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100vern · 5 months ago

Note

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer ��🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #jewel writes #fic: wntt

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gabiecv · 3 months ago

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𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖮 𝖮𝖡𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖵𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 #OO2. ݁𖥔˖

this one are observations based on people I know, after analyzing their birth chart.

again, if u want to share your opinion on those, i would love read them!

leo rising really have hair that STANDS OUT. usually wavy, voluminous, shiny, just beautiful. the wish to dye your hair red always appears at some point, and I recommend it, it looks wonderful.

mercury – uranus aspects can make someone have a unique voice.

aquarius rising are usually part of some subculture.

venus in virgo and your need to please your partner in every way. always asking if you're feeling well, because you don't have a smile on your face.

moon in 5th house and their connection with children :'). even if you don't like it, children admire you, you'll just catch them looking at you like that 🥹.

people with gemini rising have frog beauty. also, I love the aura of this ascendant, you are cute, youthful, there is a receptive energy coming from you, this ascendant's smile is beautiful too.

as a venus in scorpio (stellium in scorpio to be more specific), i would definitely say that Patrick in 10 things i hate about you is my ideal type.

libra moon really don't like arguments, they try to stay calm and not take sides. but if you offend us, it's over, the rage will come 🤓.

I realized that we generally get along very well with ppl that have their sign in our 3rd house. my bestie has my sun in her 3rd house, and we are soulmates. also, my friend and his bestie also have that, and other couple of friends share the same synastry. this is because the 3rd house is the house of communication and everyday relationships, it's as if you and that person spoke the same language, exchanging ideas in a healthy way. furthermore, we can consider the person with whom we have this synastry, as a brother/sister.

I noticed that most of my friends are virgo, or virgo is prominent in their birth chart. they are clever people who I can count on whenever I need, they are organized, or at least give off that vibe lol and are very good company. i love u virgos 🤍.

gemini and aries in an chart, makes someone fiery, a leader, but at the same time, someone very humble, nice to talk to lmao. it's a very likeable combination.

scorpio rising really have that penetrating gaze. usually, scorpios are really easy to identificate.

that's not an observation from someone I know, but I noticed it. Michael Jackson had a stellium in the 6th house, and that makes so much sense. his life was about making physical efforts, dancing, performing in general, and he tried to be excellent in everything he did.

i met a aries mars boy and whoop. he was AGRESSIVE, got in a lot of fights (always winning). i don't talk with him in like 2 years, but i found him on instagram and now he is a bodybuilder.

saggitarius rising and their ability to lighten up the room they are in, i love.

ok, hear me out. 5th house is connected to hobbies that give us pleasures (includes films, music, books, etc.) and also to crushes. I've been noticing that the celebrities I admire have the same sign as my 5th house:

MJ (pisces Moon and rising)

Heath Ledger (pisces stellium)

Andrew Garfield (pisces Rising)

Rihanna (pisces sun)

Ryan Gosling (pisces Rising)

taurus rising are so soft, down to earth, charming people. ppl with that rising are so attractive 😿.

i made this in RUSH, and i'm falling asleep, not the best one srry 🙏🏻

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 days ago

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Meant To Be (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you adjust to the modern world.

Disclaimer: This is part three to Meant To Be (2). Fluff, flashbacks/descriptions of life in the 40s with Bucky and the others, platonic!Sam, mention of character deaths, reader is on a little bit of an emotional roller-coaster when trying to adjust but Bucky helps, dancing in the kitchen to music, all the feels. Not Proof Read.

“Thought I might find you here.”

You turned your head to see Sam approaching you as you sat, alone, in the Smithsonian.

“Hey.”

Sam smiled. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead.”

As Sam sat beside you, he looked up to the projector screen. Clips of your old life had been playing for the last two hours or more. It has taken all of an hour on the phone with Tony for the Smithsonian to consider sending the film reels over, and all of five minutes talking to Pepper for them to agree.

You’d seen a lot of the popular clips MJ had told you about; Steve and Bucky laughing, Peggy’s picture in Steve’s compass, the marching soldiers. You’d even seen some clips of you and Bucky. Moments you didn’t realise that had been recorded.

It made your heart ache.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s everything to talk about. Food. Music. The fact Bucky still prefers 40s music over Marvin Gaye.”

You chuckled and Sam smiled, relieved to see at least a hint of a smile on your face.

You’d been in the future for almost three months. And, while he’d seen you smile around the boys and a few others. He still saw that longing look in your eyes. He still saw the hitch in your breathing every time you looked up and someone walked inside.

The others saw it, too. Especially Bucky. But parts of them were too afraid to ask. They’d lived in the future a lot longer than you. For Steve, he’d been asleep for most of it. And for Bucky, he’d been tortured. Made into someone else for seventy years.

You? In the blink of an eye, you’d gone from living in 1944 to suddenly appearing in the home of, who would have probably been, your godson.

“Come on. Talk to me. I promise, I’m a really good secret keeper.”

You smiled and shook your head, letting some old clips run through. “I…” The tears came to your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m meant to do here. I-I know I don’t go back. And I know I’m probably here for the rest of my life but…I don’t know what I’m meant to do.”

Sam just sat and listened to you.

“One day I’m writing things down; military secrets, my own secrets, notes to share with the boys. One day I’m yelling at Howard to get up, threatening to throw a cold bucket of water over his head.” You laughed, but all it did was try to mask the pain. “The next…the next I’m being told one of my best friends didn’t get to live his life out with the love of his life, another went through seventy years of torture and the rest are dead.”

You took a breath and looked at the clip playing on the screen. Peggy and you directing where things would be taking place on the map table. Bucky was standing behind you before he carried a larger map over and Steve circled different spots where he knew camps had been set up.

For you, that clip took place six months ago.

“And now I’m watching clips of my life that to me…only just happened. And…I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“You’re grieving.” Sam told you. “You’re having to say goodbye to a lot of people very quickly. Which is insane. But it’s gonna be a process. Even if you think you’re ready to mentally accept it, sometimes your body isn’t. You need to give it time.”

You scoffed a little. “That seems to be all I have. Time. Time to think. Time to remember. Time to catch up on Time. Sam, if none of this happened, I’d probably be dead by now, if not, on my way out.”

“But you’re not. Instead, you’re here. You’re alive, and so is Steve and Bucky. Believe me, I get it. You’ve come from a war and, just because you’ve come home doesn’t mean that it’s stopped. But all you need to do right now is rest.”

You talked to Sam for an hour or more before eventually the conversation died away and you were both left to sit and watch the different film reels. But as the dates got slightly sporadic, the clips became more…intimate.

One started playing out from when you’d all been stationed in London. You’d all ended up at a dance hall somewhere outside the city. It was only a small space but people seemed to create enough room for couples to dance.

Peggy was in the corner, introducing Steve to some of her old friends. You were standing by one of the posts, watching everyone on the floor sway to the music and Bucky, like usual, had a crowd of girls around him.

You turned your attention away from the clip of Bucky in hopes to kill the pang of jealousy inside your chest.

“They really loved each other, didn’t they?”

You knew who Sam was talking about. And you nodded with a ghost of a smile. “They really did.”

But that was when Sam’s attention was torn from the happy couple towards Bucky who, although had been smiling and laughing with three girls who’d crowded around him, his attention was caught somewhere else.

Rather, on someone else.

You.

Looking over his shoulder at you, Sam watched your reaction before looking back to Bucky as he apologised to the girls and disappeared. He was heading straight for you. Taking your drink from you, he shocked you as he placed it on the table beside you before he took your hand in his and brought you to the floor.

Sam could faintly hear the music playing from the band. “We’ll meet again. Don’t know where. Don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day…”

Never in his life had Sam seen Bucky dance. Not with anyone. But that wasn’t what shocked him. What shocked him was the look on Bucky’s face. A smile. A genuine smile. The kind a man only ever saved for the love of his life.

Unlike some of the other couples on the floor, Bucky held you close to him. His arm practically wrapped around you completely in comparison to some of the other dancers. This was not a man who was prepared to let you go.

With your hand in his, his fingers caressed the back of your hand and his feet led you both around in a small circle.

“When was this?” Sam asked quietly in order to not scare you. You were engrossed with the clip. Clearly, you were reliving the scene as you watched it play out.

You swallowed thickly. “1942…I think. We…we were stationed in London. He always saved me a dance. I’ve always had two left feet so I didn’t dance much but…”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve got two left feet, there.”

You smiled, fondly. “He’s a good dance partner.”

Sam chuckled under his breath before watching the rest of the clip with you.

Sam had never asked Bucky complete questions about you before you appeared. Bucky wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, so he’d just wait for him to open up. But after you returned and he saw the way Bucky tried to never leave your side, he asked him the one question he’d been dying to ask since Bucky had first said your name.

“How long have you been in love with her?”

All Bucky could say was, “Too long.”.

And watching this clip, Sam realised what Bucky had meant. You’d been tattooed on his heart since he first met you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier, he still got flashbacks of you. Even when he left Wakanda, part of him still wanted you to be alive somewhere.

Whenever he went on a date, your name on his heart only burned deeper into his muscles. He’d been consumed by you since he probably first met you. And he didn’t want it any other way.

The clip ran out before a new one started up.

Home videos.

These were even more precious, because there weren't very many.

The first one to play was from the day you’d all been on the beach. Howard’s home led out to it.

“Dugan! Put that camera down and come and join us!” You heard Peggy yell.

You smiled, thankful to hear their voices again.

From the beach day, however, one clip stood out to you the most.

You were lying on one of the sunbeds under the shade, reading. And from behind you, Bucky had snuck up on you before plucking the book from your hands. Turning around, he read a few sentences out loud as he walked away.

“James! Hey, give that back!” You laughed as you stood up and followed after him.

“Who brings a book to the beach, doll? You’ll only be taking half of this place back with you.”

“Then I’ll collect it in a jar as a keepsake. Would you-just-” You gave a huff as Bucky held your book well out of reach.

“Join us. Just one game. Please?” He begged, his eyes softening.

“Yeah! Come on, sweet cheeks! You’re missing out!”

You turned around to look at Howard who hit the volleyball back to Peggy. Then you turned back to Bucky, his eyes somehow even softer.

You groaned. “Fine. But then you’ll give me my book back?”

Bucky stood to attention before placing a cross over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart, doll…”

You eyed him up, humming. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You could remember that day. You ended up playing three rounds before the entire thing became a football game nobody kept score of. Peggy beat most of the boys, Steve stared at her in adoration.

But for the first time, you noticed Bucky looking at you.

You remembered turning around that day, thinking he’d been looking at Steve and Peggy. But…

From the clip, it was clear as day he was looking at you.

And it took your breath away.

You only spotted it more and more as the clips played through.

You and Bucky lay together, heads touching as you held your book above you both, reading out loud. Some of the Commandos had fallen asleep on the sofas, listening to your voice read. But Bucky hadn’t. His eyes were fully on you.

The clips from when a photographer had been hired to take a group shot of the entire team. The video was taken from behind the photographer.

You pointed out who everyone was to Sam and what they were doing. Then you both noticed Bucky looking at you before you turned your head to look at him.

Then something started to dawn on you.

Most of the time whenever you’d look at Bucky…

“He was already looking at you,” Sam said, out loud.

“Yeah…”

Sam had sat on the bench in front of you, stretching himself out as he propped himself up on his elbow. He looked up at you where you’d barely moved from your seat since he arrived.

And from the look on your face, Sam wondered if his bet with Steve wouldn’t run as long as he thought.

It was a few days later, when you were sitting in the living room, flipping through some fictional novels MJ had dropped off for you, that you saw Bucky again.

“Hey.”

You looked up. “Hey.”

As he stood by the door, looking a little awkward, he held a brown box in his arms. “I just…I thought you might…”

He walked inside before placing the box down carefully on the coffee table in front of you.

“What is it? I swear to god, Bucky, if this is some kind of makeshift animal habitat I’m gonna-”

Bucky shook his head, trying to hide his smile. There was only one reason why you thought that’s what it was and that was because you’d both been rooting through Howard’s basement one sunny afternoon before meeting the others at the beach.

That was where you’d found out Howard was thinking about starting an animal sanctuary for all kinds of animals.

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” Bucky said, slight amusement in his voice. “It’s…after you disappeared, Colonel Phillips…” Bucky had never had to say the words out loud before.

When he’d come home with a box of your things, Steve didn’t need to be told what it meant. The military saw you as dead and needed to replace you as quickly as they could.

“He had me clean out your desk and I couldn’t think about throwing any of it away.”

“Oh.”

Bucky carefully sat beside you as you reached over and pulled the lid from the box. It smelled like the 40s.

“I didn’t even know it still existed until I moved in here. They must have kept everything from Steve’s apartment after he went into the ice. I didn’t ask him where it went or how he got it back. I was just glad to know your things still existed.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out a few old notepads, aged with colour. To you, they’d been brand new, straight out of their packaging a few months ago.

Then you found the pictures. With a sad smile, you wiped the dust away from the frame. A picture of yourself, Peggy, Steve, Howard and Bucky. It had been a rare night out in Brooklyn.

Another picture of Steve and the Howling Commandos with Peggy beside him. One of yourself, Howard and Mr Jarvis. It was grainy, but you could still see the reflection of Jarvis’ wife in the gleaming windows behind you. She’d been adamant to not be in the picture since she wanted a copy of all three of you, too.

Scrap pieces of paper were bundled together. Notes to give Peggy her pen back, find Steve a pack of fresh pencils since he’d picked up a habit of breaking them. He still wasn’t used to his strength. A note to attend the meeting with Peggy and the Colonel on Thursday, a note to run your recruit papers down to City Hall since you’d agreed to take three trainees under your wing, and one final note…

Museum with James, this Saturday.

The ink had worn with time, but the sentiment had only grown.

He’d asked you to the new museum exhibit. He’d asked you that day. That morning.

“There’s also this.”

You turned and looked at Bucky before looking down at his hands. Your notebook. The one you kept locked in your desk drawer. It took your breath away as you took it in your hands.

All the conversations you’d had with him, all the dates you’d been on together. But after the day of your disappearance, the handwriting changed.

It was no longer yours, but Bucky’s. You’d seen enough of his half finished paperwork that he’d try to sneak into your pile to know his handwriting almost immediately.

It wasn’t listed by dates, but with a line drawn under each section, you knew they were day by day.

“I kept it with me.” Bucky told you. “Everything I wanted to talk to you about.”

You fought your hardest to keep your tears at bay. “These dashes? What do they mean?”

“They’re when I’ve talked to you.”

You were confused.

“The Colonel…he made sure you had a grave. Said it would help people move on if they wanted to. They’d have a place to still talk to you. It’s still there.”

You turned and looked back at the list. You’d seen your grave, once. You’d stand behind the cobble wall, looking at it under one of the blossom trees. You couldn’t bear to walk any closer.

“I knew I wanted to talk to you. Sometimes it was to the stars, but mostly it was to…to your grave.”

You quickly wiped away a tear. Something panged tight in your chest.

An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, dusting the fallen blossom petals from the top of the marble stone. An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, talking to you about; Meeting Sam, Working with Sam, his New Therapist, the WS Programme, Steve and Peggy, Steve and Natasha, his nightmare about the 40s…

The images killed you.

“Doll?”

Bucky laid a hand on your knee, his fingers reaching up to push some hair from your eyes. Without taking another second to think, you turned and hugged Bucky. Tight.

“I’m so sorry.” You could hear your voice shaking.

“Sorry? What for?”

You leaned back after a few seconds and wiped your eyes and shook your head. “Everything? I…I can’t believe I missed so much.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“Feels like I do.”

“No,” Bucky told you. “Never. First, you have nothing to apologise for. And second,” Bucky brushed the hair clear from your face so he could see you properly. “Second,” he repeated, his voice a little softer than before. “You never have to apologise to me. You didn’t then. You don’t now.”

You managed to smile, and once Bucky recognised it to be genuine, he smiled, too.

“You eaten yet?”

You shook your head. “Book’s too riveting.”

You both looked at the red bound book on the coffee table. Agatha Christie. A publication from the seventies.

Bucky smiled. “Why am I not surprised? I’ll make us something.”

Bucky stood, surprising you a little when he placed a light kiss to the top of your head as he did so before walking towards the kitchen. “Do I wanna know how you found it?”

You smiled, following him with your book in hand. “MJ brought them over. Peter must have told her I was bored and she said her aunt had most of these books just laying in her attic taking up space. Told me I could have them.”

“How far are you?” Bucky was moving around the kitchen as you sat down at the kitchen island, watching him.

“Couple of chapters. Why?”

Bucky paused for a second and smiled. “Read it to me.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, already opening the book up.

He nodded. “I’m sure. I’ve missed hearing you read.”

You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at hearing him say that. So, unable to hide your smile, you read outloud. And every time you tried to sneak a glance at him, you found him already looking at you.

It was a few more weeks before you actually asked him about it. About the way he’s always looked at you. And it had been after you’d watched Annie.

He’d been looking at you throughout the movie, and a few times you’d caught him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. But when you were both in the kitchen, cooking a meal together with the radio playing lightly in the background, you finally mentioned it.

“You’re gonna cut your fingers if you don’t pay attention.”

“I am paying attention,” Bucky said as he continued to chop.

“You’re staring again.”

Bucky smiled. “Can’t help it.”

You just looked at him and rolled your eyes lightly before turning around and dumping the chopped carrots into the pot.

“Fine. But don’t come running to me when you start bleeding.”

Bucky just held up his hand. “Can’t bleed.”

You looked up. He had you there.

“Do you wanna peel the sprouts?” You asked for the bowl on the kitchen island.

Dumping what he’d already chopped into the pot with yours, he came to stand beside you before picking each sprout out, peeling away a few of their layers.

But as time slowly passed by, Bucky’s presence becoming a true comfort to you, he stopped what he was doing before he silently took your hand in his.

“Bucky.”

“Dance with me. We don’t get to do this anymore.”

You sighed, but still agreed. And it wasn’t long before your brain took you back to that dance hall in London. The scent of Bucky’s aftershave consuming your senses in such a way you’d know you’d be able to still faintly smell him when he’d long left the room. His touch burned into your skin through your clothes, and the rhythm of your heart joined his.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Always, doll.”

You smiled and leaned back a little in order to see his face. “It’s about your staring. You’re always looking at me. Why?”

“Straight to the point. I like it.”

You suppressed your laugh and hit it in the chest. “I’m being serious. Why? I didn't think I noticed it until I watched our home videos.”

“You’ve watched the home videos?”

You nodded. “Yeah. There were only a few clips that I could get fed through the film reel. But…you’re always looking at me.”

His smile softened. “That’s because you’re beautiful.”

You laughed. “Bucky, I’m being serious.”

He looked a little hurt. “So am I.”

You knew it had hit you, what he truly meant. You just hadn’t been expecting it to hit you so hard.

“Buck…”

“I’m always looking because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, doll.” Bucky told you, truthfully.

The song crackled and changed over the radio but neither of you stopped dancing together. Your hand was still firmly in his, your body was still flushed against him.

“I know you haven’t seen the last seventy years…but I have. No woman compares to you, Y/n. Not a single one…”

Bucky’s voice trailed away as he laid himself bare for you. Your heart was thumping in your ears, your lips parted and took in what air you could, which wasn’t much. And just as the walls around both of you started to fade away and the music became nothing more than soundwaves, you felt yourself lean closer to him.

“Doll…”

“James…”

It seemed to take forever for his lips to meet with yours, but once they did, there wasn’t a chance in all of the universe that you’d let yourself forget the feeling of his kiss.

His hand that wrapped around your lower back and held you in by your hips, tightened. With his other hand guiding your arm around his shoulders, he was quick to hold you closer to him; if that was even possible.

As your hands came to hold his face, his lips moving to kiss you even more, he lifted you from the floor a little.

By the time you both broke away for air, your eyes remained closed as his head rested against yours.

“Please tell me this isn’t just a one time thing,” Bucky asked you.

You shook your head, a little out of breath. “No. This…this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“Good.” He told you before finally opening his eyes to look at you. “I’ve waited more than seventy years to kiss you.”

Your hands linked around his neck as he stood there with you in his arms. “Was it worth the wait?”

A slight chuckle left Bucky. “Oh, most definitely, doll.”

He didn’t wait another second before capturing your lips in another kiss. He would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you, but he didn’t have to. You were alive, you were breathing, and you were kissing him back.

It wouldn’t be long before he’d tell you how deep his feelings ran for you. But you’d surprise him that day by beating him to it. Even if the last seventy years had been nothing but a blink of the eye for you, it had been almost a hundred for Bucky.

You loved him too much to make him wait any longer.

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thollandsgirl2013 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!!! 18+, unprotected sex (don't do it)

Summary → You and Peter joined the mile high club.

You were excited for this Europe trip. Everyone in school had been buzzing about it for weeks. Europe was romantic, and you were looking forward to spending time with Peter in such a beautiful place. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for Mr. Harrington to mess with your seating arrangements.

Peter was supposed to sit beside you, but instead, Mr. Harrington placed him next to Ned. That left you beside MJ. Ned, being the lovable goof he was, concocted some ridiculous excuse about a lady wearing heavy perfume that was giving Peter an allergic reaction. Before anyone could react, Mr. Harrington caught wind of it and summoned Peter to sit next to him.

Now you and Peter were stuck texting back and forth, Peter more annoyed than you.

Peter: Please baby 🥺

You smirked down at your phone, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

You: Nope

Peter: But I’m so hard right now 😭

You rolled your eyes. How did he manage to get himself turned on while sitting next to Mr. Harrington, of all people?

You: That’s your fault. And how are you hard sitting next to Mr. Harrington? 😑

Peter: He’s asleep, no one’s going to notice. Baby, please, I’m begging you. I’ll make it up to you later.

You: The bathroom is full of germs, Peter. Ew.

Peter: Come onnnn, please, please, please, please…

You shook your head, your finger hovering over the screen.

You: Wait till we reach the hotel.

Peter: That’s hours from now! I’m gonna burst! Do you want me to walk around with this the whole time?

You: Oh my god, Peter. Fine, I’m going. Knock in five minutes.

Peter: YES! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

You: You owe me.

With a sigh, you got up from your seat, MJ raising a brow as she noticed you moving. “Where are you going?” She asked, amusement laced in her voice.

“To—um, to the bathroom,” you stammered, trying not to give too much away. She eyed you for a second, clearly not buying it, but then just shrugged and went back to her book.

You made your way to the small, cramped airplane bathroom, feeling a bit ridiculous but also amused by how desperate Peter had become. You slipped inside and waited. Exactly a minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, it’s occupied.”

“Babe, it’s me.” Peter’s whisper came from behind the door.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing his voice immediately. He couldn't even wait five minutes. You sighed, unlocking the door and letting him in. He slipped inside quickly, barely giving you room to breathe. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer?” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

Peter, with his big, brown, pleading eyes, stared down at you. “Sorry, but look at me,” he muttered, gesturing to the very obvious bulge in his pants.

You glanced down, and yup, there he was, hard and straining against the fabric. This boy gets turned on so easily, sometimes it baffled you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your hands already reaching for his belt to unbuckle it, figuring a quick solution would do the trick. But before you could go any further, Peter grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, sounding surprised.

“Uh, giving you head?” You replied, confused by his hesitation.

Peter’s face flushed a deep red, his usual shyness kicking in at the worst possible time. “I-I wanted to be in you…” he mumbled, barely able to meet your eyes.

You stared at him, amused. How could he blush now, in the middle of this? “Stop blushing,” you scolded, pulling him down into a heated kiss. His lips were soft and eager against yours, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer. The cramped space didn’t leave much room, but the kiss quickly deepened, both of you getting lost in the moment.

Thank goodness you were wearing a skirt today. Peter’s hands slipped under the fabric, his fingers grazing the hem of your panties. You could feel his breath hitch as his hand brushed over you, his fingers teasing the edge.

“Peter,” you moaned softly, feeling him hard one against your thigh. The way he was fumbling slightly, his usual confidence mixed with desperation, made you ache for him.

He quickly pulled himself out, his hard cock now free. “Turn around,” he whispered, his voice deep and raspy. You did as he asked, turning to face the mirror and gripping the sink counter for support.

Peter pulled your panties to the side, his hand running along your slick entrance before positioning himself. With one swift motion, he pushed inside you from behind, both of you letting out soft, stifled moans at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Peter groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to move. The small space only amplified the intimacy, the way his body pressed against yours, the sound of your combined breathing echoing in the tiny bathroom.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet as his pace quickened. “Peter…” you whimpered, your voice breathy. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you, the way his hips snapped against yours.

His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him as he thrust into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the side of your neck. His other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he continued to move inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

You let out a another whimper, your walls clenching around him as you felt the pressure building. “Peter, I’m close…” you moaned, your grip on the sink tightening.

Peter groaned in response, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby, just a little more…”

The sound of his ragged breathing, the feel of his hands on your skin, and the way he filled you pushed you over the edge. You came with a soft cry, your body trembling as you held onto the sink for support. Peter followed shortly after, his movements becoming sloppy as he came inside you, moaning your name into your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath in the aftermath. Peter’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his hands still holding your hips gently.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you muttered, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

Peter chuckled, pulling out of you slowly and adjusting his pants. “I told you I couldn’t wait,” he said with a smug grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks still flushed from the rush. “You better be grateful. That was risky.”

“Oh, I am,” Peter grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I’ll be even more grateful when we’re at the hotel.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I love you too,” Peter teased, giving you one last kiss before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving you to compose yourself.

You cleaned up quickly, trying to calm your racing heart. That was reckless, you thought to yourself, but you couldn't deny the thrill of it. After making sure you were presentable, you headed back to your seat, keeping your eyes down as you passed Peter. He was sitting beside Mr. Harrington, who was still asleep, but Peter looked up at you with a cheeky grin and winked as you walked by.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Peter Parker, always managing to get you into the most ridiculous situations.

Sliding back into your seat next to MJ, you tried to act casual, but you could feel her eyes on you. “That took a while,” she commented, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

You swallowed, trying not to look guilty. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Your mind raced for an excuse, but luckily, MJ didn’t push further. She just gave you a knowing look before going back to her book.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your lap. Glancing down, you saw a new text from Peter.

Peter: You’re the best. I can’t believe we just joined the Mile High Club.

Your cheeks instantly flushed, and you quickly typed back.

You: Uh huh. Don’t get hard again, please. We still have 5 hours of flight left.

A second later, another text from Peter appeared.

Peter: No promises. But I’ll try to be a good boy for you.

You: Please, I’m begging you. You’ll get whatever you want at the hotel.

Before you could put your phone away, MJ leaned over slightly, catching a glimpse of your conversation. Her eyes widened in realization, and she looked at you with mock horror.

“Oh my god. Really? In the bathroom?” She whispered, her voice dripping with disgust, but there was also a smirk on her lips. “I wanted to go to the bathroom, and now I gotta wait till we land!”

Your face burned red, and you could barely look her in the eye. “I—uh—I mean…” you stammered, trying to find some defense, but MJ wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

“Ew, seriously?” She said, lowering her voice but clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “In an airplane bathroom? You two really couldn’t wait until we got to the hotel?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “It wasn’t planned, okay? He was being all… Peter, and I couldn’t say no.”

MJ snorted, shaking her head. “You guys are ridiculous. The Mile High Club? Really? I’ve heard of people being desperate, but I didn’t think you’d join the list.”

“I didn’t think I would either!” You whispered back, your face still burning with embarrassment. “But you know Peter…”

She gave you a sympathetic yet teasing smile. “Yeah, I know. He’s a horny little spider. Still, I can’t believe you actually did it.”

You groaned again, wishing the ground would swallow you up. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

MJ’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, I won’t. But I’ll be side-eyeing every bathroom you walk into for the rest of this trip.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but there was no denying the laughter bubbling inside you both. MJ’s teasing was relentless, but she wasn’t wrong. Peter really could get you into trouble.

Another vibration from your phone pulled your attention back to Peter.

Peter: What are you guys talking about?

Peter: Oh my god! Did MJ find out?

You glanced over at MJ, who was now giving you an exaggerated innocent look as she pretended to read her book. You sighed, typing a quick reply.

You: Yeah, she found out.

Peter: Oh noooo. She's not going to tell anyone, right?

You smiled despite yourself.

You: She won't. But she'll probably tease me the rest of the trip.

Peter: You still love me though, right?

You bit your lip, fighting back a grin. Peter was such a dork sometimes, but he always knew how to make you smile.

You: Unfortunately, yes. Even though you’re the horniest spider alive.

A few seconds later, Peter responded with a string of laughing emojis, and you couldn’t help but giggle under your breath. MJ noticed and raised an eyebrow at you, clearly trying to figure out what you and Peter were saying.

“Tell lover boy to keep it in his pants for the rest of the flight,” she muttered, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m trying. But you know how he is.”

MJ shook her head. “You two are hopeless. Just don’t pull any more stunts until we land, okay? I’m not in the mood to explain to Mr. Harrington why you’ve been gone for so long.”

You laughed, knowing she was right. As much as you loved Peter and his spontaneous nature, you definitely didn’t want to get into more trouble.

As the hours passed and the plane continued its course, you kept exchanging texts with Peter, your heart fluttering at his sweet and silly messages. Every time you glanced over at him, you caught him staring at you with that familiar loving gaze, and it made you excited for what awaited at the hotel.

MJ nudged you halfway through the flight. “So, what’s the plan when we land? Are you and Peter sneaking off somewhere again?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more sneaking. But… let’s just say Peter and I have some, uh, catching up to do once we get some privacy.”

MJ groaned dramatically. “Spare me the details, please. I’m just here for the museums and the pizza.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you suffer through any more Peter talk.”

“Good. Now, get some sleep before we land,” MJ said, pushing her headphones on and leaning back in her seat.

You nodded, but before you could settle in, your phone buzzed one last time.

Peter: Can’t wait to be alone with you, baby. Love you so much.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection.

You: I love you too, Peter. And don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of alone time soon.

Tucking your phone away, you leaned back in your seat, a small smile still on your face. Despite the teasing and the chaos, you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Being with Peter made everything feel like an adventure—even on a crowded plane at 30,000 feet.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

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sanesaviour · 1 month ago

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Spidey🕸️🕷️

yea, it’s head cannon time:

1. at fist he doesn’t get along with team, they are pretty weak team due to lack of teamwork but after fist year Peter becomes really good leader, he knows everyones strong side and how to push them to do their best

2. only team member who isn’t afraid to argue with Fury

3. Peter feels guilty about everything that happened to Harry, the whole Venom incident messed them up but even after Harry stopped talking to him Peter never really stopped seeing Harry as his closest friend (he always stares at him when he sees him in hallway and thinks about what could he done differently)… MJ tries to make them talk about it even tho she really don’t know what happened between them

4. when he get’s higher score on test than Ava he pretends he doesn’t had to study at all (even tho he studied all night long) just to annoy her,… even tho they are good friends they never study together due to their academic rivalry… also Ava is probably only one who can keep Peter in line besides MJ and aunt May

5. genuinely likes to spend time with Danny because he finds him so calming, even more after his and Harrys friendship fell appart. also when Peter found out that Danny is insanly rich he was angry about all the time he let him buy food without anything in return when they were hanging out (before that Peter thought that he is just teenage boy who have 0 knowlage about concept of money since he spend most of his life in k’un-lun)… also Danny is only one who doesn’t get annoyed with Peter’s jokes

6. Sam and Peter have most chaotic team ups, whether they work together on mission or school project it’s guaranteed to end in something exploding, a crazy amount of collateral damage or Fury looking so done

7. always gets post battle snacks with luke, they have tradition of hitting up fast food spot after mission, Luke always orders enough food for three people while Peter scarfs down with ridiculous amount of fries (when others are with them sam usually tries to steal some, but Luke blocks him)… also Peter likes to annoy luke just for fun, he likes to make terrible puns or tries to web Luke’s snacks away, he finds it hilarious when Luke gives him that deadpan “really?” look

8. Peter is low-key jealous that MJ is so effortlessly cool while he is sometimes human disaster, she is his best friend and he starts to value their friendship more after that incident with Harry… and no matter what, MJ and Peter will be always friends first even if things gets sometimes bit complicated

9. he refuses to swear, instead of cursing he says something like what the web lol and accidentally called Fury “dad” several times

This took me way too long to write… Anyways feel free to ask anything ;))

#spoiler alert: next one is going to be Danny #also soon I will have to draw Luke and MJ and honestly I still don’t have clear vision for these two #ultimate spider man #usm #marvel #spiderman #fanart #peter parker #ava ayala #danny rand #sam alexander #luke cage #usm fanart #my art

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miraculouslyfine · 3 months ago

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the power of giving gifts

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

★★★

Sometimes giving a guy a Spider-Man scarf and a beanie makes him want to kiss you or something

(fluff, 2k-ish words)

Peter's schedule was always packed and pretty standard; between his Spider-Man duties, his internship and school there wasn't much time for him to explore his own interests or try out new things. Balancing his civilian and vigilante life was already hard enough without adding other stuff to the mix.

That wasn't the case for Y/n who seemed to pick up a new hobby every other month.

It was always fun for the group when she hopped on to a new thing, as she'd get hyperfixated on it and gift-give like crazy. Baking? She has done that. Photography? Of course. Scrapbooking? How could she not?

And she'd always make sure to make something for all of her friends, no matter how time consuming the activity was. This month wasn't any different.

—————

“GUYS! Y/n comes bearing gifts!”

“Why would you assume I have gifts-”

“Why else would your bag look like that? Basically stealing Santa's brand but okay-”

“And it's the end of the month meaning you're about to get “TikTok influenced” and blindly follow in on another trend-”

“Okay, yeah, I got it. Thanks for the input, MJ”, she rolled her eyes playfully as she sat down by her friends at the gym's bleachers trying to ignore the slight flush of her face when her thigh just barely brushed against Peter's.

“So whatchu got in there this time, Y/n/n?”, Peter asked with a soft smile, causing her to grin in return as she unzipped her school bag.

She took out another bag, now searching through the stuff in that one. She took out –surprise- another bag, handing it to MJ, who eyed it suspiciously before her eyes softened and a small appreciative smile made its way to her face.

The bag was a knitted book bag, woven from soft, sturdy yarn. Its surface was a landscape of intricate stitches. The color—a warm, earthy tone—hinted at quiet autumn mornings or the golden glow of sunlight.

The bag was fairly big, with enough room for three or four books to fit comfortably and perhaps a notebook for her musings. The handles, thick and secure, prompting her to carry it everywhere—just in case inspiration strikes. A single wooden button fastens the top offering a playful touch of whimsy.

“You made me a bag?”

“No, I made you a book bag.”, she corrected her teasingly.

“It's a bag-”

“For books, yes. So, y'know, you won't have to carry around your books in your hands all the time”

A moment of silence passed before MJ spoke up again.

“It's a cool bag”, she said with a small shrug. She wasn't fooling anyone; it was evident she loved the bag, especially as the days passed and she wouldn't leave the house without it

“Ned's next!”, she said excitedly as she fished out a set of two knitted figures, before handing them to him.

He gently took them in his hands, like he was handling a newborn baby. Each figurine has a distinct shape. Their forms were rounded and slightly plush, lending them a playful look. He noticed the tiny details like stitched eyes, embroidered smiles, and carefully added accessories give each figurine a unique personality, like a bandolier/ ammo belt and a blaster.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod- is that Chewbacca and... Han Solo? Thankyouthankyouthankyou- I LOVE Star Wars. How did you even know-”

The rest of the group shared a look, shaking their heads in response.

“Lucky guess”, she said eventually with a snort before finally turning to Peter.

“Um....here”

Her voice was soft, a hint of nervousness evident in her tone as she passed the bag to the boy sitting next to her.

N: “Hey! Why does he get to keep the bag-”

“I don't know. He's the last one to get something, I gave him the bag, no big deal-”

N: “Uh-uh, it is a big deal. You're clearly playing favorites. This is a classic case of favoritism and I won't stand for it!”

MJ: “Why would you even want a paper bag?”

N: “I don't know, we never have bags at home- Why does Peter need it-”

“Jeez, Ned, you can have the bag, no one cares about the bag-”

N: “That's the thing, I care about the bag-”

MJ: “Oh for fu- Peter, just give him the bag so he can shut up-”

N: "That's not a very kind thing to say, Michelle-"

MJ: “I will end you-”

“Kids, play nice”

MJ: “Yes, mom”

N: “Wait, does that make Peter our dad?

This little comment caught both Y/n and Peter off guard, making Peter blush furiously while she let out a dry, startled cough as they both avoided each other eyes like the plague, causing MJ to roll her eyes knowingly and Ned to smirk. Peter cleared his throat and shook his head before throwing a warning glare Ned's way.

“Can you like...be normal for a second?”, he muttered not taking his eyes off the bag in his hands.

He forced himself to look at the girl in front of him, giving her a small appreciative smile before he even saw the actual contents of the bag. He knew he would love whatever it was she gave him, he always did.

He gently reached into the bag, his fingers brushing over the soft, textured surface of something hidden within. A smile tugged at his lips even before he saw it—a glimpse of yarn peeking through like a whisper of winter warmth.

He reached in and pulled out the scarf first, its knitted rows of a deep, scarlet tones cascading from his hands. The weight of it felt reassuring, the stitches a delicate symphony of loops and care. He held it up, letting the soft fibers graze his fingers as he noticed the web-like pattern. The scarf's primary color was red, with a black web motif running its length, creating a striking visual contrast. The edges are outlined with a clean white trim, adding a subtle frame to the design. At the bottom, vibrant blue tassels hang neatly, adding a dynamic and colorful finishing touch.

Nestled beneath was a beanie, its rounded shape perfectly snug in his palm. He turned it over, admiring the way the yarn gathered neatly at the crown. The colors didn't really match the scarf's - instead, the beanie had a knitted design with a winter theme. It had a black base with a decorative pattern in white and red, giving it a far more subtle look.

“You made these?”, he murmured, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

His fingers lingered over the tiny imperfections; the kind that made the gift feel more alive, more personal—more loved.

She noticed him examining it and immediately felt the need to explain herself.

“It's uhm... it's not much...I just thought...y'know... New York winter is no joke, heh...and you're out a lot. It probably gets cold swinging around and um...I don't want you to get sick or anything.”, she swallowed nervously before shrugging her shoulders attempting to play it off.

“I tried matching the colors to your suit but I couldn't find the exact shades so they're a bit off”

He shook his head and smiled softly at her, his voice coming a bit choked up as he felt deeply touched by her thoughtfulness.

“No”, he cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed from how emotional he sounded a second there, “No, it's perfect. I love y- it /yeet?seriously?/. I love it. Thank you”

She gently took the scarf, with its delicate pattern and vibrant colors, from his hands, hesitating for a moment as her fingers grazed the soft fabric. She scooted a bit closer to Peter, her breath soft as she gently draped the scarf over his shoulders, fingers brushing lightly against the skin of his neck.

Peter looked at her face, meeting her eyes for a brief, tender moment. There was something unspoken in the way their eyes locked — the quiet weight of a thousand feelings not yet expressed. She adjusted the scarf, making sure it rested just perfectly, the action both intimate and thoughtful.

The warmth of the scarf feels like a promise, a comfort, yet there’s something deeper in the gesture — an acknowledgment of all that has been left unsaid between them, a subtle confession wrapped in the threads of affection. Peter, still for a moment, tilted his head slightly, as if savoring the closeness, the softness of the gesture, and the way it feels to have someone care for him like this.

Neither of them said a word, but the silence held something electric, a quiet understanding that perhaps, just maybe, there’s more to this bond than either has dared to admit. The air between them hummed with the possibility of feelings waiting to be named.

But of course, their moment was soon over-

“cough cough are you guys about to kiss? Are we interrupting something-”

Thanks, Ned

Both of them flushed in embarrassment, what was it with Ned and his commentary today? But neither of them moved away, choosing to offer each other a small apologetic smile instead.

“Ouch! Did you just kick me-” Thank you, MJ.

“I have no idea what you're talking about”

This little scene made both of them laugh softly, amused by their friends’ antics.

“And um... the beanie's for your...less superhero-y appearances. I think you look good in blue- I mean, you look good in anything really- heh, that's really not the point I was trying to make.”, she shook her head. “It's for the cold. Obviously. Gotta protect those ears, right? Not that they're big or anything-”, Jesus Christ, just shut up already-

Peter raised an eyebrow at her words, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He could tell she was nervous -heck, a blind bat could probably tell she was nervous- and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this even just a little bit. It was a good indicator he affected her as much as she affected him, and he enjoyed the fact. A lot. A whole lot.

“I should put that one on, too. See if it fits and all”, he said casually with a playful smile, passing her back the beanie.

She stared at it for a moment, not understanding why he was giving it to her before her eyes widened slightly in realization as she took it from his hands.

“Yeah, right, right-”, she chuckled softly and moved a bit closer to him.

She gently slid the beanie over Peter’s head, adjusting it with exaggerated care —her fingers definitely lingering on his face a moment too long as she tucked stray strands of hair beneath the edge, straightening the fold of the brim.

“It looks good on you,” she said quieter this time, the words carrying more weight than she intended.

Peter tilted his head, his playful grin fading into something softer. “Yeah? Must be the craftsmanship.” Something about having her this close made him a lot more confident.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe it's just your face”

“My face? First you had something to say about my ears, now my face too?”

She groaned, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Shut up. You know I didn't mean it like that”

“How did you mean it then, huh?”

“It was a compliment-”

“Oh, so you like my face? Is that what you're trying to say?”, he teased, his voice light and playful, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

She blushed a bit but didn't look away. "I guess I am," she admitted, the words escaping softly, almost as if she was surprised by her own admission.

There's a pause, both of them caught in the stillness of the moment, the years of friendship now feeling like a foundation, something unshakable, yet ripe for change. Slowly, almost instinctively, they lean in a little closer. Their breaths mingle, and the world outside seems to fade, leaving only the sound of their heartbeats and the weight of unspoken feelings between them.

And then, without another word, they close the space between them, lips meeting in a first kiss that is gentle, unsure at first, but quickly deepening as if it had been waiting to happen for years. The kiss is both a revelation and a quiet promise, one that speaks of all they've shared and everything that might come next.

“Okay, we're definitely interrupting something now-”

"Ned!"

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker #peter parker x you #spiderman #tom holland

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kissitbttr · 1 year ago

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i absolutely love u and ur work sm 😖 miggy being drunk but loyal 🥲 like reader is going to take him home after a night out and he’s like “back off i’m taken” or something along those lines ☹️☹️

omg he so would!! i’ll use this one for the married miguel i have going on!

it’s good to finally see miguel letting loose for once. her poor baby had been dwelling on work and stress that her heart couldn’t take it anymore. she could see it’s starting to get to him, but miguel being miguel, he always puts on the unbothered facade. unluckily for him, she could see right through her husband

so she proposed that him and the rest of the team to have a night out, miles and gwen are excluded.

miguel despises clubs, they’re pointless and reckless. music’s good. not worth the crowd though.

but since peter, jess, and her teamed up against him, he had no saying in that.

“you need to lay off my man a little, jess. poor baby has been working too hard” she points out, sipping on her lychee martini,

jess cocks an eyebrow. “i tried to! he’s the one who didn’t want to”

“you know how he is, y/n” peter chimes, “he won’t listen to any of us except you”

“yeah” she smiles, staring down at her ring finger. “sounds like him”

“where is he by the way? i need to get home soon. MJ would kick my ass if i’m even 5 minutes late” peter sighs, pulling out his wallet to put some bills,

she stops him with a hand gesture. “don’t. it’s on me.”

“girl, you sure?” jess asks,

“i make as much money as my husband. of course, i’m sure” she laughs, finishing her drink. “you two get home. me and miggy are going home too anyway”

jess fakes a gag. “i still have to get used to you calling him that. gross”

she laughs again, three of them standing up from the table before giving each other a hug, thanking them for coming.

soon as they left, she gathers her things before walking towards the bar where her husband is at. she smiles upon seeing his large back facing her, hunching slightly as he finished up the last drink of his.

it’s so easy to spot him,

“alright big boy, it’s close to one. let’s call it a night, yeah?” she appears by his side, hand on his shoulder,

to her surprise, he shrugs it off making her frown. avoiding her gaze before scooting away,

“miguel wha—“

“back off, i’ve got a wife. and i would appreciate it if you leave”

her heart soars,

the frown turns into a pleased expression, she crosses her arms with a playful smile. “oh really? she pretty?”

“gorgeous” he corrects her. “and the best damn thing i’ve ever had so please” his hand shoo her away. “i’m a man. i don’t cheat”

the heat blossoms in her chest when he does so. a frown forms on his handsome face, showing her that he isn’t playing around,

oh he’s drunk, drunk

“okay well, i happen to know your wife, actually. and i am very sorry but i mean no disrespect, I didn’t know you’re married” she plays along, watching him him but a stoic expression remains on his face,

“want me to get her?”

his face lights up at that, turning around to face her before nodding with a smile,

“yes please! that would be great. i miss her”

she awes at that, who knew her husband could be such a huge softie?

“okay, be right back” she responds before walking away only to reappear back to his left side, fronting a wide grin,

“baby! how you doing?!”

miguel eyes light up once more, mirroring his wife’s smile before his hands reach out to her, arms wide open to invite her to a hug,

“my love! mi corazón ! beautiful beautiful querida! i am so happy you are here!” he sighs dreamily,

she giggles at his cute demeanor, accepting his embrace as he pulls her in, arms wrapped around her waist.

“there was this girl who wanted to take me home and I completely told her off because i said, ‘my wife! is here with me and i would appreciate it if you fuck off!’ “

she holds back a laugh at how silly and sassy he is putting on his scowl expression,

“really? well good riddance! she should’ve known better!” she pulls away and cradle his cheeks in between her hands, feeling him lean against her palm,

he nods, circling his hands around her wrists. “mi corazón te pertenece, ahora y para siempre. got you this far, didn’t i?”

if her heart could burst, it would in that moment. even in his drunken state, he still manages to front a lovesick gaze everytime he looks at her. to speak like a true poet and aim for her heart just like that,

she nods back, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “yes, baby. yes you did”

I WANT HIM SO BAD YALL I CANT

#miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff

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thebearer · 11 months ago

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Mama and sugar doing bonding time. Maybe they leave the kids with Pete and Carmy and they go for a spa day and gossip

pete and carmy bonding time?? i'll cackle rn. i had to make it a blurb.

"Why does Pete have to come over here?" Carmen grumbles, burping Willow on his shoulder. You can see his sulking expression in the reflection of the vanity's mirror, rolling your eyes at his dramatics.

"You could've gone over there." You give him a pointed look, pulling your wedding ring and band out of the small jewelry dish.

"No," Carmen huffs. "I didn't plan on seeing Pete at all."

"Carmen," You hiss, giving a pointed look at Teddy, who's currently playing on your phone. "He's your brother-in-law." Carmen huffs. "Your children's uncle."

Carmen frowns, faltering under your unimpressed glare. "But... Baby, it's Pete."

"And he's always been lovely and kind and very supportive of you." You snap, rolling your eyes. "Honestly, Carmen, I don't know where this whole Pete hate thing comes from, but it's embarrassing."

"It's not hate." Carmen corrects quickly, following you into the closet. "It's just... You know how he is. He's just got that- I dunno he's just Pete."

"Pete treats your sister wonderful, treats his babies wonderful, treats our babies wonderful, treats your family wonderful, treats you wond-"

"-Alright, alright." Carmen huffs.

You frown at him, slipping on your shoes. "We'll be gone for a few hours. You can survive being cordial and nice with Pete for the sake of Teddy." You knew it was a low blow, using Teddy like that, but it was one you knew would work. "She loves playing with MJ and Maggie. You're going to deprive her of seeing her cousins because you think Pete's annoying?"

"No," Carmen said fiercely, defensively. "I never said that. I just said I'm not lookin' forward to it just bein' me and Pete. I don't," Carmen paused, looking down at Willow to avoid your gaze. "I don't know how to talk to him sometimes."

You smile softly, walking over to him, your hand sliding over his on Willow's back. "Baby, Pete talks enough for the both of you." You tease lightly, head tipping up to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. "Just talk to him about the restaurant, about New York, you know he just wants to talk to you."

The doorbell saved Carmen from answering, Teddy's screech and bounding feet interrupting you both. You frowned, stepping into the hall, shouting a warning at Teddy before you followed her to the front door.

Carmen looked down at Willow, the sounds of his niece and nephews mixing withe Pete's and Sugar's floated into the house. "Carm's burping Willow, but he should be here in a second." You said sweetly. His heart swelled at your covering for him, like second nature, like you knew what he needed before he did, giving him a few more minutes to mentally prepare and calm his anxieties.

"Carm! We're leaving!" Sugar yelled, her voice echoing down the hall. "I'm stealing your wife for the whole day, so you better come say bye!"

Carmen rolled his eyes, pressing his nose into Willow's hair. She still had that sweet baby smell lingering with the powdery baby lotion your lathered her in. He walked down the hall, turning into the kitchen where the three adults stood.

"Hey," Pete grinned widely. "You ready for this, Carm? Just the dudes today. Boys day- Well, I mean Teddy and Willow and Maggie. B-But just the dads today!" He rambled a little nervous, a little excited.

Carmen could feel your glare on him, letting his lips curl in a smile. "Yeah, we got it." He nodded at Pete. "You guys go have a good time."

You looked at him carefully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Carmen nodded, lips brushing your cheek lightly. "You got my card?" He nodded at your purse. "Go have a day. You deserve it." He turned to Pete, a hint of a grimace that he tried to swallow down. "The dudes got it."

Pete cheered, your lips curling in a bright smile. "Thank you," You muttered, pressing a kiss to Willow's head. "I'll have my phone if you need me."

"Except when we're in the massage and the facial." Sugar glared at you lightly.

"I've got it." Carmen nods, reassuring you sweetly. "We've got it." He nodded at Pete, who beamed with excitement. "Go have fun."

"We will." Sugar pulled you towards the door. "Take care of my babies! Bye!"

Carmen sat in an slightly tense silence with Pete, the kids squealing in the other room, Willow yawning ready for her nap. Pete tapped his hands rhythmically on the counter. "Dad's day, amiright?"

Carmen fought back a cringe, rocking Willow. "Dad's day." He nodded, knowing Mikey was rolling in his grave with laughter right now.

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nee-biter · 2 years ago

Text

A night with Miguel, Peter B, & MJ

what it would be like to spend a night with your husband, Miguel, and his hot married colleagues.

warnings: foursome, pnv sex, throat-fucking, degradation, wife-swapping 👁👁, it's just dirty

minors dni please

I feel like MJ would initiate it—

—or at least, influence you so that you'd think fucking with her and her husband would be such a great idea. She'd probably lean close to you, during a double date night, with you and Miguel and her and Peter B. And she'd start asking, "Do you and Miguel have other plans tonight?"

"Consider it, darling," She whispered, her finger grazing your thigh, while Miguel and Peter B fought over who would pay for dinner.

Miguel would pick up on your hints. Telling him that you wanted to visit MJ and Peter B's hotel room. A blush on your face—evident only when you have a favor to ask him. Timid eye contact between you and MJ. "What is it, mi amor?"

Miguel realized that the answer was perplexing. You, in your tight black dress, locking lips with his best friend's wife on the hotel bed.

Said best friend stared in awe, already half-hard at his wife sticking her tongue into you and squeezing your thighs with her freckled hands.

You liked that they were watching. You wished that Miguel would appreciate this display.

Oh boy, he did.

"Your turn," You said, out of breath, pointing between Miguel and Peter B.

The two of them scoffed, in denial of the tension and attraction between them. "If you don't do it, no pussy for either of you," MJ teased. Miguel was about to retort, but Peter B took that opportunity to crash his lips into the tough man's. Miguel grunted, instinctively grinding his hips into Peter B's waist.

'So that's what he tasted like.' Miguel thought.

You and MJ giggled, watching your two men rub their hard-ons against each other. When Miguel broke the kiss, he glared through the three of you. You were in for a long night.

No matter the rules the four of you tried to enforce—Don't kiss the man who's not your husband but you can ride his cock—No incriminating pet names—Keep the noise down—Wear a fucking condom—you still found yourself breaking them bit by bit.

Peter B's lips found yours as he was pounding into his wife's pussy. One of his hands firmly squeezed MJ's tits while he snaked a hand under your jaw to have you look at the way he fucked her.

Miguel, jealous and livid right behind you, pulled your hair back. His cock rammed into you, not giving you the time to adjust to his size. Two of his fingers spread your mouth open, letting you babble incoherently as he repeatedly bruised that spot in your walls that made you squeeze tightly on his cock.

"You whore, see if you like another cock better than this"

As you cried over and over again, MJ would whisper sweet nothings into your ear . "You're so beautiful being used like that, sweetheart." She pushed away the hair falling on your face. Peter B wrapped his hands on her ankles before turning her to you, her back on the bed—her pussy, glazed over with Peter B's precum, in front of you. "Want to please mommy too?"

While you were struggling to suck MJ's clit as Miguel harshly pounded into your pussy, Peter B got off the bed and positioned himself over his wife. "Dear, open up for me, please" She opened her mouth and he slid his cock inside as she lied down. You watched as his cock would disappear inside her mouth, plunging itself in her throat.

You whimpered at the sight, a sudden craving. Miguel once again caught on to your hints.

"You want that too, mi amor?" Miguel asked, his mouth curled upward into a smirk. He pulled out of you, knowing where you want his throbbing cock next.

I'll upload a part two -- here -- soon because this needs more exploration 😮‍💨

#spiderparents #mary jane parker #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #headcanon #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #mary jane watson #mj parker #spiderdads

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makncheese12 · 2 years ago

Text

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange