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venuslut · 3 months

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FANTASIZING ABOUT being fucked by Sukuna’s stomach tongue ♡.

He’ll beckon you over, feeling generous, and loosen your kimono to where you’re basically naked, hanging on by your obi. Sukuna grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, positioning you so that you straddled his waist. The mouth on his abdomen formed and opened with a sinister grin, its lips parting as if it were ready to devour you. The elongated tongue that emerged from it was slick and glistening, invitingly beckoning you closer.

“Go ahead," Sukuna rasped, his voice filled with dark desire. "Ride me, brat."

Hesitantly, you lowered yourself onto his mouth. Feeling the wet warmth of his waiting mouth against your most intimate parts. His tongue, long and sinuous, flicked out to taste you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation was both invasive and exhilarating, the slickness of his tongue gliding against your folds, teasing your sensitive clit sending shivers down your spine and a weak cry left your lips.

Sukuna gave you a few seconds to stew in the feeling before his hands tightened their grip on your hips, and brought you down to fully sit on his mouth. His tongue curled and twisted inside you, hitting all the right spots, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Each thrust of your hips brought you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building within you like a raging storm. Making your breath hitch and your body tremble with need. Sukuna uses his lips and tongue to worship your most sensitive areas, alternating between delicate licks and harder, rhythmic strokes. Sukuna's hands, warm and possessive, slide up your sides, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh. He keeps his touch firm, grounding you as you ride the waves of pleasure. His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, building the intensity of your pleasure with every passing second.

As he devours you with his sinful mouth, he keeps his eyes locked on yours, drinking in the sight of your ecstasy. He wants nothing more than to bring you to the peak of pleasure, to feel you quiver against his lips, and to drink in every drop of your sweet release. “God, you’re so…pathetic,” he bloviated, amused at your shameless display of eroticism. While you are in your own world of pleasure, Sukuna raised one arm from his top set and one from his lower set to cup your breasts that were bouncing enticingly in front of him. You didn’t think too much of it outside of the usual stimulation until you felt a wet and slimy feeling touch your breasts, and you realized that he was using the mouths on his hands to lick your boobs.

You mewled as his mouths began sucking and teasing your hardened nipples with his tongue. Lavishing attention to your sensitive peaks. Your body arches, your chest poking out to push deeper into his hands. It is intense. His tongue alternates between your cunt and your clit before focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves, abusing it til you see stars. Your feedback is choppy, like your brain can’t comprehend how good his ministrations are making you feel. Only broken moans escape your lips and you shudder. “You love getting used like this, huh?” He remarked in a condescending tone, smirking because he knows you can’t even register what he’s saying. “Moaning like a bitch in heat, you must love getting used like a whore,” he continued.

The sounds of your moans reverberated through the grand hall and Sukuna loved how dumb you were acting. Taking the experience to a new level, he took his free hand from his lower set of arms to reach behind you and place a hand over your ass. He was slick, coming in slow and then when you least expected it, he opened the mouth on his hand and stuck his tongue in your asshole. Your eyes that were downcast and glazed over immediately shot open and you shrieked in surprise. That was the catalyst to your orgasm and you released all over his tongue, the slithery appendage lapped up every drop of your juices eagerly, not letting a single ounce go to waste. The taste of your climax on his tongue is like ambrosia, and he relishes in the way your body tenses and spasms against his mouth. And when your release was done, went back into your cunt to resume fucking you to your next orgasm. You quickly began to squirm in his hold and tried to move away from the hand that penetrated your puckered hole, but was held down by Sukuna’s imposing grip.

He grinned evilly at your reaction, “what? You’re telling me you’ve never had anything in this hole?” You shook your head frantically as tears began to well in your eyes, uncomfortable at the sensation of his tongue wriggling around in your asshole. “No… it’s dirty,” you sniffed, feeling shame creep up on you. “Well, I’m happy to be the first. You should be honored, I’m teaching you how to be a proper whore for your husband,” he mused. His tongue extended and curled deeper into you, pressing into sensitive spots you didn’t know you had. This all so knew to you and it came so suddenly, all you wanted to do was run away from this newfound pleasure. His words only served to embarrass you further and make you want to try harder to get away.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes in annoyance at your incessant squirming, smacking your ass with his only free hand. “Behave.” He commanded, his voice deep and domineering, sending a fearful shiver of dread down your stomach. His command making you still immediately. But as you still, all the pleasure comes at you, receiving stimulation from the tongue in your cunt, the mouths on your nipples, and now the tongue in your asshole. Being confronted with all these different types of oral stimulants, you cum quick and without warning. You feel the pleasure burn through your tummy and legs. You cry out, unable to control your voice or your shuttering, digging your nails into his chest and leaving long red scratches. Sukuna could heal those easily, but he wants to leave them there to heal on their own, so he can parade them around like a trophy. He revels in the way you lose control, in the way you let the pleasure consume you, and he wants to have those moments etched into his skin.

And while he appreciates your sounds of ecstasy, you’re beginning to get a little too loud for him. Taking his last free hand, he places it over your mouth, the mouth on his palm eagerly latched onto you, its tongue exploring your mouth with an animalistic hunger. As Sukuna's tongue expertly danced with yours, his other two hands removed themselves from your breasts and found their way to your hips, his grip possessive and demanding. He pulled you off his stomach mouth and moved you lower, the bulge in his robes pressing against your thigh, a clear indication of his own undeniable desire from seeing you come undone. Sukuna took his hand away and broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulled away, a wicked grin etched on his face. He had only begun to savor the taste of your submission, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

"Now, my little whore," he whispered huskily, his voice laced with an intoxicating mix of sadism and lust. "Let's see how long you can handle my insatiable hunger. I didn’t prepare your tight little holes for nothing."

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oftidheard · 5 months

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Hi!

Would you mind to write about Sejanus Plinth x reader? Maybe she’s the mentor of the female tribute of district two?

thank you for the request ♡ reader is gn just because gender descriptors/pronouns never came up

♟ as rough as a briar, like walking through fire ㅤ⠀sejanus plinth x reader ㅤ⠀↳ 1.4k ↳ angst with some comfort ↳ gender neutral

on the morning of the first official meeting between mentors and their tributes, you fall in step with sejanus just ahead of the steps of the academy, and his uneasiness is apparent in the way he has never truly learnt how to hide the stutter in every footfall or the draw-in of his brows.

his arms are full as he carries cake and sandwiches, no doubt for marcus, and he flinches when you wordlessly reach out to help him carry the food.

his head whips to where you stand, and the fear in his eyes dissipates when he sighs your name in relief and lets you assist him.

you carefully place the wrapped sandwiches in your bag with the food you'd brought for your own tribute. as sejanus juggles the cake to rest in his right arm, you reach to grasp his free hand with your own.

"you're sweating," you whisper to him as you ascend the stairs with an air of worry to your voice, and you catch his wince from the corner of your eyes.

"he hasn't eaten a single thing i've given him," sejanus's voice is heavy as he mentions marcus, overwhelming guilt over having to helplessly watch a childhood friend await his death, "he won't even look at me."

you bite your lip pensively, and you know there's no way you could possibly ever say you 'understand', nor could any reassurance make him feel any better, but you try to at the very least help your boyfriend calm the spinning in his head.

your grip on his hand tightens momentarily, and you remind him, "take a deep breath."

your steps cease just outside the doors of the academy, and you tug on sejanus's arm softly, to signal him to do the same.

his eyes meet yours, and the conflict storming inside them squeezes at your heart; his lip quivers almost imperceptibly and you have to remind yourself to not slap the next gamemaker you see. but your own expression remains hardened, representing a pillar of stability you swear you will never stop being for sejanus.

you visibly take a deep breath, encouraging him to follow. in, and out. in, and out. you barely smile at him, knowing the slightest misstep will have him falling to the ground and bursting into tears, but you whisper, "i love you," and gesture that the two of you should head inside.

he nods unconvincingly, still trying to force himself to calm down.

"i love you too," he says, and in place of a pitiful smile that might grace your lips that could only make him feel worse, you nod, and walk into the academy.

the two of you enter the large room side-by-side and part only when you reach your neighbouring tables, each giving eachother's hand a final squeeze, and you pass sejanus his sandwiches with a — hopefully — comforting look in your eyes.

the instructions for the day are simple, mentors are given time to discuss strategy with the tributes, followed by an opportunity to see the arena.

when ordered to, you join your classmates in sitting down before their tributes.

you face sabryn, the female district two tribute, a girl younger than you but you'd bet she's stronger, and hopefully faster. she looks healthy, with long hair that looks well washed, and skin cleaner than others, save from the general dirt and grime every tribute has faced in the zoo.

you examine her only for a few seconds, sensing her unease at being watched like this. you bend down to your side to slide your hand into your bag, and hope she views this is a welcoming action, and not you averting your eyes out of fear — or disgust.

you silently retrieve the biscuits, cheese, and bread roll you'd prepared for sabryn, and lay them on the table close enough for her to reach.

her expression is hardened, not unlike your own when you're not trying to be hospitable or comforting, and she eyes the offerings distrustingly. the glare in her eyes only flickers for a moment when she glances to her left, where her district partner — marcus — sits.

you take this moment to check how sejanus is fairing, and take a sorrowful breath when your eyes meet the sight of him attempting to start conversation with marcus — who is entirely unreceptive, both to sejanus's words and the food sat on the middle of the table.

marcus's eyes catch sabryn's in a flash — in a look you can't quite read — before, slowly, she turns back to look at you.

sabryn tentatively — as if scared you might strike her across the cheek and laugh in her face for falling for some sort of trap at any moment — reaches out for the biscuits sat closest to her, and pulls them apart to eat one by one.

you pace out your questions for her, wary of the possibility of smothering her, and knowing if worse comes to worst and you run out of time here, you'll have an extra few minutes to talk in the arena.

you have to start with simple things that she scowls at — "how strong are you?" "are you a good runner?" "do you know how to climb?" — to get even a word out of her, but slowly she starts explaining that she's stronger than half the girls back home, and that she's never been that fast.

sabryn steadily grows receptive to your discussions of strategies — which in comparison to a cooperative tribute like the lucy gray girl is almost nothing, but is progress no less — and you find yourself hoping that in another life sejanus might have been tasked to mentor sabryn instead of marcus; someone who he hadn't known personally, and may actually have been able to speak to without the haunting of the past strangling him so unrelentingly.

your gaze drifts to check on sejanus any time sabryn takes a bite of the bread roll or you hear his endless attempts quiet down for a moment; dreading every time seeing his defeated expressions, but not being able to bear simply ignoring your lover.

not for the first time you find yourself hating what the world does to your boyfriend, and you take a single deep breath to draw your attention back to what you need to focus on; your detestation for everything sejanus has been through becoming white noise of the care you hold for him that you're used to.

the allocated time drags on slower than you'd expected the ten minutes to feel. but still, you find yourself with far too many questions and plans left sitting on your tongue, as you are ordered to rise from your seats and the tributes are dragged off an a separate transport.

you find sejanus as soon as you can, arm linking with his and foregoing conversation when you notice his frown.

the walk to the arena for the two of you is quiet, you can't think of anything to say that would help, so you instead slip your arm down to hold and rub soft patterns on the back of sejanus's hand.

you watch as leaves skitter across the pavement, and tune out the chatter of your classmates in favour for the nondescript sounds of wind slipping through the cracks of buildings and footfalls against cement; an untamed symphony that reminds you that you are alive and trying.

the circles you trace on sejanus's skin become hearts, which grow to be little drawings, which become spelling out words of comfort you don't risk saying where other people might hear and mock him.

you're tracing out 'you're not a bad person' on his wrist at the bottom of the steps to the arena, when he falls behind to the back of the group and tugs your arm gently to bring you with him.

before your eyes even meet, he's muttering, "i can't do this anymore," and your arms are flying around his shoulders before you can stop yourself.

"yes, you can, you're strong," he mumbles disagreements as you speak, but you push on, "you shouldn't have to do this, and you shouldn't have to be strong, but you are, and you will make it through this."

you know it's not enough, the whispered encouragements in his ears met with tears and the shake of his head, but you're both trying as hard as you can — which is all you can do.

#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

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wreckofawriter · 6 months

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Lucky Charm

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

pairing: james potter x reader

summary (request by @delusionalcancer): hello! I was wondering if you could do a James Potter fiction where he has a very important quidditch match and begs you to go but you can’t so he is really sad but midway through he sees you in the crowd and gets super happy? Sorry if requests are closed!

word count: 5k

warnings: weed, language, a tiny bit of angst, james calls you doll, no y/n (i think)

a/n: been really liking writing about quidditch recently lol. This is based on book!james who is a chaser not a seeker. its a bit cheesy but i think its cute

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

The common room was never quiet after Gryffindor had a quidditch match. Even when you lost -a rare occasion- there would be a crowd of bitter fans, grumbling about an unfair call or an unlucky miss, late into the night. Usually quidditch brought life and excitement to Gryffindor, no matter the outcome. But today as students in red and gold shuffled up the marble staircases and through the portrait hole they were silent, even in large groups there was no more than a hushed nervous whisper among them. The usual complaints that followed a loss had been discarded and forgotten.

It bothered you. It was uncanny and made you shift uncomfortably in your chair by the fireplace. A glance around told you that you weren't the only one feeling that way, an uneasy air had filled the room.

The match had been a brutal one, even now the heavy drops pounded against the windows of the tower, the winds shifting and fighting, unable to decide which way to blow. The air was just cold enough to turn what should have been rain to sleet, sharp and cold. Many had been surprised that the match had even taken place, expecting it to be canceled due to such terrible conditions. But the heads of houses refused to back away from a challenge, and the Gryffindor team hardly seemed to mind.

“Quidditch is played in any weather and every weather.” James had insisted, the morning before the match, “They won’t cancel a match for anything and I don't expect them to.”

You had stared up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall anxiously watching as chunks of hail were blown sideways uneasily, “I don’t think I even wanna go watch.”

James' face dropped as soon as you said this, “What? No!” he exclaimed, “You have to come watch. You're my lucky charm!”

And of course when he said that with his lips pulled into his signature boyish pout you couldn’t deny him anything.

Gryffindor was the favorite to win this year's cup, as they were every year since James joined the house team. It wasn’t all him of course but he had something no one else seemed to possess; raw and unbridled talent. People often joked that he was born to ride a broom, but it was hardly a joke. James’ broom wasn’t something he rode, it was a part of him. It seemed to a spectator that he could hop onto it and tell it what to do with nothing but his mind. He was graceful and precise so casually it seemed as if he were hardly trying at all. Today's game against Slytherin had been a shoe in, an expected win.

Which is why the loss had come with such a heavy silence. You couldn’t deny that Slytherin thought ahead, they too had been expecting the rain and had been a bit smarter about it, casting a series of enchantments and charms onto their players, paying extra attention to their seeker. So while your team fumbled through heavy storm clouds bogged down by drenched robes, the Slytherins had a relatively easy time navigating the skies. With this advantage they had taken the opportunity to humiliate the Gryffindor team as much as possible.

Their chasers played dirty, purposefully slamming into the Gryffidors and then claiming they simply had not seen them. Their beaters were ruthless as well, using their bats for hitting more than just bludgers, one of them had hit your new third year seeker, Aada Laine, straight between the eyes with their wooden bat, breaking her glasses in two and bloodying her nose.

James, who was so used to winning and doing it easily, took this bitter start to the match poorly. His anger had risen quickly leading to a number of unnecessary fowls that the Slytherin team took with great enthusiasm and by the time Regulus had caught the snitch right from under a near blinded Aada, Slytherin was already up 120 to 40. Perhaps it was just the shame of a horrible game but as James landed he had been angrier than you had ever seen him. His usually unruly hair plastered down across his skull from the rain, one of the lenses of his glasses was cracked and he was gripping his broom so tightly you had been surprised it had not snapped in two.

His obnoxious parade that usually occurred after a match had not taken place, in fact he had not even glanced at where you, Sirius, and Remus stood waiting for him on the edge of the pitch. Instead he marched across the mucky grass straight towards the seeker.

She was sobbing uncontrollably despite the fact that her nose and glasses had both been fixed by Madame Hooch. A few other teammates stood around the young girl attempting to offer comfort. But when James reached her he did no such thing, in fact he snatched the broom from her hand and yelled so loudly that even over the whipping of the wind and the jeers of Slytherin you had heard him kick her off the team. The rest of the Gryffidors had made to protest angry shouts and bitter words thrown at James but he had simply marched across the field and into the changing room leaving Aada wailing even louder than before.

No one had seen James since, and as you sat quietly in the common room with the other students it began to seem like you were all waiting for him. Waiting for him to show up, all smiles and jokes, and everything would go back to normal. But as hours ticked by and he never showed it became clear this was not going to be the case.

By dinner time the common room had almost completely cleared out. The die-hard fans retreated to bed while the rest of the house trooped miserably to the Great Hall preparing for the taunts and jeers from the Slytherin table across the hall.

It was almost dark by the time Remus climbed through the portrait hole looking annoyed, but he grinned when he saw you.

“No dinner?” You asked him and he shook his head sitting beside you.

“Been out looking for James.”

Your eyes widened, “You still haven't found him?”

“No we did.” He assured you quickly, “He's just acting like a prick so I decided I wanted to come in and dry off.”

“Makes sense,” you sighed, “he looked furious out there.”

“Tell me about it.” Remus groaned slumping back, his wet robes soaking onto the couch as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table, “He’s sulking like a child out at the boat house.”

“Oh, he’s very mature.” You chidded and you both grinned lightly.

There was a moment of quiet and the fireplace snapped, a portrait yawning.

“I don't suppose you could go get him?” Remus asked, looking up at you hopefully.

You sighed expecting this, “What makes you think I could bring him to reason?”

“You know how he is,” Remus said and he was right. You knew exactly how James was, earnest and genuine and proud. You thought about it for a minute, Remus eyeing you hopefully. Reluctantly you gave in. “Well I best go get him.”

You mumbled complaints under your breath on your way down towards the lake, the enticing smell and warmth of the great hall taunting you as you passed.

The trail to the boat house was muddied and steep. By the time you reached the bottom you were shivering and damp, glad for the cover it provided from the wind and rain. James was seated at the edge of one of the docks staring out across the lake.

You sat next to him and he turned, “Oh.” he said, “I thought you were Sirius.”

You grimace, “Does my hair look that bad?”

James' usual laugh didn’t follow and instead he cracked a small forced grin.

You’re both quiet for a moment, the sound of the rain pounding onto the roof and splashing onto the water.

“Congrats on the game by the way.” You say.

“What?” James looked at you bitterly, “That's not funny.”

You grin, “Yeah but you were, I’d stand out in that shit weather to watch you knock Connaham off his broom again.”

James paused, “He scored because of that.”

“Eh, whatever,” you shrug, “Totally worth it.”

You were expecting a laugh but instead James just shook his head, “You don’t understand.”

“Well then explain it to me.” You said, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“We’ve got absolutely no chance at the cup anymore.” He says fiercely.

You shrug again, “Since when I thought we were favorites? You just lost one game.”

By the way James looks at you you can tell he's getting frustrated but you don't back off keeping his gaze lock with yours.

“Ravenclaw hasn’t lost at all, and there's no way we're beating them by 230 points. We’d have to be 80 points up and catch the snitch.”

“That doesn't mean impossible.” You point out and he glares.

“You don't understand quidditch.”

“Says who?” you say and he shoots you a look, “Okay so what if I don't understand quidditch, I do understand that you're bloody good at it.”

Your praise raises a genuine smile out of him for the first time that night.

“Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.” He said, wiggling his brows.

“Don't let it go to your head.”

There's another pause in conversation and you take the opportunity to pull a small joint from the pocket of your robes.

James grins, “Ah so this is the reason you're out in the cold.”

“What? No! I'm here purely to comfort you.” You giggle, lighting it with the flick of your wand.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, the way your face lights up from the soft orange glow of burning hash. Your eyes sparkle and your lips pucker as you exhale. He finds it hard to look away but does so quickly when you turn to look at him.

“Want some?”

He nods and takes the joint from you grinning, “Thanks doll.”

You flush at the pet name, something he called you a bit too often.

The two of you pass it back and forth a couple times silently, watching the cold rain splatter onto the surface of the lake.

“You should really apologize to Aada though.” You mumble the slight buzz of your high making your voice sound floaty.

James doesn't say anything for a moment before he folds his arms stubbornly, “I was serious about that. She played like shit.”

You furrow your brow, “You all did James, that's not fair.”

Heat rises to his cheeks as shame bubbles in his stomach, “I don’t care if it's not fair. That snitch was four centimeters from her nose when Black caught it. She cost us the game.”

“Her broken nose.” You fight back, “And it's a team sport, she screwed up yeah, but so did you.”

Embarrassment flooded James' head in an angry red, “If it weren't for me it would have been a bloody blowout!” He snaps and you're taken aback, “I scored every damn point we had and youre saying I screwed up?”

You look at him bitterly, “Yeah I am. You let yourself get all pissed off before the game was even up and your team fell apart. You're the captain, take some responsibility.” you scoff.

James is now glowering, the softness of being high turned sharp and awkward, “You don’t even know what youre talking about.”

“I may know nothing about quidditch James but I do know that making a little girl cry over a game is a prick move.” You spit.

“It's not just a game!” He shouted at you so loud you flinched back.

Your eyes are narrowed as you stand, “That's exactly what it is James, a game. And you let yourself get all worked up over it like a child.”

He tenses as you speak, he feels as if someone had punched him in the gut when you look at him like that. But his pride takes over in a swoop and anger rises as he stands too, “What are you even doing down here?” He demands, “To smoke fucking weed and ‘comfort me’? You're not my bloody girlfriend!”

You stop dropping your shoulders, he was right of course, you weren't his girlfriend. As much as everyone always seemed to assume you were, as much as you flirted and touched, sneaking off together into the night beneath his cloak. The two of you had always toed the line of intimacy but you had yet to cross it, something you lay awake thinking about most nights.

“You're right.” You state firmly, “I don’t know what I’m doing down here.” And you turn, throwing the roach onto the ground and stomping it out. You're back out into the night grateful, as the weather hides your tears.

James doesn't follow though he bites his tongue harshly when you leave, wanting to call out, apologize and beg you to stay with him. But he doesn't, just watching you go with balled fists before he yells and swings at the stone wall.

The next morning is awkward when James makes it down to the great hall for breakfast, his hair messier than usual and dark circles under his eyes, the knuckles on his right hand scabbed.

The two of you sit on opposite sides of Sirius who carried the conversation on his back with great effort.

“Godric, what is up with you two?” He asks finally, “You’re walking around like fuckin’ corpses.”

“Nothing.” you shrug not meeting his eyes, “Just tired.”

Sirius eyes you both, and then glances at Remus who is mentally praying for him to shut up. “Sure…”

You excuse yourself to head to Arithmancy and Sirius turns to James immediately, “So you guys finally shagged huh?”

James sputters and Remus scoffs in disbelief.

“That's not while you’re all awkward?” He gaped, “What the hell else could it be?”

James grimaced, “We just… had an argument. “

“Don’t tell me it was over Quidditch.” Sirius says and James looks away, “Christ you're an idiot.”

James just nods in agreement, letting his head rest in his arms. All of the anger he felt towards you had been replaced by regret over his sleepless night and now all he wanted was for you to smile at him, but you wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Well, apologize.” Remus says, beginning to pack up his things, “Seems you have a lot of apologizing to do after yesterday.”

James stares gloomily at where you had been sitting, “Yeah I know.”

It's not till lunch when he finally gets you alone, cornering you on your way out of Herbology and back up to the castle. The grounds are wet from yesterday's weather and your shoes are covered in mud.

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, “I didn’t mean to yell at you last night, I was just upset and tired and I… I shouldn’t have done that. I'm really sorry doll.”

You eye him skeptically, looking for a hint of anything but pure sincerity, but find none. His eyes are glued to you like he's begging you to forgive him and as usual you just can't say no.

“All’s forgiven James.” You say simply, “Though you're lucky I didn't push you into the lake.”

Neither of you mention the real reason you stormed back to the castle last night, what he had said about what you were, or more what you weren’t. The topic seemed too heavy for the bright sun that seeps through cracks in the clouds.

He grins and throws an arm around you, “See this is why you're the best.”

You raise a brow, “Why ‘cuz I put up with all your bullshit?”

“No, because you forgive me for all my bullshit.”

“That's because I know you're an idiot who only means about half of what he says.” You snicker and it feels as if the world has gone back to spinning when he leans into you.

“I'd give myself at least a good three quarters.” He smirks.

“Of course you would.”

Remus looks pleased to see you hooked under James’ arm when you enter the common room, “See you two have kissed and made up.”

You flush.

“I think we're missing half that equation.” James said slyly, leaning in to peck your cheek, “There, all better.”

“Get off me James,” You huff, heart pounding as you half-heartedly push him away to take a seat on the couch and you know everything is back to normal when he sits beside you and throws his arm back over your shoulder with a pout.

And things stay normal, well as normal as they usually are.

The weather begins to warm and the trees begin to sprout new growth, green and pink flowering across the forest whenever you look out the window. A sense of excitement has gathered in the students, even as exams approach the sun gleaming through dusty windows in the castle make everyone feel giddy.

James has been practicing non-stop now as the final match against Ravenclaw approaches. He's out late, keeping the team out till dark to run drill after drill, play after play. He's even taken to giving private lessons to the new seeker, “Can’t have them falling apart when I leave, doll,'' He explained when you asked, “Plus I need her to be prepared for the match, we’re gonna win that cup again I swear.”

It was nice to see he was nothing but optimism again, his natural state. But it all crashed to the ground when the date for the match was set.

Your eyes go wide when he tells you, “The 16th?”

“Yeah, so you better start making your ‘Go Potter’ banner now.” He says cheekily.

“James..” You pause and feel guilt bubble in your chest, “I have my apparition test on the 16th. It was set ages ago.”

His face falls, “I thought we all took the test back in January!”

You shake your head, “Wasn’t 17 yet, my mum had to pull some strings so I didn't have to wait till summer.”

“So you can't come?” He’s devastated, his heart sinking into his stomach, he doesn't just want you there, he needs you there; to glance down at in the crowd after he scores, to wink at as he sweeps past, “But youre my lucky charm.” His voice is so soft it hurts.

“I know James, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” You look down at your hands unable to handle the disappointment that was written on his face.

He doesn't say anything, just staring down at the food on his plate. Suddenly his appetite was gone, he didn’t know what to think, how to think. What was even the point of quidditch if you couldn’t be impressed by his amazing dives and dodges?, “Will you at least be there before the match?” he asks.

You shake your head, “I’m leaving Friday after classes. My mum is gonna bring me back on Sunday.”

And he wanted to cry, it was childish and dramatic but it felt like you were abandoning him before his big moment, his big match, one that he had been working so incredibly hard to win, “Oh.” is all he can muster out and you're both left looking at your laps.

You apologize again, and try not to let the heaviness in your chest drag you through the floor. You weren’t sure if there was anything worse than disappointing him, you preferred him fiery and fuming.

When James reached the Quidditch pitch for practice that day he seemed to have lost all of his energy, his feet dragging. He kept getting asked if he was okay and he kept saying yes even though it felt like someone had smashed him to bits and put him back together with nothing but scotch tape.

He played terribly, his usual charisma lost leaving his passes stale. He felt anger rising with every mistake he made, how could he let this happen? How could he let you have so much impact on him? How could one person missing from a stand of hundreds make him not even want to play? It was infuriating how obsessed he had become with you. Sirius and Remus had warned him this would happen, that his little crush would grow into a bulging monster, and they had been right. He simply couldn’t help it, you were stunning. And funny and brilliant and every other positive adjective he could possibly come up with, he would list what he liked about you for years if you asked. It was this reason he just couldn’t bring himself to confess, the only thing worse than having to keep you at arm's length was losing you altogether. And despite his friend's assurance that his feelings were returned he just couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk being wrong and not even being able to call you his friend anymore. Because, once again, he needed you.

So he played it up, with the petnames and the touches, he took what he could trying to make it obvious, to convince you to make the move he so desperately wanted to. But you hadn't, you had just blushed and giggled, turning his heart to mush.

And now he was sitting in an empty locker room, tears spilling down his cheeks because you couldn’t be at the most important game he had ever played, would ever play. He wiped them away desperately but they just kept coming, making his face feel hot and his head throb.

The ache didn’t go away over time like he thought it would but grew, weighing him down like a ball and chain. Everyone noticed, his friends, his teammates and worst of all you.

You kept apologizing, like it was your fault that his match had been scheduled on the one weekend you would be out of the castle. He could tell you felt terrible about it and it only made him feel worse that he wasn’t just bringing down his own performance but your own. If you didn’t pass your exam he was sure it would be his fault for making his own devastation at your departure so obvious.

The sixteenth approached with building anticipation, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors that usually got on quite well had begun to shout obscenities at each other at dinner. Team members were taunted constantly in corridors on the way to classes, a duel had even broken out between two beaters, landing them both in the hospital wing for a short spell. But of course ever the strategist, the Ravenclaws had saved their best ammo for last.

It was Friday night before the match and you had already left giving James a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek ‘for luck’ that had actually improved his mood quite a bit. As if sensing this the Ravenclaw captain had materialized before him on his way back from dinner with a sick grin on his face.

“Heard not even your girlfriend wants to watch you lose tomorrow Potter.”

James flushed red, “Piss off, Robinson.”

He just laughed, “I mean after your horrid performance last match I bet you asked her to leave huh?”

James tried to swallow his fury but he was not doing very well, his fists bunching at his sides.

“Maybe when I win she’ll realize you're all talk and finally go on that date with me.” he taunts.

James knows this is very untrue, you had confessed to him many times that you found Robinson nothing short of annoying, claiming he had an even bigger head than himself, but he still felt jealousy rising in his gut. Would you think less of him if he lost again? Would you laugh about it behind his back? Would you give some other guy a kiss on the cheek and wish him luck instead? He wasn’t sure he could bear even the thought.

He strode past Robinson with a seething glance, “You're gonna be bloody crying by the time the match is over tomorrow.” He hissed and then marched up the stairs to a restless night of dreams involving you kissing some faceless guy in blue quidditch robes.

James felt sick the next morning, his head was throbbing behind his eyes and no matter how much bacon he tried to force into his mouth he just didn’t feel like eating. It wasn’t until Aada came up to him literally shaking from nerves that he realized he was just gonna have to pretend to be okay.

He gave his usual pep talk in the locker room, but his eyes were cold and hard instead of the usual glowing excitement that he alluded. The team was tense when they marched out onto the field, the sun was out and the sky was clear. A cold morning breeze swept across the grass as he shook hands with a smirking Robinson and he shivered.

The whistle blew and it began.

“Potter with the quaffle!” The commentator began, “Nice dodge there, oh that looked like it hurt! It’s Ravenclaw with it now.”

James growled rubbing his side where the bludger had hit him and racing after the girl who had snatched his fumble.

The game pushed on and James was surprised to find that while he was playing mediocre at best, the rest of the team seemed to be making up for it on the tenfold. Aada, who had been instructed to do nothing but annoy the Ravenclaw seeker until Gryffindor was eighty points up was doing a magnificent job, the extra time he had put into training her showing obviously in her skillful maneuvering and dives. The beaters had yet to miss a hit and twice James had been able to score with only the keeper as an obstacle.

Despite the fact that they had gone in at a significant disadvantage the Gryffindors were shockingly loud, James didn’t glance much at the crowd, afraid it would make him realize who wasn’t there more than who was, but he could hear them even over the whooshing of wind in his ears.

They were almost an hour into the game when the snitch was first spotted, but only 50 points up, Aada was unable to go for it and instead took the opportunity to run straight into the Ravenclaw keeper, nearly knocking him off his broom. She played it off beautifully, tears and all, and it cost them only one penalty shot which their keeper saved. James could have hugged them both.

When the quaffle was tossed after, Robinson had snatched it from James’ grasp and sped towards the hoops. A bludger caught him in the side and the quaffle spiraled from his grip down towards the Gryffindor crowd, James raced after it, his feet sweeping inches from the heads of his classmates when he caught it with a roll. It was then that something caught his eye.

A flag so large it was being held by four people was spread and waving mere inches from his face, the words, “Go Potter!” sprawled on it in red and gold ink that had been enchanted to send off sparks that crackled and snapped with golden light.

He looked down and saw you staring up at him, a red hat pulled over your head as you cranned up at him, waving your arms as wildly as you could possibly manage. You were grinning so wide he could see each of your teeth, your cheeks pink and eyes glinting as you cheered up at him.

When you locked eyes he felt his heart rise from his stomach and pound away in his chest. He wanted to drop into the stands that very moment, take you into his arms and kiss you stupid. But instead he sent you a wink and sped off towards the goals feeling like someone had just gifted him a pair of wings.

“Potter with the quaffle, bludger coming his way. A beautiful dodge!” The commentator yelled, “And he's looped Robinson as well, look at him go!”

James had never felt so confident in his life, and he scored with ease again and again, coming to do a victory lap round your flag each time he did.

“And Potter scores again!” shouted the loudspeakers, “He has been simply unstoppable! Gryffindor leads 160 to 80!”

The cheers were deafening around you and James once again hoovered above you momentarily, blowing you a kiss that caused your cheeks to light on fire. He was actually doing it, he was winning the match he had told you was impossible and pride swelled in your stomach. It wasn't ten minutes later when Aada caught the snitch and it was official, you had won, both the game and the cup.

The team hurdled to the ground and swarmed their seeker, but James had started in a run the opposite way, towards the crowd that was now rushing out onto the pitch.

He shoved past the first few to reach him and beelined for where you were jogging at him, arms spread.

You collided with such force that if he hadn’t lifted you into the air you were sure you would have toppled over onto the ground. His arms wrapped around your waist spinning you around with a shout, “You came!”

You nodded, smiling so hard it hurt, you looked down at him, his cheeks flushed, brown eyes glistening in the sunlight and you knew at that moment that it was meant to be. You took both hands and cupped his face pulling it into yours and kissing him feverishly.

There was a loud chorus of cheers and whoops around you but neither of you heard, too lost in the taste of one another. When you broke away he was grinning even wider, “You passed then?”

You had forgotten all about your test that morning, but he hadn’t, of course he hadn’t.

“Yeah, I disappeared as soon as they handed me my license.” You giggled, heart hammering in your chest, “Mum’s gonna kill me for missing dinner.”

“You’re a bloody treasure doll.” He laughed, and then he drew you into another kiss squeezing you tight around the middle as your hands ran through his hair. “My lucky charm.”

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

taglist: : @accio-rogers @roslea @sleepingalaska @the-natureofme @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreams @d22malfoys @evyiione

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phillydilly · 6 months

Text

Priorities

⊹♡— in which Charles and his long distance girlfriend get into an argument over her priorities

Part 1 , Part 2

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: I wrote priorities to challenge myself because I’m not the best at writing angsty situations, but I really hit a bit of a writers block with part 2. I’m happy with how it came out though, I hope you like it!

The days leading up to the Monaco Grand Prix were filled with an angsty silence between Charles and Y/n. They exchanged their usual good morning and good night texts, sprinkled with "I love you" messages, but the heavy unspoken tension hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Monaco race week was always a special time for Charles. It was his home race, and Y/n had attended every year since they'd been together. This year, however, was different. With the unresolved issues between them, Charles wasn't sure if Y/n would come, and Y/n wasn't sure if Charles even wanted her there.

On Friday, Y/n didn't show up at the track as she usually did. They exchanged a few texts throughout the day, discussing mundane topics and avoiding the elephant in the room. Charles couldn't bring himself to ask her why she hadn't come, and Y/n didn't offer any explanation.

"Charles, I wish I understood what's going on," Y/n texted, her words heavy with frustration.

"I know, Y/n," Charles replied, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he debated whether to bring up their issues. But he couldn't find the right words.

Saturday arrived, and there was still no sign of Y/n at the track. Charles's hope began to wane, and he couldn't shake the feeling of heartbreak that gnawed at him. He knew that their relationship was at a crossroads, and he feared that he might have already lost her.

As Charles walked through the paddock, his brother Arthur approached him, concern in his eyes. "Charles, where's Y/n today? She's always here with you."

Charles hesitated for a moment before answering, "We're going through a tough time, Arthur. I don't even know if she's coming."

Arthur furrowed his brow, worried for his brother. "You need to talk, Charles. Don't let this come between you."

On Sunday, the day of the race, Charles woke up with a heavy heart. He knew that Y/n wasn't going to be there for his home race, and it weighed on him as he prepared for the day ahead. He tried to focus on the task at hand, the intense competition of Formula 1, but his mind kept drifting back to Y/n.

Minutes before he was scheduled to get into his car and head to the grid, Charles stood in the paddock, lost in thought. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, his heart leaping in surprise. There stood Y/n, her eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

Their gaze locked, and for a moment, it felt like the world around them disappeared. Charles couldn't believe his eyes, and he stammered, "Y/n, you're here?"

Y/n nodded, her voice filled with emotion, "I couldn't stay away, Charles. I know we need to talk, but I didn't want to miss your home race."

Charles's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and joy. He pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, and as he held her, he whispered, "I've missed you so much, Y/n."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she replied, "I've missed you too, Charles. We need to talk, but right now, let's focus on your race."

Charles nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew that their conversation could wait, but in this moment, with Y/n by his side, he felt like he could conquer anything.

After the race, Charles finished in sixth place, a result that left him deeply disappointed. He went through his post-race duties mechanically, the disappointment gnawing at him. Normally, he would join the team and fellow drivers for post-race celebrations, but this time, he wanted nothing more than to go home with Y/n.

As they left the circuit and arrived at Charles's apartment, Y/n could sense his despondency. The silence between them was palpable, but Y/n knew that they couldn't avoid the inevitable conversation any longer. She decided to break the ice by giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Charles, I know you're not in the best mood right now," she began cautiously. "But can we please talk about the argument we had at the airport?"

Charles sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. He had bottled up his emotions for too long, and they threatened to spill over. "Y/n, I'm really not in the mood right now."

Y/n felt her patience wearing thin. She had come to Monaco not only to support Charles but also to work through their issues. The tension between them had been simmering for weeks, and it was time to address it. "Charles," she started, her voice tinged with frustration, "I came here because I care about us. I can't just pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Charles stayed silent, and y/n was started to get the sense that she might have to beg him to talk to her. She was just as uncomfortable talking about this as he was, and she understood that he’s had a tough race, but surely he can understand that they can’t keep bottling up the tension?

“Fine I’ll start” she sighed, “I understand that I should’ve freed up my schedule for our weekend together, and I know that I let you down by prioritising work, but I feel like you don’t take my job seriously.”

That caught Charles’ attention. “How can you even say that?” He said, “I see how hard you work, y/n, but we had planned this weekend together for weeks and you let me down! This season has been the most stressful and exhausting season I have ever done. I’ve been struggling with the car, the team, everything feels like it’s too much,” Charles couldn't contain his emotions any longer. He began to pace back and forth in the living room, his words pouring out like a dam that had burst, "and the one weekend I have time to unwind with the person I love most, she tells me she’s busy? I’ve never felt so lonely.”

Y/n could see the anguish in his eyes, and it tore at her heart, she had never seen him so broken down in all the years she’s known him. She wanted to hold him and comfort him but she knew that this conversation needed to happen first. "Charles, I understand," she said softly, "but I can't just quit my job because you're feeling like shit!"

“God, y/n that’s not what I’m saying!” He yelled, feeling frustrated and unheard, “I just want to know that when we make plans, you aren’t just going to bail on me last minute!”

Y/n didn’t appreciate him yelling at him, and began to feel angry herself, “It happened one time, Charles, you’re being dramatic!”

“Dramatic? I just wanted a fucking break from all the stresses,” he snapped, “something that you have been for me all these years, god forbid I’m disappointed by the fact that you were busy!”

Y/n retorted, “A break? You can’t handle anything, can you? You’re always so damn needy, like a fucking child!”

Stunned by her hurtful words, he took a moment to compose himself, his voice slightly trembling as he responded, “I thought you understood me better than this, but maybe I was wrong.”

Y/n felt her heart sink as she realized the gravity of her words. She had wounded Charles deeply, and before she could say anything more, Charles retreated into another room, leaving Y/n standing there, her heart heavy with remorse.

She knew she had gone too far with her harsh words, and regret gnawed at her. After a few minutes of battling her own emotions, she mustered the courage to follow him.

She knocked gently on the bedroom door, her voice soft and apologetic, "Charles, I'm really sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

The door creaked open, and Charles appeared, his eyes still carrying the pain of their heated argument. "Amour, I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just been under so much pressure lately, and it's been eating at me."

Y/n stepped closer and reached out to hold his hand, her voice filled with sincerity, "I understand, my love. I should've been there for you, and I promise I'll work on balancing work and our time better. But you have to understand that I need to have my own life and career too."

Charles nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "I know, Y/n. I shouldn't expect you to to just drop everything for me. I love you for who you are, and I want you to be happy."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she said, "I love you too, Charles, but we seriously need to work on communicating better, I don’t want this kind of tension build up between us again."

They talked for hours, pouring out their feelings, fears, and frustrations, while also reminiscing about the moments that had brought them together. They both realized that their love was strong enough to weather the storms if they were willing to be more understanding and patient with each other.

As the night deepened, they snuggled up in each others arms, finding solace in the warmth of their embrace. The storm had passed, and the skies of their relationship cleared, leaving behind a renewed sense of love and understanding.

Wrapped in each other's arms, Charles and Y/n found comfort in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The tension that had weighed on them earlier was replaced with a profound sense of intimacy.

Y/n traced her finger along Charles's jawline, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "You know, Charles, I can't stand seeing you upset. I hate when we fight like that."

Charles smiled gently, his hand caressing her cheek. "I know, Y/n. I can't stand it either. I never want to hurt you, but sometimes, my emotions get the best of me."

Y/n leaned in and kissed his lips tenderly. "I understand, love. We both have our moments, and we'll work through them together."

Charles sighed contentedly, his arms drawing her closer. "I'm so lucky to have you. Even when we argue, I can't imagine my life without you."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with affection. "You're my world, Charles. I love you more than anything."

They lay there in silence for a moment, just enjoying the serenity of being together. Charles broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "I promise, Y/n, from now on, I'll be more patient and understanding. I'll support your career just as much as you support mine."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. "And I promise to make more time for us, Charles, to show you how much I love and appreciate you."

Charles's fingers interlaced with Y/n's, and they held each other's gaze, the unspoken promise of their love evident in their eyes.

With a sleepy yawn, Y/n whispered, "Let's put this behind us and focus on the beautiful future we'll build together."

Charles nodded in agreement, his voice filled with tenderness, "Yes, my love. Our future will be bright, and our love will only grow stronger."

They snuggled even closer, their love reaffirmed, and as the night enveloped them, they drifted off to sleep, knowing that their bond was unbreakable, and their love was enduring.

₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tags:

@janeholt3 @itsjustkhaos @mirrorball-6 @meadhbhcavanagh @aorifukuzawa @eviethetheatrefreak @dl-yum

#Charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #formula 1 smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc story #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x female reader #Charles leclerc x you

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Text

OUTERBANKS: THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU — THE LORE ♡

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

CW: depressing tones, violence, death, blood, gore.

AN: okay, so i don’t really know what this is — but i wanted to open this up as an au i could write drabbles for with reader x character and i decided to write some extensive lore behind the universe i’m creating. i’ve always loved zombie media so i wanted to combine my fav things n create this little au for you guys. this isn’t really a fic but more so an opener to inspire drabble requests n ideas in my inbox, kind of like an experimentation. okay, hope you enjoy !! ౨ৎ

“We got gate one locked down, I repeat Pope— we got gate one locked down. Proceed with opening gate two. Over.”

“Got it, thanks JJ. Over.”

The squealing of mechanics shakes the dusty ground as the old gates begin to slowly slide, squealing as they open up revealing the long forest road up ahead. John B readies himself for a simple supply stake out, headed out alone to check out an old warehouse one of the runners had scoped out a week prior. As he exits the gates, he looks right and then looks left — stepping on the squishy skull of a previously dealt with Infected, its body lulling out from the old rickety grafitti’d sign reading Kitty Hawk.

The world went to shit back in 2020. Some sort of pandemic that had people biting others, their brains overpowered by aggression and hunger for flesh. One day everyone was cleaning up the beaches after Storm Agatha, the next day people were tearing into flesh right infront of your very eyes. At first, the people of the Outerbanks had moved out onto their boats, living out on the water with the occasional supply run. It worked for a while, the infected couldn’t swim so as long as your boat was afloat — you were safe from their bloody unforgiving jaws. However, supplies started to run out pretty fast, and people began to turn on eachother. Hopping boats and pirating until no one was left standing and the water was tainted with blood— the infected gathered on the shore to feast on the bodies slowly being washed up by the tide.

The pogues had found you by week six, your body curled on the pier by the Chateau crying into your hands having lost everyone you’d ever known. You were sure to soon perish— no supplies, no weapons, no food. Life had become bleak, hopeless — until for the first time in your life you’d felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed to the back of your head.

“Who are you and why are you out here?” Kiara barks, a khaki green bandana tied to cover her nose and mouth.

“I’m— i’m just looking for shelter. I don’t have any weapons on me I swear I’m safe, please just —”

“Are you bit?”

“No!”

“Turn around.”

When you slowly turn, you’re met with two female faces, one more familiar than the other. Besides Kiara stands Sarah Cameron— a girl you went to school with. She looks more unsure than Carerra, hand resting on the pocket knife wedging out of the waistband to her denim shorts.

“I don’t think she’s bit Kie… hey, I think I know this girl.”

It was Sarah who had convinced Kiara to bring you back to the Chateau and let you stay. It was also Sarah who got you accustomed, explaining the role everyone played. She was a negotiator, her social ranking in the old world aiding her in communicating with people outside of the barricades they’d made. Kie was in charge of supplies, stock take and recruiting. She decided who was in and who was out. Pope was the brains, did all the mathematical equations to help the group understand their circumstances and chances of survival better. JJ, a fighter — most skilled in dealing with firearms and building bombs, which came in pretty handy when clearing out what was left of Kitty Hawk. John B was their leader, he often came up with the main strategies and stuck his neck out on the line.

Everyone was their own cog in the well oiled machine they’d built to aid them in surviving an apocalypse. It was uncertain what you could bring to the group until you’d mentioned that you’d been studying to be a nurse.

“S’good thing you come in useful ‘cus I was totally gonna suggest we use you as bait. Y’know, cos of the whole doe eyed damsel in distress thing you got goin’ on.” JJ jests with a smirk, and you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you to make sure you knew he was only kidding around.

You became a lot more useful for patching people up once you’d cleared out Kitty Hawk. The pogues and yourself had began to collect a larger group of survivors, creating a small town to live in what once was the behavioural-correctional camp. You’d collected gardeners, seamstresses, doctors — people of all ages looking for shelter and safety to live in the many dormitories the land had to offer. You had the evening shifts, patching up any runners that had return from their time outside of the gates with injuries.

You remember the day Sarah got bit so clearly.

The Twinkie had come barrelling through the gates so fast, the townspeople that protected the entrances barely getting them open in time before the vehicle was speeding in— Kiara and John B ushering the blonde out the doors yelling out for you urgently with devastation in their voices, begging you to amputate the arm she’d been bitten on.

The pogues had gone for what was promised to be a civil meeting with Ward and Rafe Cameron. The two had taken over what was left of Kildare, creating a strong colony in a gated community that Ward had just come into possession of right before the outbreak. They were feared, respected — and they wanted Sarah to return to them.

Of course, the meeting was a set up— and when Sarah had refused to go with them — they opened fire, attracting rogue infected to swarm in on the group. In the chaos, Sarah was bitten — and JJ in a fit of rage had shot Ward Cameron straight through the skull infront of his only son. This started an all out war.

You recall arriving to Sarah, and your heart sinking. It was definitely too late, her eyes blood shot and skin uncharacteristically pale. She was whispering “Its okay.” Over and over. You wasn’t sure if she was convincing you or herself.

Kiara took her out to the forest to put her out of her misery before she got the chance to turn into one of the brainless monsters that had existed outside the gates. She was stronger than you could ever be, holding back her tears as she aims the barrel to the blondes head. You weren’t there, but you heard the gunshot as you were patching up JJ who was skimmed by a bullet. You slept by his side that night without uttering a word about it.

Everyone got a little more serious from that point on. You often stared at the heart with her initials she’d carved into her old bunkbed that now sits empty in her dorm, her things laid out like she was still coming back to collect them one day. John B got a little more stern as a leader, over protective of you as he made it clear he didn’t believe you’d be able to protect yourself out there — banning you from leaving the gates. JJ became a more ferocious fighter, busying himself with target practice out in the forest shooting bullseyes each day to ensure he could quickly take down whoever he needed to. Pope got more reserved, more moody — hanging out by himself infront of maps or in the radio room with Kie trying to find new survivors. Occasionally, just occasionally — the bunch of you would get together and drink round a camp fire. Things would feel normal again, just for one night — the group laughing and telling stories the same way they might have done before the outbreak.

You wondered how long this could last, if there was ever an end to any of this. You also wondered if there was a reason to it all happening, if you were being punished for the way you’d behaved as human beings. Mostly though, on a day to day basis— you wondered when Rafe Cameron would return for his revenge. It was only a matter of time.

#jj maybank prompt #john b prompt #rafe cameron prompt #pope heyward prompt #apocalypse!au

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voidpetrova · 8 months

Text

sleep with the enemy — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, sex, violence, enemies to lovers (again) — smut

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: you couldn't deny how attracted you were to the infamous vampire hunter, but you had him wrapped around your finger as much as he had you around his.

✧.*

in the dimly lit study of the salvatore boarding house, the atmosphere crackled with tension. soft rays of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a ghostly glow upon the assembled group. damon salvatore, his signature smirk dancing on his lips, leaned casually against a bookshelf. stefan, his expression more serious, stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the outside world. the notorious vampire brothers, united by a common enemy, had convened to discuss their strategy.

damon's voice, dripping with sarcastic charm, broke the silence. “well, well, well. look who decided to grace us with her presence.” he tilted his head towards the entrance where you stood, a glimmer of defiance in your eyes. clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the very essence of the shadows, you exuded an air of mysterious confidence that demanded attention.

you returned damon's gaze with an arched eyebrow. “oh, don't flatter yourself, salvatore. i'm just here to make sure your incompetence doesn't doom us all.”

jeremy gilbert, leaning against the wall, observed the exchange with an intrigued yet wary expression. his hunter's instincts were on high alert, his hand unconsciously drifting towards the wooden stake tucked in his belt. you and jeremy had clashed numerous times before, a dance of survival in a world where vampires and vampire hunters were perpetually at odds.

stefan's voice cut through the simmering tension. “enough of the bickering, you two. we have a common enemy, and katherine won't wait for us to sort out our differences.”

eamon pushed himself off the bookshelf, sauntering towards the center of the room. “right you are, baby brother. so, here's the plan. we gather information on katherine's latest whereabouts, pinpoint her weaknesses, and work together to take her down.”

you folded your arms, your gaze still locked on damon. “and what's in it for us? why should we risk our lives to help you?” stefan's voice remained steady. “because if katherine gets her hands on the cure for vampirism, she'll be unstoppable. and that means bad news for all of us.”

jeremy's eyes flickered between you and damon. “stefan's right. we might not like each other, but working together is our best chance at stopping her.”

a derisive snort escaped your lips. “i can't believe i'm agreeing with little gilbert. fine, we'll play along. but don't expect me to hold your hand through this.”

jeremy's grin widened. “oh, sweetheart, i wouldn't dream of it.”

as the meeting adjourned, you exchanged a lingering glare with him. the storm of emotions beneath the surface was palpable—hatred mingled with curiosity, distrust warring against a reluctant sense of partnership. little did you both know, the journey ahead would test not only your determination to take down katherine, but also the boundaries of your own hearts.

the next evening, in the dimly lit parlor of the salvatore boarding house, stefan stood at the head of a long table, his gaze focused on the assembled group. you and jeremy sat on opposite sides, your postures tense and guarded, radiating an air of defiance that seemed to challenge the very notion of cooperation.

stefan cleared his throat, his voice calm yet authoritative. “alright, listen up. we've got a lead on katherine's location, and we need to act fast. but we can't do this separately. damon and i will handle one part of the mission, while you two,” he gestured towards you and jeremy, “will work together on another.”

a collective tension gripped the room, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable eruption of objections.

you leaned back in your chair, your eyes narrowing. “oh, i'm sorry, did i accidentally step into an alternate universe where i actually care what the gilbert boy thinks?”

jeremy shot you a defiant glare. “trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual. i'd rather be stuck in a room with vervain-soaked chains than work with a bloodsucker.”

stefan's patience remained unshaken. “enough. we don't have time for this. katherine is dangerous, and our only chance is to pool our resources. we need both of your skills to succeed.”

you crossed your arms, your lips curling into a sneer. “and what skills would those be, exactly? his knack for getting himself captured or my ability to actually get things done?”

jeremy's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. “at least i'm not a parasite that preys on innocent people.”

damon, who had been lounging against a nearby wall, chimed in with his characteristic smirk. “ah, young love. so heartwarming.”

stefan's voice held a note of finality. “this is not up for negotiation. you two are going to work together, whether you like it or not. we're out of options.”

a heavy silence settled in the room, the weight of impending collaboration hanging in the air. reluctantly, you and jeremy exchanged a glance, both recognizing the gravity of the situation. despite your shared disdain, the mission ahead was too critical to ignore.

with a resigned sigh, you leaned forward, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “fine. i'll try my best not to kill him—accidentally.”

jeremy rolled his eyes, his lips quirking into a reluctant half-smile. “yeah, i'll do my best not to, uh, aim for your heart.”

stefan's gaze softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “good. let's focus on the mission. we'll meet back here in twenty-four hours to share what we've found.”

as the meeting adjourned, you and jeremy exchanged one last lingering look, a silent understanding passing between you. the enemies were reluctantly united, bound by the threads of necessity. and as the stakes grew higher, the blurred lines between hatred and something else began to reveal themselves in the shadows of your minds.

the following evening found you and jeremy in the dimly lit ambiance of the mystic grill, a popular gathering spot for both humans and supernatural beings alike. seated across from each other at a corner booth, tension hummed between you like an electric current, crackling with the weight of untold history.

you took a sip of your drink, casting a pointed look at jeremy. “i have to say, gilbert, your taste in venues hasn't improved much since the last time we were here.”

he smirked, swirling his drink thoughtfully. “can't say i agree, the last time we were here, you couldn't resist me at all.”

you chuckled softly, an edge of bitterness in your tone. “that was a long time ago. besides, i didn't see you complaining when you were telling me i was the best you've ever had.”

his lips twitched into a playful grin. “well, i've learned that a good dose of embarrassment keeps the heart rate up. important for a hunter, you know.”

as your laughter mingled with the surrounding chatter, a nostalgic air lingered beneath the surface of your interactions. despite the insults and snarky remarks, there was an undeniable chemistry that both of you had once succumbed to.

“you know, for a hunter, you've always been surprisingly skilled at evasion,” you mused, studying him through half-lidded eyes.

he leaned in, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. “and you, for a vampire, have always managed to find new and inventive ways to get under my skin.”

the air between you shifted, a current of unresolved tension tangling with memories you both seemed keen on suppressing. but in the midst of your verbal sparring, there was a vulnerability that lingered—a shared history that couldn't be erased.

a wistful smile tugged at your lips. “remember that night we spent at the abandoned cabin outside town? a hunter and a vampire, sharing secrets under the stars.”

jeremy's gaze softened, a flicker of reminiscence crossing his eyes. “yeah, i remember. and i remember the sunrise, too.”

your tone grew sharper, masking the ache that had surfaced. “right, when i had to rush you back before your skin sizzled like bacon.”

he chuckled, though there was a hint of regret in his expression. “you're still as charming as ever.”

the silence that followed was heavy, the unspoken words swirling in the air like a storm waiting to break. you both knew the truth—the affair had been passionate, forbidden, and ultimately fleeting. but the ghosts of those stolen moments lingered, casting a shadow over your current dynamic.

with a brittle smile, you leaned back in your seat, pushing the memories away. “well, gilbert, let's focus on the task at hand. i'm sure we have a lot of insults to trade before this night is over.” jeremy's gaze held a mixture of resignation and longing. “of course, because that's what we're best at, right?”

as the evening wore on, you and Jeremy continued your verbal sparring, the familiar dance of insults and snarky remarks masking the deeper undercurrent of history and emotions that neither of you were quite ready to confront.

the culmination of your uneasy alliance took place at a lavish masquerade ball held at a grand mansion on the outskirts of mystic falls. the chandeliers bathed the ballroom in a warm, golden glow as elegantly dressed guests mingled beneath the masks that concealed their identities. among the masked figures, you and jeremy moved with calculated grace, each step laden with purpose.

in a corner of the ballroom, damon exchanged a knowing glance with you, a subtle nod indicating that katherine was near. jeremy leaned in, his voice low and laden with mockery. “ready to put on a show, bloodsucker?”

you shot him a withering look. “don't get too comfortable, gilbert. we're here to work, not to indulge your misplaced sense of revenge.”

jeremy's lips curved into a sly smile. “oh, don't worry. i'm just here to enjoy the company of a beautiful vampire while leading katherine on a wild goose chase.”

you rolled your eyes, but your own mask concealed a mischievous grin. “by all means, go ahead. it's not every day a vampire hunter gets to flirt with his worst nightmare.”

as the night wore on, the music swelled, and the tension in the air grew palpable. jeremy's gaze followed katherine, his charm turned on full force as he engaged her in a dance that seemed to double as a dangerous game.

not one to be outdone, you found yourself in conversation with damon, your playful banter taking on a seductive edge that wasn't entirely feigned. the mask of enmity seemed to fade as you allowed yourself to lean into the role.

later, as the ball continued to swirl around you, you slipped away onto a moonlit balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. unbeknownst to you, jeremy followed, his steps soundless as he approached from behind.

he was only inches away from you as hjs fingertips grazed your collarbone, a shiver running down your spine as his breath tickled your ear. “damon seems to know your soft spots quite well. does he know you enjoy being touched here?”

you turned to face him, your gaze locking with his, an unspoken understanding passing between you. “doesn't he also know you're playing with fire, jeremy? leading katherine on, just to get back at me?”

his lips were dangerously close to yours, his voice a low murmur. “it's just strategy, remember? and you, enjoying damon's attention a bit too much, isn't that also a part of your plan?”

the world seemed to narrow to the two of you, the tensions of the past and the present converging in this intimate moment. a spark of something unspoken flickered in your eyes, a vulnerability you both were too proud to admit to.

with a brittle smile, you stepped back, creating distance between you. “we're here for a reason, little gilbert. let's not forget that.”

his gaze held a mix of frustration and longing. “right, because we wouldn't want to ruin our perfect track record of despising each other.”

as the masquerade ball continued inside, you and jeremy exchanged one last loaded look before retreating back into the throngs of guests. the dance of deception and attraction continued, the mask of enmity held firmly in place, concealing the truths that neither of you were ready to confront.

amid the revelry of the masquerade ball, tensions simmered just beneath the surface, ready to explode. as the night progressed, whispers spread through the crowd, drawing attention to a heated confrontation unfolding at the center of the ballroom.

jeremy stood, his expression a mix of defiance and unease, facing a room filled with curious gazes. damon's smirk danced on his lips, and you fixed your gaze on jeremy, your eyes narrowing as the truth slowly unraveled. stefan's voice cut through the hushed murmurs. “what's going on here?”

damon leaned back casually against a pillar, his tone dripping with amusement. "it seems our dear jeremy here had a little rendezvous with the lady of the hour, katherine," he paused. “was she a good fuck, gilbert?”

gasps rippled through the crowd, mingling with whispered accusations and incredulous glances.

your voice was sharp as a blade. “you've got to be kidding me, gilbert.”

jeremy's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides. “it was part of the plan, okay? she wasn't supposed to—”

stefan's patience was wearing thin. “you slept with the enemy to gain her trust? are you out of your mind?” as the crowd's murmurs grew louder, damon leaned in, a sinister smile playing on his lips. “seems like our little hunter's tactics might have backfired.”

you scoffed, your voice laced with scorn. “congratulations, gilbert. you managed to endanger the mission and prove just how foolish you can be.”

frustration radiated off jeremy in waves. “it was a risk we had to take. she was onto us, and this was the only way to keep her off our scent.”

as the arguments escalated, the tension reached a fever pitch. eventually, the crowd began to disperse, leaving only you and jeremy in the center of the now-empty ballroom. his gaze found yours, his voice low and resolute. “i didn't do it to hurt you.” you met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “well, congratulations, gilbert. thank you for your sympathy.”

he clenched his fists at his sides, his frustration palpable. “you think this was easy for me? i had to watch you flirt with damon all night. do you know how much that ate at me?”

you crossed your arms, your tone tinged with bitterness. “oh, poor jeremy. did i bruise your ego?”

his voice grew more desperate. “you know that's not what this is about. i had no intention of hurting you.”

you held his gaze, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else. “and i had no intention of hurting you either. if i wanted to hurt you, i would've told you that I slept with damon, too.”

a flicker of shock crossed jremy's features, his anger flaring anew. the unspoken truths hung heavy in the air—the cat and mouse game that had defined your relationship was reaching a new level of intensity.

with a frustrated growl, jeremy turned on his heel and stormed out of the ballroom, leaving you standing there, the echoes of your words reverberating in the empty space. as the dust settled, the tangled web of emotions and motivations seemed to tighten around you all, the lines between enemies, allies, and something else entirely growing increasingly blurred.

in the days following the masquerade ball, the tension among the group remained thick, yet the mission to take down katherine couldn't wait. as preparations for the future confrontation began, you found yourself in your room at the salvatore boarding house, surrounded by the flickering light of candles. the soft glow of the flames danced upon your face as you meticulously got ready for the night ahead.

the scent of vanilla and musk filled the air as you sprayed a delicate mist of perfume onto your skin. with a wry smile playing on your lips, you assessed your reflection in the mirror, your eyes catching the dress and the necklace that lay on the vanity.

a knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see jeremy standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of wariness and curiosity.

“what is it, gilbert?” you asked, your tone teasing.

he cleared his throat, stepping inside the room. “stefan said you needed help with something.”

with a subtle tilt of your head, you turned around, holding out the delicate necklace. “could you help me put this on? I'm afraid my fingers aren't as nimble as they used to be.”

jeremy's eyes flickered to the necklace, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. he stepped closer, his fingers hesitating for a moment before he reached out to take the necklace from your hand. the weight of his gaze seemed to linger on your neck, the pulse point that had always captivated his attention.

as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “you smell nice.”

a sly smile curved your lips. “do i, now? would you like to take a closer whiff?”

before he could respond, you turned around, your fingers gently gripping his chin as you leaned in. your lips brushed his earlobe, and you whispered, “be careful, jeremy. remember why we're here tonight.”

his eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and longing dancing in his gaze. “where are you going, anyway?”

you pulled away, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “oh, just out for a little date. but don't worry, i'm sure you'll manage just fine without me.”

his brows furrowed in confusion. “a date? with who?”

you took a step back, your gaze locking with his, your tone dripping with satisfaction. “with damon, who else?”

the realization hit him like a freight train, and his jaw clenched as he took a step back, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. “you're going on a date with damon?”

your smile remained unyielding. “yes, jeremy. it seems he's more attentive these days.”

with that, you turned and left the room, leaving jeremy standing there, his emotions in turmoil. the cat and mouse game had indeed escalated, the stakes higher than ever before. as the night unfolded, the tension between you and jeremy would continue to simmer, threatening to boil over into something neither of you could control.

the moon hung high in the sky as you returned to the salvatore boarding house, the echoes of the night's events lingering in your mind. the air was thick with tension as you stepped into the dimly lit foyer, your eyes locking onto jeremy's figure standing by the staircase. he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something that looked uncomfortably close to jealousy. “how was your date?”

you smiled, your lips curving into a knowing grin. “oh, it was absolutely magical. damon knows all the right moves, let me tell you.”

jeremy's jaw tightened, his voice laced with a feigned nonchalance. “really? do tell.”

your tone was light and teasing as you described an evening that was a far cry from the reality, weaving a tale of charm and flirtation, all centered around damon's supposed irresistible qualities.

“of course, I couldn't resist his eyes or his impeccable manners,” you continued, your eyes glinting with mischief. “and when he brushed his fingers against my thigh, i swear i felt a shiver down my spine."”

jeremy's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his composure. “sounds like quite the night.”

you nodded, your smile still in place as you turned to head up the stairs. “yes, i thought so too. now, if you'll excuse me, i need to change into something more comfortable.”

with that, you began to unbutton your dress, your movements deliberately slow and deliberate, fully aware of jeremy's gaze on you. as the fabric pooled at your feet, you turned to face him, revealing your lingerie beneath.

jeremy's jaw tightened further, his voice strained. “what are you doing?”

you tilted your head to the side, your tone sweetly innocent. “oh, just getting ready for bed. would you like to help me unzip this?”

before he could respond, you turned and walked towards the bedroom, your hips swaying in a way that was almost taunting. you heard him exhale sharply, his frustration palpable.

as you entered the room, jeremy's voice followed you, his tone tinged with annoyance. “you're impossible.”

the air between you and jeremy was thick with unresolved tension as he lingered in the bedroom, having agreed to help you with your stockings. your legs were crossed, and you leaned against the dresser, your gaze meeting his in the mirror's reflection.

“i can't believe I'm doing this,” jeremy muttered under his breath as he tugged the first stocking up your leg.

you arched an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smug smile. “oh, come on, gilbert. it's just a pair of stockings. you're acting like i asked you to slay a dragon.”

he shot you a glare, his fingers working quickly but efficiently. “yeah, well, if i had to choose between dragons and you, i'd probably go with the dragons.”

you chuckled softly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you're such a charmer.”

the second stocking followed suit, and jeremy's movements were swift and surprisingly adept. his touch was calculated, devoid of any lingering traces of intimacy. as he straightened, you caught his gaze in the mirror, a challenge passing between you.

“there you go, all dolled up. happy now?” he muttered, his tone bordering on annoyance.

you turned to face him, your lips quirking into a playful smile. “oh, ecstatic. you're really quite skilled at this, jeremy. who knew you had such a hidden talent?”

he rolled his eyes, his voice laced with exasperation. “yeah, well, don't expect me to add 'stocking stylist' to my resume anytime soon.”

your laughter filled the room, the sound of it dancing between you. “you really know how to keep a girl's dreams alive, don't you?”

jeremy's lips twitched into a begrudging half-smile. “oh, i do my best.”

the banter between you was a welcome respite from the heavier moments that had preceded it. as the tension eased, you found yourselves slipping into a more familiar rhythm, snarky remarks masking the undercurrent of something that had been brewing beneath the surface for far too long.

with a playful wink, you moved closer, your tone teasing. “well, gilbert, i'll give you credit where it's due. you're definitely good at handling my—delicate situation.”

he shot you a sideways glance, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “just remember, it's a one-time deal. don't get any ideas.”

you chuckled softly, your fingers grazing his arm as you moved past him. "of course not. wouldn't want to mess with your reputation as a ruthless vampire hunter."

jeremy's voice held a hint of warmth as he muttered, “yeah, well, just remember, i can handle myself.”

you shot him a sly smile over your shoulder as you left the room. “oh, i have no doubt about that, gilbert.”

the exchange left a lingering sense of camaraderie in its wake, a glimpse of the intricate dance that defined your relationship. the tension remained, but somehow it felt more manageable, less suffocating. as the night wore on, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something new, something that had the potential to change the rules of the game.

in the midst of preparations for the final showdown with katherine, another meeting had been called at the salvatore boarding house. as the group gathered, tension seemed to hang in the air, though a palpable shift had occurred since the masquerade ball. the air felt charged, as if the dynamic between you and jeremy had been irreversibly altered.

damon, as always, leaned against a pillar with his signature smirk, and you couldn't resist the urge to indulge in a bit of shameless flirting. “well, well, if it isn't the dashing salvatore brothers. i must say, the view is quite enjoyable from here.”

damon's eyes danced with amusement. “flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”

jeremy's jaw tightened, though he seemed to be doing his best to keep his emotions in check. the meeting proceeded, but the undercurrent of tension remained, a silent reminder of the cat and mouse game that had become a hallmark of your interactions.

as the conversation continued, damon's gaze seemed to linger on you, his voice taking on a sultrier tone. “i must say, you smell divine tonight. new perfume, perhaps?”

you met his gaze with a smoldering look of your own. “just something i picked up recently. i find it has a certain— allure.” damon's lips curled into a knowing smile. “ah, yes. an allure that's hard to resist.”

jeremy's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure.

damon's gaze shifted to him, and a wicked smile played on his lips. “you know, gilbert, i've been meaning to ask. what's the name of that perfume?”

jeremy's gaze met damon's, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes. “it's none of your business.”

damon's grin only grew wider, his voice dripping with mischief. “ah, but i'm only curious. i believe you mentioned it was something with vanilla and musk?”

before jeremy could respond, damon closed the distance between you, his fingers brushing against the spot on your collarbone where jeremy had placed his kisses. a playful glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in to place a featherlight kiss on your skin.

jeremy's fists clenched at his sides, his voice tight with anger. “that's enough, damon.”

damon straightened, his smirk still in place. “ah, yes. jealousy really isn't a good look on you, is it?”

the room was thick with tension as you and jeremy exchanged a charged look. without a word, he stood abruptly, his eyes locked onto yours as he made his way to the door. you followed him with a purposeful stride, the unspoken understanding between you driving you forward.

as the door to the next room closed behind you, jeremy's anger seemed to finally boil over, and he pinned you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. the weight of the tension, the longing, the game you had both been playing—it all came crashing together in that moment.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips moving against his in a fierce dance of passion and desire. the intensity of it all seemed to consume you both, a release of pent-up emotions that had been building for far too long.

as you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you met jeremy's gaze, the lines of enmity and attraction blurred beyond recognition. and in that electrifying moment, you both knew that the cat and mouse game had transformed into something far more dangerous, far more real.

the room was dark, illuminated only by the soft light of the moon streaming through the window. jeremy lay on his bed, his head resting on his arm as he watched you walk closer. you felt the heat radiating off of him, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

he reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to him until you were lying beside him. his lips met yours in a deep, passionate kiss, and you felt your heart flutter as his hands roamed your body.

“you're mine,” he murmured against your lips, and you smiled in agreement.

you moved your hands up his chest, exploring his body as he continued to kiss you. his touch was possessive, and you loved the feeling of him claiming you as his own. he ran his hands over your body, caressing and teasing, and you felt yourself growing more aroused with each passing moment.

jeremy rolled over so that he was on top of you, and you felt his hardness pressed against your thigh. his lips moved to your neck, and you felt his tongue trace a path of fire down to your chest. his hands moved to your hips, and he gently pushed you onto your back.

he continued to kiss you hungrily, his hands exploring every inch of your body. his kisses were heated and possessive, and you could feel the intensity building inside of you. you wanted him even more, and you begged him to take you.

“say it,” he growled, his voice low and demanding.

“i'm yours,” you whispered, and he smiled in satisfaction.

he positioned himself between your legs and you felt the heat of his arousal against your inner thigh. you cried out in pleasure as he entered you, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly as he began to move.

he moved inside of you in a steady rhythm, and you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. you clung to him, and you could feel his breath on your skin as he whispered words of love and admiration in your ear. he loved the way you screamed his name, knowing damon could hear everything. it only encouraged him to continue pounding into your cunt, filling you with aggressive thrusts.

finally, you both reached the pinnacle of pleasure, and you cried out his name as you reached orgasm. he collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with exertion, and you both lay there in silence for a few moments. he pulled you close to him, and you felt his arms wrap around you possessively.

“you're mine,” he said, and you smiled in agreement.

he had slept with the enemy, once again. only this time, he knew he wouldn't regret a thing.

#tvd #tvdu #the originals #legacies #jeremy gilbert #jeremy x reader #jeremy gilbert x you #jeremy gilbert x reader #jeremy gilbert smut #jeremy gilbert angst #jeremy gilbert fluff #jeremy gilbert x reader smut #jeremy gilbert x reader fluff #jeremy gilbert x reader angst

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elliesbelle · 10 months

Text

skinny dipping

ellie williams one-shot

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: it's a wednesday and you go to a coffee shop. you hear the barista call a name: ellie. your ex-girlfriend. after some nonsensical chatter, she asks to catch up. have you both changed or are you still those scared little kids?

content warnings: modern au, ex-girlfriend!ellie, also ex-best friend!ellie, also artist!ellie, also a bit of mean!ellie, ellie and reader are in their mid-20s, cursing, verbal arguments, kind of angst, mention of character death, ellie and reader break-up, non-sexual nudity, minors don't interact

word count: 6.1k

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

based on the sabrina carpenter song “skinny dipping”

It’s 8:47 on a Wednesday morning. You’d gotten an early start to your morning and figured you could treat yourself to a cup of coffee. Since you work just around the corner from the coffee place and had a few minutes to spare, you were at your leisure.

You stand to the side from where the pick-up counter was, patiently waiting for your name and order to be called out. Scrolling through your phone absent-mindedly, your ears suddenly perk up when one of the baristas calls out, “Oat milk latte for, uhhh… Ellie?”

There’s no chance that it’s actually her.

But it is.

You look up from your phone to see a flash of auburn hair. The barista places the oat milk latte on the counter to be picked up by a woman in a simple black t-shirt tucked into dark grey jeans and wearing a pair of old, black Converse.

The woman mutters a thanks to the barista before turning around to suddenly meet your stunned gaze. Her green eyes mirror the expression on yours.

“Hi.” Your ex-girlfriend suddenly blurts out.

“Hi, E-Ellie.” You blurt out right back.

The sounds of chatter from other patrons and chairs scraping and the cha-ching of the register are all drowned out suddenly as you’re both being pulled into a bubble.

“Then go, Ellie! Just fucking go!” You screamed.

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing, huh?” Ellie yelled back, throwing up her hands in frustration before going back to stuffing her belongings from her desk into her backpack.

“Running away, like you always do!” You responded angrily. “You’re a fucking coward!”

“Uh, huh, sure.” She scoffed, keeping her back turned to you as she zips up her backpack.

“Just go back to your fancy fucking college with all your fancy new friends and go ahead and make your pretentious art and forget about all of this!” You said, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face.

“Yeah, maybe I will!” Ellie retorted, whipping around to look at you.

“Fine.” You sneered.

“Fine!” She replied.

You glared at each other, her angry green eyes meeting yours.

After a moment of loaded silence, you sniffled, wiped your nose on your sleeve, and shook your head.

“Well, you can go ahead and forget about me too, then.” You professed, making your way to storm past her and out of the garage.

Before you reached the doorknob, you felt Ellie’s hand suddenly grab your wrist.

“Wait,” She said, voice a little softer.

You kept your eyes focused on the door, knowing that if they met hers once again, you’d beg for forgiveness that you didn’t need to receive from her.

“Don’t.” You said firmly. You attempted to shake her off, but her grip stayed secure.

“Let’s just—let’s talk about this.” She said with an attempt at rationality in her voice.

“I’ve been here the whole time to talk. There’s no point in it anymore. Now let go of me.”

“Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking baby, Ellie!” You suddenly yelled, relenting to turn around and say this directly to her face. Her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Please, I love you.” Ellie pleaded.

You scoffed.

“No, you fucking don’t.” You proclaimed.

You shook off Ellie’s hand from your wrist once you felt her grip loosen. You yanked the door open and ran into the night.

The flooding of memories is put to a stop when you hear the barista call out your name and order. You jump and so does Ellie.

Awkwardly, you break the eye contact to walk to the pick-up counter right next to her, reaching out to grab your drink.

You pull the coffee cup to your chest, as if the heat could radiate comfort through your body. Something within you summons a sliver of courage, so you decide to break the silence and dared look her right in those ocean-green eyes again.

“How are you?” You mutter, so quiet that you weren’t sure if she heard you. But you were both so close to each other that you swore you could hear her heartbeat.

“I’m…I’m good.” She mutters right back.

Ellie surprises you with a tiny smile. You return it with a bashful one of your own.

“Good.” You say. “I—I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, actually I—” Ellie hesitates for a second. “I moved back last month.”

“Oh.” You say, shocked. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it was–it was a little sudden. But I’m here.”

“Right.” You reply, taking a nervous sip of your coffee.

“Umm, so…how’s your family?” She asks.

“Oh, they’re…they’re the same.”

“That’s good. How’s your sister Kiko?”

You smile, touched that Ellie remembered your little sister. You’re reminded of how close she was with her, how much your little sister looked up to Ellie.

“Oh, Kiko’s…Kiko. As always.” You say. Ellie smiles.

“How old is she now?”

“Turning 19 this month. She just graduated.”

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. I feel like she was just 5 years old, like, yesterday.”

“I know, it’s so crazy. She’s actually taller than me now.”

“My little dude, taller than you? That can’t be true.”

“Surreal, right?”

“That looks awesome, little dude.” Ellie said.

“Really?” Your little sister Kiko beamed.

“Yeah! You’ve got talent, kid.”

You walked into your bedroom, holding a glass of lemonade in one hand.

“What are you doing in here, Kiko?” You questioned, seeing your sister sitting next to Ellie on your bed with her sketchbook open on Ellie’s lap.

“I was showing Ellie some of my drawings!” Your sister piped.

“Oh, yeah?” You said, coming over to sit on Kiko’s other side. You handed Ellie the glass, to which she uttered a quiet thanks.

“Check it out,” Kiko said, pulling her sketchbook closer to you. “This one is a picture of an apatosaurus eating a leaf.”

She pointed at a charcoal drawing of a long-necked dinosaur eating from a tree. She flipped the page and pointed at a sketch of a girl who looked roughly the same age as her.

“This is my friend Peni. I drew it while we were eating lunch the other day, but she said I made her eyes too big.”

“And I told her to punch Peni for that when she sees her at school on Monday.” Ellie said.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, reaching behind Kiko to smack Ellie’s arm. Ellie cackled.

“She deserves it! Her drawing’s perfect!” Ellie said.

“Okay, but don’t tell my little sister to resort to violence!” You complained.

“I think more people should be resorting to violence.” Ellie shrugged.

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” Ellie laughed again. “Show us more, little dude.”

Your sister enthusiastically flipped through more pages of her sketchbook, describing each of her drawings. You and Ellie listened happily and attentively, Ellie occasionally taking sips of her lemonade.

“Oh, and this is you guys!” Kiko suddenly exclaimed. She pointed at a half-finished pencil drawing of you and Ellie.

Your eyes widened and Ellie choked on her lemonade.

You and Ellie were laying down together on your living room couch, fast asleep. One of Ellie’s arms served as a pillow for your head while the other embraced your hip to pull you closer. Your head was nuzzled in Ellie’s neck, arms wrapped around Ellie’s waist. You were both covered with a throw blanket, and you could catch a glimpse of your feet intertwined with Ellie’s at the end of the couch. Though just a sketch, you could tell that you were both in deep, unencumbered sleep.

You weren’t sure when it was that Kiko drew this because you and Ellie had fallen asleep with each other countless times. It wasn’t rare for you two to cuddle either; you’d been best friends for a while now and you were very physically comfortable with each other. But something about the way Kiko captured this intimacy on paper felt further than that. It awakened something dormant in you, something you didn’t realize was there in the first place.

Neither you nor Ellie seemed to know what to say. You both stared at the sketchbook dumbfounded, Ellie not realizing that she had some lemonade dribbling down her chin. Luckily, Kiko didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air.

“Oh! Hang on, I have to grab my other sketchbook! I’ve got a couple more dinosaur drawings I wanna show you, Ellie!”

Your sister jumped up and bounded out of your bedroom, leaving her sketchbook in between you and Ellie.

You continued to stare at your sister’s sketch. Even if you were five years older than her, Kiko was far more artistically talented than you at just the age of 12.

Your fingers reached out to lightly brush across Ellie’s and your etched faces, but they were suddenly met with Ellie’s own fingers, who had the same idea. You both quickly retracted your hands after accidentally zapping each other as your skin touched hers.

“Shit, sorry.” Ellie said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, it’s okay.” You whispered. You tore your eyes away from the drawing to stare at your legs dangling from the bed.

“That Kiko is a… pretty funny kid, huh?” Ellie said, laughing nervously.

“Right,” You said. “Well, Kiko is Kiko.”

“She really is.”

An awkward silence continued to loom over you two, neither knowing how to break it. This was unchartered territory for you. You usually felt so at ease with your best friend, but something suddenly shifted. And you weren’t sure what it was.

You eventually looked up at Ellie, who was twiddling her fingers. You noticed her chin still dripping slightly with lemonade. You giggled as Ellie met your eyes.

“What?” She asked.

“What is the matter with you?” You laughed, getting up and walking towards your desk.

“What!” Ellie repeated.

“You’ve got lemonade on your chin, dummy.” You said, grabbing a kleenex from a tissue box.

“Oh,” Ellie brought her hand up and felt the wetness. “Shit.”

She chuckled, grabbing the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face.

“Hey, no!” You scolded, running over to her to slap her shirt out of her hand.

“What!” Ellie said, indignant.

“Were you raised in a barn?” You scoffed, handing Ellie the tissue.

“Yup,” Ellie replied, accepting it. “Oink, oink.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed as Ellie cleaned off her face.

“You are so annoying!” You said, taking your pointer finger to push up the tip of Ellie’s nose, giving it the appearance of a pig’s snout.

Ellie swatted your finger away playfully, snickering.

“And yet you still laughed anyway!”

“Whatever!”

“Hey,” Ellie said, holding her hands up. “Not my fault I’m a comical genius.”

“A comical dumbass, maybe.” You rolled your eyes once more.

“Oh, you love me.” Ellie said, grinning widely.

You and Ellie both chuckle. You’re surprised to find that you missed the sound of her laughter.

After a few moments, you both fall silent. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks at the same time that Ellie’s freckles turn pink. Suddenly you don’t feel the need for coffee anymore. Your heart beats like that of a hummingbird and you feel as if you were sweating excessively underneath your short-sleeved button-down. Your lungs feel like they were fully submerged in water. You had to tear your gaze away from those ocean-green eyes.

It’s Ellie’s courage this time that breaks the silence.

“Well, uhh. Let her know I say hi, will you?”

“Y-yeah. Of course.” You say. “And uhh, say hi to your Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria too.”

Ellie smiles, but you notice a hint of sadness behind it.

“Sure.” She says.

You give her a slight nod.

Fidgeting with your coffee cup, you feel your chest tighten from the rising awkwardness.

“Well, uhh, I gotta get to work.” You say. “Umm, it was nice seeing you.”

You give Ellie a final smile and a wave, whipping around and heading out the door before Ellie could respond.

The sound of a bell tinkles as you walk through the door of the coffee shop. You take several deep breaths as a million emotions wash over you. You take a sip of your coffee before turning towards the direction of your workplace. But before you could get far, you hear another tinkle of the coffee shop bell.

“Wait!” You hear Ellie’s voice call out.

Before you could turn around, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist. You both immediately withdraw your hands as you feel Ellie’s skin accidentally zap yours.

“Fuck, sorry.” Ellie says apologetically.

“It’s okay.” You reply, pulling your zapped hand to your swiftly beating chest.

“Umm,” She begins. “This was really nice. Catching up, I mean.”

“Y-yeah.”

“We should…do this on purpose sometime.” She says, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. An old Ellie habit you recognize.

“Oh, umm.” You bounce lightly back and forth on your feet. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Cool beans.” She says, smiling. “Are you free tonight, by any chance?”

“Oh, I have to stay late at work tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” She says, her smile faltering. She seems to think you were making up an excuse to flake.

“But I’m free Friday night!” You say quickly. “I get off at 5:30. But if you aren’t free or if that doesn’t work for you—“

Ellie smiles.

“Friday sounds great. Do you wanna do 6:30 at Raja’s?”

You grimace slightly.

“Won’t that be too nostalgic?”

Ellie chuckles.

“Maybe, but let’s do it anyway.” She says. Your cheeks feel warm from her sudden boldness.

“We won’t sit at the same old table or anything,” She says, holding her hands up. “Just dinner. Nothing more.”

You consider this for a second.

“Yeah,” You say slowly. “Yeah, okay.”

Ellie beams, knowing she won you over.

“Friday at 6:30 then.”

“Oh, that’s so fucking cool.” You say.

“Yeah, you think so?” Ellie responds.

It was Friday at 6:54 in the evening. Ellie was right on time, but you were kept at work longer than expected and were several minutes late. You’d rushed home to drop your work things off and make yourself presentable as quickly as possible for having dinner with your ex-girlfriend, thanking past you for already laying out the outfit you planned on wearing for the meeting.

The diner was a 10-minute walk from your apartment, but you made it a 6-minute run instead. It had rained the previous day, so you’d nearly slipped several times. But you caught yourself each time, determined to make it in one piece.

When you arrived, Ellie was already sitting at a booth, drinking water. You arrived completely winded, breathlessly muttering a hundred apologies. Ellie just smiled, telling you to take a deep breath and that it was completely okay. She seemed grateful that you showed up either way.

After taking generous sips from the glass of water that was already waiting for you, you’d greeted Ellie properly with a smile. She returned it, and now you were both discussing all the tattoos she’s gotten in the past few years. You’d noticed one on her left arm when she pushed the second glass of water towards you.

“How about the one on your right arm?” You ask. You’d gotten a slight glimpse of it the other day at the coffee shop.

“Oh, umm.” She says, placing her arm on the table so you could get a better look. She seems almost reluctant to do so.

You lean in closer, moving your head around to better inspect the ferns that decorated her forearm from different angles. There was something else engraved on top of the ferns that you couldn’t quite make out, but it somehow seemed familiar. Your right hand hovers over the tattoo, an impulse to touch it nearly coming over you. But you keep your fingers to yourself, afraid to cross that line just yet.

“It’s beautiful, Ellie. Did you design this one yourself?” You ask.

“No, uhh,” She begins awkwardly. “My ex-girlfriend Cat did.”

“Oh” was all you said in reply, unwittingly withdrawing your hand.

“Yeah, uhh. I got it freshman year of college. After…after my dad died.”

“Oh.” You repeat once more.

“Y-yeah. It wasn’t the easiest thing to deal with, and Cat thought it would help with like, the grieving process and all.”

“Right, of course.” You say, feeling remorseful for having brought attention to the topic.

Ellie begins to unintentionally run her fingers over the tattoo out of nervousness, drawing your eyes to it once more. You suddenly recognize what the final part of the design was.

“That’s the…the moth. From your old guitar.”

Ellie looks down at it sadly.

“Yeah, it is.”

You’re both drawn into yet another awkward silence. Fiddling with your fingers in your lap, you feel as if an anchor was dropped onto your chest. You’d known that the topic of Joel’s death might come up, but you were nervous nonetheless.

You look up to see Ellie’s face to find that she was already staring at you. She didn’t look like she was upset with you in any way at all; in fact, it was guilt that flashed across her features. You realize why, and there was an unspoken acknowledgement that you were both thinking about the same thing.

Ellie withdraws her arm back to her side.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers.

“I know.” You whisper back.

You were sitting on the couch in Ellie’s makeshift art studio that she’d set up in her garage. You hugged your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as you drowned in your tears. It had been almost a week since Joel’s funeral and nobody had heard from Ellie. Everyone asked after her during the wake, but neither you nor her Uncle Tommy or Aunt Maria could answer. She hadn’t made it to the funeral, and you were worried.

It was four months into your freshman year of college. You decided to attend a university closer to home, only a half-hour drive from Jackson. But Ellie chose an art school in Boston after receiving a scholarship, all the way across the country.

Deciding on a long-distance relationship seemed like a no-brainer when you and Ellie had discussed it after you both graduated high school. You loved each other, both as girlfriends and long-time best friends. It felt as if your love would be able to survive anything.

The longer that Ellie was away, however, the more difficult it got. Your college was much smaller, compared to hers. You preferred it that way; that was a factor in your choosing to attend. Some of your peers that you grew up with in Jackson were even in a few of your classes, and this eased the anxiety of being away from home.

But Ellie, a couple thousand miles away, was in a brand new town with brand new faces. You were nervous for her, fearing that she’d be a fish out of water. You knew how awkward she could be sometimes and you worried that she’d get lonely. But after a few weeks of college, she’d made several friends and grew to love Boston. This made you happy, but part of you was sad that you couldn’t experience this milestone in your lives together.

You’d been inseparable since childhood, growing up together and going to the same schools and having the same friends. Along the way, you’d realized you were in love with each other. It was bliss, to fall in love with the one person you trusted most with your life and to have them love you back. You were both so in sync, even and especially after you started dating. She knew you like the back of her hand, and you knew her the same.

But as you sat there in Ellie’s garage with only the comfort of your own arms, you started to wonder. You were trying to convince yourself that Ellie was pulling away from you because of Joel’s passing. But all the unanswered phone calls, missed flights to visit home, the growing disinterest in your side of the conversation affirmed that Ellie was becoming someone you no longer knew. You were still where you always were, but Ellie had traveled oceans away from you.

You had your head buried in your knees when you heard the sound of the door unlocking. As you dropped your legs to the ground, you watched as Ellie entered the garage. She flicked the light on and jumped when she saw your miserable figure sitting on her couch.

“Oh, fuck!” She yelled. “You scared me, babe.”

She placed a hand on her chest as if to slow down her rapid heartbeat.

“Sorry.” You whisper meekly.

“What are you doing sitting here all alone in the dark?” She asked, walking over to her desk and placing her backpack on top of it.

You stared at her in disbelief.

“Where the fuck have you been, Ellie?” You said, ignoring her question.

“What do you mean? I’ve been around.” She replied, her back towards you as she collected some belongings.

“You missed Joel’s funeral.” You said bluntly.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” She said, a little too nonchalantly.

You watched as she continued to move around the room, rearranging a few things and rifling through drawers. She felt your gaze on her but avoided eye contact with you.

“He was your father, Ellie.” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“Adoptive father,” She corrected. “He wasn’t my real dad.”

“He fucking raised you.”

“Yeah, well,” She said, placing a few paintbrushes in her backpack. “Look how that turned out.”

You were exhausted.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ellie?!”

She finally turned around to face you.

“What?” She asked, taken aback by your raised tone.

“Where the fuck have you been? Why weren’t you at Joel’s funeral? Everyone’s been worried sick about you, wondering where the fuck you went off to. Your Aunt Maria nearly called the cops, but your Uncle Tommy and I had to convince her that you wouldn’t be so stupid to go and get yourself hurt!”

You’d risen from your seat on the couch now, glaring at her.

“And now this about Joel? He was your fucking father. I don’t give a fuck what you say! He loved you so much, and it would break his heart to hear you talk about him like this.”

Tears were streaming down your face as Ellie watched you silently continuing your outrage.

“I know you need to deal with your grief in your own way. I know you’re sad and need time, but…” You sniffled. “Please don’t shut us out. Don’t push away the people who love you. Joel wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

Ellie scoffed, which took you by furious surprise.

“You don’t know that. He’s gone. It doesn’t matter what he wanted anymore.”

It felt as if she slapped you right across the face.

“I’m so fucking sick of this.” She finally said after a moment of silence.

“What?”

“I’m sick of this town. I’m sick of the people here. I can’t fucking stand being here for another second. I don’t want this.”

You stood there shocked, staring at a stranger who looked remarkably like the girl you loved.

You and Ellie continue to look at each other from opposite ends of the table. She seems as if she wants to say more, to apologize further. But she stops when you give her a forgiving smile.

“It’s okay.” You say.

She returns your smile, sadly but with gratitude.

Your moment of reminiscence is interrupted when your waitress approaches your booth.

“Oh my goodness, it’s the troublemaking duo!” Your waitress exclaims. “I didn’t know it was you that Ellie was waiting on!”

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“Hi, Wendy.” You say, recognizing the old woman.

“It has been so long since I’ve seen you two together! Oh, and now you’re both so grown up!” Wendy gabbed. “Oh, Ellie, it’s so nice to have you back in town! Your Aunt Maria has been going on and on for weeks about how excited she and Tommy are that you’re moving back!”

“Yeah, they seem pretty psyched to have me home,” Ellie says, smiling kindly. “It’s good to be back, Wendy.”

“Maria kept wishing you would move back after you’d graduated college! And I kept telling her, ‘kids gotta get their feet wet first!’ But look at you, back home again finally!”

“Yeah, Boston was pretty great. But it wasn’t for me, and I really missed Jackson.”

Wendy smiled at this.

“Oh, having you two back here like this feels like things never changed. I wish that I knew you were both coming in; otherwise, I would have saved your usual table!” Wendy says, gesturing towards a booth in the corner of the diner.

You glance over and see a young couple sitting together, holding hands across the table. They were slightly obscured by this old, beat-up jukebox that was playing some old 80s song.

“Oh, it’s alright, Wendy,” Ellie says, waving her hand. “We’re good here.”

“Well, okay!” She dips her hand in her apron. “Oh my, I forgot my pen and pad! Oh, and I haven’t even brought you your coffee yet! I swear, I think my brain is slowly spilling out of my ears every day!”

Ellie laughs and you grimace at the image.

“Let me go grab those things real quick, and then I’ll take your gals’ order!” Wendy says gleefully.

“That’d be great.” Ellie replies.

Wendy beams at both of you before making her way back to behind the counter.

“Since when did you drink coffee?” You ask Ellie, to which she shrugs.

“Kind of grew on me back in college. Still have to drink it with tons of sugar and creamer, though.” She says.

“Ahh, well, that explains the oat milk latte from the other day.”

“Memorized my order, huh?” She teases.

Wendy the waitress saves you from your bashfulness by arriving with two coffee cups in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. As Wendy pours into each of your cups, Wendy decides to gush more over the two of you.

“I was just telling Esther in the back how much we would dread when you two rascals would come in here. I remember how you two would come in and order one milkshake to share and a plate of fries and then pay us with dimes and nickels! Drove us nuts to count it all out!”

You and Ellie laugh nervously, embarrassed over your childhood antics.

“And you’d come in here and play that one a-ha! song over and over again if you had any leftover change! Oh, we all got so sick of that song that Raja almost took out the jukebox at one point!” Wendy chortles.

“Right, “Take on Me” was what we always played,” You recall. “Sorry, Wendy.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” She says, waving you off. “In fact, someone put that song on the jukebox a few weeks back and it made me miss those good old days.” She sighs, reminiscing.

Ellie glances at you while you look at Wendy in her reverie. Ellie’s eyes look gentle and affectionate, an expression that hasn’t adorned her face in years.

“Oh, I do miss you youngsters and your shenanigans. Drove me crazy, but it kept me young. Do you recall when you came in here absolutely sopping wet, Ellie?”

Ellie blushes suddenly, scratching the back of her neck as her freckles turn pink once more.

“Y-yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, you got the floor all wet and dirty, and your usual booth smelled like wet dog for a week!” Wendy cackles.

“Oh?” You ask. “When was that?”

“It was back in—” Wendy starts, but another waitress called behind the counter.

“Wendy, honey! Table 12 spilled orange juice everywhere; can you grab the mop?”

“Oh darn,” Wendy says. “Let me go take care of this mess real quick, sweethearts! And I’ll be right back for your orders!”

Wendy walks off quickly and leaves the two of you alone once more.

You glance at Ellie.

“When did that happen?” You question curiously.

“Umm,” Ellie says nervously. “It was that day. At the lake.”

Your face softens in recognition.

“Els, come on!!” You yelled, pulling her with you.

“Dude, no!”

“Els, 17 is way too old to be afraid of the water!”

“I am not afraid of the water!” Ellie said, breaking free from your grasp and crossing her arms.

Joel had dragged you and Ellie with him for a fishing trip by a nearby lake. He’d forgotten his bait box back at his and Ellie’s home, and he left you and Ellie to your own devices while he drove back to grab it. Bored out of your mind, you were trying to convince Ellie to jump into the lake with you from a large rock that oversaw the water.

“Then you won’t have any problems if I just…” You made the motion of pushing someone. “...throw you into the lake, by any chance?”

Ellie backed away from you, holding her hands up.

“Don’t you fucking dare, man,” She said. “I will never, ever forgive you.”

You groaned then dragged your feet to the edge. You looked over at the lake.

“It’s not that high of a jump, Els! Come on, Joel and I taught you to swim two summers ago!”

“Let’s just get back to the shore, dude. He’ll be back any second.” She said.

“You know Joel won’t be back for another half hour.” You replied, knowing that Joel would find a million other things to do before heading out again. You skipped over to where she stood feet away from the edge of the mini-cliff.

You grabbed both of her hands in yours. Her breathing hitched when your skin touched hers.

It had been a month since your little sister unveiled her drawing of you and Ellie sleeping together. Ever since then, Ellie seemed nervous to be near you, much less be touched by you. You were still best friends and still as close as ever, but there’d been a palpable tension in the air after that awkward moment in your bedroom. It was as if you were both just waiting for something to happen, something inevitable.

“Pretty please, Els?” You asked your best friend, batting your eyelashes at her. She blushed furiously.

“You’re gonna catch your death if you jump in. It’s chilly.” Ellie said. “And I’m not lending you my jacket if you get your clothes all wet.”

“Fine.” You said. You release her hands and walk towards the edge once more. Ellie’s eyes widen as you begin shedding your clothing: first, your shoes, then your pants, and finally your shirt.

Ellie averts her gaze as you were left in just your underwear.

“Problem solved.” You said boldly. You walk back over to her.

It wasn’t as if you and Ellie hadn’t seen each other intimately before, having been best friends for many years. But for the last month, she started seeing you in a much different light and looking at you this intimately was opening the floodgates.

“Come on, Els.” You said, tugging on her shirt. “Take a leap with me.”

Before Ellie could respond, you sighed and turned away from her to walk back near the water, discarded the rest of your clothing, and jumped off the edge with a scream.

“Goddamn it.” Ellie said, rushing over to see where you’d dove. She watched as you eventually emerged, ripples reverberating around you.

“Let’s go, Ellie!” You yelled from the water.

Ellie backed away from the edge, took a deep breath, and said, “Fuck it.”

She replicated your actions and took off her clothes, all the way down to her black sports bra and boxers.

You were swimming around in circles when you saw Ellie’s stark naked figure plummeting into the lake before landing ten feet away from you. You beamed, wading towards her as she rose from underneath.

“You actually did it!” You exclaimed. Ellie splashed you, lake water getting in your eyes.

“Ellie!” You whined.

“You’re the fucking worst!” She said, pouting.

“You love me!” You said, ribbing.

“No, you’re the worst, I hate you.” Ellie said, splashing you once more. You splashed her back.

You both waded closer to the shore until you both felt your toes touch the bottom of the lake.

“You jumped in for me, you fucking adore me!” You giggled.

“Oh, please, you wish.” Ellie scoffed before you reached over to squeeze her cheeks together.

“Hey!” She said, muffled.

“Don’t deny your love for me, Miss Ellie Williams.” You teased before giggling again as you release her face.

“Nope, hate you ‘til I die.” Ellie said stubbornly, to which you shove her shoulder.

“Well, too bad, because I love you!” You said.

“Uh-huh.” Ellie replied, rolling her eyes.

She began to turn away from you to paddle towards the shore.

You take a leap.

“I do love you.” You suddenly said.

“Yeah, I know, man.”

“No, Ellie, I—” You said, stuttering. “I-I love you.”

She turned back to face you.

“What?”

You swam closer to her until your faces were inches apart.

“I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie blinked.

“I—” She began, unsure of what to say.

“Sorry, I just—I just wanted to tell you that, that’s all.” You whispered, looking down at your submerged and naked figure instead of at her.

“No, it’s okay, I—” Ellie started once more. “I-I love you too.”

Your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“What?”

“Y-yeah, I—” Ellie began, but she’s cut off when your lips suddenly meet hers.

It was as if fireworks began erupting within you. As the shock of your kiss wore off, Ellie melted into you as she grabbed your face to draw you closer to her. You wrapped your arms around her neck as she pulled you in tighter.

No amount of fantasizing could ever prepare you for the euphoria that was kissing Ellie Williams. It was like everything fell into place, like your entire friendship was leading up to this. It felt so foolish that you hadn’t realized this sooner, that you had to wait all this time to let yourself fall in love with your best friend.

You were both pulled into this bubble where it was just you, Ellie, and the lake. You felt inevitable.

You broke off, needing to catch your breath. Your foreheads were pressed up against each other, both of you breathless. Your head felt empty but your heart was full.

Before you could say anything, you felt Ellie’s hands leave your face. Your eyes shoot open to see Ellie already at the shore, bounding towards the rock you’d jumped off from.

“Ellie!” You called out, but she didn’t respond.

You watched as she reached the mini-cliff where you’d both left your clothing. You thought for a second that she was going to jump back in, but instead, she was pulling her clothes back on.

You made your way to the shore, shivering and embracing yourself.

“Ellie!” You called out again. “Where are you going?!”

Ellie had pulled on her Converse, quickly tying the laces into knots. Fully dressed, she looked down at you, still bare and exposed.

You could make out her face from where you were, but you didn’t recognize the look she wore. It wasn’t anger or pity or sadness. You’d never seen her make that expression before.

You started towards the rock, but Ellie was quicker. She ran off before you even got close to her, dripping lake water behind her and leaving you still at the shore, naked and screaming for her to come back.

“Oh,” You say. “This is where you came after that?”

“Yeah,” Ellie replies. “Wasn’t sure where else to go.”

“I always wondered,” You say. “Cause when Joel got back, we drove back to your house, and you weren’t there. You never said where you’d gone.”

“Yeah, well. I was just some scared little kid.” She admits.

“It’s okay,” You reassure. “Me too.”

You stare once more into the ocean in her eyes. You didn’t mean to bring up the past. You’d wanted to keep this meeting bureaucratic, free from the judgment of yesterday.

You decide to break the silence with humour.

“Kind of crazy how you ran away from me real fast.” You giggle, taking a sip of your coffee.

Ellie doesn’t laugh; instead, she takes a leap and reaches over to your free hand that you’d placed on the table, putting hers over it.

Your eyes widen as she looks at you in a way that no one else ever has.

“But I’m not running away now.” She says genuinely.

You place your cup down and give her a soft smile.

“Good.” You reply.

You feel the water finally flow under the bridge.

author’s notes:

sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda

sorry for teasing this for so long! i have issues

the reader's sister's name is based on my little sister's name kiko :) they're also an artist and currently studying to be an animator!

hope y'all enjoy this! spent so much coming up with the concept and writing about it cause i have such a connection to this song! let me know what you think and reblog if you can ♡

taglist: @digit4lslut, @jajsnjz, @callmelola111, @thatgiraffefromtlou, @gold-dustwomxn, @machetegirl109, @ximtiredx, @fireflyelllie, @brownshirtelliesgf, @sawaagyapong, @uraesthete

#ellie one-shot #belle one-shot #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #audio #Spotify #belle speaks #belle writes

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oozedninjas · 3 months

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Blame the Chemicals in the Mind

Summary: Mad scientist!Donnie discovers he has developed twisted, unwanted feelings toward his best experimentation specimen.

A/N: General verses, but I placed something about each version of Donnie, let's see if you can find it! Also, I heavily kept in mind 2012verse and Bayverse for some reason? Anyway, this will have multiple parts but it can be read as a one-chapter thing too :)

Please do not spam like. Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Warnings: NSFW / DARK CONTENT/ smut/fem!Reader/ after the kraang apocalypse/Donatello and reader are both mid to late twenties /dub-con/eventual Yandere topics/experimentation/torture/blood and violence/trauma bonding/Stockholm syndrome/blood extraction/panic attack (reader's)/twisted hurt-comfort/between-the-lines humiliation/ mentions of the use of a feeding probe/sensorial overstimulation and deprivation/ Regarding smut: humping/creampie/DUB-CON/ dead dove do not eat

This is 18+ dark content. If you click on keep reading you have agreed you want to read this content.

His ever-present gaze penetrated the tank's glass, fixating on your orbs. It was a constant company, greeting you upon waking— whether immersed in the computer's screen a few paces ahead or absorbed in a stress ball he kept in hand to stimulate his thoughts. He consistently stared, as if that alone could propel him closer to a cure for the three monstrous things that so closely resembled him.

Donatello observed them through the fortified cells he constructed, initially intended as a security measure. He sighed deeply. The laboratory never felt as desolate as it did now, as if hopelessness swept through, resonating through his body. Gradually, despair eroded small fragments of his sanity, leaving nothing more than a faint echo of who he used to be.

He needed to find a cure soon. And so he pinched, tugged, injected, and inflicted upon your body a distinct form of torment every day. Each one an inch closer. However, despite your best judgment, you lacked the strength to keep on resenting him.

Exhausted from enduring numerous stings and side effects, your brain, perhaps as a survival mechanism, clung to words of reaffirmation. Praise. Approbation. Plaudits. They seemed to breathe sanity back into your inner self, preventing your poor state of mind from sinking deeper into the dark.

Such an exquisite test subject!

So remarkably compliant and subdued, aren't you?

I'll create an antidote, and they'll be back, and it'll be thanks to you.

You seem unwell today.

His voice was distant from under the water but he sounded somehow concerned. "Let's take the day off. You can't die just yet. Finding others like you is proving increasingly challenging."

You didn't want him to ignore you for the rest of the day. You wished he wouldn't. You could endure a slight pinch if it meant feeling something. Lately, the increasing sensory isolation was becoming more and more nerve-wracking. You must have wished too fervently, for just as he had not entirely turned away, the power abruptly ran out.

Donatello gasped. The blue light of your tank framed his face. A menace, yet fixable. The hitch: replacing the lab's battery required using the one in your tank. Both were designed with separate energies after an incident— an unfortunate electrocution during a short-circuit caused by an electric storm. Test subject 83q1q didn’t make it.

The wisest course of action was to empty the tank, replace the battery, and secure you elsewhere until he could find a new one. Your body throbbed with tickles of anxiety and anticipation upon noticing his intent.

As it drained, you descended to the bottom of it. He opened its side, causing all the tubes to tilt down. Donatello pulled them off. You inhaled as soon as he unplugged them from your throat. A coughing fit almost broke your rib cage right after a sharp, reckless gasp for air.

An overwhelming sensation hovered over you. Abruptly, everything was too much. Too much air, too rough floor, too much pressure on your skull, too loud— You can't breathe. You're choking. Your ears are beeping. Someone's screaming. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, you can’t— He's touching you. You tensed. Would he return you to the tank? Where's the needle? The last time he touched you, there was a needle, or something sharp, and it hurt. You brace yourself.

Donatello began making even circles over your bare back.

"Deep breaths," he said. His voice sounded different. Steadier, warmer. "Follow my own, here," he pressed your hand to his plastron. His inhalations were even, soothing.

"That's right, you're doing well—maintain your focus right here."

Your view briefly smeared your palm over his chest before properly adjusting. Your head pulsed as if your skull rejected your brain. Your mind was a jumble of many things barely held together. But you’re breathing, you’re alive, nothing hurts.

"Well done. Now, tell me five things about yourself," he asked.

The piercing cold scraped your bones like long-stirred claws. Nothing hurts, not quite much.

"My name is Donatello,” he began to set an example. “I am a scientist. I aim to fix the Kraang predicament. I like purple,” he paused, realizing there was nothing more about him worth mentioning. Then, against logical reasoning, he added: “I miss my brothers.”

Squatting, embracing your naked, soaked silhouette in a failed attempt to stop shivering, you listened; forcing yourself to clutch onto his voice, scarcely discerning his words but making the effort. On the verge of giving up on obtaining an answer, Donatello motioned back. Your nails dug into his plastron just then. He tensed.

“My name is—” your voice quivered, mind spinning, searching. You told him. “Chest… hurts. Head, hurts. I’m cold.” Your weakling tone disturbed you, hoarse, broken, reduced to a raspy mutter. “I’m… alone.”

You were unexpectedly a jarring mirror he reflected in. Donatello tilted his head, musing.

"Well done. It wasn't so hard, was it?" he articulated, displacing your hand. "Now come here, you ought to wait inside the cell until the battery is efficiently substituted and operational—I still need to find another to power the tank, though.” he added between his teeth, more to himself than to you. “Anyway, be glad, you'll rest," he finished, offering you a towel.

You took it, hesitantly. Soft, cold fingers brushing with rough, calloused ones. Donatello retracted his hand upon the brief contact. For half a second, he seemed misplaced. Something shifted thereafter. As if the lab’s loneliness somehow extinguished just by having another breath residing there. As days elapsed, he worked diligently to replace the burnt pieces and connect the battery. This task, which would have taken only a few hours with all the needed resources, was now hindered by the aftermath of the world nearly ending.

You braced yourself every time he approached your space, yet, pain never came with him. Instead, there was something, something more, something close to a kindle glimpse of a strange fascination. Donatello couldn't grasp why, but he started bringing you food instead of using the feeding probe.

“I help bring them back,” you said one fine day, after long contemplating the scattered photographs of four turtles attired in different colors, enjoying life before the apocalypse.

The sound of the welder stopped, as did the sparks that created different patterns of light around. He looked at you, understanding that it was not a reiteration of your role; it was an express wish, a genuine interest, as if you actually had a saying on the matter. It was, in a way, touching.

“Yes, you will,” he paused briefly, contemplating for the first time going slightly out of his way to give you something. But what? Perhaps something to wear? No, keeping you naked meant you wouldn't dare to set foot outside. It had to be something else, something more.

Donatello pondered for half a heartbeat before pulling the protective lenses up. “Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how cold would you rate your cell?”

***

The day came when he finished fixing the lights. The sudden brightness forced a hiss out of you, too sharp. He adjusted it, toning it down to a level you could bare. He found an extra battery as well, which meant you would return to the tank. You would hurt again, but it’s fine; he gave you purpose. He fed and warmed you, and listened to you. He gave you gentle head pats—

He’s good.

He doesn’t care if he hurts you.

It’s alright. He gave you purpose.

He doesn’t care if you cry.

He keeps you warm.

Donatello took some blood samples, followed by platelets, in between a couple more tests. You felt dizzy jumping off the chair, narrowly holding on to the edge of the table so as not to slam against the floor. The tank light loomed over you. Bit by bit, you gestured towards the two-meter cylindrical vessel, your heart rate suddenly plummeting. The dreadful prospect of sensory deprivation gnawed at your insides. Your breaths became erratic, resonating loudly in your ears, and the sensation of blood swirling in the pit of your stomach heightened. You won't feel, you won't eat, you will hurt. You can't breathe. You gasp for air. It’s alright, it’s alright-

"I was thinking..." Donatello's voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere, and you clung to the sound as if it were a lifeline. "Since you've behaved— what if I don't send you back in the tank? What if you stay here a bit longer?"

You turned, your eyes widening in astonishment.

"Would you like that?" he asked, not facing you, an awkwardness in his demeanor, as if it were the first time in his life he had asked for company.

"Yes," you gasped.

***

You couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but it didn't matter. You lay on his lap, resting as he worked, your body bare, absorbing the warmth of the room he had carefully heated for you. You cherished the rare moments he allowed you this close to him, savoring the seconds of feeling human once again through simple acts like cuddling. It made the aching in your body subside a smidgen.

The embrace elicited subtle signs of contentment, slowly fading into gasps, later morphing into moaning. His breath hitched upon hearing them. Donatello wasn't the best at navigating feelings. But these sensations were not exactly that. They couldn’t be. No, it was more like a palpitation triggering a primal response to your scent, your warmth, and the gentle quiver in your voice.

He scoffed. Deep thought on the matter didn’t change that his cock throbbed with each breath rolling off your mouth. He tried to shake the heat of his head, but why? Why should he resist? There was no purpose for not indulging. In fact, it could be beneficial.

He let his hand travel across your back. His touch made you shudder. He puffed, a nerdy sound he hadn’t heard himself make since the first time he watched a porn video.

“Come,” he said, tugging you to sit upright.

You raised your head from the crook on his neck to face him. “To the operating room?”

“No, just here,” he muttered.

Donatello adjusted you over the lower half of his plastron before reclining the chair back. Your nude pussy pressed upon its wetness. He groaned. Warm fingertips clung to the upper sides of his shell, seeking balance. He stroked your hair. You waited. Nothing hurt.

Donatello placed both hands over your love handles, moving you back and forth so your cunt rubbed over his needy slit. It throbbed, his hard cock soon to emerge from it. He whimpered, breath hitching when you followed his lead, hypnotized by the exquisite friction over your clit. A few more humps and it came out, pulling a deep growl from him. You looked in astonishment as it rose against your abdomen. tick, long and glistening in a creamy transparent liquid. Your inner thighs soon soaked in it. Nothing hurts, no…, in fact- it’s good. Fuck, so good. You sighed, unable to stop grinding over his newly released member, absolutely thriving in the delicious way it numbed everything into bliss.

Donatello’s head fell backward. His mouth curved slightly at the corners in a somewhat twisted smile of enjoyment. His earnest, soft moaning mingled with yours feverishly.

“That’s so hot— I want more, I want to be in you, I know you’re so warm inside,” his voice was desperate, drunken-like.

In one motion, Donatello pulled you up. Your back hit the cold desk. You sensed the keyboard under your head. It hurt. You snap back, eyes open wide. He grabbed your waist. Six strong fingers kept you in place as he lined with you. You puff, suddenly tensing.

"You want it too, right? In theory, it should feel good. You're too wet for it not to, don't worry, you've been good. It won't hurt."

The question lingered. You don't know. You don't want to hurt. Would he be angry if you forced him to stop? Could you do that? Would he put you back in the tank? You're dizzy.

He moved the tip of his cock along your soaked cunt, focusing on your soft nub, making circles over it. Your legs opened wider in response. His voice quivered as he whimpered, yours followed. You clenched around nothing.

"You're not saying no, are you?" he panted. "So I assume you must want to, right?"

Your hole stretches with his size sliding in. You groan, dragging your nails over the desk.

"Ah— it hurts! It hurts!" you blurt out.

"Bear it. The ache isn't supposed to- last too long. It'll feel good once you get used to it. You're good, you can bear it, you ca-nm,"

His body steamed, and his mind burnt with it, slowly melting the last drops of rational thinking. "You're so tight," he thrust once, twice, and thrice.

You reached for him, clinging to his quivering voice, his praise, his— fuck he's so deep in you. his pace knocks your breath out. It hurts. It fills you so well. It hurts. Feels hot. His moves are steady, building heat in your belly. Pain's giving out. You clench around him, sucking him deeper.

Donatello jerked forward, mouth gaping, eyes shutting. Both forearms held him up over the desk. He was now close enough for you to embrace him, so you clamped one hand to his shell and the other to his shoulder. Both legs hugged him near. With each new thrust your clit rubbed to his plastron sending waves of volts through your veins.

"Yes," you breathed, barely above your own moaning.

Donatello grinned, "I knew you liked it,”

“Yeah—ah, faster, harder,” you pleaded, head thrown back as he fucked you.

He granted. Making his pace even crueler. His content smile never faded.

“Your little cunt loves this so much! I can feel you squeezing me so tight, fuck, such a good testing subject, about to be my favorite cumdump.”

Your muscles tensed in anticipation, the heat in your core about to burst. The sound of wet skin slapping reached your ears as your toes curled.

His breath staggered as he spoke. "Ah- I can't stop. I'm coming, fuck, yes, yes-mnn,"

The hot loads filled you all the way to your womb. You embraced him, his ragged breath right in your ear. He enjoyed it, you did good, all feels right, more, more— You came with a loud moan, sweet pulsations carried the bliss from your belly through your temples, melting you.

He stayed still for a while, holding you in his arms, absorbing the warmth from your body. You both descended from the high together. Your scent mingled with his own, and for a fleeting moment, something tingled within him—the creeping onset of a feeling. He scoffed. It meant nothing. What are feelings if not chemicals in the mind, fueling instincts?

"Go clean yourself up," he instructed, letting off your legs. "We still have some tests for the day."

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softskiesahead · 5 months

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“you can come if you want” 5 dead 3 injured

#words that tear my heart into pieces????#negative #♡ storms ahead

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softskiesahead-moved · 1 year

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literally what if I just disappeared and never spoke to anyone again

#or if could just go back to being the wallflower and not needing to be so worried every second and every minute #it’s so easy to be lonely why can’t I go back to it #it was so easy to be in just my head.#I’m so tired of this #♡ storms ahead #aya.txt

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lovebugism · 9 months

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“guys come on, let’s take advantage of this. we can have fun!” Sneak into the Hawkins community pool with Steve?

thanks for your request, angel!! — the one where steve convinces his nervous, ditzy gf (and the rest of the gang) to sneak into hawkins community pool (1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The golden hour was swept away by a sudden summer storm.

Eddie Munson’s van was your only source of refuge from the downpour, parked slightly askew at the edge of the clearing. Steve grabbed your hand just as quickly as he snatched the case of beer you’d all been getting drunk on, rushing you both to safety in the back of the old Chevrolet.

With a gentle hand, he blotted water droplets from your face with a spare towel Eddie had stashed away.

The wild cadence of the evening rain sang pretty songs against the rusted metal roof. Your Stevie held you all the while. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to press you into his side while his long legs fought with Robin’s shorter ones for more room.

You giggled quietly to yourself as they kicked at one another — neither of them needing as much space as they were battling for.

Summer rain clung to your clothes and turned you cold. Your cropped tee and pleated skirt did little to aid your dwindling temperature. You curled into Steve’s side when goosebumps prickled your skin. The boy so often radiated warmth — your very own space heater — and his vanilla-rose cologne engulfed you with its musk.

The familiar scent of him contrasted heavily with the boyish scent of Eddie’s van: woodsy perfume, teenage boy, and the skunk weed you’d been smoking before the rain came in.

When the deluge faded to a soft sprinkle, the wild-haired boy decided to drive you all home. Steve, being halfway drunk and not all there, told him to pull into the empty Hawkins Community Pool parking lot. The gloomy weather and heavy clouds reduced the bustling spot to a barren patch of concrete.

“Guys, come on!” Steve pressed with a boyish chuckle when his idea was met with a chorus of groans. “Let’s take advantage of this! We can have fun!”

You couldn’t say no to Steve. Robin couldn’t, either.

Nancy followed behind you, and Eddie refused to be left behind — so against your better judgment, all of you ended up trudging behind Steve toward the entrance.

“Okay, but like… what’s the point?” Robin monotones from where she lags behind the rest of the group. Her oversized tee and baggy ripped jeans billow in the soft summer breeze. “Like, if you wanna swim, why don’t we just go to your place? You literally have a pool.”

“It’s the principle, Robin! It’s not nearly as fun!” Steve argues in response, leading the pack of you with his fingers entwined with yours. He clutches the abandoned case of beer with his free hand. You cling desperately to his arm while your legs try to keep up with his longer strides.

The sandy brunette girl scoffs. “Why? Because there’s no threat of us getting arrested for breaking and entering?”

“Exactly!”

You slow when you reach the front gate. The rusted padlock is twisted between the entrance but left unlatched — likely forgotten in the haste of escaping the violent storm.

You squint and tilt your head to the side. “Is it technically breaking and entering if there’s no breaking?” you wonder aloud.

Steve laughs, boyish and airy — the exact sound of sunshine. He beams just the same. “See? Is this kismet or what?”

“Or what?” Robin and Nancy deadpan simultaneously. Both have their arms crossed and their hips jutted outward. The latter girl squints, a storm cloud in a pretty pink dress. The former meets the scowl with a beam. “Jinx. You owe me a coke, Wheeler.”

“What are you? Seven?” Nancy scoffs.

“Jeez…” the other girl murmurs with wide eyes. “Sorry for experiencing childlike whimsy every now and then. Won’t happen again.”

The curly-haired brunette girl rolls her eyes.

Eddie walks ahead of you and Steve and kicks the metal gate open with the toe of his dirty sneaker. It opens with a slow and eerie squeeaakk.

The boy glances over his shoulder at the group before stepping through the unlocked entrance. He holds his arms out like he’s just done some sort of magic trick, leather jacket rippling in the wind.

“Our kingdom awaits,” he announces with a mystical sort of accent.

Nancy follows after him. Robin follows after her.

You and Steve idle at the entrance. He can feel your apprehension.

“Wait, guys,” you caution, voice wavering as your features scrunch with unease. “I don’t know about this…”

Steve’s palm squeezes your own — wide, warm, and reassuring. “Hey. It’s fine. We’re not gonna get caught or anything, okay? No one’s here, I promise.”

You miss the comforting, puppy-like look he flashes you. His brown eyes sparkle like amber beneath the orange streetlights, but your gaze is pulled elsewhere. There’s a large metal sign nailed to the brick beside you. No beers, bottles, cans, coolers, drugs, or cigarettes allowed on the premises.

You motion to it with your free hand, brows pinched in a look of distant horror as your head whips to the boy next to you. “We can’t go in there, Stevie! We have all that stuff!”

Robin chokes back a laugh. Nancy shoots her a glare, and she swallows it down.

Steve doesn’t bother to hide his chuckle, though. He squeezes your hand again. “We’ll be okay, babe. I promise.”

“He’s right, princess,” Eddie affirms across from you. His wild curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side. His deep brown eyes glimmer beneath the lamplight, along with the tin can of drugs he grips in his left hand. He shoots you a mischievous grin. “That shit only applies when people are around to catch us.”

You turn to Steve again. The bridge of his nose scrunches as he nods. “What he said.”

“But there’s no lifeguard on duty,” you murmur sheepishly, peering up at the boy from beneath your lashes. Your gaze is wide with insistence and concern. “Like... What if something bad happens?”

“I’ll keep you safe, babe. I promise,” Steve whispers with a gentle laugh. He tugs on your hand and twists his body so you’re standing toe-to-toe. Your chest brushes his torso — his lean body adorned with a fitted collared shirt and vintage denim jeans. His chin tilts downward as he grins at you. “I was a lifeguard for a summer, remember?”

“So you’ll save me if I drown?” you ask him, just to hear him say yes, as you lean further into him.

“I’d give you mouth-to-mouth just for the hell of it, sweetheart.”

Your concern washes away with a beam.

Hawkins Community Pool smells like chlorine and summertime — all things clean and nostalgic. The blue water glistens in the moonlight when the rain clouds start to wane. The white lights in the walls make the cerulean color much more vivid than usual.

Nancy sits on the edge of the steps, her boots propped up neatly next to her while her feet dangle in the water. Eddie lounges in one of the chairs just behind her, a lit joint lazing in his pink mouth — glowing softly orange with every puff he takes.

Robin was the only one actually swimming, though not of her own accord. She’d been under the impression that everyone was jumping in at the same time after Steve told her as much. Now, she floats amongst the soft waves of the pool, fully clothed.

Steve stands off to the side with you. His fingers are firmly curled around your elbows, steadying you as you dip your toe in the water. It’s warmer than you expected — maybe because it’s much cooler outside than usual.

“Cold?” the boy wonders with raised brows.

You shake your head. “It kinda feels like bath water.”

“Told ya,” he remarks with a tight-lipped smile.

He steps back from you and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He frees his body from the fitted fabric, baring his toned torso and fuzzy chest to the night sky.

You can’t help but gawk at him like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Like his body is the first one you’ve ever seen, ever. He’s too pretty not to be admired.

Robin whistles lowly in the water as Steve tosses his shirt onto an empty lounge chair.

“That’s so funny— I was just about to say the same thing,” you giggle with a crooked smile.

Steve rolls his eyes at the both of you. “Your turn, babe. C’mon. Get naked.”

Your face scrunches at the brazen nature of his words.

“Well, not naked, just— you know what I mean.”

You don’t have any reservations about your friends seeing your halfway naked body. Steve’s seen you in a whole lot less, too many times for you to count. You, Robin, and Nancy have gotten changed together a few times, too. And Eddie’s… Eddie. You trust him too much to be too timid around him.

You toe your shoes and socks off first, then push your skirt down your hips and pull your shirt over your head. You’re left in a pair of cotton underwear — not overtly modest, but it certainly not the sexiest set you could’ve chosen. Your top is much of the same. It’s a borderline sports bra with lace trimming around the edges.

Steve looks at you like you’re wearing custom-made lingerie — like you’re a goddess carved from stone. His honey eyes only flit away from your form when he catches Eddie staring at you. “Stop ogling, Munson.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrington,” the boy murmurs through the blunt in his mouth. He hasn’t so much as blinked, too high to realize how unabashedly his gazing at you. “I am being perfectly respectful.”

You extend your arm towards Steve again, cold without him embracing you. “Hold my hand?” you murmur with a sheepish inflection — as if there were any possibility of him turning you down.

“Don’t ask me that,” the boy scoffs. “Ever.”

His foreignly harsh tone makes you cower. Your eyes go wide as your head jerks back.

“The answer’s never not gonna be yes, babe,” he answers with a lopsided grin. His palm wraps around yours, clutching you like he was made to do it.

Your brows pinch in confusion. Steve’s brown eyes flit to the starry sky as he tries to articulate his jumbled thoughts. “I mean, like, it’s never gonna be yes— Nope. That's not right, either. It’s never gonna be no. I’m always gonna say yes to you. Yeah. There we go.”

You understood what he said the first go around. Sorta. But you like when he gets all tongue-tied with you. He’s too perfect most of the time. His occasional ineloquence is perhaps his only flaw.

But is a flaw really a flaw if you love it so much it makes you beam brighter than beams of blue moonlight?

“Right,” you nod, pursing your lips to the side when a smile threatens to take over your mouth.

“Let’s jump in before I make a bigger fool of myself, yeah?” he pleads.

You plunge into the deep end with Steve at your side. It’s a lot less scary that way.

You rise to the surface of the sparkling water with a gasping breath. You can almost taste the chlorine with the fierceness of your inhale. Steve comes up right after you, panting and beaming just the same.

He looks like the rest of your life — wet hair as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

You feel like you could conquer universes with Steve holding your hand.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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