room before plopping down on your bed sitting directly on your feet. You snatch them away with a huff as you grit your teeth and curl up to put as much distance between you two.

"What... do you want Williams?"

"Nothing really. Just wanted to see your room. It's very... you."

"Mm and I'm sure yours looks like a squatters pit." You smile smugly at her as she rolls her eyes, your face drops as she turns and eyes the book on your bedside table with a smirk.

"You read romance?" She stifles a laugh poorly.

"Yes and what? Can you even read?" She chuckles and you mumble under your breath "idiot"

"Wow you really are a virgin aren't you?" You eyes flash up at her as your eyebrows knit together and your face turns to a grimace.

"Why do you assume I'm a virgin because I read romance? Maybe I just enjoy it."

"Ha! Right. I'm assuming you're a virgin because only virgins read romance books." You kick at her and she grabs your sock-covered foot stopping you in your tracks.

"Oh my god Ellie can you go away!"

"No no, not just yet. My curiosity is piqued about this book now." Before you can stop her she's reaching for the book and standing up while flicking through some pages.

"Wait, No Ellie don't." She holds it above your head as you stand, you try and snatch it from her once but it's too far out of your reach, panic takes over as she opens it above her head and begins reading aloud. "Ellie fucking stop!"

"Why? It's just a romance book right? Nothing too... inappropriate." Your cheeks heat and the familiar rage comes back in full force, you look down at her feet and stomp on the left one as hard as you can, she yelps and drops her arms which allows you to grab the book from her grasp and you immediately rush out of your room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a triumphant smile.

"Ow you bitch!" You hear Ellie call after you. As you eye the bathtub you decide now is the perfect time to relax in the tub so you can escape Ellie for awhile and read your book in peace.

You stay in the bath until the sun has completely set and the room is bathed in a silvery glow from the moonlight, you guess you were in there for at least an hour but as you start to shiver from the cooling water you decide to finally leave your refuge. As you climb out of the bath you're horrified when you realise your towel is still in your room.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You had to walk past Ellie's room to get to yours but ultimately you decide you'd have to risk it, you unlock the door and peak out into the hallway to see its empty, you edge the door open and begin quickly creeping to your room, you're almost there but as you go to walk past Ellie's room she walks out at the exact same time walking straight into your naked form.

"AGH OH MY GOD!" Your hands immediately attempt to cover your dignity but its an almost failed attempt as you notice her looking you up and down. "DON'T FUCKING LOOK!" You scream as you run past her to your room so quickly your feet slip a little. You hear her cackling in the hallway as you lean with your back against the door in utter disbelief. "No no noooo that did not just happen." You mumble to yourself as you run a hand over your face.

You try to put the embarrassment past you as you settle into bed before passing out from the sheer exhaustion of the day.

#ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie

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rkiveinmarvel · 7 days

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vsego dva prizraka - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, enemies-to-lovers, mention of violence, curse words, idiots-in-love, sharon carter is a meanie here, trauma, torturing and avengers! shenanigans

hello! it's my bucky fic! part ii of upon a different life is here! thank you for supporting it, means a lot! anyway, here's part ii, uh--sharon carter is higkey unlikeable here so, i'm sorry! enjoy loving bucky!

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 7.8k (got carried away, mb)

As you trace the track of living the endless cycle of you and the White Wolf stumbling in this much different life, James Barnes slowly learns fragments and side of you that were covered during the time in HYDRA’s grasp, don’t get him wrong, part of him still navigating in living and breathing around you but somehow, he doesn’t mind learning more about you, he somehow find himself tangled in your webs: in which he rationalized that maybe the words of HYDRA never left his head or maybe, just maybe, he felt a sense of familiarity with you, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that in the corners of the Avengers compound, someone understands him.

You, on the other hand, slowly make amends to the people you caused trouble when you were still HYDRA’s living leverage: some of them thanked you for apologizing while some did not take any apologies from you. Despite the hardship of earning people’s forgiveness, a part of you was grateful that the bed was even warmer than before, people actually smiled at you, talked to you, and you built the idea that the world isn’t always red and bruised.

For another, you finally see the Sergeant that fell off the train in 1945, how his life is ultimately different to the one you previously known, how his attention is relatively closed-knitted with books rather than guns and knives, how his grumpy old gaze was just him being confused, and how his metal arm is for carrying Banner’s stuff rather than a weapon to be used. It is refreshing to see things in a different light, but there’s still a present guilt on how you stole these simple things from the Sergeant, a lingering disgust within you was still present. How you wish HYDRA didn’t use him; how you wished you didn’t use him–despite his given acknowledgement of forgiveness: a terrible little you burns the edge of your mind. Yet, as you meet his eyes while sparring, in missions, in the kitchen, and at night, it keeps you grounded that what you have now is a chance to prove yourself—that you’re more than just HYDRA’s stupid toy.

After a few months of the events of you and Bucky sharing a moment in Brooklyn, you two find each other’s presence more grounding, call it sharing a trauma or trauma-bonding but what is certain, the each of you became each other’s compass in wandering the softer edge of the world.

The mission was executed properly and Tony Stark, being the man he is, decided to throw a party at the compound: with close friends, workers, family, and the Avengers–as the people went through the party, you stayed at the bar and challenged drinks with Yelena and Sam.

Sam and Yelena are on their fifth drink as their visions start to betray them. It was a stupid challenge, really, but it was amusing to join. As you drank your fifth drink, you winced at the bitterness and warmth coursing through your throat. “You two okay…?” You asked, basically indicating that you are still in the right state of mind, body, and soul.

“Absolutely…” Yelena uttered but her words were shaky and unstable as Sam just nodded and tried to sit up straight. In another point of view, it seems like you poisoned the two, but in this challenge: pride was on the line. “You know, you two should take a rest…”

The Falcon immediately protested his dislike at the idea of taking a rest, but before he could argue, he fell off his chair, causing Yelena to fall as well. “Told you…” You uttered under your breath. As Rhodes and Wanda helped the two go back to their room, you were left alone in the bar as a familiar metal arm tapped the table.

“You finally decided to show up.” Bucky nods and sits on the stool. “I heard that Sam fell flat on his face, so I had to see it.” You shook your head and nodded. “Anything I can get you?” Bucky decided whiskey on the rocks, as he was just taking a sip every now and then.

You asked the White Wolf why he wasn't joining Steve and Thor sharing drinks at the other side of the room, his eyes looking over the God of Thunder and Steve as he just looks back at his drink. “Just not feeling like talking to other people, everyone’s here is so different from the 40s.” You nodded as you sip your drink as well.

“Well, I’m not from the 40s, so, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied as you watched the people having fun. “But I guess, I do get where you’re coming from. I mean, people are actually…talking, not ordering me around.” You chuckled unsure, yet Bucky knew what you meant.

As you sighed, you looked over at him. “How’s your trip with Peter? I heard the kid practically dragged you around Queens for his project.” A small sigh and smile left James’ lips. “Parker was talking a lot, he introduced me in the corners of Queens, it was nice. But I still choose—.” you continue his words.

“Brooklyn.” You both said in unison, as he nodded. After a while, you two just watch the party in the bar. In the scene of soft music and chattering noises, it was quiet on your side. As if there was another world being built there–a look of adoration of the people around the room is present in the eyes of two former people of HYDRA, call it a look of longing or even hoping; in the back of Bucky’s mind he remembered the days where he dance with girls in the 1940s while you wonder if being in a party means being happy in people’s company.

Bucky was about to say something when he saw people dancing on the dance floor. Despite the uplifting mood, some people swayed to the music, calmly, not out of rhythm but still a form of slow dancing. His eyes darted to you as he saw how intrigued and focused you are in the people dancing.

“First time seeing people dancing?” He asked, as you spared him a look and you nodded. “Would it be weird if I said yes?” Bucky shook his head a ‘no’. He knew what you went through as he took a sip and said: “It’s not weird. But, it’s surprising..”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Well, when you and Natasha went to the ball for an undercover mission, didn’t you two dance with people to blend in…?”

“Oh, the mission in Budapest.” You nodded. “I didn’t dance that night, not once in my life, I think…” He glanced at you, as you asked if he danced. The Sergeant had this nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he tried to remember the soft hands he held as he danced in the 40s. With a last sip of his drink, he had a smug look on his face. “1943. Her name was Connie.” You listened intently.

He shared the Stark Expo, the memories he has as he danced with Connie before the war. As he grabbed a beer at a nearby table, to his surprise, you’re actually listening to him: He also told how he gave Steve a date that time, a double date, as he mentioned. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe the ambiance, but Bucky couldn’t stop talking to you—especially, when you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the world. Listening to him as if the music isn’t filling your ears.

He should not let the soft smile appear, yet he loves this. He loved being listened to. Despite, his demeanor and adjusting behavior around you; getting used with you, he let it slip—he hoped it was the alcohol, god, he hoped it was—he smiled at you, not an awkward one nor a smug one, it is a smile reserved for the times he felt at ease: the smile he had when he stayed at Sam’s hometown, the smile he had when he saw the flying car in Stark Expo, the smile he had when he was saved by Steve, and a smile that made his ears warm when he was dancing with Connie in 1943.

You smiled back, the Sergeant looked so handsome. A pretty man. In the moment, you two are like teenagers down the block or somewhat two strangers finally see each other eye-to-eye. As James ignored the warmth in his cheeks—pretending it was from the alcohol—he breaks the smile. As you question: “Was it nice…?”

Moments like this, James realized that you two are not far from each other; he got to experience becoming a human, before mess happened. While you lived in the mess, not knowing what it means to be a human—he pity you sometimes, he often wonders if you’re just making this up, waiting for a moment so, you can fuck him up but moments like this, he somehow recalls you had this look of ingenuity, as if you have no clue: how to live.

And he knew, for he also had the same look in his eyes. So, he nods and looks at the people sharing a slow dance. “It felt nice..” As you sip your drink, the Sergeant wants to ask you something, yet a bitter voice in his head holds those words back. In that he settled with that answer, as he drank the beer while you watched the people dance. A simple breath left you: “I’ll figure it out how it feels..”

If things were different, the bitter voice in his head would have not bothered him—but for now, he settled with whatever he had with you, as he left it at that.

You walked in the compound and smelled the spices in the kitchen, with a book in your hand—you saw Vision and Wanda cooking. Since the Redhead A.I has heightened senses, he welcomed and invited you. You felt like a trash third wheel, but as Wanda gave you a smile and offered what they cooked, it was more than welcoming.

A look from the outside was watching the three of you, or perhaps, you. The blue eyes watched you, as if he was analyzing how different you look: you looked at ease, your shoulders aren’t tense; you looked so…calm. “Are you going to run or are we gonna be staring at them until it gets weird?” Sam eyed the Sergeant as he glared back.

“Shut up, I’m almost done with my lap.” He grunted, going back to the stupid running bet with Sam. As Sam catched up with the grumpy old-man, Sam snickered. “That cyborg brain of yours is functioning in a new gear.” The Falcon teased, to which Bucky ignored–but he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt different around you: it was wrong, at least, that’s what he tells himself—he firmly believes, it was nothing but a mere heat of the moment perhaps, a little assurance for the trauma that you two share.

It was a normal day, to say so at least, the rest were doing their own things—enjoying the uneventful day, when afternoon arrived, some found themselves seeking to shut-eye: but not the former secret service of HYDRA and White Wolf.

“How about George Owell’s books?” You asked the Sergeant who was reading a book as he sat on the library’s couch. He raised his head and looked up at you at the loft of the library. “Haven’t read it but Dr. Strange said it’s a good one.” you nodded as you continued to scan the books in the library of the compound.

After a few hours of Bucky reading, he realized you’re not back in the seat where you promised to sit after you find the right book for you—that was an hour ago. He placed the book, The Hobbit, on the table as he called out your name. Your lack of response was a little jitter in his head, it’s unusual, or maybe it is usual, but he couldn’t help but check on you. As he climbed on the loft, he found you, reading a book on the floor.

He was bewildered as he saw you, reading a book on the floor as he sighed and sat next to you. “You finished your book?” You asked as he just shook his head; he didn’t say anything, letting you read in silence. In that moment, maybe, he was reading it all wrong—not the book, but you: he longs to be near you, whether he admits it or not, he stole glances as you read the book.

He should still hate you, you stole everything from him. But, his heartbeat quickens when you two share a soft moment, his ears ring when he does something that makes you laugh, his hands shake when you don’t respond to his comms when you two are on a mission, he doesn’t get it. He should still hate you, but he can’t help it—maybe, he’ll get it, once you do too.

As you read thoroughly, you felt a head on your shoulder. Typically, you would push it away, but as you heard even breathing as a relaxed state, you let it be. You didn’t move an inch, as you let the Sergeant sleep on your shoulder. It’s not the first time you served as a pillow to your new home, it was mostly Wanda or Yelena; sometimes Thor, when he wants to annoy you—but this felt new and raw. Your heart pounds louder, god, you hoped that the White Wolf won’t hear it.

It was scary to feel this, the loud banging on your chest, the tensed shoulder you had, yet as you looked over your shoulder, you saw his closed eyes and relaxed eyebrows—your memory drifted to the time you hear his screams when HYDRA removes his memory, you tensed as you remember how he bear the pain as you just watch across the room, and you remembered how the his furrowed eyebrows in the cryo-sleeping machine. The guilt was seething pain in your neck, it tasted bitter, but for once, you ignored the bitter taste in your lips, you found a better position, as you lean back, Barnes fell further in your shoulder as head touched the side of your neck.

You smiled softly—the one you gave Barnes at the party, the one you gave Barnes as you apologized; the smile you gave Bucky at the diner, a few months ago. With a heavy feeling, you leaned in his head as you rested your cheek.

You are damn sure, this will result into stiff neck, back pain, or even cramps—but just this once, you’ll bear it, just this once you’ll let your back and muscle scream, and just this once you let James Buchanan Barnes sleep, with a relaxed eyebrows in the warm presence of the library.

It wasn’t long when you feel sleepy too, it was an afternoon hit afterall, but a part of you wishes to stay awake, you want this to last, yet, you found yourself closing your eyes, relaxing in the library. You knew you’ll figure it out one day, whether it’s right or wrong to long for this, you’ll figure it out how to pour your heart to the person who has a broken heart because of you—you’ll figure it out, you know it—you just hope, Bucky will figure it out too.

Everything was doing fine with you and Bucky; the entire team felt it too—the sudden change, the loosen tension, and the given knowing look. You and Bucky did too but the trip to the destination wasn't an easy one, most of the time, Bucky steps on things he was not sure he can step on, other times you bit off things more than you can chew. Stark and Steve saw what was going on, the three steps forward yet four times back.

But little things keep you on arms length with the Sergeant: it’s not easy to look past with what you’ve done to him after all; it’s not easy for James to just forget everything that was stolen from him—for another, a part of you was new to this, the unknown butterflies when the Sergeant would do something as he glance at you, the red ears but not from the cold but when you hear James laugh, and the fast-paced beat: it was new to you, you know this feeling, you’ve read it in books: one to many times already but feeling it was another level, one you cannot help yourself but deny.

A bitter taste fell out of your mouth as you listened to the comms as you sneak in inside a control system for a mission, you could hear it—in the comms how Stark, Barnes, Romanoff, and Carter were blending in naturally in the crowd: it was a common hideout, to be honest, a terrorist stealing vibranium and having the operation under a bar-party casino, what a common hideout, it wouldn’t bother you; in reality, it should not bother you—you were HYDRA’s weapon once, undercover and sneak in mission is nothing but a piece of cake.

That would be the case, if you don’t feel a conflicting emotion in your chest—god, you hear it, the little chuckles the fell out of Carter’s mouth as you heard Bucky’s line on the end, he sound so out of character, out of touch, way different as he interacts with you. Cursing under your breath, you entered the camera room.

Without warning to the team, you successfully put the camera in your control, protecting Wanda, Sam, and Rogers from the security’s grasp. In that, you heard Tony’s chuckle.

“There you go, Secret Service, everyone..” He compliments you as he continues his comms. “Told you, you’re fit for the role—I’m great at role assigning after all.” In some cases, you would thank him —but your mind brushes things as Romanoff’s response to the comms was blurry as you recall the planning earlier.

“It’s set in Europe.” Sharon Carter's voice informed the team, as you, Yelena, and Natasha were preparing the things for the mission. As the information was given by Stark and Carter, you waited for further instruction—thus, leading to assigning roles. It wouldn’t matter actually, you were a spy, this would be a piece of cake: but then again, you bit off on something you can’t chew.

“Carter and Barnes, you two will be the undercover Mr. and Mrs. Williams, when we get control of the camera systems, that’s when Rogers, Wilson, and Wanda can come in. That leads to Yelena for going in the vault as me and Ms. Romanoff along with Williams taking charge of what’s in the casino.” Stark looked at Natasha and Rogers for confirmation, they both nodded.

But you scanned the fake invitations made by Stark for him and Natasha; for Barnes and Carter: The Williams—a new feeling burns within you, but you carry on—for all you see, was Barnes already talking to Carter after the planning—moments like that: you find another reason why you should deny the wanted warmth spreading in your cheek when you talk to Sergeant.

“Hey, secret service, talk to me–” Stark’s pull you out of your trance, you immediately replied. “Yeah? I’m here..” Stark chuckled, as he informed to prepare for a change in plans.

“Copy that.” A sigh left your mouth and a familiar voice—a softer one than what you once heard in HYDRA’s—”Everything okay, сахарный тростник?”

Everything okay, sugarcane? In different circumstances, that would have the cheesiest smile out of you, how a stupid toy turned into sugarcane. But things are different, way different—everything was out of touch, instead a monotone left your lips. “Everything’s fine, soldier.”

“You were not responding for a minute, you sure?”

In his words, you knew Steve wasn’t joking when he shared that Barnes have girls lining up for him in the 40s, knowing damn well, if you existed that time—you would too but as you listen to him, you notice the subtle different tone he uses with Carter, way different when it comes to you, it stings but you already foreseen this: it’s never gonna work, you stole everything from him for fucks sake. It will never work out. Bucky will never figure it out.

Before you could respond, a security breach alarm was ringing the entire place, it was from Yelena’s position—the things happened too fast, you immediately went to Yelena for back-up, which you two gladly got out. Everything was a mess, as far as you can remember, you and Yelena took some enemies, it was an odd pairing as Stark teased in the comms but as you fight, a lingering and gnawing feeling broods in your chest, it wasn’t the fight nor the team’s safety.

It was you, you’re worried about you and the damn stupid butterflies in your stomach. Your mind drifts that even in this different life, you still can’t have what you want to have—unprofessional, sloppy, neglectful, and hideous: as you heard a gunshot and a seething pain in your abdomen, so much for HYDRA’s favored leverage.

As you felt the pain, the adrenaline coursing to your body made you fight more of the enemies, but the ringing in your ear never left, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was the comms, or maybe it was Yelena begging the team to go back to quinjet because you’ve been shot—it would be tolerable, the pain would be tolerable until in the comms you heard a pleading, longing, a lost voice.

“Has anyone seen Carter?” It was Bucky, god, he sound so worried, so distress, that made you wince even the bullet’s pain was nothing, this was much worse, you stumbled your walk as you throw the comms away, luckily Yelena was with you, after a moment, the Falcon and Iron Man carried you and Yelena back to the quinjet, as a limping Sharon Carter and getting assisted by Bucky met your view as Sam made you sit.

Wanda immediately used her ability to heal you but you pushed her hand away. “I’m okay, Wanda. I can take it—look over Sharon and Yelena, yeah?” You smiled at her but as she was about to protest, Steve nudged her shoulder as Steve sat next to you. “My bad, Captain..” You gave Rogers a smile, a masked one—god, you’re in so much pain.

“...You okay?” Stark snickered as Steve sent him a glare. “Rogers, I am fine. You should see the other guy—” but before you can continue, Natasha cut you off.

“You were distracted out there. You were not responding for a minute; you got shot. Want to tell us, what happened?” There she is, the Black Widow, you play with air in your mouth as you look at Steve and glance at Barnes talking to Sharon as Wanda heals her injury. Normally, Natasha would tease you about it but as she notices the subtle glance. She waited for your answer.

“Was not used in that set-up, I guess.” Natasha gave a look to you, call it pity, sadness, but as you stood up, watching as the fabric that Yelena tied in your abdomen was pooling red, you used Steve's shoulders to lift yourself up. “Sorry, was distracted, it won't happen again.”

Steve was about to guide you but you shrugged him off as you walked in the little bathroom in quinjet. Not-knowing an emotion filled eyes was longing behind your back—how a pair of cerulean colored eyes is watching behind you. The jet was quiet, not because of the tight tension, but a worried one. So, Yelena carried the mood: reminding everyone that the mission is a success, but it wasn’t for Bucky, you were bleeding; he wasn’t there—for him, the mission would rather fail than to see you wincing in every step you make.

You removed your clothes as you removed the cloth that Yelena used to stop the bleeding, you eyed the injury as you knew this was a bit worse than you expect it, with running water, you cleaned it—scrambling the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, applying gauze—-you can ask Banner or Maximoff to look on it, for now, this’ll do.

Few weeks back in the compound, it felt like the time didn’t move. You were pissing off at HYDRA wishing they inserted the serum at you too—so, the healing process would be much faster than you bed-rotting in your room—but you guess, that was better; with Yelena being the closest things you have in sister–she told you everything. Especially the blonde woman hanging out with the terminator.

She tells stories about them as she sometimes passes out in your room—you love Yelena, there’s no doubt, you thanked her every time she and Natasha would look at you as if you live with them. In the middle of the night, you got out of your bed as you fixed Yelena’s blanket next to you—-your light footsteps left your room, as you went to the kitchen.

You wanted to make tea, but the heating pain from your abdomen, your movements were slow—it would take—“Sam would’ve ran sixteen laps and your tea is not even close to done.” Of course, the Captain’s voice. He was in his night outfit as you chuckled and nodded. “A little hand, then?” you asked the old man.

That night, Steve Rogers made you tea as you watched and sat on the counter. “I can feel you staring at me…” Rogers uttered as you shook your head. “I never got to thank you…” You added as he placed a fresh tea on the counter as he also has one too.

As you sip, a smile left your face—you liked the tea he made. “Peggy taught me in the 40s.” You nodded as he told you how Peggy taught him—before you knew Steve, you thought he just got lucky being Captain America, but with him sitting and studying your look: he’s also a human being that falled in the wrong path of time. With that, you looked at him.

“Does it get easier?” You asked him, it was a broad question. But, somehow, all the speeches he made for the team had the same weight when said: “I lived on ice for 70 years, it’ll eventually get harder.” Not the answer you wanted, but somehow, you knew.

“....but you have us. Eventually, it’ll be okay, not easy, but okay.” He sip his tea as he pulls the picture of Peggy in the compass he carries.

“You must’ve really liked her…” You added–as he nodded, acting shyly—as he tells his story, but not the one written in the museum, somehow, the longing feeling in your chest was bigger, how he talks about Bucky, is so different from the Bucky you know, it was painful—but at this point, you mirrored Rogers, not missing how his eyes shimmered when he thought of Peggy. With a cup of tea on your hand, you figured it out: you absolutely, without a doubt:

You love James Buchanan Barnes.

Your heart clenches as you settle with the realization—“I’ve seen how you look at Bucky..” Cases like this, you would wanna talk to Natasha first, but, knowing Steve would not let it go, you continued—it’s your way to thank him for the tea, afterall.

“I do, I felt that, months ago—realized it, now. I saw how you talk about Peggy yet I think about how I talked about him.” You chuckled. “Guess his 40s charm never left, but, who would take me—why would I bother with this? I hurt him, stole everything from him and now we're a bunch of agents and icons, there’s no room for that—especially ... .especially with me.” Steve listened intently.

“Pepper and Tony would say otherwise.” You raise your head and meet his gaze. “Barton and his wife would not agree too. Parker and MJ would argue with you about it. Wanda and Vision would explain themselves to you—” You laughed, as you get his point.

“It’s not the same, Rogers—I hurt him. A million times, stole who he is, used what he is—how would he take me?” A bitter chuckle left your lips as cleared your throat, you stood up not wanting to talk more. “Thanks for the tea…” As you closed the door in your room, Steve sighed as he looked at the man standing in the dark corner of the room.

“You heard her…” Steve got the cups and placed them on the sink, as the man in the corner stepped out. “How would you take her..?” Steve quotes your question. The man lingered his blue eyes in the door of your room.

“All of her.”

It’s true, Barnes should still hate you—but, all at once, next to you, he feels like a child. Like, all the things he felt was damaged within him, felt undamaged—felt like you seen him in his bullshit: the 40s one, the Sergeant one, the Winter Soldier one, the White Wolf one, the James—the Bucky: you take them all, so, he would be a fool not to take all of you too.

Maybe, in the height of it all, 40s Bucky would never forgive you but—in his heart, a growing hope—thanking the stars, the pain, the stitches, the loss—for all of that: he thanked that he was still alive in hope for this love.

Steve nodded and looked at his friend— “Talk to her, Buck.” Bucky nodded, not saying anything but feeling everything—with a soft look at Steve, he realized that he got it—he understood it, that in your shoulder at the library: everything felt right: you hurted him, that is true, god, he hated you.

But in the dreaded past, meeting you, knowing you was the tattooed dream etched in his mind, that inside of the Sergeant, White Wolf, grumpy old man: was his inner child, wishing to spend the rest of his days until the time lets—god, he loves you.

The next day, alarms were all over the compound, you walked out of your room—seeing Tony and Steve in their suits; a missing cerulean eyes. “Where’s Bucky?” Sam immediately went to you, as he tried to push your back into your room.

“You’re still injured, let them handle–this–” You pushed his arm. “Don’t bullshit me, Sam—I am fine, where’s Barnes?” you repeated but as Sam was about to say something, Stark was at your room’s door. “Power Broker got him—” Without a word, you grabbed your stuff and changed your clothes to the uniform Stark made for you.

“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Sam’s voice was louder as Tony did his best to stop you too. “Secret Service, listen to me, you’re still injured—you have to stay–”

“Stay?! I will not stay here, Stark, Bucky is—he’s not here—I’m not gonna stand here and hope you guys get him back! What if Zola found him! What if—” Stark cut you off. “We’ll bring him back—your Barnes.” In that you calm down, as you nodded and sat on your bed. As Stark left your room, Sam looked over at you.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m gonna follow them..” With that you clutched your bed sheets and begged to all the heavens of the universe to bring him back. Your love back.

James Barnes was sitting in a familiar chair, a chair that reminded him of his past, reminded him of all the blood—it’s happening again, he’s gonna lose all his memories again, he wanted to fight the doctors surrounding him but the drugs in his system were blurring everything.

His metal hand was strapped as well as his chest and feet—he felt helpless. “Ah, you’re awake.” A voice, Sharon—she visited Bucky’s room last night, for whatever reason, Bucky thought Sharon needed help but as he turned his back, all he felt was the cold floor and woke up with the doctors all over the place with him tied up on the chair.

“Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice is bitter, in pain, god, it’s all coming back— “Wrong with me? I am this, солдат.” Soldier. It is different when you say it, that’s the first thing Bucky noticed. “And I am selling you to the market. You are a great deal, Winter Soldier.”

Of course, Bucky would be used again—the machine starts to produce a sound—a distinct familiar sound, is it always gonna end up like this? But in his throat, he can only plead—he felt like a kid, not the same kid that wishes for you, the kid that was begging to be freed, it felt so weird, familiar, painful, to be back here.

As the machine covers his left eye as he grunts in pain—he thinks of you. He wished he memorized you, he wished he knew how to make your tea, he wished he would remember your words, he wished he was back in the shore again as you ask for forgiveness as he eats the sugarcane, how he wished he was eating at the diner with the jukebox again; how he wished he took you to a dance.

Then, it was nothing.

“Солдат?” Sharon called out a name—Soldier?

Against the dark room, a soldier spoke: “Я готов ответить.” The Winter Soldier was ready to comply.

“Tell me, it’s not you on the comms, Secret Service.” As Stark and Rogers rush inside the building, which was supposed to be a duo-mission, they hear a crackling noise on their comms. “That would be so boring if it wasn’t, right, Stark?” You chuckled, before Rogers can even argue about it—Stark already did.

“You stubborn–You just had your stitches! We’ll handle this! Stay put in your location–you—” But you cut him off.

“Even if you have stitches, Stark! If Potts is there—you’ll do it too, so, let me help…” Stark and Steve sighed, they knew they couldn’t stop you. After Stark sorting you out, you get on the other side of the building while the other two lurk on the other side. It was a dark building, as you successfully sneak in: you immediately scan the area.

The dark room makes you think of HYDRA years ago: it was triggering, your skin feels cold—if you’re feeling like this, what more to Bucky. You need to find him fast, but the pulsing in your head, also doesn’t help, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe when Sam tried to stop you earlier.

“I told you, I won’t let you!” Sam groaned as he blocked your path, for a thousand times. “Sam, please, Cap and Stark need us! They need me, we have to help them!” You fought him, but you knew he was holding back because of your stitches.

“Work with me, Sam, please..” You pleaded but he got you in a headlock, as you calmed down. He loosened when you tapped his hand. “Please….It’s James. I don’t want him to go through that again, it’s the only way—only thing I can do, Sam—”

Sam cared about Bucky and you knew that, at this moment, Sam hates that he cares about you too. “Fine, but—” You smiled at him— “I won’t tell Steve.” In that Sam just nodded and let you go.

Never in your life, thought you would let your feet touch the casket for a man—a man whose heart and past are all broken because of you. You never thought you would see the day why people fought lively in the war because they have someone to go home to, you never thought you would see the day where all can be damned—just not you and Barnes.

The other side of the building is thoroughly occupied by fights: Stark and Rogers are really pushing through—while you see a laboratory, you immediately sneak inside. As Stark updated their situation of being occupied in a fight, you entered the lab. You finally saw Bucky, in the same chair, the first time you saw him. You were angry, pissed, and everything is being in the last line of your moral defense.

“Oh, Bucky..” you immediately went to the buttons and let the machine let James go, but he remained seated. “Barnes, we have to go—come on–” You checked his face if he was injured, or even concussed, but all you met was a familiar eye, an unwanted one, the one would burn in your guilt—In his dilated eyes, the Winter Soldier is back. It’s not Barnes, not Bucky—HYDRA’s favorite: the one that killed people without blinking. With such hope, you pulled him up but to no avail, Carter’s voice broke through.

“Soldier, attack.”

The Winter Soldier immediately slapped you away, causing you to hit the wall—if it wasn’t for Tony and Shuri’s invention in your suit—you would’ve died but you met the Winter Soldier’s eyes again, this time—you stood at the same spot of his victims before, you knew what they meant: for the first time, you were scared. As Stark had scanned the area from his location, he asked you to stand down and wait for them—but the comms he was giving was meeting the cold floor.

You look at the Winter Soldier. “You really wanna do this, Sharon?” Sharon snickered as she cockily revealed her plan selling the Winter Soldier to the underground. “You’re nothing like Peggy, not a bunch.” Sharon scrunched her nose.

“Because Peggy never stepped up—she could have all this and yet she stayed at the stupid camp. But me, after the government go up against me, I finally find the purpose—”

“What? Like a criminal dealer?” Despite you tensing up, to fight against the Winter Soldier up—you snarked up a reply to Sharon. “That’s lame, you know, if I were you, I would go bi—”

“Shut up! Like you know better, you better stop pretending to be one of them because…you are just like me.” You stared at her; back at the brooding Winter Soldier. “Or not. Soldier…kill.” In that The Winter Soldier immediately attacked you.

For a while, you were able to keep up with his fighting style, you were once a HYDRA after all but a lingering warm feeling scattered in your chest: you can keep up with him because you spar together, you catch up with his speed. Despite the Winter Soldier’s attacking skills, you didn’t fight back, you just put yourself in defense and you tried to whisper words that would trigger his memory. You hoped Steve would arrive and pull the Soldier out of trance, as the Soldier pinned you to the wall, you finally attacked back—you kicked him as he stepped away.

“Soldat, ты меня бесишь.” The soldier grunted, he knew what you meant—he was pissing you off. In that his attack became more aggressive; You tried to recall all the memories, even the one Steve told you but none of them reached the Soldier. He kept punching and kicking you, until his hand hit your stitches, you fell on the ground as you clutch yourself in pain—the soldier reached for the gun, with the last strength you kicked the gun away.

It fell on the floor as you grabbed it and aimed it at the Soldier. “Stay back, Soldier.” Yet, for the first time, your hand shakes holding a gun. Without abandon, the Soldier still charged, pushing you down to the floor—with an intention to kill,he grabbed a knife but instead of you pulling the trigger, you felt the knife getting deeper in your shoulder, the Winter Soldier twisted the knife, but he flinched when he heard you:

“Full circles…” You winced. “I am really sorry, Bucky…” Suddenly, the Soldier heard the shore, the sweet taste was familiar on his lips, your swiss knife on his hand—Bucky.

He pulled his hand away as he stared at you. “....Sugarcane..” In that a bitter chuckle left your mouth as you nod. “Barnes..” You felt yourself tear up as you reached his cheek and caressed it. “You’re back…finally, you’re back..” Bucky was tense, he knew what he did but the way you looked at him, melted his inside. He was about to say his apology but a loud explosion occurred. He used his body to shield you as he carried you to the side.

He saw the blood in your suit, as you slowly got dizzy. “Hey, hey, don’t you dare. Sweets, come on–”Bucky tapped your cheek as he saw in the explosion was Stark and Steve, Steve threw his shield to Bucky as Bucky catched it he warned: “Steve! We gotta go, she lost a lot of blood.” Even Tony felt Bucky’s panic.

“The quinjet is up north the mountain.” Steve said as he and Stark went to catch Sharon Carter. Bucky’s hand was dipping in your shoulder and waist as he carried you back to the quinjet, he kept checking if you were still breathing—he prayed, he was shaking in fear: he can’t lose you, especially not like this. His breathing was ragged as he reached the jet. He was hoping Wanda was there but all there were the buttons of the jet.

He placed you on a chair as he grabbed the medical kit in a cabinet, he immediately sat on the floor and remove the suit—your stitches thorn and a bleeding shoulder, he was mad at himself, how did he even let it happen, he should not have hurt you, he should—

“Calm down, James…” He felt your hands on his cheek again, grounding him in his panic. He immediately shook his head. “No, no, I did this, I was—”

“You didn’t have a choice…” you smiled. “Besides, I think we’re fair now.” You joked but the giggle didn’t leave Bucky’s lips—-is he going to lose you too? His hand reached for your head as he ran his hand in your hair. “I should’ve asked you to dance with me, that night….” He whispered slowly.

As you nodded, relaxing in his touch. “I guess you owe me…”

“I do, I definitely do, sweets.”

Bucky was reading George Owell’s 1984—despite being a great book: it seemed a tale of HYDRA, he read intently in the library. After a while, he looked over the loft, recalling the memory when he fell asleep next to you.

“Hey, sweets?” His voice called out, noticing the afternoon turned into night, knowing they drifted in the loft, next to each other. “Yes, Barnes?”

“We’ll read 1984 tomorrow?” He asked but neither of them moved, the proximity within them is warm, it’s home. With a chuckle, a reply left you: “If you’re up for it…”

After a while, he left the library with a longing look on his face as he carried the book, adoring the shared memory, longing for it, wishing he can experience it again—

— Suddenly, he met you carrying new bandages and band-aids. “Didn’t Banner tell you to stay on the bed?” He asked, immediately rushing to you.

“....Did he?” you asked, as you looked like a kid that stole a candy bar. “Well, Banner and Stark went out and my bandages are getting itchy so—I kinda, need to change them.”

“Couldn’t Natasha or Yelena help you?” You nodded. “I can’t find them and they’re really itchy, Barnes.” You walked away from him as he held your shoulder. “Let’s change it then, sweets.”

Barnes made you sit on the sink of the bathroom as he changed the bandages in your abdomen, as you winced lightly. “This okay, sweets?” You nodded as he purely focused on the bandage. Later, reached another batch of bandages, as you see the guilt look in his face: as he changed the one in your shoulder. “Barnes…” You knew he wasn’t listening, he’s probably blaming himself in his head again.

“Bucky?” you called out, this time, he looked at you. As you reached for his metal arm, he pulled away but then you pulled it as you felt the metal texture. “I’m sorry…I hurted you.” He sighed as you held the wrist of his metal arm. “Guess we’re even—” He shook his head, not liking your humor.

“There could’ve been worse! I could’ve killed you—I could’ve lost you and it’s gonna be my fault–” In his panic, his right hand lightly hit your shoulder—but as he was about to say sorry again, you grabbed both of his cheeks. “We’re alright, Bucky. We’re okay…” You muttered, as you rested your forehead into his.

“We’re okay.” You both muttered, as he calmed down, he continued to change your bandage on your shoulder, as his body heat was radiating into you. As he wrapped and cut the last bandage—you both stared at each other. His eyes were blue like you remembered, as his eyes linger in your eyes yet longer in your lips.

Suddenly, it’s just him and you—above anything else, he kissed you.

To which you smiled as you kiss him back, in the soft edge of the compound, it’s just him and you, his hand rested in your waist as you hold him in his shoulder—you kissed him as if you were memorizing him and he kissed you like he would want to keep your lips on a bottle so, he can get addicted and taste you anytime he wants.

He pushed further as you pulled away and you chuckled. “I thought the 40s were supposed to bring them on date first…” Bucky eyes glistened with joy— “My bad, sweets, you looked like you wanted to kiss me.”

As he kissed you lightly again, lingering a little longer—as he pulled away he tucked your hair in your ear. “I suppose I owe you a dance, sweets?” You smiled as you nodded, as you opened your arms for embrace as he indulged in your warmth. “Only if you change my bandages, until I get better?”

He nodded as he kissed your forehead: “You don’t have to ask me, sweets, I got you, always.”

“....You always call me that, after I said sorry to you…sweets, I’m not sweet, I’m a spy like Natasha and Yelen—”

“The sugarcane, sweets. The sugarcane, I still remember that was the only thing we ate that time—yet, even when I was mad at you, you still got me sugarcane, it was really…sweet of you.” He whispered as you laughed. “Steve wasn’t lying when you got your words.”

He lightly kissed your injured shoulder and muttered a sorry to it. As you two hugged again, you can’t help but hum the song from the diner—playing in the jukebox: I’ve never been in love before—but as you smiled and relaxed at the sink—it felt different, it felt more human—warmest than ever been.

Upon in a different side of life, you never knew it will turn out like this, watching stars with Barnes, holding hands, dancing in the rhythm, planning what’s for dinner with him;—despite the guilt brooding in each of your chest about what could’ve been in the past the future remains uncertain, as the old man said it will eventually be okay; maybe there was hate or maybe regret: but for a man who woke up 75 years later, he was finally certain as he decided that in each time he will fall in love..

— it's always going to be you.

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months

Text

✨Somersaults and Stealing Hearts Part 1: Meeting the Coach✨

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast! OFC

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @lotusbxtch and @alltheirdamn for beta reading for me, and for @mountainsandmayhem for helping hype me up! I’m really excited about this one ✨

Summary: Welcoming a new coach is no easy task, especially when Joel Miller steps through those doors with his stupid tousled curls and dark brown eyes.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.2k

Tags: Eventual smut, enemies to lovers type energy, bitter OFC, a hint of swooning, age gap (Madison is 24, Joel is 39), slow burn, pre!outbreak au

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Sunlight bursts through the glass windows of the Austin Gymnastics Club as chalk and sweat permeate through the air of the heated gym. The long balance beams seem to shine in the distance, and the white walls with gold medals and trophies in glass cases fill the extensive space. My calloused fingers are numb from the lengthy bar routine I just finished, and my lower back burns from the shaky dismount. I take a moment to breathe deep and fill my lungs with icy water, letting the chill cool the ache of fiery lungs.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on deep breaths. Don’t think about the heartbreaking loss that’s about to happen.

When I open my glossy eyes, I take a minute to compose myself. Losing Coach Carr is near devastating when regionals are in a little less than two months. How the fuck am I supposed to be ready when we’re getting a brand new coach who doesn’t know a thing about our routines or training schedule?

Ripping the water bottle from my tight grip, I find my way back onto the blue spring floor and decide to stretch my sore triceps. Wincing in pain, I groan, extending my arms overhead, feeling as if my muscles will split in half at any moment, but I’m used to it. It’s just part of a gymnast’s daily routine. No pain, no gain.

Senior year. Only a little over three months until I’m graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Kinesiology. Granted, I opted for online classes to focus on what’s really important. Gymnastics. It’s what I breathe, all I can think about day after day, and I won’t stop until I qualify for the Olympics. And Coach Carr should’ve been the one to help me get there, but those dreams were crushed like sand beneath the soles of my feet. Go figure. Nothing ever went my way. Especially after I lost my dad…

Having to take a whole year off training and college was rough enough. And close to being twenty-five-years-old? Well, some of the girls still tortured me about it, whispering how I was too old, how I’d never make it. But they were wrong, and I’d prove it.

If they were gentle sheep, then I was a starving wolf. Out for blood.

Another deep sigh leaves my lips, and my shiny pink leotard feels extremely tight, almost like it’s squeezing the breath right out of my lungs. In the next moment, someone is hip checking me, and I almost topple over onto the mat from the unwelcome force. I glare in the direction of where the uncalled action came from, but I immediately drop my frown when I see it’s just my best friend, Cassie.

“Whoa, did you wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning? You’re awfully cranky,” she laughs as she presses down some dark flyaways from her tight bun and smoothes out her violet leotard with the back of her palms.

“Sorry,” I grumble, letting my arms fall down to my sides in defeat. “I’m just on edge today with Coach Carr leaving.”

Cassie blinks twice and looks up with sympathetic emerald eyes. “I know. I’m upset too, but what can we do? She’s already leaving, we can’t stop her now.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t she at least wait until after regionals? You know how important that competition is. If we want to go to the national championships, then we have to bring our A-game,” I huff, stomping my heel into the squishy floor just to show how frustrated I am.

“Ask her husband, he’s the one that got the new job in Denver. Maybe you can talk him into letting his wife stay just for you,” she laughs, pushing against my shoulder playfully to try to get me to lighten up, but it doesn’t work. “And it’s you, babe. You want to go to nationals, and you want to win that championship title. I’m just here to ride it out with you. You’ve got the heart of a lion in this gym. No way you aren’t getting that gold medal,” she says encouragingly.

I give her a fake smile and hip check her right back. “Says the girl who medaled at our last competition. You’re going with me, and that’s final,” I smile.

“We’ll see about that,” she says with bright green eyes.

The room lightens up a little bit as Cassie pulls some of the anger from my tense body, but it all comes crashing back down like shattering like glass the moment I see Coach Carr’s bubbly smile and long blonde hair swaying as she greets a man I don’t recognize by the glass door.

I tip my head to the side and squint, hoping to get a better view of the mystery man with the tight-fitting white t-shirt and dark jeans that hug strong legs. “Who’s that?” I ask, hoping Cassie will have a clue as to who that might be.

“I think that’s our new coach. Joel Miller,” she says, peeling her eyes over his broad body.

“Who is he?” My voice comes out quieter, like I almost don’t want to know. Coach Carr never said anything about a male coach, and she definitely didn’t mention that he’d be older and so… handsome.

“Not too sure, but I’ve been hearing the other coaches talk lately. Heard he took his prior team all the way to nationals,” she voices, making my ears perk up at that.

My eyes grow a little wider, and my back stiffens up at the mentions of nationals. “Nationals, huh? Then why isn’t he still there with that team?” Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, I try to study the tall man, as if I can see inside his mind.

“Not sure,” she shrugs. “Guess he heard we were the best, and maybe it’s a better paid position? I don’t know, but Jesus. Do you see the biceps on that man? He’s hot. Maybe he can help me stretch… if you know what I mean,” she winks, curling a loose strand behind her ear as her eyes go starry.

Oh, for the love of God.

“Cas, stop. You’re being gross.” I scrunch my nose in disgust and hit her lightly in the side of the shoulder.

“What? Like you don’t find him attractive? He’s ridiculously good looking. Just look at him,” she sighs dreamily, her eyes sparkling from the sunlight peeking through the windows.

But I am looking at him. And whether I like it or not, he’s walking straight up to the spring floor with Coach Carr right at his heels, and he’s not too far from where I’m standing.

When he’s only a mere few feet from me, I notice how his biceps hug the soft fabric of his t-shirt and large veins spiral down his thick forearms, spidering along the backs of his rough hands, ending in strong fingers. I gulp when I see how devastating his dark brown eyes are. They’re almost like pure marble, smooth enough to sink into. And his hair. Thick, sandy brown with speckles of gray threading through his lush locks and his clipped beard. Cassie was right; he’s breathtaking.

“Fuck yeah, bestie. He’s taking us all the way to nationals,” she whispers as a fit of giggles leave her pink lips.

I roll my eyes and seal my mouth shut, but I can’t help but keep sneaking secret glances at the man with pretty eyes. Cassie doesn’t need her big ego boosted to know she’s right. He is good looking, really good looking. But that doesn’t mean I’ll accept him here. Coach Carr is abandoning me right when I need her most. She was supposed to be there for regionals which would set me up for nationals. No way will I just accept a stranger, like he knows anything about my routines or moves. No. I’ll just give him the cold shoulder because I’m bitter about this whole stupid arrangement.

“Girls, gather around! I’d like for you to meet someone.” She gestures to the mystery man and beams her white smile to the entire room. The rest of the gymnasts take their place on the spring floor and glance with anticipation at the newcomer. “This has been a super hard decision for me to leave you all, but I did my best to make sure you’ll be in good hands. So, girls, I’d like you to meet your new coach, Joel Miller.”

All the girls’ eyes blow wide, and whispers flit around the room, echoing giggles and gossip that makes me silently groan. Some of them bat their long lashes, some fix their high ponytails and twirl the hair they can reach. Others just stare and gawk, letting their eyes roam the expanse of his broad body, and my stomach drops when I realize all my teammates are going to be swooning over our new coach.

I let my eyes rake over the spongy floor, dragging my heel over a piece of fuzz like it’ll get me out of this awkward situation. I don’t want a new coach, especially one that all the girls won’t stop talking about.

“Now, you might’ve not heard of him before, but he’s coached a few varsity teams, and he even took the Oklahoma Sooners all the way to nationals, which I know is a dream for most of you,” she says proudly, her chin held high as some of the girls gasp and drop their jaws to the floor.

Great. Now I’ll have to hear their stupid lovesick mouths drag on about how handsome and talented he is. Give me a fucking break.

“Nationals? I want to go to nationals!” One of the girls shouts as she jumps up and down frantically, only stopping when Coach Carr tells her to settle down.

“As do most of you, and I’m sure Coach Miller here will do just that,” she smiles wide, letting her long blonde hair fall over her light blue polo shirt. Joel sheepishly smiles and follows Coach Carr’s lead. “Okay, well let me go around the room and introduce you to all the girls. There’s quite a bit,” she laughs, glancing at me and the other eleven gymnasts.

As she makes her way around the room slowly, I can’t help but tune the room out, making a small bubble in my mind where only my thoughts start to tick like the hanging clock above the front glass doors.

You can do this, just breathe. Don’t freak out, you’re only losing your most favorite coach in the entire world. I bite my lower lip and feel the sharp pain sink into my skin.

Breathe.

Just when I start to fade off into the soft blue tones in my mind, I hear my name being called loud and clear across the open room. I snap my eyes up frantically when Coach Carr says my name again. “And this is our shining star right here, Madison Summers. She’s the best of the best,” she smiles proudly, like I’ve just won her the gold medal.

Joel shifts his weight to the left and folds his flexed arms over his broad chest, and I swear he’s about to rip right through that thin t-shirt. “Your shining star, s’that right?” he asks with a thick Southern drawl that floats through my eardrums like a sweet melody.

Fuck. Even his voice is charming. All deep and gravelly and annoyingly enthralling. It’s about to give me a damn headache at this rate.

“Oh, yes,” she replies brazenly. “This girl right here has been bringing us home with first place titles since she started here. She’s the real deal, Miller. I think she might even take you all the way to nationals. Keep her on her toes.” She claps him on the back firmly, and a slow smile expands across his plush mouth, framing his dark mustache. His brown eyes flick over my body slowly like he’s assessing every single inch of me to make sure it’s true, and he parts his mouth like he wants to say something.

Letting my hazel eyes fall to the ground, I adjust my position and keep my arms locked tight around my chest. Maybe I can hide from the red blush that’s building in my cheeks because now all the girls are staring at me with envy, and I despise being the center of attention.

When the sting of embarrassment starts to fade away, I hear him clear his throat. “Impressive. Guess we’ll jus’ have to see ‘bout nationals then. See jus’ what you bring to the floor, Shining Star,” he murmurs with a light voice that spouts off that deep, gravelly tone that makes my insides clench.

Shining Star. The nickname makes the little light blonde hairs on my neck stand straight up and has my crimson cheeks flushed. He needs to stop.

I slowly lift my chin, and then my eyes meet his straight on. Butterflies flit through the pit of my stomach for just a second when his amber colored irises stay locked on mine. He gives me a once over, one eyebrow lifted as if I’ve piqued his interest, and that’s the last thing I want to be right now because these girls will give me hell about it.

Averting my eyes back to the floor to escape that growing tension in the air, I listen to Coach Carr go on about how she’s letting Joel take the reins. I can still feel his dark eyes honing in on me, and the room suddenly feels like the Texas summer heat, stifling and insufferable. I don��t care what it takes, but I will not think of Coach Miller as anything other than my coach. He may be handsome as hell, but there’s no way I’m going to simp like a lovesick puppy over him like every other girl in this gym.

Katelyn’s piercing blue eyes find mine in an instant when I finally find the strength to look up. Her painted red lips are pursed, and her high cheekbones look like they could cut straight through glass with the way she’s glaring. Her too-tight, sparkly white leotard shows off her curvy figure, and I know she’s already jealous of the attention I’m getting.

Great. Just great. That’s the last thing I wanted to happen. She already hates my guts; why did Coach Carr have to make it worse?

I concentrate back on the fabric of the ocean blue floor and pray it’ll swallow me whole. Cassie places a comforting palm on my shoulder and nudges me to see if I’m alright. I give her a tight-lipped smile and again pretend. So much for not feeling overwhelmed and anxious today.

Joel’s voice booms through the room, and my hesitant eyes slowly shift back up to him as he paces the floor and looks out to the sea of eager gymnasts. “Alright, ladies. Coach Carr here has given me a rundown of some of your routines, but I’d like to jus’ walk around the room today and get a feel for them and how your practices usually go. She was kind enough to let me scope the team out a few weeks ago. And I will say, I was very impressed. Some more than others.” His eyes shift to find mine, and I suddenly feel like a deer in the headlights. Blindsighted and paralyzed. He’ll surely collide right into me at the worst possible time when I don’t even see him coming.

He’s been at practice before? He’s watched me specifically? Oh, shit.

Some of the other girls giggle, but I stand frozen like a mouse caught in a trap. How can Coach Carr leave me alone with him? He’ll have me losing my balance over a simple split jump on the balance beam. But I won’t let that happen. Not a chance because I’m going to ice him out, just like I planned to do before I even knew he’d be the new coach.

“Okay, girls. I do have to get going, I'm afraid, but please be respectful to Coach Miller. He is a very good coach, and I expect you all to be on your best behaviors.” She gives all the girls a knowing look that says don’t test her, and then she makes her way over to me as some of the girls disperse around the gym.

“Ahh, my favorite athlete,” she smiles as she pulls me in for a tight squeeze. I breathe in her lemon perfume and memorize what it feels like to be embraced by her because I won’t have any more warm hugs after this. I’ll only have rough hands that maybe high five me for landing a double tuck on the mat, if that.

I squeeze her right back and hold on for dear life. “Please, don’t go. I need you,” I whine, afraid tears might run down my cheeks when I watch her walk out that door one last time.

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I hate leaving you, but you know I’ll be there for Regionals.” She gathers my hands in hers and squeezes gently. I feel the sting of fresh tears in the back of my eyes, and they start to gloss over.

“Hey, now,” she reassures me. “You’re going to be just fine without me. You have a great coach to take over my spot now.” She smiles warmly, but it doesn’t quite meet her bright blue eyes.

“But it’s not you. You promised to take me all the way to Nationals,” I pout, letting my bottom lip jut out as a cold tear slips free.

“Hey, no tears now. Everything will be okay. And I know I promised, but marriage and Eric’s new job just got in the way. I can’t tell you how sorry I truly am, but I still believe in you. You’ve got this, and Joel will take you to Nationals. I know he will.”

My eyes flick to him subtly, and I huff out a long sigh as my eyes start to narrow into thin slits. Joel wouldn’t take me to nationals. It was never his job to, and I sure as hell don’t want to put my faith in a new coach I know almost nothing about. I don’t care how good looking he is; he’s not my coach.

Coach Carr quickly picks up on my building anger and irritation to the whole situation, so she steers me back to look her dead in the eyes. “Hey, be nice. I don’t want you giving him trouble just because you’re upset,” she warns with a stern look written over her serious face.

“Who said I was going to give him trouble?” I scoff, kicking my heel into the blue padding of the floor like that will do me any good.

“Madison Summers!” She says my full name sharply like a mother would when their child is getting scolded, and her grip tightens on my hands. “Now, I know you very well. And I know when you’re upset. You can be upset with me, but please don’t take it out on him. He’s only here to help you reach your dreams, and I have no doubt that he’ll do just that. So give him a chance, for my sake. I wouldn’t leave you to someone I didn’t trust.”

I bite my lower lip and nod, turning my gaze back to Joel as he focuses on Giselle’s uneven bar routine, watching the way her sparkly red leotard shimmers in the glistening sunlight that melts through the glass windows. Sighing heavily, I agree to obey her wishes, “Okay, I guess I can try to play nice.”

She gives me a quick hug and squeezes tightly. “That’s my girl.” I let the warm comfort envelop me fully, remembering the scent of spearmint gum and lemon perfume. A smell I’ll soon only remember in my fading memory.

With one more hug, she sends her best wishes to me and says goodbye to the other girls, and then she’s just gone. A vacant ghost that’s disappeared into her new life.

A life that I won’t be in.

I watch the glass window like she’ll come back, like she was just kidding about leaving the entire time, but every second the clock ticks tells me she’s gone. And now I have to suffer without her. First it was my dad, now my favorite coach…

Dragging my feet on the thick carpet, I hold my head high and decide to focus on my balance beam routine today. I’ve been struggling with sticking my landings lately, and I need to focus.

Blocking out all the blaring music in the gym, I pull my head together and spend the next couple of hours perfecting my routine. Firm arms, chin up, jump high, dazzle the crowd, smile. But it’s hard faking a smile when my favorite coach just left me in the dust to deal with him. Coach Miller, the bane of my existence.

Pushing him clear out of my mind, I find my center and complete a back handspring, back tuck combination, throwing all my rolling emotions into quick motions. I think I have it but when I land, I find that I nearly get knocked off my center and almost go crashing down to the blue mat that sits beneath me.

Shit. Almost had it.

“Tuck your knees and point your toes harder.” The deep voice nearly takes me over the edge of the chalky beam.

“What?” I whisper out, looking up under my thick lashes, right at Joel fucking Miller.

“Tuck your knees more next time. It’ll speed up your rotation, and you’ll land solid. Pointin’ your toes harder will give you quicker and sharper movements. And remember, presentation is everything.” He leans against the white wall steadily, right next to one of the chalk stands and carelessly taps his index finger against his tanned forearm.

“My rotation was just fine,” I sneer.

“Could be quicker,” he defaults back quickly.

“I was quick enough,” I snap.

“Is that why you almost fell after your back tuck?” He tilts his head and gives me a contemplative look that dares me to challenge him. I bite my tongue in response and stare right into his big brown eyes, not saying a word.

God. Those fucking eyes.

“Jus’ try again,” he presses, his eyes fixed on me. I purse my lips and dig my hands into my hips, standing my ground as the balance beam becomes my rock. I don’t want to try again. At least not when he’s looking and has his eyes glued on every single move I make. I could’ve figured it out on my own how to perfect my landing.I don’t need him.

“I don’t got all day. The clock’s tickin’.” He points to the black military style watch on his left wrist and keeps his large arms glued across his chest, his thick eyebrows threading together like he expects me to fire off another sharp response.

I huff and get back into position, my toes pointed and resting right on the edge. I take one quick glance his way and then jolt my body backwards. With my toes pointed hard, almost sharp as a pencil, I flip into a back handspring, my fingers meeting the beam for just a second, and then I jump hard and high. Making sure to tuck my knees deeper into my chest, I flip into a back tuck easily. Every rotation seems sharper and faster, much better than the sluggish one I just did before. And before I know it, I’m landing perfectly on the balance beam, not even a single wobble flows through my body as I stick the landing.

Joel’s eyebrows raise, and the hint of a proud smirk shadows his mouth. I want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face because I know just what he’s thinking. He was right all along. “What’d I tell ya? Perfect landin’. Maybe you should listen to me after all, huh? Think I might know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms firmly over my chest, standing with full attention on the balance beam. “I could’ve figured it out on my own.”

“You’re a stubborn thing, ain’t ya?” he chuckles, shaking his head as silver threads and sandy brown curls tousle with every movement he makes. His eyes are basically milk chocolate, the way they glitter in the sunlight when he’s laughing. And I fucking hate it.

“Apparently,” I shrug, giving him a stern look while I lick my tongue against my bottom teeth aggressively.

“We’ll jus’ have to work on that then, won’t we?” He tips his head my way and pushes off the wall, flexing his rock hard biceps as he waltzes away with a stupid grin spread across his mouth.

I clench my fists at my sides and dig my heels into the firm balance beam, trying my best to keep my wits about me. Stupid Coach Miller and his sly remarks.

Stubborn thing, ain’t ya. I scoff at the statement. Of course I’m stubborn. If he thinks he’ll get on my good side and tear down my walls then he’s sadly mistaken. I won’t budge. No. I’ll just have to show him how much more stubborn I can be.

This isn’t his gym. This is mine. And I plan to make that very clear.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #Joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #joel miller fan fiction #coach! Joel #gymnastics au #no outbreak au #pre outbreak!joel

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moon1833 · 5 months

Text

Arrogance

Warning: smut, female reader, enemies to friends to lovers kinda, hate-fucking, semi-public sex, reader is wearing a skirt, Tsukishima is a bottom and I will die on this hill, female reader, College!Tsukishima

He was mean. Agonizingly rude and arrogant. And to you, you saw that as a competition. You wouldn't call yourself mean, but you defiantly didn't let any of his bullshit slide. You made that abundantly clear at your first meeting. You had know of the blonde boy in your class since you started Karasuno College, but luckily avoided him up until the end of your first year.

"Watch where you're going, shorty. Some of the grownups need to get through." He smirked, barely looking at you as he knocked into you.

He half expected to hear a remark from your pretty mouth, or maybe you'd just roll your eyes and walk away. What he didn't expect, was for you to grab his bicep and shove him into the wall with most of your strength. You weren't trying to hurt him, but you knew it would take a lot to move the third year middle blocker. You were in a bitter mood.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you." You watch him stumble back slightly, eyes wide with shock. His lips part to speak, but you don't wait for him to respond, turning towards your next class.

Tsukishima had never been spoken to like that by a complete stranger. He supposed it was warranted, he wasn't oblivious to how rude he was to others. He just didn't think he'd be able to invoke that reaction from you of all people.

From then on, he made sure to glare at you whenever he got the chance, which happened to be often since you were now in the same class. Tsukishima made it his mission to pester you, and every single time, you put him in his place.

It started an odd relationship between the two of you. Neither of you would call each other friends, but you'd both be lying if you said you didn't seek out the other one, even if it was just to argue.

You sat in class one morning, the seat of the desk uncomfortable as you watched the teacher hand out the graded exams from last week. You didn't need to turn your head to see Tsukishima's eyes narrowed onto you, bouncing his leg with anticipation.

Your teacher places the exam face down on your desk, and you flip it over swiftly, trying not to look too eager. You smirk as your eyes trail to the boy in the row next to you, turning the paper to him so he could read the 100 marked proudly in the right corner of the paper.

You watch his gaze darken, scowling as he turns away from you. You fake coo at his actions, watching his left hand grip the desk until his knuckles turned white.

The teacher handed back Tsukishima's exam last, and you tried to peer at his score to no avail. The teacher dismissed the class soon after, and you found yourself chasing after the blonde, curious to see just how many points you beat him by.

"Don't get shy on me now." You say cockily, standing next to his desk and peering down on him.

He glares back up at you, a tinge of embarrassment obvious due to his reddening ears. Even if this was the only expression you ever saw him give you, it satisfied a part of you.

Neither of you notice the rest of the class leave, as well as the teacher.

"How'd you manage cheat this time?" Tsukishima asks, but even he knows it's a weak cover-up.

"Aw, that was almost a retort." You smile.

"Being around idiots lowers my brain cells." He rolls his eyes, trying to slide his exam into his backpack without you seeing the score.

Quickly, you snatch the paper from him, turning around so he can't grab it. Tsukishima lunges, reaching around you, caging you with his arms and pressing your hips against the side of the desk.

You try to relish in the fact that he got a 96, but you can't when he's pressed against you so closely you can feel his breath on your neck.

Caught by surprise, a small sound escapes from your lips, suddenly very loud in the empty room.

Tsukishima stops, unsure if he really just heard the small moan you made or if he was starting to confuse his daydreams with real life. But, one of his hands holding yours behind your back as the other grasped the paper on the desk in front of you was very, very real.

"Oh?" Tsukishima questions, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly.

When you don't make any efforts to move away, Tsukishima peers his head down by your ear, his lips grazing your skin as he whispers.

"Don't tell me you like this, y/n."

You snap back, pushing him off of you and turning around. You put your hands on his chest, shoving him back while keeping your fists tight around the material of his shirt.

His glasses are crooked slightly, and he stares at you with a hunger in his eyes. And then it hits you.

"Don't tell me you like it when I put you in your place, Tsukishima." Your hands reach higher, now gripping his collar.

You watch the blush creep up Tsukishima's neck, grinning. You're barely inches away, and he takes a step back in an attempt to catch his breath. His legs hit the front of a chair and you're climbing onto his lap before he's even fully sat down.

His hands fly to your waist instantly, steadying you on his thighs. You take his glasses off before trailing your fingers over the curve of his lips, leaning in slowly.

Your lips just graze his, but Tsukishima grasps the back of your head, greedily kissing you. You respond by kissing him back harder, parting your lips and pressing your body even further into him.

You don't miss how he lets out the smallest of whimpers at you grounding your hips against him, feeling him under you. You grin, grinding back and forth to pull more noises from him.

"I'm going to lose control if you keep doing that." Tsukishima admits, sounding short of breath.

"You haven't had an ounce of control since you walked into this classroom." You sneer, kissing down his jaw roughly. "You can stop pretending to fight me."

Tsukishima tilts his head back, hitting the wall softly as he started breathing deeply, feeling as though he could cum from your words alone. It was embarrassing the effect you had on him.

You reach a certain spot on his neck, causing Tsukishima to jerk his. hips up slightly as he sighs.

You wanted to toy with him for as long as you could, but you knew you had limited time. Hurriedly, you tugged at his belt, palming at his dick through his pants.

Tsukishima adjusted himself, unzipping his pants and trailing a hand up your thigh. You lifted your hips up, giving him room as you continued to leave hickies down his collar bone.

His hand was now under your skirt, delicately gripping your waist. The other was rubbing his tip, watching you eye his cock. Wordlessly, you pulled your panties to the side, sinking down on him.

You knew it was going to hurt with no prep and his size, but you didn't want to give him that satisfaction. You eased down on him, bitting your lip as you bottomed out. Tsukishima buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a moan.

You wrapped your fingers around his hair, tugging him back and forcing him to look at you. Your hand trailed to his throat, tightening slightly but not choking him.

"Be quiet." You whisper, looking at him sharply. Tsukishima's looking up at you with half lidded eyes, his mouth parted. He's on the verge of bliss and he's not hiding it anymore.

After sinking down fully, you crossed your arms, shifting your hips to get used to the feeling. He bucks his hips up, desperate for more.

"Pathetic." You say, moving your hips up and down slowly. His long fingers are digging into your hips, and his eyes are pleading with you.

"If you want something you're going to need to ask for it." You tease.

"Please," Tsukishima has lost all dignity, feeling so pussydrunk he thinks he'd kill to be inside you for a minute more. "need you to use me."

You grab his jaw, peppering kisses on his cheek as you speed your hips up, whispering encouragement in his ear.

Tsukishima let all control slip away from him as his orgasm built, holding you closer by the small of your back. His big hands wrapped around your waist and you let him attempt to muffle his sounds in the crook of your neck.

He was trying his best to hold off his orgasm, but between your tits nearly bouncing out of your shirt and the degrading words slipping from your kiss-bitten mouth, he didn't last very long.

A few minutes later you were viciously riding out his orgasm, but pink in the face and suddenly hit with the realization of what you just did.

Panic hit you momentarily, until Tsukishima kissed the top of your head, mumbling a “I’m never going to win an argument against you ever again.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You say. “Unless you want to end up like this again.”

“I wasn’t going to stop either way, but I appreciate the encouragement.”

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #smut #jjk smut #tsukishima fluff

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petit-etoile · 1 year

Note

Enemies to Lovers scenario with Astarion; The two are close enough to be friends, Tav accidentally calls him starlight, you decide how Astarion reacts to their little slip up.

ours are untidy souls

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 1,126 content warnings: no fighting but the aftermath, minor mentions of injuries but no-indepth descriptions other tags:canon compliant, canon-typical violence, introspection, character study, hurt/comfort, whump, pre-relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, be added to the taglist here

summary:

‘It is bitter,’ he says. ‘It will heal,’ you tell him. ‘It might hold a grudge,’ he says. ‘It will survive,’ you insist.

The Grymforge Guardian falls with little regard to its creator. Steam billows from the cool metal, and the Forge has broken pieces off of it that may never be repaired. You sag against the lever for but a moment to catch your breath. You wait for the ground to cool and the red-hot metal to return to a more natural color before tentatively touching your the toe of your boot to it. You decide it's cooled enough.

You race over to the second lever. Shadowheart is quick to make it to the center to check on Karlach who is lying next to the Guardian in a bundled heap, but you race to Astarion’s side and kneel next to him on the smoking platform. He’s resting against the other lever, head forward, and everywhere you touch is bruised and sweaty. You push his curls back from his forehead and cup his jaw so that he’s forced to look at you, and although the flickering of his eyelashes makes your stomach ache, he’s breathing and that’s good enough for you for now.

You push your hand against his shoulder and feel the heat leave his body to meld into yours. Astarion’s lungs fill with air in relief, and when he opens his eyes, he meets your gaze unevenly.

‘Don’t rush, starlight,’ you say cautiously. ‘Take it easy until Shadowheart can come to you.’

Astarion’s eyes soften and he closes them quickly to hide the betrayal. All around him lay the bodies of the imps he fought. Honestly, the team you put together handled it pretty well with little to no practice, navigating as one despite the strange levers and a gargantuan thing swinging at them. You thank the gods for giving you Karlach, because the thought of you potentially having to go head to head with the Guardian by yourself almost makes you wish the worm would finish eating your memories.

You take in all of Astarion’s wounds. Little bites and nail scratches, a bruise on his cheekbone, but mostly, the heat has made him malleable and exhausted in your hands. You take it upon yourself to heal some of the more minor injuries he has. He doesn’t seem to breathe as you pour a drop of your potion into a bite on his shoulder or a nasty burn on his thigh, but he does stop you before you can take a better look at his cheek.

‘I’m fine,’ he says shortly.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to tend to this?’ you ask.

You do touch his bruise then, and Astarion hisses at you like a wild beast. Before, you might have flinched away from his scary display but after these last few weeks, you know better. He’s scared of your kindness. He doesn’t know what to expect even though your hand is delicate. You press your thumb against a tender purple knot, and you can tell that it takes all of Astarion’s willpower to not snap at you.

‘Maybe I will let Shadowheart take care of this one,’ you say nervously. ‘It seems tender.’

Astarion’s jaw clenches. He thinks.

‘No,’ he says with finality. ‘I think — I think I would prefer it if you did it.’

You watch the pretty curve of his neck bobble when he swallows. He turns his chin towards you and refuses to look at you. He’s being brave. He’s being willing. Slowly, you touch the bruise again with shaking fingers.

In a move that reminds you all too much of Scratch and the Owlbear, Astarion leans his head into your touch. You’re captivated by the tremble in his eyelashes, the slope of his eyebrows as he fights a scowl, and the sad way he frowns. You feel his cheek for any sign of the unordinary, but there’s nothing but a bruise.

‘I don’t think a potion will help with this one, unfortunately,’ you whisper. ‘There’s nothing — There’s nothing wrong with it.’

‘It is bitter,’ he says.

‘It will heal,’ you tell him.

‘It might hold a grudge,’ he says.

‘It will survive,’ you insist.

Astarion says nothing. If the bruise is hurting him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. All he does is rest in your hands as if lifting his head on his own is too much effort. You allow him this touch. It’s the first time he’s allowed you to initiate anything even remotely affectionate. It makes your eyes water a little to think about it. You decide to say nothing lest it embarrasses him. You cherish this moment and slowly, you ease him into your arms more so that he’s leaning against your upper body, his ear at your heart.

Quietly, Astarion says, ‘Say it again.’

At first, you aren’t sure what it is that he wants. You want to tell him that he will heal, that he will survive, that he may not forgive or forget, but that he will overcome. Instead, you pet his hair as carefully as you can to avoid jostling him and press a tentative kiss to the top of his head. He burrows deeper into your arms and sighs like a weight has been lifted off his chest. In some ways, you think it has. You hold him as gently as you can.

‘You’re going to be fine, starlight,’ you say — and you’re partially shocked at how easily it rolls off the tip of your tongue. You’re almost certain that Astarion huffs at it, but he isn’t upset. No, it’s something entirely else.

You’re holding something delicate in your hands. Astarion would not be like this with anyone else but you. He trusts you, and honestly, the thought terrifies you. It’s not that you have to be careful. It’s not that you have to be cognizant. It’s that there is something so genuine about the bond he is offering you on his own terms. He is choosing to be vulnerable with you. It makes your throat close up.

You would cry if you weren’t so worried about everyone. Astarion eventually pulls away from the safety of your arms and appraises you himself. He smudges smoky residue away from underneath one of your eyes and takes a look at a nasty cut you received to your scalp, but all it takes is a little drop of the potion shared between you to get it to where it doesn’t need stitches. You two sit facing one another, your hands meekly in your lap, Astarion sagging forward as though his only desire is to find a bed. Eventually, he looks up at you and with faint exhaustion clouding the openness of his features, and chews on his bottom lip.

‘You can say it again,’ he says.

You smile for the first time in hours. ‘Alright, starlight.’

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one #once again if you close both eyes this is the Prompt #i think i hit it pretty close but UHHH JUST IN CASE #I DID MY BEST

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you.

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret.

Steve didn’t like him.

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver.

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad.

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.”

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to.

Was this what being threatened felt like?

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince.

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun.

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes.

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again.

“She’s pretty, right?”

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right.

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve.

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important.

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready.

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop.

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone.

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver.

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood.

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care.

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms.

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him.

Not that you cared.

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones.

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet.

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—”

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird.

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before.

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions.

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty.

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous.

Lover boy lover boy lover boy.

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb

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quacktities · 8 months

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I feel like the appeal of C! Quackbur (to me at least) is just how versatile it is as a ship and the range it has.

You want a subtle rivals to lovers, mutual pinning and longing but one of them is repressing his own feelings because he hates himself too much to let someone get attached to him ship dynamic with a political backdrop? You want longing gazes, knowing looks and the unspoken truth that, maybe, just maybe this relationship and understanding between them goes deeper than either of them let on or want to admit? BOOM. Lmanburg election arc Quackbur!

You want all of that but with more tension, high stakes, mental illness, a very "forbidden romance" vibe with an enemies that have been in love with eachother for a long time but can now finally be on the same side and possibly act on their feelings dynamic (but theyre doomed by the narrative so it was never going to work out. Or maybe it will, who knows. Maybe this time they find solace in eachother. Maybe this time Quackity stops him before its too late. Maybe this time it doesnt end in flames. Who knows. Its up to you really, if you keep telling the story over and over again, maybe this time they get their happy ending here and it doesnt have to be a tragedy. Your choice really). Pogtopia era C! Quackbur!

You want fucked up grief and angst and reminiscing on the past and being haunted by what could have been? You want seeing the spectre of your dead friend (if he was truly your old enemy, why does he feel like a past lover to you) and wondering if maybe he remembers everything you both went through the same way you do and if maybe his heart aches when he sees you the same way yours aches when you see him but you know he isn't the same and you'll never see the old verison of him ever again... but hes here... as a ghost.. and that has to be worth something right. (Is it a miracle you can still see him or are you forever being tormented by what you can never have?). BOOM, Butcher arc C! Quackity and Ghostbur (or Aftermath C! Quackbur as I call them)

You want all of that, but hey. What if we brought back the guy. What if it didn't have to end in death? What if they could reunite and speak again after everything? Would they even get along? You want the culmination of years of pinning, grief, hurt, and mutual obsession? Do they truly love each other, or have they fallen in love with the idealised verisons of each other they have in their own heads? Maybe this time, they'll actually get their shit together and talk. There really isn't anything stopping them now, other than themselves and each other. Maybe C! Quackity finally finds someone who respects him, is dedicated to him, and can engage with him on the same intellectual level in C! Wilbur. Maybe C! Wilbur finally finds someone who makes him feel human and can challenge him and his more self-destructive behaviours while still loving him in C! Quackity. Maybe this time, they get to understand each other, and they get to heal. Maybe this time, it's not too late, and sure, they dont have the healthiest relationship, but they're working on it, and they're okay for once. Just this once. Maybe. Or maybe you don't want that. Maybe it is too late for them. Maybe they'll never have what they once had, and they're both left with bitter hatred and longing for the past that grows weaker by the day as the rose tinted filter starts to fade. Maybe they make each other worse. Maybe the closest they ever get to being close to each other is by hurting each other. Maybe the only times they hold hands are when they're catching each other's bloody fists. Maybe they're both too far gone now. Maybe they've hurt each other too much to ever be vulnerable with each other. Maybe it's just too late for them. Maybe it was never meant to be. You want a joker card ship dynamic that can either end in healing and a happy ending or in an even more fucked up tragedy? Or both! Why not. BOOM. Post revival C! Quackbur

#i love them both and their unique history so much. i wish more people talked about the 'aftermath“ era and the lmanburg era #c! quackbur #c! Wilbur soot #c! Quackity #tnt duo #tntduo #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #dsmp meta #??? maybe??#analysis (???) kinda??#i say a thing #can you tell im not normal #this ship genuinely changed my life

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theaquamarinearchives · 5 months

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[ mess it up ― diluc ] "how could I think that all that i gave you was enough? 'cause every time i get too close, i just go mess it up." cw. gn!reader, angst, ex-lovers, mentions a minorly unhealthy relationship, diluc with trauma (canon event, i didn't do it to him), mentions of alcohol and drinking, light swearing, a lot of adelinde content! thinking over the breakup and having regrets

aquamarine's findings. repost from my old blog, this was sorta revenge for him being c6 but i love my husband i swear // mess it up, gracie abrams.

DILUC was a stubborn man with a tough shell, one that appeared to never be faltering no matter how many people tried. adelinde had spent countless evenings standing at the door to master diluc's office, a glass of grape juice in her tired hands as she tried so stubbornly to win the young master's heart back over; maybe he wasn't going to be this cold and sheltered for the entirety of his life, if only she tried a little bit harder.

the very cavalry captain of the knights of favonius - his own brother - had even tried endlessly, purposefully causing mischief around the dawn winery in an attempt to drag out that mischievous redhead child that diluc was storing away in the dark of his heart. despite kaeya's attempts, it was all futile and he'd be merely scolded by his brother.

sometimes even jean attempted to grasp the reins of an old friend, regardless of the turmoil left between the wine industry tycoon and the knights of favonius. he was once honoured among the knights, feared by their enemies and their youngest captain; what had happened so achingly? now all she can do is grimace at her own fruitless attempts at small talk in the streets of mondstadt, on days where the clouds blanket the sun. it's dull, dreary and the tired look in diluc's eyes couldn't have matched the weather anymore than they did.

in the stupidity of your own decisions, something you tried to excuse as mere young love, you too had make your move to try fix something that perhaps should stay broken. yet it worked, perhaps momentarily. he cracked, faint smiles etched onto his face whenever he'd see you. his calloused hands would stop wiping tankards with a damp cloth just to press a soft kiss to your head when you visited him at work, his focus no longer on the tavern or work for a few seconds.

on days where the sun hugged mondstadt, basking it in golden light that brought smiles out on every face in the city, you'd find diluc among the grapevines, his sleeves folded up to his elbows as he partakes in some hard labour around the winery; after all, he still cared enough to give his workers a day's rest to enjoy the sunshine. you'd join him, happily harvesting grapes in delicate grasps of your hand however diluc wouldn't fail to miss you popping the occasional one into your mouth with a cheeky grin.

regardless of the lingering touches and gentle, featherlight kisses, nothing could truly fix him, could it? for all you know, your attempts had been nothing more than another day, another week, another month for the redhead. the same redhead that you'd dedicated hours to - that you'd dedicated your heart to. what a fool, placing something so delicate into the hands of someone who didn't know how to take care of it.

diluc wishes he'd told you that sooner. he wishes the warnings had slipped from his chapped lips into the night air on the evening you'd confessed your feelings, that he didn't give an ounce of care for love. he was going to focus on the winery, the business - his father's legacy. perhaps it was the only thing he had left to grasp of him now that he'd settled in the post-mourning phase of his young adult life but that twinkle in your eyes, how could he say no?

grumbling to himself, he sips at the bitter liquid in his glass before slamming it down moments later. it's supposed to taste sweet, at least that's what kaeya insinuates every time he steals a bottle from the cellar. diluc never cared, he never drank. he couldn't stand wine yet he kept producing it like it was his lifeblood but here he was, ruby eyes boring into the dark red liquid that fills the winery's infamous glasses his mother had collected when he was still too young to remember.

adelinde lurks in the shadows, a frown adorning that pretty face all the other maids gushed over; she didn't look a day over her age, still as youthful as ever as if she hadn't watched the young masters grow up into grown men with differing personalities nonetheless. a soft sigh escapes her lips, her hands clasped in front of her neatly pressed apron as she makes her presence known.

"i thought i'd never see you drink wine." she comments, her eyes drinking in the way diluc's body tenses in the orange glow of the candle on his desk. his gaze lifts to her, softening ever so slightly when he sees the maid. he feels vulnerable - no, he is vulnerable. nothing will bring back the relationship he'd thrown out so effortlessly like paper in the breeze and that bites at him, tears at his flesh while he's still conscious. the thought makes his body ache more.

"first time for everything," his voice is hoarse as he replies, gruff as he leans back into the plush velvet of his desk chair. that familiar black coat with the fur trim hangs over the back of it and adelinde sighs again, "it's late, why haven't you retired for the night?"

he's sober, adelinde notes as she steps further into his office, her lithe hands lifting the bottle of wine he'd been drinking from to admire the label she'd seen no ends of times throughout her life. diluc watches without another word. he realises how absurd it must seem for him to be drinking the wine, so out of character it would probably turn his father in his grave but it drowned out the pain or at least, it dulled it for a while.

"you know i've never retired while you're still awake," adelinde retorts as she places the wine bottle back down on his desk. the thud draws diluc to his senses and he clears his throat, pulling his large hand away from the glass as he seats himself upright, "you're still thinking about them?"

"do you think... they'd let me back in, adelinde?" he asks in his moment of vulnerability, his rough fingertips tracing over the rings that decorate his fingers. adelinde's lips pull into a tight line, "if i pulled myself together and let them see it happen... do you think they'd let it happen?"

adelinde knows the answer is no, she'd caught wind weeks ago that you'd moved on from the situation and was fixing your wounds in the aftermath of what had happened. she'd uttered it to diluc before but it appears he'd either had one glass too many or he'd chose to ignore it in a delusional hope to fix himself again.

"master diluc, you know-" she cuts herself off, her eyes sorrowful as she drinks in the way his lower lip trembles. his breath is shaking, vulnerable and she's reminded of the young boy who'd come running to her whenever master crepus scolded him for his mischievous antics.

"i fucked up, i know," he groans, a slight crack in his voice as his hands bunch into fists on the arms of his chair. adelinde makes a soft noise in response, "and now i just have to sit here, kicking myself with my gut in a knot while they're happier."

there's a silence that fills the office. wind creaks in the attic, adelinde realises she'll have to chase up the maintenance workers on fixing all the gaps and there's a subtle crackle of the flame burning on diluc's desk. she takes note of the dark circles under the young man's eyes, hollowing his pale face from the lack of sleep he'd been receiving since he cut things off with you.

at least, that's the story he told her - that he was the one to cut the ties holding the pair of you together. it wasn't the truth and diluc thinks he'll never utter the truth to anyone, a possibility as to why he'd stopped drinking wine the moment adelinde made herself known. he's a lightweight and he's self aware, the last thing he wants is to spill out the truth like a sobbing mess, tears staining his cheeks while his breath reeks of alcohol.

the truth was you'd been the one to finish things to protect yourself. your hands clasped around your breaking heart, trembling and shaking in a last ditch effort to stop things from collapsing completely. diluc couldn't love, not in your eyes. you'd tried so hard but you knew behind the acts of affection, he wasn't there. it was as if you was kissing a ghost, someone who lacked the will to be in that situation.

in the long term, it made you feel unloved. that's when you began to recognise that you was holding pieces of your shattering heart and desperately trying to piece it back together again, fumbling endlessly with your own heart all while you tried to force feed love into the winery owner - the one who undoubtedly was up until that point, your lover.

diluc doesn't blame you for your decision but he regrets it, every ounce of it. he considers that the whole relationship could have been avoided but at the same time, by the time you'd ended things, he'd began to crave your touch, your love, your kisses. he'd hear your voice when you wasn't even present. it happened too late however and now he pays the price, the heartbreak of his own regrets for not trying harder.

this truth he'd keep locked in his shallow heart, his lips pursed into a tight line as his eyes drag over the quill on his desk - yet again, another thing he doesn't dare bring into this conversation with the maid. he'd wrote you numerous letters, just begging to hear from you so that mayhaps his heart could rest a little.

he would tear every one of them up and only one of them was ever sent.

"diluc!" your voice chirps in his memory, your cotton shawl drifting in the infamous breeze of mondstadt as you stand upon the grass hill, clouds decorating the blue sky above your head. a smile graces your face, that specific one that he adored despite never mentioning it to you - a mistake on his behalf. your eyes crease with your smile, a gentle laugh reverberating from you, "hurry up!"

diluc finds himself trudging up the grassy slope to join you, his fateful beloved. his shoes find dips to keep his footing in the steepest parts, a calloused hand occasionally pressing to the sharp grass blades to stop him slipping. eventually, he joins you. he stands at your side, drinking in your face in sheer admiration before it dawns on him that this isn't his reality, not anymore.

the bedsheets are damp when he wakes, moonlight still filtering through the large ornate glass windows of his chambers. an exasperated breath escapes his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them as his head falls back onto the feather filled pillows. fiery red hair sprawls out beneath him, no longer tied up as tears sting at his eyes, threatening to spill in the vulnerable silence left in his wake.

every time he gets too close, mere inches from a promised happiness within his grasp, he just goes and messes it up, like always.

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @soleillunne

@zamorazz, @zworllyx

#: recorded in the archives #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin #diluc angst #genshin x reader

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builtbykittie · 1 year

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Gratitude

D.R.W x f!reader

Summary: while at a bar, two questionable men approach you and won't leave you alone, that is until someone saves you

Warnings: 18+ minors cover your eyes, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, harassment(?), SMUT, oral (m & f), thigh riding, unprotected sex, anything else I forgot

Words: roughly 4.4k

A/N: This is something that's been sitting in my drafts since April but I do have some fics I'm really excited about! (& yes I changed one word in my name but I'm still the same person I swear)

You stare at the curly-haired man, your eyes sharp like daggers and your hot gaze burning on his shoulders. "I don't see why you can't just sit down with him, try to talk it out," Sam takes a swig off the bottle of beer in his hand and rolls his eyes.

"That is the dumbest thing I think I have ever heard you say. Do you seriously think I haven't tried, Sam?" You slam your glass down on the bar harder than intended "It just won't work out. It always ends in another argument."

Danny's kindness seemed to piss you off, of course being nice was a good thing, but that's not how he truly is. He carries himself to be sweet but in reality, he's nothing but a cocky asshole. That's not the only reason you don't like him though, the two of you were best friends for years until an argument that was never quite settled.

It was a stupid thing to end such a close-knit friendship over an argument, but you're stubborn and could never seem to get past it. People always tend to see Danny as a cutie but they don't know him in the same way you do, and that's about the only thing that pissed you off more than the man himself.

When Daniel's upset, he's bitter. However, Danny didn't tend to hold grudges, you being an exception, of course. What exactly started the argument is still a mystery, it was a mixture of everything piled up after a long day and added stress of their show going wrong.

You plant your face in your hand with a sigh, averting your gaze from Daniel talking with an unknown woman to your drink. "Y/N... You can't seriously hate him," Jake taps your knee, and your cheeks start to burn up.

As much as you'd like to say you felt nothing other than mere hatred and disdain for Danny, it would never be true. You could not help the despair you felt for the man who was once your best friend "You can't tell me what my feelings are, Jake."

"Oh come on, loosen up would ya?" Josh barges into the conversation, trying to lighten up the mood however he can. "Josh it's getting late," Jake adds, gesturing toward the door of the bar, surprisingly. He's 'mysterious' and without a doubt the shyest, but never the type to leave the bar because of time.

The brothers exchange looks and whispers before throwing back their drinks and standing up. "Hey, where are you going?" You sit up, looking around and locking eyes with Danny before whipping your head back around to the boys. "We're gonna go to my place," Josh wraps his arm around Jake "You're welcome to come if you'd like."

"Maybe I'll stop by later," you sigh, giving them just what they wanted. "Suit yourself, mama. See you later," Josh pats your head with a smile before beginning to walk through the building to the exit. By the time you realized they'd 'forgotten' Danny, it was too late, the door behind them shuts and they show no sign of remorse.

"Shit," you curse under your breath as you realize you knocked over your drink watching the boys leave, snatching napkins out of the holder that was conveniently placed right next to you. The alcoholic drink trickles down the bar and onto your silk blouse and skirt, ultimately ruining them.

Just to make matters worse, two men that you wouldn't particularly call charming approach you. "You okay?" one of the men speaks. You could usually tell someone's intention by looking at them, and this guy was clearly faking concern to get in your pants... or skirt.

"I'm fine," you mumble, not paying any care to them in hopes they will lose interest and walk away, but they don't. "Here, let me help you," the other guy leans forward, pulling on your shirt.

You start to panic, you've never been good with people, let alone drunk ones. "No really, it's okay," your voice grows shaky as you try to swat away his hands while also maintaining your clothes.

"Hey, baby, we're just trying to take care of ya," the one on your right leans closer to you "Why are you here alone, anyways?"

"My friends just left," you stutter, turning your head to look at Danny who is still having a conversation with the unknown woman. You start to hesitate, unsure if you should say what you're thinking "And I have another friend in here." You gesture to Danny with the smallest wave of your arm to make sure they're the only ones that saw.

Maybe if they think you know people here, they'll leave you alone. "Then how come he's not with you babe?" One of them speaks to you, his gross, warm breath hitting your hands.

"Don't call me that," you wouldn't dare to look up at the men, hands trembling as you continue trying to dry off your clothes.

You flinch back a few inches, tears forming in your eyes as one of them claps his hands together just centimeters away from your face. "Don't be a bitch," the man says just below a shout, his eyes yellow and narrow.

Just as the man goes to open his mouth once more, you feel another presence approach. Soon enough, the men are being viciously pulled by their shoulders and away from you one by one. "Leave her the fuck alone, will you?" It's Daniel.

You cowardly turn your head, watching as he pushes them away while they both shout curses at him. Danny makes sure they get as far away as possible before he can turn back to you.

You finally let the tears that have been puddling at your waterline fall, rolling down your bright red cheeks. "Hey, are you okay?" Danny's tone is drastically different from the last time you talked to him, possibly months ago.

"I'm okay," you stutter "They just- they came up to me and kept trying to talk to me and help me and-"

"Hey hey hey," you're cut off by the voice of your 'enemy' that comforts you much more than you'd like to admit. "I can drive you home if you'd like," Danny brings his hand up and rubs your arm, calming you down and helping you stand up.

You're being held by the man you swore hated your guts just 10 minutes ago, the same man who you couldn't talk to without getting angry and storming out of the room.

"Give me your keys," he puts his arm around you, holding his other hand out in front of you. "Daniel, for fucks sake, I can drive," you avoid eye contact with him as best as you can, stumbling with every other step.

"I know," he brings his index finger to your chin, lifting your face to look at him "Just let me do this for you." All you can do is roll your eyes and gently nod, digging through your bag and fishing out your keys.

You're lucky you parked close, it started raining not long ago and the temperature had plunged, not to mention the alcohol soaking into your clothes. You hear the door unlock and you slowly climb in the passenger side, impatient to get out of the rain covering your bare legs

The drive is quiet, your leg bouncing uncontrollably as you sit uncomfortably in wet clothing. "What made that guy do that?" Danny glances at you for a fleeting moment before looking back to the road.

"They kept trying to call me 'baby' so I just told him to stop and then he just-" You cut yourself off as you realize Danny had pulled into the parking lot "He clapped at me and told me not to be a bitch."

"What a prick," he murmurs, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. "How're you gonna get home?" you unbuckle as he opens your door, concerned at how well you are getting along with him. "I'll call an Uber," he responds flatly, returning to his typical behavior.

You sigh at the thought of having to be alone in your apartment with the man you've 'hated' for almost three years, but can't stand leaving him in the rain after he'd saved you and even driven you home. You cross your arms, taking your keys from his hand and rolling your eyes "Come inside, please." Danny nods, following you up the steps and into the building.

"Do you want something to drink?" You offer, not looking back at him as you unlock your door. "I'm okay," he responds, looking around your dimly lit apartment as you kick off your heels.

You hadn't changed it around much after your falling out with Danny, and he certainly noticed that.

"Why did you do that?" You cower, your head hung low as you pick at the skin around your nail. "Why did you help me?"

"Well, I wasn't gonna sit around and let those guys harass you like that," he leans against the counter.

"Thank you," you avoid his face, turning around and grabbing a glass from the cabinet before filling it with water. "But I mean I am a total bitch to you," you finally get enough courage to look at his face "I didn't deserve that."

"Those guys were assholes, who knows what they would've done if I didn't step in," he inches closer to you, your entire body becoming flushed once again.

There was no denying you had a little crush on him, even before the fight, but you'd always just pushed your feelings aside.

"I'm gonna change," you say, nearly as a whisper "If you leave I swear to god."

After closing the door, you slide off your stained blouse and wet skirt, letting them fall to the ground. You open your dresser and pull out the first bottoms and a shirt you see, not realizing how skimpy they are until you slide them onto your body. Your ass nearly poked out of the shorts and your boobs filled out the tank top to the point your nipples would've been clearly seen if you hadn't kept your bra on.

"I'm sorry," you walk out of your room, brushing your fingers through your hair. "I'm just such an ass to you all the time and you still did this for me," you watch as Danny's eyes light up and wander down your body then back up to your face.

"I haven't been the best either," he flashes you his crooked smile, god that smile. "Maybe we could make it up to each other sometime," he takes a languid step toward you, pulling his hands from his pockets.

"Daniel," you drop your head to look at your feet, searching every corner of your mind to find the words that would describe your feelings. "I could make it up to you now."

Despite your voice being so quiet you wonder if you even said it aloud, Danny heard you loud and clear. "Yeah?" His voice is flirtatious and soft as he gets closer, just inches away from you. "How're you gonna do that?"

You look dead into his eyes, growing impatient "I think you know what I mean." You feel your body become hot and your breath shaky as the room goes silent. The thick and quiet atmosphere is interrupted by his footsteps, his hands grasp your waist and your arms wrap around his body, making sure he's not going anywhere.

You don't wait for him to do anything, instantly lifting yourself slightly by your toes and smashing your lips against his. You could get used to the way his lips mold so beautifully with yours.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to become intense and hasty. You pull him as close to you as possible, your breasts pressed so hard against his chest that it starts to hurt.

Danny pushes you back until you're pressed against the counter with force. His hands are as if they have a mind of their own, wandering all over your body that he's touched before, but never in this context.

"Fuck," you whisper into his mouth as you grind against his leg for any friction, impatiently pushing him back to unbutton his shirt. "How long have you waited to do this, baby?" His thumb sneaks up the hem of your shorts.

"You don't even know," you speak through heavy breaths, quickly shedding the shirt off his shoulders and continuing your attack on his lips. You feel a smile pull at his lips as he begins to lift the hem of your top, tapping your elbow for you to raise your arms.

You silently thank yourself for not caring to put on a new pair of panties, nothing to stop him after he's taken off your shorts. He tugs the fabric off your body and unclasps your bra so effortlessly, letting the clothes fall to the ground and be forgotten until later.

"Y'know, I've always hated it when you went around flaunting these tits," Danny whispers, one of his hands pressing your hips against his bulge as he involuntarily bucks into you, the other grasping onto your breast for dear life.

"Yeah? Why is that Daniel?" you reach down, frantically searching for the button of his pants. When you finally find what you're looking for, you fumble it a few times, causing a giggle to escape his lips. Another smile grows on his lips, and he juts his hips forward "I hate that you're showing off what's supposed to be mine."

You squeeze your thighs together in reaction to his sentence, desperately trying to stop the wetness threatening to seep into your shorts. His pants drop to reveal a very obvious tent in his boxers that makes your mouth water. He's big, you could tell just by the way he's straining against his underwear.

"May I?" You smirk, cupping his bulge and slowly sinking to your knees. He nods with that hypnotizing smile and pets your hair, you waste no time pulling down his boxers and watching as his cock is set free.

You swallow thickly, your eyes opening wide as you stare at him in awe. After enough time goes by and you hear a tiny giggle from Danny's mouth, you snap back into reality and wrap your hand around him. "Fuck you're gorgeous, y'know that?" He bucks into your hand as you spit on his length, swirling and moving your arm faster.

"I am?" You almost moan before kitten licking the tip of his cock which is just enough to elicit soft rumbling groans from within his chest. "Shit," he breathes, his hand flying to the back of your head "You gonna open up for me, princess?"

"Mm, maybe," you smile, significantly speeding up your pace. Danny impatiently grabs your jaw, tugging on your bottom lip with his thumb but before he can say a word you're taking him fully in your mouth.

A loud curse falls from Danny's lips, tangling his fingers through the tresses of your hair. You begin to bob your head relatively quickly, contrasting with the slow pace you've started with your hand. The throb you felt in your core was almost unbearable, and you knew you couldn't continue this for much longer. But you'd feel bad if you left him unfinished, especially since you were supposed to be 'making it up to him'.

When you detach your lips from his length and slow your movements to a stop, he bunches your hair in his hand and pulls so that you're looking up at him. You go to open your mouth but the smile playing on his lips tells you that he already knows. "Daniel, I can-" you try to explain, but you're silenced before you can finish your sentence.

"It's okay," he pets your hair "Go ahead and touch yourself for me." You look up at him through your lashes and nod "Thank you." You begin to impatiently slide your shorts off your body, shifting your weight to your knees, you bring a hand down and drag your fingers through your unbelievably wet folds. "Shit," Danny groans as you begin to slowly pump up and down his length with the other hand, brushing your thumb along his slit with every stroke.

At the same time, you draw tight circles over your clit. "Come on baby, let me feel that pretty mouth," he grabs your hair once again and pushes your face into his throbbing erection. "Yes, sir," you moan, slipping two fingers inside your entrance and attaching your mouth back onto his cock.

You start to grind against the heel of your hand, the sight of you fucking your fingers mixed with your choice of words drives Danny mad. You moan around him as he fucks into your mouth, thrusts becoming rougher and rougher with every one of your noises. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Danny lets out a visceral groan "fuck baby you're doing so good."

Tears form in your eyes as you gag on him, your fingers significantly picking up pace. "You're so filthy," Daniel growls, his breath hitching in his throat as you let out a long, drawled-out moan against his cock. All of the muscles in your stomach tighten as you feel your orgasm approach, and your legs begin to involuntarily shake.

Deep groans tumble from Danny's chest and his thrusts falter, he's right there with you. You clamp your eyes shut, letting hot tears drip down your face as he continues to fuck your mouth, and moaning against him as you relentlessly curl your fingers up into yourself. "Fuck, oh god, keep making those noises," Danny moans, his jaw slack and his head thrown back.

One more thrust and one more curl of your fingers are all it took for the both of you to come undone. You fall back on your heels as hot pleasure takes over, and you feel warm strings of cum shoot into the back of your throat. You pull away from Danny, drawing in deep breaths as soon as you get the chance.

After you've fully rode out your orgasm, you pull your fingers from yourself and grasp onto Daniel's hot body to stand. Once you're up, Danny grasps your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth to taste you. The throb already returns as he hums in approval around your fingers, you need him badly.

"Fuck me," you breathe, looking dead into his eyes "I need to feel you, Danny. Fuck me." A sick laugh falls from Daniel's red lips and all of a sudden you're being thrown over his shoulder and moved into the living room. He throws you down on your couch, your back hitting the arm of it and your legs sprawling out.

His eyes darken at the sight, staring intently at your heat glistening in your arousal and you catch his cock bob up & down out of the corner of your eye. He steps forward and crawls in front of you on your couch, and you find yourself holding your breath as his face gets closer to your core.

You don't know why, but you're fully expecting him to get to the point. You're hoping for him to give you what you so desperately need, but he doesn't. Instead, he hovers over you, drawing a line of kisses between your breasts down to your navel, then up to your jawline. "Daniel," what you tried to make sound as stern as possible ends up sounding like a pathetic whimper as the ache in you're core grows.

"What is it baby," he smiles against your skin as he peppers kisses to your lower belly and slides his hands up and down your thighs. You hate when you have to beg, but you seriously consider it as you don't know how much longer you can go without his touch.

"Danny, please," you moan out, bucking your hips up when his fingers ghost over your heat. You hear a faint snicker, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine "Please what? Use your words pretty."

You let out a huff and roll your eyes "Daniel I'm not going to beg fo." You gasp and cut yourself off as he attaches his lips to your clit without warning, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. "Oh my god," you stutter, your hands flying to tangle themselves in his hair.

Danny slips a finger inside you, but it's just enough to make you squirm. "Is this what you wanted? Y'know, you shouldn't mouth off," he rasps just before continuing his attack on your clit, slipping in another finger and viciously curling them inside you. "Yeah, but it- fuck. It got me somewhere d- didn't it?"

It doesn't take long until you're sent hurdling over the edge. Strings of obscenities leave your mouth as you grind against Danny's face, a wave of electricity shooting through your entire body. Before you can even fully come down from your second orgasm, Danny grabs you by the waist, throwing you into his lap and sitting up so that you're left straddling him.

Once you're able to fully see again, you throw yourself forward and shower his neck in kisses. Danny lays a slap against your ass, eliciting a yelp from your mouth "mm, you wanna be a good girl and ride me?"

You simply just hum against his neck, sucking a dark red mark behind his ear. Now you have the reigns, and you might as well have fun with it.

You move so that you're straddling just one thigh, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck as you begin to grind against his thigh. "What the fuck," Danny mumbles, a bead of arousal dripping out the tip of his angry cock as he feels your folds drag across his thigh.

Rolling your hips, you collapse into Daniel's chest, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The hand not wrapped around his broad shoulders flying to his cock. He gets over his confusion fast, instantly grasping your hips and guiding you along his thigh while you stroke him.

You can't help but laugh, your chest bouncing as your face is tucked away in Danny's hair. "Y/N?" He loosens his grip on your hips, but they continue to roll against him. The noise that escapes from your mouth makes it apparent that you're not crying, but doing the opposite.

"What's so funny? Look at me," Danny commands, grabbing your face so that your lips pucker when you look at him. "Nothing," you giggle, but it quickly turns into loud moans as the friction gets to be all too much for you.

To your surprise, Daniel wraps both arms around your body, forcing you to stop your movements. "What the hell?" You cry, mourning the orgasm that just got ripped out of your grasp. He violently pulls you into him, your forehead hitting the top of your couch and his nose brushing against the shell of your ear "Don't think you can act like a brat and then get what you want."

"I'm sorry," you whine, positioning yourself to be straddling him once again, looking at him through your lashes and acting as innocent as possible. You take his cock in your hand, which is unbelievably hard and dripping with precum.

"Let me show you how good I can be," you sit up, dragging his tip through your unbelievably wet pussy. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you line him up with your entrance, sinking in just the tip.

Your eyes instinctively fall shut, unholy noises tumbling from both of your mouths as you take him all the way in, slowly stretching out around him. You sit there for a moment, basking in the feeling of him filling you completely up.

After a few seconds pass, you lift your hips and drop them back down, feeling every inch of him. Your jaw falls open as your hips begin to move on their own, hands wandering over every inch of each other's bodies. "Oh fuck," you suck in a breath, rolling your hips and clenching around him.

"Oh don't do that," Danny growls, hands flying to your hips. Just as you go to bring your hips back down, he thrusts up into you. "Oh my god!" You wail, skin clashing together so rough you're sure you'll wake up with large bruises in the morning.

Your walls clench down even harder around him, if that was even possible. Animalistic groans bubble up from Danny's chest, his thrusts getting rougher by the second. "Fuck! Holy shit, Danny!" hot tears swell up at your waterline, the stinging of your skin crashing into each other's mixed with the feeling of his cock hitting all your sweet spots overwhelms you in the best way possible.

"I'm so," you're cut off by a moan ripping through your chest, your hips rolling on their own accord and tears falling down your cheeks. "I know baby, I know," Danny whimpers, delivering a sharp thrust into you that sends a jolt of electricity throughout your entire body.

Strings of curses and moans flow out of your mouth as fiery white pleasure takes over every one of your senses, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. "I just fuck, need you to go a little longer," Danny's hips falter as he fails to send another thrust. Despite the consequences of your orgasm still in full effect, your mind is set on making Danny cum.

Your jaw clenches and your face contorts as you squeeze around his cock. "That's it, baby, fuck me," he grabs your hips, pulling you against himself right before you feel his warm release spurt inside you.

Trying to ignore the involuntary shaking of your legs and the intense feeling of overstimulation, you continue to slowly fuck him until he comes down from his orgasm.

You slow your movements to a stop and collapse onto his chest, silently sobbing into the crook of his neck. "You okay?" He rubs your back, peppering kisses to your shoulder. "Yeah," you breathe, sitting up and wiping away tears, a smile tugging on your lips as you lean in to kiss him.

Sucking in a hiss, you slowly rise from his lap. "What happened to the girl that hates my guts?" Danny snickers, brushing hair away from your eyes. "She's probably still here somewhere," you smirk, cuddling next to him.

"Then we might just have to keep fucking until she's gone."

"Is that a challenge, Daniel?"

"Maybe."

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gilverrwrites · 7 months

Note

belphegor possesses jacks body, reader who is grieving jacks death finds comfort in belphegor? maybe a bit of a crush..

Close As Strangers

Belphegor/GN!Reader

Author note: I tried to keep the exact nature of Jack/Readers relationship ambiguous, so you can fill in the blank as you please. Similar with Bel/Reader, but it has very much enemies to friends/lovers vibes.

Rating: Teen +

Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst

Words: 1624

TW: Grief, arguing, manipulation, crying, very minor mentions of gore, mentions of death, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Please remember: You are allowed to make a big deal out of things that are really big to you.

“See something you like?” Your heart feels hollow as you watch him wiggle his Jack's brows at you. Blackened, bloody skin peeks out from the top of his sunglasses. His words, his movements, the whole thing made you feel sick.

“No.” You respond curtly, intending to stop there. You can’t help the bitter word vomit that continues. “Just you, defiling the body of someone I love.”

Belphegor inhales through his teeth in mock pain. Not a hint of sympathy or remorse. When he alters his stride to walk closer to you and drapes an arm over your shoulders, you’re too shocked by his audacity to pull away.

“You know, babe, I think I know a way to help you feel better about all this.” He says, offering you a smile that is too sharp, too smug for Jack's face.

“What?” You ask, your eyes darting back and forth between his face and his unwelcome arm.

With a gesture to his Jack's body, he answers, “You could love me.”

You scoff, ready to respond with something harsh and mean, but when you look at his face again, his expression has changed. His head tilted back, chin pointed out, mouth closed and stretched into a familiar smile. There’s that empty feeling again. You know that’s not Jack, but that’s his face, his smile, and at that moment, you couldn’t snap at him like that.

Before you can think of a response, you’re both distracted by the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Dean, who had been walking a few paces behind, presses the barrel of his gun between Belphegor’s shoulder blades.

“Get your arm off them and keep walking.” It’s an empty threat, and all three of you know it.

Dean wouldn’t shoot Jacks's body any more than you could insult it. Even if he did, it wouldn’t do anything.

Regardless, Belphegor, with a smirk, releases you and picks up his pace, but not without raising those scorched brows at you one last time. “I like it when he’s bossy.”

“If we’re all gonna work together, you’ve got to shut up.” You call after him, slowing your footsteps until you fall in line with Dean.

“Awwwh, I’m starting to have an effect on you.” He calls back, refusing to give you the last word, and you concede, crossing your arms over your chest and walking in silence.

"Are you thinking about me?” The sound of Belphegor’s Jack's voice so close to your ear, the feel of his unnatural breath against your skin makes you almost jump out of your skin, makes your body tingle in a way it definitely shouldn’t have. “Is that why you're so unfocused?"

"You wish.” You retort, snapping your head to face him. Admittedly, you had been slacking off, unable to keep your mind off the chaos that had been the last few days. Particularly Jack.

Belphegor doesn’t appear offended by your response. Hands in pockets he offers you a casual shrug before stepping back and leaning against the nearest wall. The two of you were alone, guarding the back entrance of the High School. There had been a lot of debate about who would be ‘left with’ who and for what purposes. It seemed nobody wanted to leave you alone with Belphegor, but nobody else wanted to be stuck with him either.

“What were you thinking about then?” He asks.

Without processing, without thinking clearly, you reply. “You. No, I mean Jack. I was thinking about Jack.”

“Am I sensing a little Freudian slip?” That smile is back, the one that’s too much for Jack. But for a moment, you think to yourself that it actually looks attractive in a roguish sort of way.

Feeling flushed and guilty at your laps of judgement you look away. Hiding your expression. “No. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“It’s just hard to differentiate us sometimes?” He offers, in a tone much softer than you’d come to expect. You know he has self-awareness, but you’re surprised he’s showing it. When you nod your confirmation, he continues; “It must be hard. I mean, I’ve seen loads of people die, probably millions, killed most of ‘em. But no one that I ever cared about. At least, not for a loooooooong time. I don’t really remember it.”

When you hear his feet against the concrete you watch him from the corner of your eye. It only takes a few steps before he’s in your personal space again, but he’s slow and calm. His face is solemn as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. You think he’s trying to comfort you, maybe? But it all feels wrong.

“I’m just saying, I can tell the two of you had some kind of connection. If you want to talk about it, I-”

“Stop.” You shrug his hand off and turn your back to him completely.

“Stop what?” You don’t know if he’s faking it to play with you or not, but the confusion and the hint of worry in his voice, Jack's voice stings.

“Stop being nice to me.”

“Fine, maybe you didn’t care about him all that much.” The softness and uncertainty is gone in an instant, replaced with pure venom.

You’re grateful your back is to him. It takes everything in you not to spin around and go off on him. A part of you knows you’d likely lose your resolve the moment you look at him anyway; you’re inches away from the brink of tears already.

“Oh, blow me!” Is all you can muster.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Malice, all malice. It sounds so wrong.

“I’m gonna sweep the building.” This is too much, and you can’t cope. You need to clear your head. “Don’t follow me. In fact, just don’t move.”

You don’t turn to look at him as you leave, if he says anything, you don’t listen.

You hadn’t told the Winchesters or Castiel about your spat the night before. So here you were, patrolling quarantine with Belphegor. Alone. Again. You’re certain any one of them would swap with you if you asked, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were hurting too. Besides, you figured after last night that Belphegor and you needed some kind of conflict resolution; you were just surprised when he broached it first.

“You haven’t insulted me all morning.” Belphegor nudges your shoulder with his own, and you can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes you. “What’s up?”

“No… Yeah.” You’re not really sure what to say, so you offer him the only thing you know for sure. “My head is a mess right now.”

“I know.” He gives you that relaxed shrug you’ve begun to associate with him. There’s no way of knowing how earnest he’s being, but he seems surprisingly understanding, for a demon at least. “This whole situation is a mess, and you’re grieving. Can’t blame you.”

“Thanks. And thank you for helping us.” You smile at him, it’s a weak smile, but he smiles back and that tingle from last night returns. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“I know one way you can make it up to me.” You hold your breath in apprehension. Certain he was about to spoil the moment. “You can talk to me.”

Still tense from your moment of dread, you respond immediately and defensively, “We are talking.”

Clearly unbothered by your cautious reply, Belphegor goes on, “You can talk to me about Jack. It's not good to keep it all bottled up.”

You feel bad for assuming the worst. You’ve felt bad for a long time. How good would it feel to get some of that off your chest? How easy would it be to talk to Jack about it? Only, this isn’t Jack. This is Belphegor, who, for all his apparent kindness, is still a stranger. A dangerous stranger.

“I really don’t think I can do that.” The tingle on your skin is gone, replaced by the ever-lingering emptiness.

“Why?” The familiar venom creeps back into his tone.

“Because y-” As much as you want to tell him it’s because you can’t trust him, you don’t. You can't afford to lose his assistance right now. “Why do you want me to?”

“Oh what? Because I’m a demon I can’t care about you? Is that it? I find that offensive.” There’s a tinge of humour in his voice, but you’re still shocked by how accurately he hit the hammer on the nail. So shocked, in fact, that your only response is to stare at him slack-jawed. “You don’t have to be strong and good all the time, you know? Let me help you. I’m begging you to let me help you.”

He stops his strides, forcing you to halt with him and turns to look at you straight on, jaw clenched as he impatiently waits for you to say something. Anything.

In that moment, with explicit permission to be vulnerable, the tears you’d held back last night, the tears you’d been holding back for a long time, finally come out. It starts slow, a tear rolls down each cheek, and you sniff to try and hold them back. You press your jacket sleeve to your eyes, but for every tear you soak up, another falls, until you’re heart-pounding, blurry-eyed sobbing.

When you feel Belphegor’s cold hands on you, you don’t pull away. You let him come close, you let him cup your face and use his thumb to wipe your tears, you let him guide you until you're chest-to-chest, your face cradled in the crook of his neck, you let him caress your neck and rub your back. You let him Jack lean down to whisper in your ear. “It’s okay. I’m here, don’t worry.”

#belphegor x reader #spn belphegor #jack kline x reader #supernatural reader insert #gilverrwrites

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zeltqz · 1 year

Text

USED [1]

Ran Haitani seems to have some sort of fixation with you so suddenly, and though you despise him, you don't miss the way your strict father hates his guts, so you ultimately use him to get back at your father.

ran haitani x fem!reader

tags: (5.8k words) one-sided enemies to lovers, college student!reader, implied bet on reader, toxic relationship with reader's father, tenjiku ran haitani, i tried to make ran irritating as possible, but i love him too much, lolz, explicit sexual content: kissing, oral (f), implied blowjobs, fingering, exhibitionism; ran fucks you in a car park, alcohol usage, you work at a bar

author's note: this was based off a request from 🍉 anon (ps i love u so much. i had so much fun writing this). and as majority of my fics are, it's too long to fit into one part so i'm splitting it up....lmao

You know Haitani Ran from the way he walks into class late, unbothered, with a prep in his step, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets, taking his sweet time to walk all the way up the lecture stairs to his seat at the back right of the top row. The entire class sits still, women admiring him with flushed faces, whispering to their friends next to them about him, the boys spiteful, bitter at the reactions of the girls to his mere presence. Ran’s infamous, “Sorry, sorry for being late,” line is one the lecturer is prepared to hear every Wednesday. He slots himself down in his spot, which happens to be next to you.

As someone who takes their education very seriously; it’s unfortunate to be stuck with such an idiot as a seatmate, always looking over at your paper to copy your answers, and if he’s not copying, he’s on his phone, playing an obnoxious game that’s quiet enough for everybody else not to hear, except you since you’re seated so close.

“Did everybody submit the assignments?” The lecturer asks, disappointed in the way half the class sweat in panic, the other half nodding, a monotone yes , sir filling the air.

Being part of half of the class that bothered to do the work, you don’t panic, rather feel confident in your abilities, leaning back in your chair as you can spend the next few weeks relaxing for the final exams.

It’s amusing seeing Ran’s eyes go wide, from the corner of your eye, at the mention of an assignment, his delusions so high that he’s reaching inside his bag for work he didn’t even know existed.

You can’t help but scoff.

That catches his attention, and you stiffen up when you feel him look at you.

“Somethin’ funny?”

“Yeah,” you challenge, turning to face him, meeting him eye to eye. “You.”

He does an excellent job at hiding his surprise, but you’re good at reading people, picking up on the way his head jerks back a little at your response. He chuckles, short and sweet, resting an elbow on the table, leaning his face on his palm and stares down at you.

“Yeah? What about me?”

It’s probably the first conversation you’ve had with him since you started studying here. He’s popular, not just in school, but outside. Infamous for…loads of things. Just know he’s not a good person, the police know that, the civilians know that, the school knows that; yet they turn a blind eye to his antics. Is it his charisma? Does he pay them off? You feel like you’re the only one with common sense in the entire city, because you have a valid reason to hate a delinquent like him.

You don’t bother to dignify him with a response, rolling your eyes and turning back to your laptop.

Ran won’t lie; he’s a little stunned at your behaviour towards him. So used to girls practically falling at his feet, kissing his shoes, fainting at his presence. That last one was pretty exaggerated, yes—but it happened once at a club. Maybe it was influenced by alcohol, or drugs…but it happened. For once in his life, he’s stumped, sneaking glances at you every now and then.

You’re typing away at your laptop, getting started on the next assignment. Your education is something you take a lot of pride in, not only for your future self, but for your father. Overall, he doesn’t really care about you, not as much as your brother. The favourtism is obvious even though he insists he doesn’t exist and you’re just being dramatic .

If you were to ask yourself why you’re spending so much studying just to impress him, why you’re craving fatherly love from someone who can’t give it to you. It’s been your only motivation to study, the thought of your father being proud of your accomplishments.

Ran’s stare is…distracting, to say the least. Whether you think he’s staring hard deliberately, or staring obliviously, it doesn’t matter because it’s still fucking annoying.

With a hefty sigh, you stop typing, turning to face him. “Do you mind?”

There’s a sweet saccharine smile on his face as he leans on his elbow, looking down at you like you’re the best thing in the world. You shift in your seat, not liking how your body reacts to that stare, but keep your face stoic.

“Mind what?”

His smile only grows when you roll your eyes, shifting your chair away from him to focus better. Briefly, you look around the lecture hall for empty seats. There’s no way in hell this guy will follow you if you do choose to sit somewhere else. Not only would that be irritating as fuck because he’s probably found a new target to leech onto, but you’d automatically turn into Public Enemy No.1 if you were now labelled as Ran’s plaything . Eesh, even the thought of being that makes you shudder with disgust.

Your lack of sexual nature is one thing you take pride in. Most people your age couldn’t go more than two weeks without sex. It’s not that hard , you think, but then again, when you have attractive idiotic men running around with their dicks out like the dude next to you, it is pretty hard for some girls to resist.

Deep down, you know if you were more like them, you wouldn’t be able to resist him either. He smells good, always . A smoky signature scent that if someone else tried to replicate, it would be obvious who they were inspired by. It’s so strong that the scent stays lingering in the area even when he’s not around. A constant reminder marking his presence.

For someone that hates him so much, there’s a part of you hoping he comes in everyday, just to smell him. As creepy as that sounds, you don’t go and sniff him like some dog with no home training, just a small sniff whenever the scent wafts in your direction.

It’s not your fault, nor your nose's fault that he uses such a nice smelling cologne.

Either way, it doesn’t matter; because the lecture is ending earlier than usual; the professor had to go to a meeting so class dismissed.

As you pack your bags, you’re vaguely aware of him staring at you again. It’s hard to ignore, but you refuse to let him know that he has an effect on you. His gaze follows you down the steps until you exit.

The following evening, you’re working your night shift at the campus bar, wiping down freshly washed glasses with a cloth when you hear his obnoxious voice behind you, laughing loudly at something his friends are saying. Your heart drops down to the floor when you realise he’s seated in your section, meaning whether you like it or not you will have to serve him sooner or later. With a sigh, you grab at your notepad and pen far too aggressively for someone that should be obeying the bar's policies, ‘always serve the customers with a smile !’ or the one your manager had reminded you far too many times because of your resting bitch face, ‘always look approachable .”

Yeah. Whatever .

It’s obvious you’re stalling with the way you’re dodging Ran’s table, taking everyone’s orders, smiling that perfectly trained smile you forced yourself to plaster on your face from the hours of 1700 to 2300 every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Before you get to dodge his table once more, there’s a tug at the hem of your uniform, skirt flowing from the force of it. It’s strong enough to stop you in your tracks, but not enough to force you to fall over or something.

Turning to face the man himself, your smile instantly drops, back into your unamused expression. It seems that no matter how hard you trained your facial muscles, you couldn’t force that smile for someone that doesn’t deserve it.

“Have you been avoiding me?” He speaks questioningly, and you curse the fact that his brother has stopped talking, now directing his attention over at you. His stare is just as, if not, more intimidating than his brothers, and you feel a shiver run across your body.

“No. I just didn’t see you,” you huff in annoyance; an obvious lie that has his perfectly shaped brows wrinkling.

He’s probably trying to figure out how someone just happened to not see him. It’s not out of cockiness, or arrogance—which seems to make up most of his being—but as stated before, being infamous for doing all sorts of things makes him pretty popular in this city, whether he intended that or not. So it’s only natural for someone to notice his presence.

“Yeah, okay ,” he’s scoffing like he doesn’t believe you. To be frank, if you were him you wouldn’t believe yourself either.

“Who is she?” His brother asks, taking a sip of the water he’s been forced to drink because a certain someone wouldn’t take their order.

“If I play my cards right, my future girlfriend.” Ran also takes a sip of the water, smacking his lips, when he practically hears you squawk out in shock.

“As if ,” you bite out, clutching your notepad closer to yourself, deciding if getting sent home early for refusing to take someone's order and losing out on money is worth being here with him for one more second. “Now tell me what the fuck you want to drink and stop wasting my time.”

“Fiesty one, huh?” His brother looks over at Ran who nods his head in appreciation.

“Yeah. Ain’t she cute?” The fact he’s talking about you like you aren’t even there, or aware is aggravating.

Looking down at the imaginary watch on your wrist, you click your tongue, sighing exasperatedly. “You have three more seconds to cough up your order before I abandon you.”

Ran doesn’t catch your bluff. “Guess I’ll be having a wonderful discussion with your manager then, aye?”

Yup, that does it. You poke your tongue at your cheek, closing your eyes and counting to three in your mind, facial muscles twitching in pain as you force the smile back onto your face. “Hi. What would you like today?”

Ran leans his elbow in on the table, smiling up at you contentedly. “Your name and number, please.”

It takes everything in your power to not drop the smile, but it already took the majority of your energy to put on, so you’re not about to ruin the facade even more.

“I’m afraid that isn’t on the menu ,” you say that part a bit more aggressively, mildly gesturing to the closed menu pamphlet on the wooden table that he didn’t even bother to open. “Maybe if you look at it , you’ll see what we serve.”

He looks down at the menu, and his brother chews at the whites of his nails, watching the scene with a slight interest.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend for me, and your name and number.”

“Would you just —” you shut up before you could get violent, closing your breath and inhaling deeply to steady yourself. Since your eyes are plastered shut, you vaguely miss the look Ran sends his brother, and how it sends him off into a laughing frenzy. “Look. At. The. Menu.”

He makes a show of looking at the menu for a new record of around .34 seconds, somehow already coming up with a drink of choice. “How about a cocktail that’s as sweet as you, hm?”

You know what. That’s good enough. Probably the closest answer you’ll get to the real thing. “Sure, whatever.”

You approach your co-worker behind the bar, tell her the drink is for Haitani Ran and watch as her eyes practically morph into hearts, doing your best to ignore her asking if she makes the drink well enough, will he fall in love?

“Do me a favour and pour vinegar in his drink.” You take a shot from the clean glass she just washed, uncaring of the way she frowns.

“No! Why would I do that?” Ai seems genuinely horrified at the idea, wondering if you know who he is and why you would want to prank someone like him.

“‘Cause he deserves it?”

Ai shakes her head, mixing the drink as well as she can, pouring all her love into it before sliding it onto a tray, handing it to you. “Voila! If he likes it, tell him to gimme his number, yeah?”

“Cool, whatever.” You walk off before she could say anything further.

If this was a plate of food, or a bottle of water on the tray, you would’ve slammed it onto the table, uncaring of the mess it makes after. But since it’s a very delicate , fragile cocktail glass, you fight back on that urge.

“Enjoy it,” you say with the most monotone voice, stalking away before he could find something else to say.

The rest of the night goes by quickly, and peacefully, and it wasn’t until you were closing up for the night, you felt those same pair of lingering eyes on you as you mopped under the tables.

“How the fuck are you still here?” You ask, going borderline insane, looking over at the same table the two brothers have been occupying for the rest of the night.

Rindou has his chair tilting back on its heels as he leans back, feet on the table, and your face scrunches up when you realise you have to do extra cleaning tonight. Ran stands from his chair, hovering over you, enjoying the way you don’t even bristle, or look away like most girls would.

“Wasn’t leavin’ without your number.”

“Then I hope you brought a sleeping bag.”

You try to move to clean the rest of the floor but of course , he stops you, extending his arm out to curl around your side, pulling you back to him.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening to me right now,” you mutter more to yourself than to him, the thought of Ran Haitani now leeching onto you as his latest target was annoying in itself.

He holds his hand out, not saying another word, presumably waiting for you to hand your phone. You reach down to smack his hand away, but his reflexes get the better of you, gripping onto your hand tight in a way you struggled to escape out of.

“I’m not playing these games with you, Haitani.”

“Neither am I.” With an irritating amount of nonchalance, he extends his spare hand (acting like he isn’t currently squeezing the life out of your own hand), and gestures over to your phone, prominent in the pocket of your uniform. “Number please . See? I’m even being polite.”

“How generous.” The sarcasm drips from your voice blatantly, but he either is too idiotic to pick up on it, or just ignores it completely because he’s so persistent on getting your number. “Fine,” you kiss your teeth, giving in, thinking if you ghost him it might be enough to decimate his ego to the point of no return.

“Yay ♡ ” He sounds as giddy as he looks and as annoyed as you should be, you find it kind of cute that he’s this excited to contact you.

“Take it.” You hand him the piece of paper you wrote your number on, pulling it away before he could grab at it. “But if you spam me, I’m blocking you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Obviously you don’t plan on doing anything with him, just ignoring all his messages till he gives up and finds a new girl to leech onto. There’s plenty of pussy in this campus for him anyway, yours just happens to not be easily accessible. It’s not like he would have trouble finding a new target. Hell, you can already name fifteen girls in your Monday 10AM lecture alone that would drop everything to lay in bed with that man.

By the time you get home, he’s already sending you a text that you ignore in favour of taking a shower. Your father looks like he’s in a bad mood, so the last thing you want to do is talk to him and provoke him further with your presence alone. But it seems when he’s angry enough, he’ll look for anything to argue with you about.

After eating dinner, you were perched up on the living room couch, enjoying yourself some pity ramen as you watch Love Island USA, engaging in on the drama before your father storms in; clearly irritated as he hears the stupid voices on the TV.

“Can you turn that crap off ? My news programme starts soon.”

You barely bother to look at him, focusing back on the TV, more specifically, the shot of Tommy, 27, as the camera pans downwards towards his abs. It’s a bit annoying he had to walk in now , but you don’t care. You’re ‘grown’ according to his words whenever you ask him to help you out with something. You’re a grown woman now, what do you need my help for? Act like an adult.

And acting you will .

He seems offended that you don’t respond, instead drool over some dude on the TV. “When are you going to start acting your—”

“My what ? My age? I’m nineteen, not 34 with three kids. You should be lucky that I’m not out there, doing drugs, sleeping around, getting arrested like most people my age are! Because if you want that, just tell me. I’ll do it.”

“They’re being irresponsible in their own way. What about you? When was the last time you even showed me your grades?”

“Because the last time I recall, you told me I’m a grown woman, so why should a grown woman show her father her grades, like I’m a fucking child?”

“Do not swear in my house.”

You take a moment to chew your food before cussing up a storm, spewing out every swear word you can think of. The argument escalates with both of you yelling at each other, expressing your differing opinions and frustrations. The tension in the room was palpable, and the exchange of your words became equally hurtful.

“You never listen to me, Dad! You’re so focused on yourself and your failing business that you can’t see that I’m not you and I won’t sacrifice my happiness just to please you.”

“This is not about me ! What don’t you get?! This is about you being responsible and making something of yourself. Right now? All I see is a pathetic girl, crushing over men that are twice her age on the TV. You’re just being stubborn and selfish.”

“Oh, so you want me to go after real men then? That what you want? You want me to find some toxic asshole that would ruin me so I can come back home to you so you’d have some sick pleasure of saying I told you so ?” At this point, you feel emotionally drained, too tired to keep arguing like this.

Your day was going well-ish , minus the pest called Ran Haitani, but removing him from the equation made your day overall a 9. Knowing your father, he would only continue escalating the issue at hand because he can, so you hand him the remote. “ There . Change the damn channels and enjoy your news programme.”

He seems awfully proud of himself, like he didn’t just verbally abuse his child all for some goddamn news programme. You can’t find it in yourself to walk out of the living anyway, so you both sit there in silence. The only sounds are the remote buttons clicking as he types in the channel.

As the news unfolded, the anchor mentioned the infamous delinquent gang known as Tenjiku, followed by the name you were all too familiar with: Ran Haitani, and a few other random guys he’s criminally acquainted with. Your father’s face tightens and he looks over at you.

“Those boys are you age, right?”

You fight the urge to say, yeah, want me to join them? , choosing to be the bigger person and nod your head in silence.

“This is what I hate about your generation—”

And here he goes again. You tune him out now, instead focusing on the news reporter discussing how gang violence has been increasing rapidly over the course of the last few weeks as many young influenced middle school boys are now joining more gangs. In the background, your dads rant comes to a stop.

“I’m glad you stay at home all day instead of being around bad news like them. I don’t want my child getting caught up in their mess.”

You sigh, not bothering to comment on how your dad is a fucking hypocrite, but realise that his concern stems from a desire to protect you. It’s a shame you didn’t care because you found your hands moving to your phone, sending a quick text out to Ran, asking him to hang out this weekend.

Is it wrong of you to be using him like this just to get your dad angry?

Yeah, probably. But Ran was most likely using you in the same way just to impress his friends, so in a sick sense, you were both even.

Days pass by after the living room encounter with your father, and you found yourself deep in thought. One evening, you decided to take matters into your own hands, determined to seize the opportunity, you snuck out of your room, venturing to Tenjiku’s hangout location; just an abandoned car park. Ran spots you looking around the place uncomfortably, so obviously out of place, and hops off the wall to head over to you. His expression shifts from surprise, to amused, chuckling as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well well well, look who’s finally caved.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you just spent the last fifteen minutes walking here, you would’ve abandoned the plan you made and gone home already. His cockiness was something you weren’t excited to entertain.

“Don’t get too excited before I change my mind,” you say firmly, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach when his eyes shamelessly wander down the length of your body.

“I like that attitude,” he admits with a smirk, tilting your chin up with his finger, making you meet his gaze.

Maybe it was out of pure shock, but you don’t remove his finger, just let him redirect your gaze to meet his eyes. You notice how nice his face is up close. Regularly, you can’t bear to stare at him for longer than five seconds at a time, but with his finger keeping your face upright, it allows you to notice his long lashes, how they’re curved upwards almost perfectly, the faint splatter of freckles dusted asymetically across his cheeks. His hair…you refuse to comment on it, lest you say something you’d regret. But that aside, he wasn’t bad , and you maybe…just a little— (a smidge or a pinch) see the hype around him. His voice wasn’t anything to play around with either, and you’d think if it didn’t belong to an ingrate like him, you could successfully admit without a shadow of a doubt that you liked it.

You seem to be oogling his face, sending him mixed signals because he’s leaning in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that instantaneously sends a rush of adrenaline through your body. You were too stunted to push him off, despising how you’re enjoying the feeling of his lips moving against your stiff ones. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it had been a while since you kissed someone, so you were a little off. It was like he could sense your hesitation, your awkwardness, because his hand cups the back of your head, gripping your hair as he moves your head in the way he wants you.

The fact you now know that Ran Haitani is a good kisser pisses you off because that was information you couldn’t care less about storing inside your brain. But what pisses you off more is the fact you still haven’t pulled away yet , and his friends are not even a couple metres away, smoking or whatever it is they do in their free time.

He bends down to pick you up from your thighs, relishing in the way you yelp from being lifted from the ground so suddenly, holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“Relax, would ya? I’m not gunna drop you.” He’s referring to the tight grip you have on his shoulders as he walks towards his car.

“You might as well. I need some sense knocked into me anyway.”

“That’s not the only thing I’ll—” He stops himself with a grin, refusing to finish those words and leaving you second guessing.

Obviously you’re not stupid , you have some vague idea of what dirty joke he’s implying. “You’re sick.”

“‘M aware of that.” He puts you on the hood of his car, laying you flat as he steps in between your open legs.

It seems he misunderstood what you came here for because you didn’t come here for this, yet you still can’t find it in yourself to push him away, moaning softly when his lips crash down to your neck, sucking away at your skin. Maybe tricking Ran into dating you would do no good, he’s not cut out for relationships anyway; your brain tries to persuade you that revenge on your father isn’t worth your dignity but with the way he’s kissing down your neck, so sensual, you can’t help but clasp your arms around his head, guiding him further down your body.

He goes further downwards and lifts your shirt up to reveal your stomach, kissing the soft skin there while simultaneously hooking his fingers between the layers of your shorts and panties, tugging them off your body, placing them next to you on the car.

Is it a little (just a little????) crazy that you’re about to get eaten out in public, on a hood of a car ? Yes, it is. But the rush of adrenaline hits you before you had the chance to fight it off. You’re aware you’re a bit of a hypocrite but looking down at him between your legs had shifted the narrative of your thoughts a little.

He kisses the flesh of your thighs, teasing you as he surges upwards to around your pussy, pressing a light kiss to your clit before moving back to your thighs.

Irrirated, and desperate, you call his name out as harsh as you can, only for it to come out as a breathless plea. “Stop messing around, Ran.”

You’re not ready for him to flick his eyes up at you, those damn hooded eyes staring at you with a longing hunger. “So you do want this?”

“I didn’t let you lay me on your fucking car for no reason, Ran.”

His fingers dig painfully into your thighs, reminding you he has the upper hand here. “I’d like some respect when you speak to me from now on.”

“Suck a dick.”

“You will later. For now though…” he trails off as he looks back down at the wetness that accumulated between your legs and leans down, sticking his tongue out to lick a stripe from base to tip, circling his tongue around your clit and repeating the shameless action.

You bite down on your lip, hard, in an attempt to silence yourself. The loud laughter coming a couple feet away reminds you that you’re not alone, and the last thing you’d want is for his friends to find you like this. Especially not his brother, oh no , he’s the last one you’d want to see right now. He’s the only one out of the group that witnessed your initial disdain for his brother, and you’d at least like to slither away from this night with a shred of dignity, knowing that to the rest of the general public that know you, you didn’t just fall to your knees for Ran Haitani.

Your moans shift in pitch when he begins working you open with his tongue, wrapping your legs around his head so his hands are free, he rubs his finger up and down your folds, enjoying the way you squirm from the sensation.

It’s hard to stay focused on him, his tongue, his finger that just slipped inside you. It’s even harder to stay focused on controlling your noises when he curls his finger just right . He pulls his finger out, spreading apart your folds with two fingers, and licks you up, flicking his tongue on your clit.

He really knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? Fuck, you’re frantically looking to the side, at the sound of his friends, stomach twisting in knots from the anticipation of being caught.

Knowing that your attention is elsewhere pisses him off, shoving two of his fingers back inside you without fanfare; you let out a loud moan, instantly covering your mouth and glare down at him, ready to hiss at him before he’s standing up, holding you by the throat to pull you forward into a sitting position. His fingers are still ravaging your insides as he looks at you, keeping you steady by the hand on your throat.

“Focus on me , not them.” He watches your eyes threaten to roll back when he twists his fingers perfectly, curling them against your g-spot.

“I—I ca—” He kisses you again, hot and heavy, not letting you explain yourself. Though you should smack him for choking you like that, you’re partly grateful because he’s doing a great job at silencing you, swallowing your moans down as his tongue slides against your own. You can taste yourself in the kiss, and it’s bitter , but Ran seems to enjoy it because he’s pulling away to kneel back between your legs.

You shift to lay down against the hood once more but his spare hand grips your hips, stopping you.

“Stay there,” he says, pulling his fingers our momentarily to tug your body towards him.

You almost fall off the car, and you most definitely would’ve fell forward if he wasn’t steadying you. He shoves his face back between your legs, devouring your pussy with his lips and tongue, overstimulating your clit to the point of no return as he clamps his lips around it, sucking hard before you fall apart. Goosebumps form on the surface of your arms as he flicks his tongue against your cunt at a rapid speed, slurping your wetness hungrily.

You slap your hand over your mouth, having to bite down into it to conceal your moans as he works you through your orgasm. Your thighs twitch and convulse by his face as he looks up at you, watching you fall apart. He shamelessly watches your chest inflate and deflate with every fast paced breath you let out.

“So fuckin’ pretty ,” he stands, laying you back down against the hood of his car. He cages you in, kissing you without letting you catch your breath.

Your legs wrap around his waist, locking him in close as his hand grips onto your chin, tilting your face up so he could kiss you deeper. He’s such a good kisser it’s almost humbling how quickly he can placate you with his lips alone.

He pulls away with a devilish smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, pushing him away from you to slide off the car.

“Don’t get all cocky now ,” he coos, wondering where this energy was not even ten seconds ago.

Your legs wobble and you fight to stand upright, but manage just fine, refusing to give him that much power over you. Grabbing your pants and shorts, you change back in shame, meanwhile he just leans against the hood of the car, watching you with a satisfied look on his face.

“Nothin’ to say?”

“Take me home.” At least tonight wasn’t a total bust; you can still go home and have your dad see him bring you back. You can still have a little bit of dignity left.

He shrugs and fishes out his car keys from his pockets. His car smells just as nice as him, you think as you step inside, tugging your seatbelt on.

“Where do you live?”

You tell him your address and it’s weird how he knows the city in and out, not even pulling out a GPS before figuring out the direction to your house. He parks right in front of your gate and you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt to get out. You’ve spent more time here than you’d initially planned anyway.

Except he locks the doors before you could get a chance.

The irritation bubbling from earlier comes back and you’re reminded of all the reasons why you despise him.

“Let me out.”

“Not yet, pretty.” He turns off the car and turns to face you. It’s amusing to him how you still haven’t quite caught your breath yet, still panting slightly as a result from your orgasm.

“What do you want now ?”

He hums in contemplation, musing his thoughts over. “Honestly? To bend you over my backseat.” He sends a suggestive look over to the back and your lips part open in shock. Mainly shocked due to how shameless this guy actually is, but also because you…liked the—no.

No. Moving on.

“Well that’s—uh—” You’re at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, struggling to think of something witty to say and the smirk on his face has you wishing your brain was actually functioning right now so you could say something to wipe it off.

“Looks like I finally broke that know-it-all brain of yours.”

“You didn’t—” Your voice gets tinier and tinier as he leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you again. This time, he’s much slower than the previous two, taking his sweet time to work you open. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip and you subconsciously hold his nape to tug him closer.

He pulls away before you could fully get into it, eyes lingering on the swell of your bottom lips before flicking up to your eyes, looking down breathlessly at him.

“Think your pops’ is mad at me.” He nods past your body, out the window revealing your dad on the doorstep of your house, looking positively furious, arms crossed by his side, waiting, daring you to step foot inside his house.

You whip your head backwards, eyes widening marginally at his face.

You’ve never seen him that mad before….

“On second thought…” you bite your lip, picking your dignity again over your mental well-being. You’re far too out of it to have another argument with him tonight. “Can you take me to yours?”

“Fuck, ‘course I can.”

i'll upload part two later this week once i finish writing it 👻

extra author's note: just a lil fun fact of the day : the arguement between reader and her father was actually one i had with my own dad😒 except obviously more exaggarated to fit in with the storyline. funnnnn...

#—tr </3 #haitani ran smut #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran smut #ran x reader #ran x you #haitani ran x you #haitani ran x y/n #tr x reader #tr smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut

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thatsdemko · 2 years

Text

one night with you - p.gasly

masterlist

requested: n

parings: pierre gasly x fem!reader

warnings: one room trope + enemies to friends to lovers(ish)

a/n: inspired by one of my favorite books one night on the island by Josie silvers (book linked if interested)

it’s how every story goes, there’s only one bed, only one seat, only one car, etc. . it’s how every “fairytail” started, and somehow you were living your least favorite trope main characters nightmare.

it all started with renting an Airbnb in Monte Carlo with a couple of friends, and he, of all people, showed up. your friends, and their significant others, had promised he was too busy in Milan to make time for a friendly get away. but there he was with his stupid French accent arms wide open as a surprise.

the second thing to happen was your flight was delayed making you the second to last person to arrive—the last person arriving being him. you were given the shitty bedroom with twin size bunk beds, and to top things off he had to room with you.

“chérie, it’s going to be fun! we can stay up all night and tell ghost stories.” he’s practically giddy to share a room with you because he knows how much you hate him. he loves antagonizing you and he loves watching you squirm around his gaze.

“I think I’m going to vomit.” your words are bitter at the tongue, feeling his hand gently touch your shoulder as he passes by you to head to unload his things in your shared room.

“its just for the night, he leaves tomorrow afternoon. you’ll survive.” your friend gives you a promising smile, but you’re not sure you can trust them. they told you he wouldn’t be joining this trip, and now you have to share a bedroom. who’s to say you’ll actually survive.

—

the nights winding down, almost everyone has already headed to crash to prepare for tomorrow, but you’re trying to deny your fate. you think if you sit out here long enough it’ll all go away. maybe he’ll go away.

you’re watching the orange flames dance around the fire pit, there’s only a couple of pieces of wood left in there, as ashes began to spew into the air. you hear the back door open, and it’s Pierre coming outside with a blanket. you hadn’t realized he had gone in some time ago, you didn’t notice his departure.

“you’re going to freeze if you’re going to stay out here.” he lays the fuzzy material across your lap where goosebumps and chills traveled your body. you’re thankful for his gesture, and it’s probably the first time he will ever hear you say those two words.

“coming to bed soon?” he asks, checking the time on his phone and it’s only just after 1am. usually you were one of the first to head in for the night, he’s surprised you were up this late.

“yeah I think so, you don’t have to wait up.”

“so you’re fine if I take the bottom bunk? my arms are sore from working out.” you can’t tell if he’s being serious, but when you look over he’s got a playful smile on his face. you just roll your eyes in response shooing him away for some more alone time. you were going to need it in order to spend a night in the same room as him.

“don’t be out too late!”

it’s not even ten minutes after he leaves, the fire is just hot coals and you’re left with whatever fate had for you, as you trekked your way up into the house and up into your shitty bedroom.

you gently knock twice before opening the door. you’ve never shared a room with a man before, let alone pierre gasly, so you’re not sure what to expect, but when you do open the door, it’s not what you thought it would be.

pushing open the door carefully, you’re greeted to a dim lamp light, and him sprawled across the top bunk shirtless. his legs hang over the edge while his head rests on the wood ledge of the bunk. he’s definitely too big for the bed which makes you chuckle.

“what’s funny down there?” he peaks his head down, hands gripping the railing, it makes him look like a little kid eager for a bedtime story.

“you in that stupid bunk bed.” you close the door behind you beginning to search your luggage for your pajamas when you notice Pierre’s clothes are scattered next to his bags.

“you couldn’t put your clothes away?” you throw his expensive shirt at him, he catches it and throws it back at you hitting perfectly you in the face.

“you can keep the shirt, it’ll be a souvenir to the best night of your life.” he sends you a wink, and you can feel your blood boiling. you’re not sure what it is about that, but it got you going, he just had that ability to press your buttons without the slightest clue.

“this isn’t funny, pierre! you’re not supposed to even be on this trip! you were supposed to be in Milan being the biggest fucking jerk somewhere else! now you’re here ruining my vacation.” your words vibrated through you, it was almost like you weren’t even speaking they just flew out of you, but it didn’t make you feel better. in fact, it made you feel worse, because there sat a man in his twin bed looking like the most pathetic idiot because of you.

“wow, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” he swallows, his eyes not meeting yours, you feel bad. there’s something about how he looks that makes you want to rush up to him and apologize, tell him it’s not his fault it’s just that ever since you both met, you hated him.

“yeah, well I know how you feel about me.”

he scoffs shaking his head, “do you? tell me, how do I feel about you.” his finger tips tap the wood while his other hand holds up his chin, he’s waiting for you to spill what you thought you knew.

you sigh, unsure where to begin but somewhere it all starts, “I know that ever since I joined this friend group you’ve hated me from the second because I didn’t want to go skydiving, that I was a wimp for crying because I twisted my ankle hiking, and because I hate your driving!”

he’s laughing, you’re not sure when he started, but he’s pretty much bent over holding his stomach laughing. he couldn’t believe how ridiculous you sounded because none of that was true.

“are you done? because that’s hysterical.” he’s still laughing, but he’s climbing down from the top bunk to where you stood, his dirty t-shirt laying on the floor in front of you, “I don’t hate you. whoever told you that was messing with you.”

you feel stupid and small. he’s hovering over you a goofy grin on his face, “let’s start over, yeah? I’m Pierre and we have to share a bunk bed. you want to be my roommate for the night?” he extends his hand, awaiting for you to accept the fresh new start.

“I’m y/n, I’d like to be your roommate.” you take his big hand in yours and shake. he moves out of the way gesturing to your bed, which happened to be the bottom bunk.

“your bed.” he undoes the covers for you and fluffing the pillows.

“ah thank you, but first I must change.” you turn on your heel grabbing your pajamas. you barely open the bedroom door to see there was already a line for the one bathroom.

“do you mind just turning around so I can change?” you close the door once again, and his back is already facing yours. you slowly begin to take off your clothes afraid at any moment he was going to let his intrusive thoughts take over, and turn around.

“you know, I have seen you naked by accident.” he admits, it was many summers ago, but you were in one of the guest bedrooms of his summer home. he thought Charles was in the bedroom you were in, so when he opened the door, and was greeted to a pair of breasts he was quite surprised.

“we just became friends, pierre.” you challenge hearing him laugh, it was almost like music to your ears now that you didn’t hate him. you actually enjoyed his laugh, it was infectious.

“so you’re saying I shouldn’t turn around?” he fakes you out, your arm quickly covers your chest giving his back a shove. he’s back in a laughing fit that you join now.

“you test me, gasly.” you pull your shirt over your head, moving in front of him to show you are fully dressed and he’s free to go back to his bunk.

“I think you like it.”

you’re blushing, quickly moving to get under the covers of your small bed, “I do not.” you stick out your tongue like a little child and he slaps your arm.

“please you’re practically in love with me now that you stopped hating me.” he’s leaning over your bed, his body practically on top of yours, while his head inches from hitting the panels that hold his bunk up above yours.

you inhale his cologne nervously laughing, because at that moment you felt butterflies in your stomach. not just because you were nervous, but because he was so close. this was the first time you ever saw Pierre as someone other than an enemy.

“I just like you that’s it.” you’re afraid to breathe, it’s like if you did he’d pull his body away from yours, and you didn’t want him to. you wanted him there.

“you sure?” he teases, face moving closer to yours, his chin is resting on your stomach, close to your breasts. his eyes are glowing in the dim light, and you so badly want to get lost in them.

“yeah,” your exhale was supposed to be more of a sigh, but it sounded far more from that, he chuckles moving closer to your face, but then swiftly pulls away.

“goodnight, cherie—“

“kiss me you fool.” you cut him off, legs swinging from under the sheets grabbing his leg pulling trying to pull him down from the ladder before it was too late and he was asleep.

he looks down, a cheeky smile on his face, he’s moving down the ladder. his hand cups your cheek as he bends down, pressing his lips against yours. of all those times you hated his entire existence, you were absolutely wrapped into him. his lips were soft, but firm against yours. it was like melting into heaven, a moan escaped your lips.

“one night with me isn’t so bad, huh?”

“I guess not.”

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