#i think all of this counts as vaguely cursed content

[kayjayjwrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

[marvel-redemption-omega]

Adam x Bratty!fem!reader

Reader is afab/female, explicitly used

Established relationship; you're Adam's wife

Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY

Explicit content under the cut!

Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.

Word count: 10,792

Make Me

(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)

“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.

You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.

“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.

“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.

“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.

“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.

“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.

“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.

“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.

“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.

“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.

“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.

Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.

“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.

“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.

“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.

“Hey, Lute~”

“No.”

“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”

“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.

“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”

“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”

“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.

“So am I wrong?”

“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.

They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.

“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.

“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.

“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.

“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.

Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.

“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.

“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.

“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.

Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.

You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.

“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.

“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.

“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.

“Adam, I don't think-”

“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.

“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.

“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.

“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.

“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.

“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.

“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.

“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.

“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.

You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.

“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.

“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.

You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.

“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.

“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.

“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.

“Make. Me.”

A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.

“Want to try that again, Bitch?”

“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.

“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.

“Fuck.”

“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.

You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.

“Fuck!”

You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.

“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”

“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.

“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.

You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.

“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.

“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.

So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.

“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.

“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.

“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.

“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”

The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.

“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.

“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.

“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.

“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.

“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.

“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.

“Safeword?”

“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.

“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”

“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.

While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.

“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.

“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.

“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.

The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.

“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.

“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.

“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.

“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.

“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.

“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.

“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.

You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.

He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.

“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.

His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”

“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.

“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.

“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.

You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.

“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.

“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.

“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.

“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.

He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.

Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.

“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.

It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.

When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.

“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.

___________________________________________

(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)

The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.

A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.

“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.

“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.

“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.

“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.

“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.

“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”

She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.

Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.

Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood

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[sadprose-auroras]

Distraction – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hey, loves! Thank you everyone for all of the love for On Top, I appreciate it so much!! I’m happy to take requests, just send me an ask <3

Content: violence, cursing, kissing.

Summary: Have you ever wanted to be PJ in this scene? Me too! So, I rewrote the final scene as a self-insert. Most dialogue is from the movie.

Please let me know what you think! Word Count: 2.2k

“Oh, now you want a bomb.”

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Holding your breath, you watched Hazel set up the bomb on the tree across the field. You could only cross your fingers that it would work properly; the last time did not go as expected.

“Hazel, it’s starting!” Annie shouts, as the football team begins to make their way onto the field. Panic setting in, you briefly consider running over to help her out. Suddenly, she’s sprinting over to the group, diving to take cover. You all bow your heads down, grabbing onto whoever is closest, holding your breath. You try not to think about Hazel’s head buried in your shoulder. Now is not the time. After a few moments, you all collectively raise your heads. It didn’t go off.

Everyone begins to talk over each other as Hazel starts fiddling with the remote.

“Maybe turn it on and then back off?”

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Did you set it to 15 minutes this time?”

You remain silent, eyes darting around trying to think of another solution.

“Okay, Plan B!” you say suddenly standing up. “We need to get the cheerleaders to make out with each other!” You begin to stalk over to the cheerleaders performing for the crowd, most of your friends following you. You briefly turn around to notice Josie crouched down looking at something and frown but decide to continue on your mission. You know how much this school fetishizes queer women. This has to work.

You all begin yelling, making cruse gestures.

“Guys, kiss each other!”

“Make out with each other!” Hazel shouts from the stands. Even your best friend saying the words ‘make out’ makes your knees weak. Despite the adrenaline of the situation, you still feel it. You feel every effect she has on you, always. The too-enthusiastic announcer comes over the loudspeaker, so loud it shakes the ground.

“HIDE YOUR CHILDREN, HERE COMES HUNTINGTON!”

Oh shit.

The yellow-clad team begins their entrance, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. The sense of dread that was gnawing at your stomach begins to grow. You have to do something. Now.

PJ nudges your side, giving you a knowing look. You furrow your brows. You were close, but you couldn’t read your friend’s mind.

“Go kiss her,” she says impatiently.

“Who?” you ask, your heart rate picking up.

“Oh my god, just do it! People will watch, trust me. Go, go!” You swallow heavily, your gaze meeting Hazel’s. Somehow, she understands exactly what your panicked, questioning eyes are asking. She gives the slightest nod. Blood rushing to your ears with nerves, you gather all the courage you have to walk over to her, pushing past some people in the crowd. You don’t look away from each other for a second.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips. You slot your lips together gently, hands finding the sides of her face, hers settling on your waist. The feeling makes your head spin. It takes a few moments for you to find a rhythm, awkwardly bumping noses and hitting teeth a couple of times. Once you do though, desire spreads from the pit of your stomach to your entire body. You had no idea kissing could feel this good.

You’re vaguely aware of people shouting, “look!” clapping and looking at the two of you. Which is what you wanted, of course. It’s the only reason you were doing this in the first place… right? And yet, you didn’t care. About saving the football players, about being a distraction, about anything else. It truly felt like time was suspended and you were the only two people in the world.

As the kiss deepened, you moved closer, bodies pressing against one another. You can feel the coolness of Hazel’s rings on your skin as she thumbs at your hips, your shirt riding up. Just as you were thinking that you could do this forever, an announcement over the loudspeaker brought you back to reality.

“CAN EVERYBODY STOP LOOKING AT THE DYKE PARADE? WHO DO I HAVE TO BLOW TO GET THIS GAME STARTED ALREADY?”

You pull apart quickly, in sync as always, as Hazel’s big blue eyes bore into yours. You touch your lips, which are still tingling, as she rubs the back of her neck which she always does when she feels nervous.

You both rush down to rejoin the others, as they were all frantic about what you were going to do now.

“You guys kissed! With tongue!” Sylvie says, apparently very excited about it. You make eye contact with Hazel as she smirks, your stomach doing a little flip, before looking away.

“Yeah, and we could do it again, if necessary, I mean-if we need another distraction, y’know like I really feel like it worked…” Hazel trails off.

“It certainly worked for me,” you murmur, before you can think about what you’re saying.

“What?” Hazel asks. You open your mouth as if to answer, absolutely mortified, when Josie runs up to you all in a panic. You weirdly find yourself grateful for the distraction, albeit news of the life-threatening situation.

“Look, I found empty barrels of pineapple juice, they’re going to poison Jeff! Where the fuck could it be?” she says frantically, eyes wide. You all look at each other, realisation setting in.

“What if it’s in their mouths, and they’re going to swish it around, and then spit it out midgame?” PJ asks, and you bite back a laugh. You loved her, but sometimes she made no sense.

“I don’t think-“ you begin to say, when Hazel speaks up.

“I hate to say it, but it might have something to do with their semen,” she says, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, it wouldn’t, what is wrong with you?” you ask, baffled but amused. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Annie moving away from the group, looking out onto the field. You follow her gaze, realisation settling in at the same time.

“They’re gonna spray the field, we’re gonna have to run!” Annie shouts. You take off after her, muttering “oh god, oh shit, fuck fuck fuck, I have a stitch,” under your breath.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this,” Hazel says, voice surprisingly even despite how fast you were all running. You turn your head briefly to smile gratefully at her.

“Yeah, we do.”

“PJ, cover the sprinklers!” Josie yells, picking up Jeff, quite literally hoisting him over her shoulder and starting to run off the field. You were impressed at her strength. As if in slow motion, Huntington began moving towards you in formation. You took a deep breath, turning around to look at your group of friends. Isabel, Brittany and Stella Rebecca appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and you smiled to yourself. Huntington let out a scream in unison, and you all responded by doing the same. It was cathartic, quite frankly.

The next few moments were a blur. As the two groups came together, people paired off to fight each other. One particularly large football player came at you with his arms outstretched as if to push you over, but you dodged out of the way, then swung your elbow at the back of his head with a satisfying crack. He stumbles, coming at you with a raised fist, but he’s too slow. You duck as he misses, then, with all of your strength, you kick out your leg at his knees, knocking him over, hitting his head hard on the ground in the process.

You take the opportunity to glance around and notice that you’re actually winning. There are several Huntington players sprawled on the ground, unconscious, while all of your friends remained upright. (Albeit, covered in blood, but you were trying to be positive)

You scan to look for Hazel, and notice her holding a football helmet over her head, swinging it down on a Huntington player who is choking Tim. The guy rolls off him, and Tim coughs and stands up. You want to rush over to her, grab her, hold her, ask if she’s okay, protect her, before you’re suddenly tackled roughly to the ground by somebody behind you. You scream, try and scramble out of his grip, using your knees and legs to kick out, arms pushing at him, but nothing. He brings his fist down in the centre of your face, and you cry out. The pain is like nothing you’ve experienced. You lock eyes, and the wildness in the man’s eyes makes your heart sink. He wasn’t going to stop for anything.

Just as your life begins to flash behind your eyes, you hear Hazel yell your name, and she brings down the helmet with force on his head. You push him off you, as he lays there unconscious. You look up to Hazel in shock, panting heavily. Her eye is swollen red, blood splattered on her shirt, her hair is mused, and the stadium light just behind her head is casting a glow around her not dissimilar to a halo.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stretching her arm out to help you up. You take it, standing up with a grunt.

“I-yeah- th-thank you.” You notice you’re still holding hands, and drop it, both of you chuckling awkwardly. The brief respite from the dreaded feeling doesn’t last long when you notice a player twice Hazel’s size coming up behind her menacingly.

“Watch out!” You scream, grabbing her shoulders and moving her to the side as she stumbles slightly. Mustering everything you have, you roundhouse kick him with a yell of effort, aiming for his head but getting him in the neck instead. It doesn’t matter though, as he falls to the ground with a thud. Hazel comes up and punches him square in the face, leaving him unconscious.

“Thank you,” she says between heavy breaths, holding onto her fist in pain. You try not to think about how attractive her hands are covered in cuts and bruises.

“Don’t mention it,” you respond, wiping some blood that is dripping out of your nose. You look around, and can’t see any Huntington players left, instead your friends moving around the bodies on the ground, blood covering their clothes and faces.

“Did we do it?” you vaguely ask. Before anyone can answer you, you notice one last player coming up behind PJ who is on her knees on the ground.

“PJ, look out!” you all shout in unison as he moves towards her. Suddenly, he is knocked heavily onto the ground. Josie had come up behind him, swinging a baseball bat. For a few moments, nobody moves. Nobody speaks. You all look at each other, taking in each other’s appearances. You lock eyes with Hazel, breath catching in your throat. The entire crowd is completely still, mouths hanging open. A hissing sound begins, and the sprinklers begin spraying a liquid over the field.

The first person to speak is Tim.

“It’s pineapple juice! Turn it off!” he yells. With a squeak, they stop. Slowly, the crowd begins to clap, increasingly getting louder and louder. Soon, the cheering is deafening.

“Yes, this is the viking way!” Tim yells. You finally allow yourself to let out a breath. The group begins to celebrate, hugging each other. You give PJ a big hug, pulling away to notice Josie and Isabel kissing in the middle of everything. You look at each other and laugh in disbelief.

“Love that for them,” she says, and you nod. PJ moves away to hug somebody else, when you make eye contact with Hazel. You both glance over to Josie and Isabel, then back to each other. She smiled shyly, and your cheeks burn as you look down, unable to help from giggling to yourself. You walk over to Hazel, and you wrap your arms around each other. You let out a shaky breath, holding onto her tightly. When you pull away from each other, you’re not sure what to say.

“I-uh-“ you begin, then chuckle awkwardly.

“I meant it when I said we could kiss again,” she says, her hands in her pockets as she shuffles back and forth on her feet, looking up at you beneath her lashes. Your heart quite literally skips a beat.

In response, you move closer to her yet again, tilting her head up with your fingers on her chin.

“Is this going to ruin the friendship?” you ask quietly. Hazel barely gets her next words out before your lips meet.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaling through your nose as your lips move together in sync. This time, you know exactly how to kiss one another. You briefly wonder how many girls Hazel had kissed to be this good at it.

“Oh my god,” you murmur against her lips, giving her one last soft kiss.

“I know,” Hazel says, smiling in the way that she does that makes your insides twist in the best way possible.

“Um, so, I have a really important question,” you say cheekily, twirling a piece of Hazel’s hair in your finger.

“Yeah?” she asks, frowning.

“Why the fuck do you know how to build a bomb?” Hazel immediately laughs. As if right on cue, you hear a boom. You whip your head around, gasping to see the tree on fire.

“I still think we were a better distraction,” Hazel murmurs, not answering your question, before she leaves a soft kiss on your neck. You sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling.

#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan imagine #bottoms fanfic

[brayneworms]

shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You’re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar. 

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins. 

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about. 

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

#🫀.scribes #genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #ajax x reader #ajax smut #childe oneshot #sub!childe #sub!genshin #dom!reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader

[ashonheavenscloud]

just right || k. seungmin

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: kim seungmin x fem!reader, established relationship, smut (minors dni!), seungmin is simultaneously a sweetheart and a tease <3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 3.7K

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: swearing, 18+ explicit content, softdom!seungmin, virgin!reader, protected sex, HEAVY praise, fingering, implications of aftercare, it’s all very soft and vanilla and ahdhjshdjdbfjfn

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: another repost while i’m swamped with essays and can’t write very much🫠 this is one of my favourite smut pieces i’ve posted. enjoy!

now playing: irene - jimmy brown

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It just… didn’t look right.

You tried twisting in the bedroom mirror, striking vague poses to try and like the lace two-piece you’d been hoping to surprise Seungmin with. You’d been so confident in the store, under special dim lighting and in a red and black changing room, but coming home and trying it on again… it felt way different. Mainly because now it was sinking in that Seungmin was coming home in ten minutes, and he would actually see you in this skimpy, black lace lingerie.

It wasn’t like Seungmin hadn’t ever seen you wear something scandalous. But a lingerie set was way different than a short skirt or a sloping neckline. The implication was obvious, and besides brief discussion you hadn’t really… done anything in terms of sex. You wanted too- you really wanted to- and this had been your idea to make it easier for yourself. If you felt sexy, it wouldn’t be as intimidating, right?

Shit, what had you been thinking? You smoothed your hands over the fabric, feeling stupid. 

The front door lock clicked, and immediately your heart skipped several beats, your feet frozen as you listened to the door open and Seungmin call from out in the hallway, “Baby?”

Shit, shit, shit-

You felt caught for some reason, even though this has literally been the plan. You just hadn’t expected to chicken out last minute. Your eyes scanned the room, and found one of Seungmin’s white shirts on the bed. After a split second of hesitation, you cursed under your breath and pulled it over your head. It barely reached your mid thighs, and you were about to dig around for a pair of pants when Seungmin knocked on the closed door. 

“Baby?” 

You froze, and for some reason you hesitated. Why shouldn’t you let Seungmin in? A large part of you, in spite of your self-consciousness, wanted to see his reaction. You wanted to know what would happen, what he would do, what you would do if given the chance…

And your lack of response was enough of a response for Seungmin to slowly open the door and peek in.

You didn’t know what to do with any part of your body, so you just stood there and tried to ignore the heat flooding to your face. Seungmin was staring at you, eyes roaming up and down your body, and you again felt so, so stupid. You fidgeted with the edge of the shirt, pulling it down. “H-hi.”

“Hi, baby.” Seungmin’s lips slowly turned into a sideways grin. He looked endeared, and you couldn’t help but feel even more embarrassed. “What are you doing?”

He slowly slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, and you kind of wished you could melt through the ground. “I…”

His hands slipped up your arms to cup your elbows and pull you a couple steps closer to him. Your breath held as your eyes met his, sparkling. He giggled. “Baby, what are you wearing?”

Something about his hands holding you made it a lot easier to relax, but you still winced, eyes shutting. “Ugh. I had this stupid idea…”

“Trust me, whatever this is, it is not stupid.” Seungmin grinned, and you whined. 

“I just wanted to look… sexy, but it looks wrong.” You mumbled out, feeling your face again flush dramatically. “I just thought this would make it easier to try…”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, looking a bit amused, and you wanted to hit him for that. Geez, just because he was experienced… 

“Try what?” He teased, and you really did hit him this time, half-playfully punching his shoulder.

“Sex, doofus.” You grumbled, hiding your face with your hands.. “I… just thought if I felt pretty… but I’m not, so…”

“Hey, wait a minute-”

One of his hands reached to cup your chin, and tilt your face to look up at him. His smile was gone, brows knit with concern.

“You are pretty.”

You laughed, unbelievingly. “Yeah. Tell that to the mirror.”

You glanced at your reflection, the t-shirt you’d thrown on haphazardly, your bare legs and the peek of your ass. You just felt… so unflattering in all of it.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, and you were beginning to feel cold and exposed. The mantra repeated in your head: stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Seungmin’s fingers were cold as they slid under the hem of your shirt to gently tug on the material. His whole body leaned into you, like you were a magnet and he was steel, and his breath was warm on your cheek as he pressed a small kiss to your eyelid. Butterflies rose in your throat at the small touch, and shot right down to your stomach when his other hand slipped to grip the shirt.

“Please? If you’re okay with it?”

Slowly, you nodded, letting Seungmin lift your arms above your head to pull off the shirt. You were left in the black lace set, and instantly you felt your eyes move to the mirror.

Seungmin immediately cupped your chin, keeping your eyes on him. His gaze was so gentle as he softly smiled. “Come here…”

He drew you back and gently sat you on the bed so your back was against the pillows. He knelt beside you, slipping off his shirt. He was lean and toned, not necessarily muscular but fit and defined.

“Now we’re even.” He smiled shyly, and you couldn’t help but smile back at his sweetness. He reached for you, one hand slipping behind your back and the other cradling your jaw as he kissed you. You sighed, eyes flickering shut as you let yourself lose sense of time and space in the kiss, in the gentle press of his mouth, the firmness of his jaw as your thumb crept up to brush over his cheek.

Soon, his lips left yours- only to find their way slowly down your neck. You gasped, shivering at his touch against your sensitive spots, surprised by the way it made your insides squirm and tingle. He hummed, pleased, and kissed down farther.

Your eyes popped open when his lips met the hill of your right breast, hovering by the lace. He paused there, glancing up at you, gauging your reaction. 

“I want to…” He was drawn down, almost against his will, to place a slow kiss on your breast. You inhaled, feeling your legs tense together, but Seungmin slipped a hand between your thighs to keep them apart.

His eyes found yours again, breaths hot over your skin. “I want to make you feel how much I love you. How beautiful I think you are. How fucking gorgeous you look with this on…” He whispered, one finger playing with the strap of your lace bra. “And how much it drives me crazy.”

He was smiling again, and your whole body felt on fire. God, did you want him to do all those things. You wanted to feel him, know what it was like to be touched and teased. Especially because it was Seungmin, someone you trusted, and someone you knew wanted it just as bad. 

“I want you.” You whispered, feeling your face heat at the words. 

Seungmin noticed your shyness, and his smile turned mischievous. He leaned forward to inch the bra strap off your shoulder, kissing his way over your skin all the while. “Want me to… what?”

Oh, the cheeky bastard. He knew exactly what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. You opened your mouth to respond, cheeks burning. “I want…”

Seungmin had paused to watch you expectantly, a glint in his eyes. You looked away, whining. “Just touch me, please- god-”

“Where?” He teased, slipping his fingers behind your back to unclip your bra, and you shivered at his feather light touches. Fuck. 

He released the clip, and you felt your heart jolt in anticipation. Already, you could feel your body growing excited for him to touch you everywhere. Actually saying it was another thing, though, and Seungmin knew that. He was grinning, waiting, hand just barely cupping your clothed right breast, thumb resting over the fabric right where your nipple was-

“There. There, please-” You tried, but he only chuckled, brushing over the fabric, barely doing anything. It was hardly any friction, and it was driving you insane. You weren’t bold enough for words. You weren’t bold enough for any of this- and maybe that was Seungmin’s intention. To see if he could push you enough to do it anyway.

You reached one hand to slip the second strap off your shoulder, all while Seungmin watched intently. Taking a breath for confidence, you pulled the bra away in one swift motion, letting it fly off somewhere out of reach. You didn’t watch to see where it went, ignoring your flaming cheeks and whispering, “Fuck, Seungmin. Where do you think I want you to touch?”

Seungmin grinned, and immediately ducked down to take your right nipple in his mouth, softly mouthing the sensitive bud and making you whine and squirm, eyes squeezing shut. Every sensation went right to your core, making your legs tense together- although Seungmin made sure to keep your thighs apart with one hand. 

“Easy, baby.” He murmured, breath hot, mouth hot, tongue fucking hot as he slowly sucked. At the same time, his hand slipped lower, fingers running over the edges of your lace panties. Without meaning to, you lifted your hips to his touch, which made Seungmin groan in the back of his throat. “Fuck…”

He lifted his head, leaning forward to press his lips firmly against yours, and your arms wound around his neck, fingers threading through his soft brown locks. You gently tugged and were rewarded with the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard; a low moan absolutely dripping with pleasure and lust. Your head was spinning, lost in his kiss and touch and another gentle groan when you pulled at his hair again, massaging his scalp with your fingertips. 

His fingers were inching farther down, and he briefly broke apart to breathe and whisper, “Are you okay? We don’t have to do anything unless-”

“I trust you.” You responded, and you didn’t hesitate to say it. You weren’t a confident person, you never had been- but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Seungmin’s hand cupping your jaw to draw you to him for another kiss, and his fingers slipping to pull down your panties, made you feel desired. You’d never wanted this more.

Your panties were quickly discarded, and Seungmin slid out of his pants, and your eyes instantly snapped to the bulge in his boxers. You swallowed, feeling a bit intimidated.

Seungmin glanced up at your face. “It’s okay, we can take things as slow as you’d like. Just tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

You slowly nodded, and Seungmin hovered over you again, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder, one hand reaching to find yours. He intertwined your fingers, kissing your knuckles before propping your arm above your head. He used his other hand to gently massage your thighs apart, edging closer to your tingling core.

“Just relax, baby, I’ve got you…”

You shivered, doing your best to release tension from your body as Seungmin pressed two fingers against your slit. He chuckled. “My baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed by how absolutely horny you were. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Babe, it’s fucking hot.” Seungmin promised, sliding one finger up and down your slit, making you gasp. The friction felt unbelievably good.

“Feels nice?” Seungmin asked, and you nodded quickly. 

“R-really good, oh my god.”

“You feel good too, baby.” Seungmin whispered, forefinger dragging through your folds before circling your hole. You tensed, the feeling foreign, and Seungmin sensed it. “Relax, love. It’s okay.”

Somehow you let your body sink into the mattress, and Seungmin slowly eased a finger inside of you. You instantly sucked in a breath, your free hand gripping the sheets beside you, the other clinging to Seungmin’s.

“That’s it… good girl,” he murmured, squeezing your hand in return as he slipped his finger in deeper. You shivered, eyes squeezing shut as your body tried to get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Not to say that it felt at all bad; the more you adjusted to it, the better it felt. The friction to your walls, the ridges of his finger, every small touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You had to bite your lip to keep quiet when he pulled back before slipping back in; you clenched around him, chest heaving.

Seungmin leaned forward to kiss you again, lips moulding against yours slowly as he set a languid pace, palm beginning to brush up against your pussy. You were starting to struggle with keeping quiet, small bursts of sounds forming in the back of your throat. Seungmin dropped your lips briefly to whisper, “Let me hear you. I want to hear you, bet you sound so pretty…”

And when his thumb started rubbing your clit, you couldn’t hold it anymore. Whines and moans quietly tumbled from your lips as Seungmin kissed you deeper, chest meeting your own, gently pushing you into the mattress. His openmouthed kisses tasted like heaven, and you weaved a hand into his hair to pull him closer, groaning at the feel of his hot breath on your skin.

“I knew you’d have the prettiest moans.” Seungmin whispered, smiling against your lips like he wasn’t saying that while his finger was knuckle deep inside of you. “You’re perfect, baby… you’re doing so well for me…”

He slid in another finger with the next thrust, making you gasp and clutch at his hair. The sensation elicited the sweetest groan from Seungmin, who seemed caught off guard. 

“You l-like that?” He asked after a second, seeming to catch his breath.

You nodded, legs tensing at the extra stretch. But that hadn’t been the only thing you’d liked; you’d also loved when Seungmin made that sound. While he’d been teasing you this whole time, it was hard not to let your eyes wander to the boner outlined by his sweats-

Experimentally, you fisted his hair again, tugging at the strands with the next thrust. Instantly Seungmin hissed, eyes closing, head pulling back from your face. “Shit, baby…”

You blurted out, “Can- can I touch you?”

Seungmin paused, eyes jolting up to meet yours, clearly surprised. He seemed to process your question while you tried your hardest not to look as flustered as you felt. But you were curious- if he could make you feel this good, could you do the same for him?

“If you want to.” Seungmin said slowly, sitting back for a second. His fingers were still, except for his thumb lightly dragging up and down your slit. 

You nodded, too shy to ask again, and Seungmin’s face broke into a grin. “You’re adorable.” He whispered, using his free hand to undo the drawstring and slip out of his sweats.

You sat up, legs stretching out on either side of Seungmin as he pulled out his cock, tip shining with a bit of precum. You couldn’t help but stare, fascinated and at the same time surprised by his size. The outline in his pants had been telling, but still…

Almost on its own will, your hand reached forward and you lightly brushed two fingers along the shaft. Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, body tensing, lips pressed together to keep from making any sound. But he couldn’t help but slip a small, shaky, “Shit…” when your thumb touched his tip.

You repeated the motion, rewarded with a soft groan from Seungmin, who lifted his hips to meet your touch. His dick pulsed, and your core clenched at the sight, at the idea of him deep inside you, filling every inch of you…

Seungmin’s eyes met yours, and understanding flashed in his eyes. He slowly licked his bottom lip, and whispered, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

His fingers were back at work, moving slowly back and forth. You clenched, and barely managed. “I want you in me… o-oh-”

His fingers curled perfectly, making your eyes roll back. Then Seungmin slipped them out, admiring the wetness coating them. He fisted his cock while the other hand whipped out a condom from the side table. He rolled the condom up his length before crawling back over you. His knees held your legs apart, and you gasped when you felt the tip of his cock prod your entrance. He balanced over you with one elbow beside your head, the other above, hand gently grabbing onto yours.

“Two squeezes if something’s wrong or you want me to stop, okay?” He whispered and you nodded, panting, heat swimming through your body. Seungmin kissed you gently, hovering over your lips for a second longer before carefully slipping inside of you.

Your breath escaped you in a moan, the stretch equal parts painful and pleasuring. Seungmin took his time, keeping a careful eye on your expression as he pushed. You whimpered at his size, and he paused halfway, squeezing your hand. “Okay?”

You nodded, breathless. “Just… a lot.”

He nodded, gently leaning down to kiss you, hovering just above you when he pulled back. “Tell me when.”

You nodded back, letting your body get used to him and his massive size, allowing yourself to relax. You could feel Seungmin pulsing inside you, could see the film over his eyes that proved how insane he felt just from being inside. And as weird as it was for you, not used to the feeling- it was amazing.

You squeezed his hand once, and whispered. “Okay.”

Seungmin met your eyes, breath holding for a second as he looked at you. Then his forehead dipped to meet yours as he slowly pushed, pressing in deeper, and you saw stars as his dick filled every inch of you, static fizzing in your mind.

“Oh f-fuck…” you heard Seungmin groan, breath on your face. “You’re so damn t-tight, oh my god…”

You couldn’t respond, chest heaving, core tingling at the very new and wonderful sensation of Seungmin’s cock buried inside of you, twitching and rubbing over your sensitive walls, You shivered when he shifted slightly, and a small whimper shot from your lips. Instantly Seungmin’s eyes had locked on yours, concern flashing in them. But when he realized you were okay- more than okay- his mouth broke into a small smile.

“How do you feel?” He whispered, kissing along the side of your face and down to your neck. You quickly clung to his brown locks as he pushed his hips against yours, and your core fluttered around him, thighs tensing around his waist.

“G-good, oh-” you broke of in a moan, as he rocked over you again, lips firmly attaching to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You’re so fucking good, love.” He breathed against your skin, slipping out slightly and pushing slowly back in. Your toes curled at the depths he reached, at the fullness he gave you, at the stinging hickey he was leaving at the base of your throat. “Doing so, so well. Taking this dick like it was made for you. God, I think it was.” 

Your breathing hitched with another firm thrust, and you both moaned in unison. Slowly, Seungmin picked up the pace, hips forming a fluid in-and-out motion that had you seeing stars. He whispered soft praises against your skin while you shuddered, knot building in your gut, uncontrollable moans and whimpers falling past your lips. To Seungmin, it was like music.

Your hands roamed the expanse of his shoulders, and he clutched at your hand with his while the other grabbed your waist, rubbing circles over your stomach.  He let his thumb slip down to your clit to rub the sensitive nerves and your back arched off the bed, body roaring with heat.

“Seungmin, there- there-” you moaned, hand flying to the sheets to grip onto, while the other held tightly to his hand. Seungmin’s grip tightened in response, and you could see his body shaking, sweat glistening over his honey skin. His movements were coming sloppier, more sporadic.

Your walls clenched, and you nearly screamed to words, “Shit, Seungmin, I-”

“I know, god,” he moaned. “Close, huh?”

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tension burning in your gut. Seungmin gave you several more quick snaps of his hips before you were breaking, white blazing behind your eyelids as you released, pleasure drowning you with a heavy moan from Seungmin’s throat.

“That’s my girl, come on- ah, fuck-”

His hips stuttered as he released too, shooting his cum into the condom, shuddering as his high washed over him. After a second of heavy breathing, he slipped out and you opened your eyes, breathless.

He immediately leaned forward, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a soft, slow kiss. You felt exhausted, but deliriously happy, when he pulled back to look at you with a loving smile on his face.

“You okay? How do you feel?”

“Really good.” You promised in a whisper, taking one of his hands gently in his. “Thank you, that was… wow.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” Seungmin said quietly, again softly kissing your lips. “You look beautiful. I always think so. And you make me so happy, every part of you. Not just your body,” and he smiled shyly, “but I hope I was able to show you with mine that I love you so much.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak after that, deciding instead to pull him close and hold him tight, kissing gently across his shoulder. “I love you, too.” You eventually whispered, and Seungmin’s grip tightened.

“How about I run you a bath, hmm?” He leaned back to kiss your forehead.

You nodded, letting him help you back on your feet, legs already sore from the workout. On the way, Seungmin paused, and you looked at him questioningly.

“What?”

“Just thinking,” Seungmin grinned. “you should wear sets like that more often-”

You punched his shoulder lightly, blush rising on your face. Seungmin merely laughed and lead you with him into the bathroom, still a lot of loving left to do.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 11

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of alcohol and underage drinking, mentions of homophobic slurs, descriptions of marijuana use, men being creepy in general, drama between exes, descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of nausea and vomiting, minors do not interact

word count: 10.2k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

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

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Freshman Year, Fall

You’d never been to a college party, much less a frat party. The extent of your knowledge was taught by cheesy and likely inaccurate movies where all the characters were all played by 30-year-olds pushing 40. But after the shit show that was your senior year of high school, you were looking forward to celebrating your newfound freedom through underage drinking and close-quartered gyrating.

Your roommate's name was Tara Maclay, a honey-blonde tomboy who wore baggy clothing and had a foul but amusing mouth. Your first few days involved polite conversation and awkward apologies when you’d accidentally invade the other’s personal space. However, after a late night of deep conversation, you’d discovered that you were both lesbians and felt a friendship click almost immediately.

During yet another freshman orientation, this time for your dorm held by your RAs in one of the lounges, you’d both befriended a few other girls who also resided in your building, Wilson Valley. The first you’d met was a girl named Astrid. She was tall, skinny, and had long black & blonde braids that swayed gracefully every time she moved. You couldn’t help but notice the way Tara eyed her, nudging her playfully to break her out of her slack-jawed loser lesbian stupor.

Astrid had greeted you both sweetly and introduced you to a couple more girls she’d already met: Sidney and Rebecca, who happened to live right in the same hall as you and Tara. Astrid mentioned she had a roommate as well, who couldn’t come to the meeting. You vaguely recalled she said her name was Dina.

After your RAs ended the meeting and dismissed the rest of the residents, your newfound group lingered in the lounge. You continued to chat lightly about nonsensical topics like new classes and room assignments and the campus until Rebecca mentioned a party being thrown the next night.

“My roommate Kristen mentioned that this frat is having a ‘Start of the Year’ party or something tomorrow!” She said, settling into one of the ratty couches. “Not sure if you guys would be interested in that, but I thought that would be cool to go to, even just for the experience.”

Tara grimaced before saying, “An excuse for asshole, predatory frat guys to prey on freshman girls?”

“Could maybe still be fun, though,” Astrid mused. “Nice excuse to get fucked up and all.”

“Well, I guess the free booze isn’t so bad.” Tara quickly said, changing her tune instantly. You chuckled quietly at her.

“What’s the frat?” You asked.

“Uhh,” Rebecca pondered for a moment. “I think… Sigma… something? I honestly don’t remember. I’ll ask Kristen later.”

“All of them just sound the same anyway,” Sidney shrugged, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the carpeted floor next to the couch. “I’m totally up for it if you guys go, though. Good way to be social. I don’t really have friends around here just yet.”

You turned towards her.

“We’re all your friends, so you do now.” You said, smiling at her.

Sidney returned your smile with a wide one of her own.

You’d already set out your desired outfit on your bed for the Sigma Eta party when you sat by your desk, applying your makeup. Behind you, Tara was clumsily rummaging through her clothes, cursing under her breath as she kept changing her mind about her party attire.

“What the fuck do you even wear to frat parties, dude?” She said, throwing yet another unfolded, creased shirt into her dresser.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I’ve mostly gone to high school theatre cast parties, and I don’t think those really count as real parties.” You replied, lightly brushing a small spoolie through one of your eyebrows.

“Am I supposed to look fucking nice, or—?”

“Just be yourself!” You jokingly said.

Through your makeup mirror, you saw Tara give you an annoyed grimace in the reflection. You laughed.

“That’s stupid ass advice.” She groaned in frustration.

“Sorry!” You apologized in jest. “I mean, you’re not really there to attract guys. Don’t have to be all dressed up and all if you don’t want to be.”

“You’re getting all dressed the fuck up.” Tara pointed out, motioning towards your outfit on the bed.

“I just like looking nice,” You shrugged. “Just for myself, not really for anyone else. Like I said, you don’t have to get all dressed up if you don’t want to. Unless there’s someone you’re trying to impress.”

“I mean, I didn’t say that…” She grumbled, almost indiscernible underneath her breath.

“Oh?” You said, momentarily pausing your makeup routine to turn towards her with an eyebrow raised. “Why? Is there a certain someone you wanna look good for?” You inquired.

Tara refused to meet your inquisitive eyes as she fidgeted with another shirt’s buttons between her hands.

“I knew it!” You laughed, pointing the makeup brush you held in your hand towards her. “You like Astrid!”

“No, I fucking do not!” Tara responded defensively.

“You have a crush on Astrid,” You said in a sing-song voice. “You have a crush on Astrid!”

“Shut the fuck up, dude!”

“You think she’s pretty, you want her to have your babies!” You continued to sing, cackling as you turned back to your desk to resume your eye makeup.

“I will physically fight you, you dick!” Tara warned noncommittally.

“Save all those kinky threats for your new girlfriend.” You chuckled as you effortlessly blended two shades of eyeshadow with one another.

“Ugh,” She groaned as she flopped down on her bed. “She’s so fucking straight though. Like, painfully fucking straight. Like, not just heterosexual. Barbie heterosexual.”

“First of all,” You said as you set down the makeup brush in your hand to grab your setting spray. “Barbie is so gay, so that point is useless.”

“Barbie is not fucking gay, man.” Tara argued.

“Barbie is a lesbian with comphet and Ken is her lavender marriage boyfriend,” You disagree, fanning your freshly sprayed face. “Secondly, Astrid is one hundred percent a dyke too.”

“Did you fucking see her, dude?”

“Yes, I did. I have eyes, Tara.”

“Yes, I do too.”

“But not a good enough gaydar though, it looks like.”

“What the fuck!”

“Trust me, Tara,” You said, turning towards her once more to look her straight in the eyes. “There is not a single straight bone in that girl’s body, I guarantee it. If you weren’t so busy checking her out before, you would have noticed it too. Might have even noticed that she was also checking you out.”

“Wait. Hold the fuck up, seriously?” Tara said, perking up for a second before suddenly looking nervous.

“Dude, this is no time to be a fucking pussy! She’s really pretty and seems to like you back. Just get to know her tonight!”

“You think she’s pretty?” She asked.

“I mean, yeah, of course. She is gorgeous.” You admit. “But you’re okay, I’m not competition. She’s not my type, trust me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, kind of discovered after my last relationship that I’m more into like, masc and butch lesbians.”

“Oh?” Tara said intriguingly, abandoning her search for appropriate clothing to take a seat on her bed. “How do you mean exactly?”

“Well,” You said, twirling your eyeliner pen in between your fingers as you turned in your chair to face her again. “My ex-girlfriend was a little bit more feminine than masculine. And I mean, I guess I was attracted to her in different kinds of ways, but I think that I was drawn more to her personality than her looks.”

You sighed before continuing.

“Which, obviously, I think is very important, but I also believe that you’ve gotta be physically attracted to who you’re with too, you know? Not in a shallow way or anything. But I don’t think I really ever felt that click with her, even at the start. It was just another unrealistic expectation I had of her that ultimately cemented the end of our relationship.”

Tara hummed in understanding.

“So why masculine lesbians, then? I’m just curious as someone who presents more as masculine but who tends to like more feminine girls.” She asked.

You pondered her question for a few moments, considering your response.

“There’s just… I don’t know, there’s just something so bold and alluring about a woman who completely rejects femininity in every possible way. We’re all expected to fill that role of being gentle and ladylike, and I think it’s just so attractive when a girl openly says ‘fuck you’ to that and presents the way she actually wants to, not the way the rest of the world expects of her. I love it when women are exclusively masculine, almost like they’re showing men how it’s supposed to be done. I think it’s just so hot and charming and sexy.”

“Ooh, so you think I’m sexy and shit?” Tara teases, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you conclude your mini-speech.

“No, you’re way too much of a loser lesbian who can’t even tell the difference between a straight girl and a femme lesbian.”

“Hey, not too fucking much now!” Tara said indignantly.

You laughed loudly before going back to applying your winged eyeliner.

A few moments later, you heard a knock followed by Astrid, Rebecca, and her roommate Kristen after you shouted that your door was unlocked. Kristen, a short and perky girl with her dirty blonde hair up in two long pigtails, introduced herself and said that her friend Mina was also tagging along later on, in addition to two other people she didn’t mention.

It was incredibly amusing to you how red and flustered Tara became as a result of Astrid’s sudden appearance. You even felt a little bit giddy yourself when Astrid graciously offered to help pick out an outfit for Tara to wear for tonight’s party.

It wasn’t long after the three girls arrived that Sidney joined the rest of your group, having done herself up a bit as well in a short, pink dress and pieces of curly hair styled to fall from her space buns. You all enthusiastically complimented her and hyped her up, to which she blushed.

You were the last one to finish getting ready, the rest of your new friends every now and again watching you finish your makeup routine as they all chatted animatedly. They all gawked in awe at the way you’d artistically dolled up your face, Kristen commenting that Michaelangelo couldn’t have painted colours the way you did your eyeshadow (to which you humourously and geekily remark that he was more of a sculptor than a painter). The girls all loudly squealed at how expertly you applied your fake eyelashes within mere seconds, you chuckling to yourself at how easily amused they seemed to be.

As all the girls began to pre-game with a bottle of Bacardi spiced rum Kristen had brought, you threw on the rest of your outfit: a long-sleeved, lacy and see-through white top with a black bra underneath, a black mini-skirt with side pockets, and your favourite knee-high black boots. You joined in the drinking festivities before Astrid checked the time and her messages then suggested you all head out to meet Kristen’s friend Mina and head towards the Sigma Eta party.

You all squeezed into a rickety, old elevator located in the middle of the hallway and headed down to the first floor of your building. As the elevator doors opened up to the lobby, Kristen broke off from the rest of the group when she spotted another girl waiting with two guys by the front doors. Kristen squealed happily and gave her a tight hug before introducing her friend to the rest of you.

Mina was a girl with short kinky blonde hair that reached just above her shoulders. She wore a white halter top with dark blue jeans accompanied by black pumps. To her left was a short, brown-haired guy with a plain, blue button-down and a pair of salmon-coloured shorts; to her right was a tall, dark-haired boy wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans.

“Good evening, fellow freshman cuties,” Mina said before gesturing to her hand to her own company, introducing them respectively. “This is Fred, and this is Jesse.”

The two boys smiled and nodded in greeting.

“Mina’s brother actually used to be in the fraternity that’s throwing the party we’re going to tonight before he graduated last year.” Kristen explained to your group.

“Yeah, Fred here is a friend of my brother’s. He was the one who told me about the party.” Mina added.

“Oh, that was really nice of you.” Astrid said, giving Fred a polite smile. He smiled back, not before eyeing her keenly up and down.

“Thought I’d introduce Mina to college life the proper way.” Fred replied cockily, patting Mina hard on the back in a brotherly fashion. Mina rolled her eyes.

“Let’s head out, chicas!” Kristen announced, beckoning your large group towards and out the front doors.

The trip to the Sigma Eta frat house wasn’t very long, but it felt like it to you at the beginning. Tara had broken off from your side when she was able to garner enough courage and nervously converse with Astrid, who was chatting back animatedly while ignoring Fred’s futile attempts to flirt with her. Kristen and Mina were enthusiastically catching up with each other, and Rebecca, who noticed Sidney’s shy and reserved demeanour, began kindly engaging her in a conversation to help her open up and get to know her. This left you to yourself for a while.

You were excited to be branching out socially and making friends, but it was difficult not to feel like you were out of your league in this rather abundant group of acquaintances. Being accustomed to smaller circles of friends and having gone through a recent ordeal with former friends, you weren’t quite sure how to politely insert yourself without seeming like a burden or nuisance.

The other guy Mina had brought along, Jesse, seemed to notice your silent predicament. He was a tall, muscular Asian man who had jet-black hair and kind eyes. You and your friends were approaching a nearby bus stop when he first spoke to you.

“So, this is your first real party, huh?”

You almost jumped, surprised that someone was speaking to you.

“Oh! Umm, yeah,” You responded sheepishly. “Is it really that obvious?”

“A little, but it’s alright,” He chuckled. “I’m Jesse, by the way. What was your name again?”

You smiled meekly as you introduced yourself.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” He said with a friendly, assuring grin.

You weren’t sure what it was about this guy Jesse, what it was about him that made you like him instinctively. Men generally made you feel uncomfortable, and you almost never had any guy friends. But something in your gut was telling you that he was genuine, someone you could trust.

“So do you go to these kinds of frat parties a lot?” You asked in an attempt to be social.

“Sometimes,” Jesse replied. “Don’t really like this specific frat we’re going to, but I’m supposed to be helping this friend of mine link up with some guy who’ll be there. Do you smoke pot?”

“Why do you ask? Are you a cop?” You joked.

“Oh, absolutely. That is precisely why I am tagging along with a bunch of underage freshmen to a booze-filled shitty, frat party as someone who is also currently underage.” He chuckled.

You smiled at him.

“Yeah, I smoke,” You eventually replied. “I don’t really have a solid plug out here just yet though.”

“Well, my friend is a dealer and the guy we’re meeting up with tonight actually grows nearby, so we’re gonna see if my friend can work with him. She needs to procure some more fresh ‘merchandise’ or whatever.” He said, making air quotes upon saying the word ‘merchandise.’ “If you’re looking for a regular plug, I can introduce you to her later.”

“That’d be perfect, honestly,” You replied. “Don’t know how I’ll be able to get through freshman year of college without the influence of drugs.”

“Trust me, I get it,” Jesse said. “I had to make do with second-rate dealers as a freshman last year ‘cause my old dealer back home is obviously far away. Everyone around here either charges way too much or their shit is completely dry and weak.”

“Damn,” You replied. “But you think your friend’s got better connections?”

“Well, we’re going to see. But she’s real great about finding good strains and shit. Hopefully, things work out tonight.”

“I hope so too. I don’t wanna try and find another dealer out here, and then it turns out they’re creepy or something. And I trust you and your faith in your friend.”

“Yeah?” Jesse said curiously. “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrugged and gave him a warm smile.

The rest of the trip to the Sigma Eta house was much more enjoyable now that you seemed to find a friend in Jesse. You clicked instantly with him: discussing where you were both from, what your majors were, what there was to do around and outside of the campus. He even gave you tips on how to navigate college as a freshman, having gone through it himself already the previous year. It comforted you that this person you’d just met already seemed adamant about looking out for you in a friendly, platonic manner.

As your group walked down the sidewalk that led to multiple houses where other college students resided, you spotted bright, strobing lights coming from a house towards the end of the street. The sounds of loud party music and boisterous chatter grew louder the further down you ventured. You finally came up to a house where several cars were haphazardly and crookedly parked out front and an assortment of other college kids loitered around the porch, most holding red solo cups filled to the brim.

Before you all stepped foot onto the front porch of the house, Astrid suddenly stopped and turned around to face the whole group.

“Hey, can we take a quick pic of all of us attending our first-ever college party? I wanna capture the memory of getting fucked up with my new dorm besties!” She gushed excitedly.

“You know, this actually isn’t my first college party.” Kristen chuckled, but Mina nudged her in the ribs.

“You know what she means, you killjoy. Come on, let’s all take a selfie!”

All the girls gathered together and began to link arms or embrace each other around the waist or drape their arms over each other’s shoulders. You turned towards Jesse, who was texting rapidly on his phone.

“So, selfie time?” You asked him.

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I think I’m gonna go find my friend inside ‘cause I’m pretty sure she’s here already. Plus I don’t wanna get in the way of you and your friends.”

“You’re my friend too,” You asserted boldly. “Come here and get in the picture with us, new friend.”

Jesse flashed you a warm smile and relented without any further argument.

Astrid held up her phone at a 45-degree angle towards the starry, night sky, angling it so she could get the whole group in the frame (except for Fred, whom she made very little effort to include in the picture, him standing at the edge of the group and desperately trying to have his face captured as well). You and Jesse stood right next to each other, and you allowed yourself to put a hand behind his back in an almost half-hug. You let out a partly genuine smile as Astrid said “Cheese!” and snapped a few photos of your group. After she sent the pictures to you and the rest of the girls in a mass group text (which she then promptly named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” after the dorm you were all living in), you and your new friends finally ventured into the Sigma Eta frat house.

The deafening noise of terrible EDM and the smell of sweat that filled the thick air was almost enough to make you regret coming out. But the rest of your group tittered in anticipation, so you feigned excitement as you all ventured further into the house.

You entered the dining room where a long, wooden table had been turned into a small, makeshift beer-pong court. There were several people gathered around it, whether as spectators or players. You watched as a girl in a ponytail whooped after she effortlessly bounced a ping-pong ball onto the table and into a red solo cup on her opponent’s side. Several bystanders cheered in response as a frat guy on the other side of the table cursed in jest and promptly chugged from the cup.

“Dina!” Astrid mused excitedly, approaching the girl. She gave her a tight hug, which the girl named Dina affectionately returned.

Dina was an incredibly pretty girl with tan skin and black, wavy hair. Beneath thick, dark eyebrows were a pair of beautiful brown eyes that looked extremely warm and welcoming. Being Astrid’s roommate, it’d have been an obvious guess that she was a freshman too like the rest of you. But she exuded this air of boldness and spunk that made it seem like she was a vetted college student. You noticed that several onlookers, mostly men, had been eyeing her shiftily and curiously.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming!” Astrid scolded her playfully.

“Well, I honestly wasn’t, but a friend of mine had been trying to persuade me to come and—” Dina began before breaking off suddenly.

Her eyes had wandered towards your group of friends and fell on Jesse who was standing right next to you. The wide smile on her face faltered as her animated expression turned into one of shocked recognition. You turned towards Jesse who had suddenly gone rigid and stone-faced. You looked back at the girl Dina who blinked back to reality and began to stutter.

“I-I’m g-gonna catch up with you later, okay?” She said to Astrid before making her way towards the back of the house.

“Ah, shit,” You heard Jesse mutter under his breath. “Goddamn it.”

“You know her?” You questioned him.

“That… was my ex-girlfriend Dina. Childhood and high school sweetheart.” He explained.

“Oh, shit.” You uttered.

“Hey, I’m… I’m gonna be right back, okay?” He said to you before quickly heading towards the direction that Dina had gone in.

You watched as he left you behind with your friends who began to gossip amongst themselves curiously about the exchange that had just occurred.

You’d been standing in the kitchen by yourself for the past five minutes, attempting to finish a drink in your hand that you’d reluctantly poured from an orange cooler on the counter. After they’d downed a couple of shots, the rest of the girls had tried to convince you to come to the basement where the dancing was primarily taking place. You declined and said that you needed a minute or two, promising you’d find them later. Though it was still relatively early in the evening, you were already feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated. You’d been faking plenty of smiles and forcing tight-lipped laughter all night; it was getting more tiring to feign excitement, especially now that the new friend you’d made tonight had not made a reappearance since quickly running after his ex-girlfriend.

Sighing, you refilled your red solo cup with the same unknown alcoholic contents from the cooler. You weren’t particularly enjoying the drink, completely confused as to what it was in the first place, but it was at least giving you something to do. As you continued to sip from your cup, you decided to venture towards the backyard where you figured Jesse had walked off.

Squinting past the darkness illuminated by the moonlight and the strobing lights peeking through the house’s windows, you scanned the numerous figures occupying the grassy lawn. You eventually spotted Jesse’s tall, dark silhouette after a minute or two, seeing that he was in a seemingly heated discussion with the pretty girl Dina. Deciding that this was a lover’s quarrel that you probably shouldn’t get in between, you find your tired, aching feet take you back inside the house.

You felt the temperature change back from brisk chilliness to throbbing heat from the pheromones in the musky air. Unsure of where to go, you walked back to the kitchen where you found a couple pressed up against each other in the spot you previously occupied. You grimaced at their pre-coital positioning and how they seemed to be swallowing each other’s faces before retreating from the room. Having no interest in watching the new round of beer-pong that several people had started again in the dining room, you settled for finding sanctuary elsewhere.

Finding an empty spot on a wall in the living room, you leaned up against it and took a generous sip from your cup. Though you didn’t have high expectations beforehand, the night was still going quite poorly. You cursed yourself silently for not having a sufficient social battery to socialize with your friends at the party nor enough courage to endure your overwhelming surroundings. You were contemplating whether you should rejoin the group after all in their close-quartered gyrating in the basement when you suddenly felt an invisible pull from across the room that called to you and compelled your head to instinctively turn in its direction.

Your eyes simultaneously met a pair of ocean green ones. The sounds of terrible music and overlapping chitchat immediately vanished when you saw her. You watched as her eyes scanned your face just as you scanned hers. The handsome stranger began to look you up and down before the left corner of her lips turned up in a crooked smile. Your cheeks burned in bashfulness and you tore your eyes away from her to stare at the ground and take another sip from your drink.

You felt your throat close up, your breathing hitch, and your entire body going up in flames. It felt as if someone had shot you through the chest with an arrow, aiming for and perfectly hitting where your heart was located. You felt utterly bare and naked in front of all these strangers, suddenly prey to a strange emotion that felt completely foreign to you. It was intoxicating, like you were completely wonderstruck within seconds of being in this stranger’s presence.

When you eventually felt her eyes wander elsewhere, you dared glance at her once more. She was incredibly handsome: her auburn hair partly tied up in a bun, cheeks adorned with freckles as if an angel had hand-painted them itself, broad shoulders that suggested a muscular frame underneath an old, brown motorcycle jacket she was wearing. She was sitting on this ratty old couch, manspreading in the middle as she noncommittally nodded at the people standing beside her. Her slender, long fingers were expertly wrapping a few rolling papers on the table in front of her. As she brought a joint up to her lips to lick it closed, her eyes flicked up once again to look at you. Embarrassed that you were caught shamelessly staring, you quickly focused your gaze in a different direction. From the corner of your eyes, you could see her chuckling.

The girl muttered something to her nearby companions before making her way across the room to you. Your drumming heartbeat echoed each of her steps, getting louder and louder in your chest the closer she got. You didn’t allow yourself to look her way again until she was right in front of you.

“Hey.” She said, voice rough and husky.

“Hi.” You responded, trying not to sound too flustered over this extremely attractive stranger approaching you to engage in conversation.

“You all alone tonight?” She asked.

“Not exactly,” You responded truthfully. “My friends are around here somewhere.”

“Oh?” She said, cocking her head slightly to the side as she crossed her arms.

“Yeah. I think downstairs, humping and gyrating with everyone else.” You joked.

She chuckled.

“Not your type of thing?”

“Not really,” You said. “I wasn’t in the mood tonight to get felt up by some horny frat guy trying to shove his limp-dick boner up against my ass.”

The girl let out a genuine laugh accompanied by a toothy grin.

“You’re funny.” She commented. You returned her smile with one of your own.

“Wanna come sit on the couch?” She asked. “You honestly look like you’re about to collapse at any second.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t really the best idea to wear a really nice pair of high heels to some crappy fraternity party.”

“Well, hey, they look good on you, so not a total loss.”

“Yeah?” You questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” She smirked. “Anyway, come sit with me on this ugly ass couch. I promise I won’t try to shove my dick up your ass or anything.”

“Aww, you’re not? I was going to say yes, but if you’re not gonna shove your dick up my ass...” You teased boldly.

Even under the dim lights of the party, you thought you saw traces of pink appear underneath her freckles as she smiled. You felt your own cheeks burning.

“Come on, pretty girl.” She chuckled, leading you towards the sofa.

She sat back down in the middle but didn’t manspread this time to make room for you to sit comfortably next to her. Her body faced towards your direction, indicating to her companions that she was disinterested in any further conversation with them. Both your hands gripped onto your red solo cup tightly like it was your life-saving anchor. Your body tensed up from being so close to this handsome stranger whose name you didn’t even know yet.

Almost as if she read your mind, she introduced herself.

“I’m Ellie.”

You smiled nervously as you gave her your name.

“So,” She began. “You a freshman too, huh?”

“Yeah,” You hummed. “First ever college party.”

“Oh?” She said, reaching for one of her joints on the table.

“Mhmm,” You respond. “Not really as exciting as people have been making it out to be.”

“What, you’re not impressed by the repulsive smell of jungle juice and shitty trap music and the giant, sweaty orgy going on in the basement?”

“Eww,” You giggled, scrunching up your nose in disgust. “No, I wouldn’t really say that I’m impressed, exactly.”

Ellie chuckled before offering you the joint she was holding.

“You smoke?”

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure? I don’t wanna waste your weed.”

“I never mind smoking out pretty girls for free every now and again.” Ellie shrugged.

You ignored the way your heart fluttered as you placed your cup down and took the joint from her. You ignored the sudden, electric spark when you felt her skin brush against yours. You ignored how her own breathing seemed to hitch at that same moment before she pulled away from you to grab her lighter from a front pocket of her motorcycle jacket.

You placed the joint in between your lips, trying not to think about the fact that Ellie’d just sealed it a minute or two ago with her tongue. Ellie cupped her left hand around the tip while her right hand flicked on the lighter. Your eyes wandered from the budding flame to her eyes, which were already watching you. Her stare caught you off-guard that you almost forgot to inhale. You leaned away from her, both to blow the smoke in a different direction and to nervously catch your breath from how intimately close she was to you.

“So?” She inquired, reclining back and throwing her arm behind you on the back of the couch.

“Mm?” You hummed in question as you took another puff of the joint.

“How do you like the j?”

“Hmm,” You say after releasing another breath of smoke. “It’s… fine.”

“Just fine?” She asked, looking playfully offended.

“What!” You said, giggling and handing her back the joint. “It’s just a regular, old j! What else would you like me to say?”

“What, do you smoke some fancy ass weed with gold and diamonds and shit where you’re from?” Ellie chuckled.

“Sorry! I guess I’m just used to something very particular.”

“Oh, yeah?” She asked, cocking up an eyebrow, the one that you’d noticed had a slit right through it. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“I usually lace my own js with lavender buds,” You explained. “Makes it taste better, in my opinion, and it helps me relax.”

“Really? Lavender, huh? I’ve never heard of someone doing that before.”

“A little trick I learned from an ex-girlfriend.” You clarified, pretending that you didn’t throw in that last word on purpose.

“That so?” She replied. You could have sworn that she had moved slightly closer the moment you mentioned having an ex-girlfriend.

“Mhmm. Lavender’s my favourite, but I’ve tried lacing them with other herbs and plants too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’ve done rose petals and passionflowers before. Gives them a much better flavour. Sage is good too if you wanna destress and all. And apparently, hibiscus and jasmine are, well…” Your sentence is cut short by a slightly drunken giggle emerging from your lips.

“Are what?” Ellie prompted you.

“Umm, they’re good too.”

“Good for what, exactly?”

You handed the joint back to her before responding.

“I heard that they’re supposedly good aphrodisiacs.” You nearly whispered.

Ellie smiled slyly, taking the joint back without breaking eye contact.

“Interesting” is all she says before taking a huge puff.

Whether it was the mysterious alcohol finally kicking in or the sudden presence of marijuana in your system, you felt a surge of sudden confidence flood your senses. You wanted to impress this strange girl, you wanted her to like you. And yet somehow, it feels almost as if you’d already met before.

“By the way,” Ellie began. “I really love your eye makeup. You did it yourself?”

“Thanks,” You smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

“That’s seriously fucking impressive. I’ve never been into makeup and girly shit like that, but I know it must take a fuck ton of talent to do it.”

“Nah,” You waved off before picking up your red solo cup from the table and drinking from it. “It’s really not that hard to learn. I taught myself how to do it for the most part.”

“That’s even more fucking impressive.” She stated simply. You gave her a sheepish smile before uttering another quiet thanks.

Before either of you could speak again, the guy leaning against the arm of the couch next to Ellie turned towards her.

“Yo, Williams, Chang here yet?” He asked.

“Really don’t know, man. He said he would be.”

“Damn. Call him or something.”

“Call him yourself. I’m not his mother.”

The guy tsked in irritation before returning to a conversation with his companions.

“Nice friends you got there.” You said out loud without thinking.

“We just got a mutual friend in common, that’s all,” Ellie replied, shrugging and taking another puff. “My best friend knows like, half the people who go to this school.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as she continued.

“Most people are usually disappointed that I’m not as nice as him.”

“You’re not?”

“Nah, apparently I’m ‘antagonistic’ and ‘mean’ and just really fucking rude.” She chuckled.

“Doesn’t seem like that to me.” You commented.

“Well, we just met,” She smirked. “Just wait a little while.”

“What, are you planning on being really mean to me in the future, Ellie?” You quipped.

She shrugged and you chuckled.

Both immensely absorbed in your engaging and private conversation, you weren’t quite sure exactly how long you and Ellie were sitting in that dirty living room on that ratty, old couch. You talked about the classes and professors you had in common, bonded over your shared love of music and the instruments you both played, laughed at all of the dumb and silly jokes she made.

At one point in the night, Tara emerged from the basement, all buzzed and sweaty. She scanned the living room, having been worried that she nor none of the rest of your friends had seen you since you’d all first arrived at the house. Upon spotting you sitting so intimately to Ellie, her whispering something in your ear and you boisterously laughing, Tara smiled and retreated back to the basement.

Ellie was beginning to tell you about her hometown when your conversation was suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Hey, yo, El!” You heard Jesse say from behind you.

You turned around to see a jovial expression on his face that didn’t quite meet his serious eyes. He was smiling in greeting, but it seemed like whatever occurred in the private conversation he had with the girl Dina rattled him in some way.

“Yo, Jess,” Ellie said, waving him over. “Been wondering where the fuck your ass has been this whole time, man.”

“Ahh, well, I kind of… got detained by D…” He admitted as he approached the couch before spotting you sitting next to Ellie. “Oh, shit! You guys know each other?”

“What, you don’t know that we’re lifelong best friends?” Ellie said, winking at you. You turned away as you bit your lip, attempting to hide the smile on your face and the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Now, hang on, I thought we were lifelong best friends?” Jesse gasped playfully, putting one hand on his hip and gesturing between you and him mockingly.

“Sorry dude, I claimed her already.” Ellie said, smirking.

You tried to ignore Jesse’s mumble of “greedy whore” towards Ellie in between loud, fake coughs.

“Anyway, you saw D? Are you okay?” Ellie said, her tone more serious now.

“I mean, I guess,” Jesse sighed. “Thought she wasn’t tagging along tonight, but I guess she did.”

“Sorry, man, I really thought you knew.”

“It’s cool. I was gonna end up seeing her at some point. Might wanna check up on her, though.”

“She okay?”

“I think so, but you know how she can be.”

“Where’d she run off to know?”

“I think she said that she was gonna go hang out with her roommate or something for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll text her, see where she is.”

“Oh, umm,” You said, awkwardly speaking up. “My friend Astrid is her roommate, so I think your friend Dina went downstairs to the basement.”

Both Ellie and Jesse looked slightly taken aback at your short degree of separation.

“Sorry,” You apologized as you looked down at your hands in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to insert myself.”

“Hey,” Ellie assured, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Didn’t I just say that we’re lifelong best friends?”

You looked up at her and smiled with appreciation at her thoughtfulness.

Ellie, realizing they’d been leaving you out of their conversation, quickly filled in the blanks.

“Our other lifelong best friend Dina got dumped by this asshole joker right here a little while back. It was a bit of a messy break-up.”

“I haven’t always been the smooth and suave man that you see before you today.” Jesse quipped.

“Never have been, dumbass.” Ellie added. Jesse gave her a scowl, which she mockingly returned.

“Anyway,” She continued. “Now I’ve been stuck being the middle man for the past year or so ‘cause these two clowns don’t know how to talk about their motherfucking feelings.”

You chuckled at Ellie’s choice of words.

“I’m sure she’s okay if she’s with your friend, though. This Astrid girl nice?” Ellie inquired.

“Oh, she’s the absolute sweetest.” You affirmed.

“Well, I trust your judgment. I’ll give her some time and check up on her after.” Ellie concluded, giving you a half-smile.

It was so curious how these people you’d known only for a few hours seemed to somehow trust you so intimately and almost blindly. Besides your cousin Rafael who’s known you since birth, you’d never clicked so well with anyone else in your life. You felt a quiet warmth in your chest, feeling as if you had been soulmates with these people in a past life.

“Might as well,” Jesse said, looking down at his buzzing phone. “Eugene’s contact said he’s here. He’s out back if you still wanna talk to him.”

You suddenly felt naive, not realizing sooner that Ellie was the dealer friend Jesse had been talking to you about earlier in the evening. Her previous rolling of papers and multiple joints should have been a dead giveaway, but you were far too mesmerized by Ellie and her charm and her ocean green eyes to give much notice to your current surroundings.

“Ah, shit, I totally forgot,” Ellie cursed.

She looked at you.

“Umm, do you wanna come with? It’ll probably be boring as shit, but—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” You said, waving her off. “It sounds pretty important. Jesse was telling me earlier that you needed to meet up with him.”

Ellie turned towards him, an annoyed look on her face.

“Now, why are you going around telling my business to everyone?” She asked him.

“It’s fun.” Jesse joked. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“If, uh, you wanna stick around, this probably won’t take long. I’ll see you after?” She said guiltily. You gave her a soft smile.

“Ellie, please go ahead. I’m a big girl; I can be left alone for two seconds.”

She chuckled at your words as she stood up from her seat next to you, not before brushing her hand and her knee against yours. You wondered silently if she did so by accident.

“See you in a bit, pretty girl.” Ellie said, winking at you.

You watched as she and Jesse walked off towards the backyard of the house. Once they were out of sight, you sighed quietly.

You realized that you were all alone tonight once again, this time through no fault of your own. Not knowing what else to do, you leaned back into the sagging sofa and pulled out your phone from a pocket of your skirt. As you waited for your companions to return, you scrolled mindlessly through different social media outlets for a while until your entertainment was exhausted and eventually settled on Instagram. After a couple of minutes of looking through your friends’ stories and posts, sending likes and comments every now and again, you see something that suddenly makes your stomach drop.

Still not fully over the results of the disastrous break-up with your high school ex-girlfriend, you hadn’t unfollowed or blocked her on social media just yet. You realized in the moment what a grave mistake that was when you came across a post with several photos of her and all your former friends at some party with a couple of unknown people included. Hot tears formed in your eyes when, while swiping through the many images, you encountered one picture with your ex-girlfriend’s arms wrapped around a strange girl you didn’t recognize. Their physical intimacy and stances suggested something more than just friendship.

You suddenly felt the urge to throw up and you immediately rose from your seat in search of a nearby bathroom. Eventually, you came across a small one towards the front of the house and wrenched it open, feeling lucky that it was presently unoccupied. Leaning over the grimy sink, the feeling of nausea subdued from what you figured was a result of separating yourself from the overstimulation of the party. Still, your hands and neck felt clammy. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard you inhaled and exhaled.

You raised your head up to look at yourself in the murky mirror. Thick tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes. Pieces of hair stuck to your forehead with nervous sweat. Lips were trembling and shakingly releasing laboured breaths.

Leaving your past behind was not as simple as you believed it could be. The past several months had been a personal hell for you, having been abandoned to be lonely and companionless by people you loved. After a messy break-up with someone who suddenly broke your heart, a result of two young, dumb kids attempting to be much more mature than they actually were, your entire friend group ended up choosing her in the aftermath. It left you completely grief-stricken and betrayed, not expecting the people you believed cared for you to cast you aside so quickly and easily.

You’d spent the entire summer after graduating high school healing and recovering from such a loss, and you’d genuinely believed that you came to your new school fully mended. But as you stood in front of a fogged-up mirror in a dingy frat house bathroom, it seemed as if you hadn’t fully overcome your emotional wounds like you thought.

You were dabbing the soggy sweat off your moist forehead when someone suddenly knocked on the bathroom door, causing you to jump.

“Oh, umm, someone’s in here!” You quickly exclaimed. The sound of the same voice you’d been listening to all evening calling out your name from behind the door had you grip the edges of the sink and freeze in place.

“Y-yeah?” You asked falteringly.

“Hey, uhh, i-it’s Ellie.”

“Oh!” You said in surprise. “Hi! Umm, I-I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Hey, uhh, are you okay?” Ellie said after a beat or two.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” You cried out unconvincingly.

“Can… can I come in?” She asked hesitantly.

“Oh! Umm—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to! If you need space—”

“No, no!” You interrupted.

You took a deep breath, threw out the damp tissue you still held in your hand, and carefully opened the door to reveal Ellie with a concerned look on her face.

“It’s a bit of a tight fit, but, uhh…” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

You backed up to make space for her and sat on the edge of the shabby-looking tub as Ellie closed the bathroom door behind her before leaning her back against it.

“How’d you know where to find me?” You inquired.

“Someone saw you come in here.” She explained.

“Oh” was all you could say in return.

There were several moments of complete silence, neither of you knowing how to start or what to say. It was you who eventually broke it out of nervousness.

“So, umm, how did it go with that guy you were talking to?” You asked awkwardly.

“Oh, uhh, good. At least, I think so. Gave me a pretty good deal and all.” Ellie replied.

You nodded in response.

“So, hey, uhh, if you need a new plug out here…” She pointed a pair of finger guns at you, to which you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Sorry,” She apologized. “I’m not really as smooth as I would like to think.”

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re plenty charming. Dorky, but charming.” You gave her a soft, affectionate smile that she returned as you saw her turn slightly pink underneath her numerous freckles.

“So, uhh, are you okay? I don’t mean to pry or anything, and you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to—” She began to ramble.

“Ellie,” You said, chuckling. “It’s alright. I don’t mind, and you’re not prying.”

She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Just a bunch of bullshit in regards to my ex,” You explained. “Thought I was past it all, but…”

Ellie nodded in understanding.

“Still not over her?”

“Oh, god, no, no, I’m completely over her,” You clarified quickly. “But dealing with the outcome of it all… isn’t necessarily fun.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agreed. “I completely get it.”

You looked up at her with an expression of gratitude.

“Man, this lesbian shit is real fucking messy and complicated, huh?” She quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. You couldn’t help but giggle at her joke.

“How’d you know that I wasn’t okay?” You asked her after a beat or two.

“The people I was with earlier said that the pretty girl I was talking to suddenly looked stressed and ran to the bathroom.” Ellie explained, shrugging. You attempted to hide your bashful smile as you felt your cheeks go hot again.

“Wanna get out of this disgusting bathroom and go smoke some more?” She asked.

You and Ellie were passing another joint back and forth again several feet away from the Sigma Eta frat house. You’d both taken shelter underneath a nearby tree, listening to the muffled bass drops of yet another bad EDM song currently playing from the frat house. The weed was calming your nerves down slightly, but you had a gut feeling that it was Ellie’s presence that was the actual cause of your peace of mind.

“Damn, I really wanna try your lavender-laced trick now.” Ellie said after taking a hit of the joint.

“I mean, it’s not really my trick. It was my ex’s idea.” You chuckled dryly as you watched her blow the smoke up towards the night sky.

“Oh, fuck that shit. I don’t know her and I know you, so it’s your recipe.” She disagreed. You laughed graciously at her argument.

“Can I ask what happened?” Ellie began, handing the joint to you. “Like, did the bitch suddenly call or text you, or…”

“Nah,” You said after a puff. “She posted something on Instagram and, I don’t know, I guess seeing evidence of her existence triggered something in me.”

“Wait, you don’t have her blocked?”

“No…” You admitted sheepishly. “I still follow her and everything…”

“What!!” Ellie exclaimed. “Why?!”

“I don’t know!” You laughed at her immediate indignation. “I just could never get myself to actually do it!”

“Alright, no more free weed for you!” Ellie proclaimed, swiftly snatching the joint out of your fingertips.

“Noooo!” You whined.

“You’re on a time-out for still keeping your stupid ex-girlfriend in your life in some kind of way!”

“Look, I like to lurk sometimes! I can’t do that if I have her blocked!” You protested, attempting to take the joint back from her.

“Oh, now you’re definitely not getting any more free weed!” Ellie said, holding the joint up and away from your reach.

“How else am I supposed to be a miserable, pathetic lesbian who needs to be sad and tragic if you don’t let me!!” You said, giving up and crossing your arms over your chest in a huff.

“Pretty girls like you should be spending their freshman year in college in their drunken whore eras, not in an ‘I’m gonna sulk over my worthless ex the whole time’ era!”

“Ugh. Yeah, I know, I know,” You sighed. “But that all sounds like so much work!”

“Alright, give me your phone.” Ellie said suddenly.

“What?” You asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Just give me!” She insisted, holding her free hand out.

You pulled out your phone from one of your skirt’s pockets and handed it over to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“What are you up to, Ellie?” You inquired of her.

“Just hold this!” She replied, handing you the joint. “But no smoking!”

“Yes, sir!” You said with a salute before taking a quick puff.

Ellie rolled her eyes, chuckled, and had you unlock your phone before taking it back to open up your Instagram.

“Okay, what’s your ex’s name?”

“... why?” You asked skeptically.

“Just trust me!”

You squinted your eyes at her before reluctantly giving her your ex’s name and Instagram handle. As you took a generous hit of the joint, you leaned over and watched as Ellie went to your ex’s profile and blocked her.

“Ellie!!” You protested.

“This is for your own good!” She exclaimed.

“Oh god,” You laughed. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”

“Definitely.” She asserted before typing another handle into your Instagram search bar.

“What are you doing now?” You asked dubiously.

“Replacing your ex with a hotter, much cooler person.” She explained simply before handing your phone back and taking the joint out of your hand.

You looked at your screen to see Ellie’s Instagram profile and realized she’d followed herself through your account.

“Wow. Dinosaur nerd, huh?” You said, noticing one of her posts was of her posing geekily next to a dinosaur skeleton display in some museum.

“Shut up.” She chuckled before hitting the joint.

“Well, are you gonna follow me back?” You asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t really know you that well.” Ellie shrugged.

“You dick!” You scoffed, to which she laughed. “What happened to us being lifelong best friends?”

“Calm down, calm down,” She chuckled, holding the joint between her teeth and already pulling out her phone. “Bossy.”

You felt your phone buzz with a new notification from Instagram.

“There you go,” She said, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Now we’re official lifelong besties.”

You laughed. Your affection for this incredibly handsome and charming girl that you had just met tonight was growing more and more by the second. Every time she laughed at a joke you’d make or stared at your lips a little too long or brushed her skin against yours, you wondered if you were imagining it or if she had been feeling the same spark too.

“Hey, umm,” You began. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t have to thank me. I’m sure you would have done it eventually. At least, I hope so.” She chuckled at the last part.

“Oh, I don’t know. I honestly hold on to shit like that forever. I would have probably stayed following her ‘til I was I was fifty.”

Ellie laughed.

For the next few minutes, you told her all about the sorry tale of the break-up between you and your ex. As you and Ellie went through and finished yet another joint, she listened to you intently while she leaned against the tree you’d been standing next to. She didn’t interrupt you, aside from an occasional supportive comment or two, intent on letting you rant your pent-up frustrations out.

You hadn’t opened up to anyone else about this, apart from your cousin Rafael. It felt like you had nobody else left to trust your heart with. And yet, there was something so different and familiar about Ellie that made you feel so at home, so comfortable confiding such intimate thoughts and experiences. She happily entertained you as you confessed to her the way you’d never done before with anyone else, her face looking so sympathetic and gentle as she watched you ramble.

“Oh my fucking god,” You eventually said after a while. “I can’t believe I’ve been babbling nonstop about my bullshit, I am so sorry, I—”

You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“Hey, no, no,” Ellie interrupted, pulling your hands away from your face. “None of that. Don’t apologize, please. It’s shit that you obviously have needed to get off your chest for a long time now. I don’t mind listening at all.”

“Okay, but I’m a total stranger who just trauma dumped on you like a dumbass—”

“Alright, no, you are not a dumbass,” Ellie insisted. “And lifelong best friends, remember?”

She gave you a soft smile and began to rub her thumbs against your palms, her warm touch making you tremble.

“Oh, hey, you’re shivering, here.” Ellie said, taking off her motorcycle jacket and placing it around your shoulders.

“Oh,” You said, “T-thanks, Ellie.”

“Looks really good on you.” She commented, smiling. You felt your cheeks go hot again.

“It-it’s very nice.” You said.

“Yeah, it’s my dad’s old jacket. He gave it to me when I was around 14. He used to be a delinquent and was part of some gang or something when he was younger. Rode motorcycles a lot or some shit like that. I’ll tell you more about it one of these days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie seemed to realize how close she was to your face and how intimately she was holding you. A little sheepish, she walked back a few steps to lean against the tree. She crossed her arms against her chest and, her arms now uncovered, you noticed a large tattoo covering her right forearm.

“I like your tattoo,” You commented. “What is it?”

“Oh,” She said, glancing down at her arm. “It’s a moth with some ferns around it.”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thanks. My ex-girlfriend did the tattoo itself, but I created the design.”

“Woah, really?”

“Yeah.” Ellie said, chuckling at your admiration.

“I know you were telling me earlier that you like to draw, but that really is something.”

“It is?” Ellie replied. You could see her blushing even under the dim glow of the moonlight.

“You’re really talented, Ellie.”

“Nah. I mean, my ex-girlfriend Cat, she did a lot of work making it look better and shit.”

“Still, it’s very impressive.” You insisted. “Do you think— Can I…?”

You extended a hesitant hand out towards her tattooed arm. She smiled warmly as she offered it to you.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You lifted your outreached hand to trace your fingertips across the multiple leaves decorating her skin. You stared at the intricate design of the Death’s-head hawkmoth that was perched atop the ferns.

“It really suits you.” You said.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

As you continued to stroke Ellie’s tattoo, you felt electricity once again run between you two. You looked up at her to see her ocean green eyes staring at you. You’d never seen anyone look at you that way, not even your ex-girlfriend. You tried to decipher her expression when the moment was suddenly interrupted by your name being called coming from the direction of the frat house.

“There you are!” Tara exclaimed, half-jogging towards you.

“Oh, hey, Tara.” You greeted her, pulling your hands away from Ellie.

“Been looking for you everywhere.” Tara said.

“Sorry, the party was getting a little too much for me. Needed a breather.” You apologized before gesturing towards your companion. “This is Ellie, by the way. She’s Jesse’s roommate.”

“Oh, hey, nice to meet you, man.” Tara said, nodding towards her in greeting. Ellie replied with a nod of her own.

“This is Tara, my roommate.” You gestured to Tara this time.

“Nice to meet you too, dude.” Ellie repeated back to her.

“So, uhh,” Tara began. “Half the group is completely wasted, and Astrid really wants to get rid of that guy Fred who has not stopped trying to grope her all night.”

“Oh, gross. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. But we’re gonna order an Uber and we’re about to head home in a sec. Did you wanna come with or…”

“Oh, umm…” You turned towards Ellie.

“Go on,” Ellie replied, smiling. “I think I’m gonna go find my friend Dina.”

“I’m gonna go gather up the girls.” Tara said, pointing a thumb towards the house. “Nice to meet you again!”

“You too, man.” Ellie said as you both watched Tara walk off.

“Go ahead,” Ellie said, head motioning after Tara. “Go help your friends.”

“Are-are you sure?” You said hesitantly.

“Here, give me your phone again.” She said, holding her hand out. This time, you didn’t hesitate and unlocked it before handing it to her.

You watched as Ellie quickly typed for a few moments before placing it back in your hand. Glancing at the screen, you saw that she’d texted a new contact she’d named “Ellie 😛” with the message “hey sexy” accompanied by a winking emoji.

“Oh my god, you’re annoying.” You said, laughing.

“What, you don’t think I’m sexy?” She replied, grinning.

“Goodbye, Ellie.” You chuckled, walking away a couple of steps before suddenly stopping in your tracks.

“Oh, wait, your jacket—” You said, beginning to shrug off her old motorcycle jacket.

“No, go ahead and keep it.” She interrupted, securing it back onto your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Gives you a good excuse to see my sexy ass later.” She smirked.

“Shut up,” You said, unable to hide a smile. “You are so annoying.”

“You love it.” She said, smirking once more.

As she adjusted the jacket onto you, you realized just how close she was again. You stared at her and she stared right back. There was a moment or two when you gazed into each other’s eyes, neither saying anything. You felt heat increasingly rising to your face when she suddenly brushed a piece of hair from your forehead.

You found yourself completely unwilling to leave this bubble that enclosed only you and Ellie. It was extraordinary how intimately absorbed you felt in this person you’d only seen for the first time today, how enchanted you felt by merely being in her presence. In just a few hours, she filled your mind completely with thoughts of her and only her. You prayed that this wasn’t a chance meeting but the beginning of something life-changing.

The moment was once again interrupted, this time by Jesse.

“Dude, I was—” Jesse began, but upon seeing what he’d walked in on, his sentence faltered. “Oh, shit, sorry—”

“It’s okay, Jesse,” You assured. “I gotta go, anyway.”

You turned back towards Ellie.

“I’ll, umm, see you soon?” You asked nervously.

“I hope so.” She replied, smiling softly.

You began to walk back towards the house, giving a quick goodbye to Jesse. Once you reached the front porch and before you walked through the door, you turned back to where Ellie and Jesse were standing beneath the tree.

You lifted your hand and waved at Ellie, which she returned with her own soft wave. The look on her face looked completely dazed and awestruck. You bit your lip in nervous anticipation, looking into her ocean green eyes one more time before walking into the house.

After a beat or two, Jesse finally spoke.

“Is she wearing Joel’s old jacket?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jesse.”

author's notes:

i can’t believe this is finally out!! sorry for taking so long to update this, but hopefully how long this is will make up for the time ♡︎

the "barbie heterosexual" line is a reference to a line from the iconique movie "imagine me and you" :)

reader's little spiel to tara about her dating preference is just another little love letter of mine towards masc/butch/stud lesbians. just love y'all so much, you deserve the world.

fred is named after another jackson resident in the actual game (as i've probably mentioned before, all the character names in this fic are purposeful: either named after actual characters or named after people irl). i thought it was a silly little reference for him to go after astrid cause in the games, he's barely mentioned except at one point when it's seen he was paired up with astrid for patrol at one point. i enjoy my little easter eggs :)

the descriptions of most of reader’s friends are slightly based on the physical appearances of some of my irl friends :)

i’ve discovered that i really love making these flashback chapters hehe

like i said, i’m so sorry for taking forever to update this!! my life has been an absolute shit show lately (if you’ve been keeping up with my personal ramblings on here, you know by now lol). but the next few chapters have been basically mapped out already, so hopefully it won’t take me that long to update this with the next chapter ♡︎

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#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes

[idyllicwillowtree]

God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me. (part 2)

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, swearing, angy Eddie, hospital

Author’s note: Thank you so much for the positive comments on part 1! I was feeling insecure about this fic so that was very nice y'all are so sweet <3

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.” 

All the Hellfire members whipped their heads toward you, witnessing an angry rash spreading across your skin and your breathing becoming audible as you tried to suck in as much oxygen as possible.

Eddie’s heart clenched painfully as he looked down at you, remembering the severity of your allergy after Dustin explained it to him one time. Still, Eddie was taken aback by the speed at which your symptoms were progressing.

You reached a hand out to Eddie as the choked coughs took over. He ignored your hand in favor of catching your body before it hit the ground. With trembling limbs he carefully lowered you to the grimy tile of the cafeteria floor.

“Fuck,” Eddie cursed, “Dustin! What do we do?!”

Dustin had froze. Panic set in as he watched his older sister struggle more and more to take in a full breath. A small crowd began to gather and the excited chatter of the cafeteria simmered into hushed whispers and gasps. Everyone was watching, and not in the way Eddie was used to.

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped. 

At that, Dustin went to work. “Mike, go call 911! Lucus, see if the nurse has an epipen. GO!” The sheep dispersed. Dustin picked up your bag with trembling hands and began digging through your books and school supplies, searching for the epinephrine injector he swears you kept in there.

Eddie turned his attention back to you, trusting that Dustin had the rest handled. At the look of panic in your blotchy and swollen face he almost froze too. A chilling dread spread through his veins as you began clawing at your throat, doing everything you could to open your airways. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me princess. You’re gonna be alright, gonna be just fine, you hear me? D-Dustin will getchu your meds and you’ll be good to go,” Eddie rambled, trying to convince himself just as much. He gently cradled your warm face and stroked your hair to try and soothe you.

With every second passing you became closer and closer to death. Eddie looked up in desperation. His red-headed neighbor (Max, he thinks her name is) snatched the backpack out of a distraught Dustin’s hands and turned it upside down, emptying its contents. Robin was there too and put a comforting arm around your brother while Max took over the search for the injector. Eddie was vaguely aware of a teacher trying to pry him off of you but he’d risk getting expelled for shoving a teacher if it meant staying by your side. 

“Got it!” Max exclaimed, holding the orange and clear tube triumphantly. She slid to her knees on your otherside, not hesitating to jam the needle into your leg and holding it there.

Eddie flinched at the force it took to inject you. You took your first full breath, allowing him to take one as well. Your eyes were drooping slightly as the medicine was introduced into your system.

“Hey, there she is,” Eddie said gently.

Your tired eyes met his and he could’ve sworn the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

The paramedics arrived and Eddie hesitantly let you go so they could treat you. It was a blur of navy blue and red as they hooked you up to numerous tubes and slid an oxygen mask over your head. 

You became slightly more alert at the sight of strangers surrounding you as the stretcher clicked into place, raising you a couple feet off the ground. You moved your head tiredly trying to catch sight of anyone you knew. Anyone to comfort you.

“Dustin, go with her,” Eddie told the curly haired boy. He looked up at him with wet eyes that clenched at Eddie’s heart. “She needs you, go on.”

Eddie watched the determination emerge on the freshman’s face as he walked through the paramedics declaring that he was your brother, allowing him to be by your side. 

Swallowing thickly past the dryness in his mouth, Eddie watched you get rolled out on the stretcher. 

He turned numbly to see that Lucas and Mike had returned and started digging through your lunch, in an attempt to find out what it was that could’ve caused your reaction. As the two predictably began to bicker, Eddie grabbed the cup of applesauce and slowly brought the spoon out. To his horror, he scooped out a few small round nuts mixed with the smooth texture of the applesauce. 

His darkened eyes snapped up, immediately finding Jason. He at least had the decency to look scared, his skin white as a sheet. True terror shining through as he came to realize the severity of what he did. He shook his head slightly, pleading with Eddie. For what, he wasn’t sure. But he could give a shit.

The grip on the applesauce tightened, causing it to tremble, before he launched it in Jason's general direction. A fire of rage lit up Eddie's entire being, consuming any reason or restraint within him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You could’ve killed her!!” Eddie roared, the words ripping from his throat like a thunderclap.  Every fiber in his being screamed for justice, determined to ensure that no harm would ever come to you again. 

“I-I-I didn’t think…I didn’t mean to-” Jason blubbered.

“Not good enough!” Eddie snapped. He charged forward, driven by the need to avenge your pain. Just when he was closing the distance between them a thick arm wrapped around his upper body. “LET ME GO!”

Eddie struggled against the firm grip that held him back from doing to Jason what he should've done a long time ago. If Eddie was strong enough, he could've saved you, stopped all of this bullying in its tracks before Jason had ever even looked in your direction. His strength never came from muscles or brute force, but from his anger—the primal need to protect those he loved. He was so consumed by his rage that a red haze blurred his vision. Or were those his tears?

“Eddie, man, don’t do this,” Doug said, doing his best to calm his friend.

“Please,” Eddie pleaded, losing some of his fight. “Just let me go.” 

“Dude, if you get into a fight you won’t be able to see Y/N in the hospital,” the bassist whispered in Eddie’s ear. He looked over and saw Principle Coleman closing in on them, there wasn’t much time left. “We can handle it, just go while you can.”

A wave of overwhelming frustration washed over Eddie as the struggle against Doug’s hold diminished. Tears welled up in his eyes as his chest released his rage and tightened back up with helplessness and despair.

He didn’t let it consume him though, taking off in the opposite direction of the principle, his sheep following close behind.

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

When the van ripped into the hospital parking lot, Eddie finally took notice of how many stowaways he had. Lucas, Mike, Max, Robin, and even Nancy all burst through the double doors at the back of his skunky smelling van and made their way to the emergency room entrance.

Eddie was the first one through the doors, eyes scanning the waiting area for his curly haired friend. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the one and only King Steve sitting with the boy. 

Steve noticed them first, taking the lead on letting them know what’s going on. He explained that you’d be fine but the doctors are running some tests and getting you hooked up to the necessary machines. It’ll be a little longer before Eddie gets to see you with his own eyes.

Eddie turned on his heel and walked through the doors he just came through as Steve explained that your mom was called but was on a trip with her girlfriends and won’t be able to make it back until tomorrow.

The disinfected smell of the hospital only offered to heighten Eddie’s desire for a cigarette. He finds solace in the only coping mechanism he has under his belt, even if he knew it was bad for him in the long run. The stress of the day weighed heavily on him as he leaned on the brick wall of the hospital outside. The familiar routine of lighting up offered a good distraction, the only way to momentarily ease his anxiety.

That was until your brother found him. He silently stood next to him, not feeling the need to fill the silence with anything but the gentle breeze and the birds chirping in the distance. But it made Eddie feel uneasy.

“I’d offer you a smoke, but I don’t want to corrupt you more than I already have,” Eddie said with a sad laugh.

Ignoring Eddie’s comment, Dustin asked, “you remember that one time when Hellfire came over to my house for a session? When the theater kids needed the drama room at school?”

Eddie nodded his head slowly, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he did so.

“I was still in middle school so I had only heard about you from Y/N. She had this weird way of speaking about you. It was in a way I had never heard her speak about anyone before.”

Eddie’s heart punched against his ribs painfully, his insecurities taking over.

“She was nice enough to let me watch your campaign so I could get ideas for the campaign I was doing with Mike and Lucas, and our other friend Will. I think she regretted it because of the Reese's Pieces incident.”

Eddie couldn’t help but start chuckling embarrassingly at the memory. “God, that was so stupid,” he smacked his forehead in an attempt to stop his mind from reliving one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. 

-

The Hellfire members flooded into your home, bringing chips, candy, and drinks to share. Your first time hosting the club was going great, until Dustin noticed the bag of Reese’s Pieces in Eddie’s hand.

“My sister is too nice to say anything but-” Dustin started.

“Stop, Dustin-”

“-we can’t have those in the house.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinched beneath his bangs, “what? Why not?”

“She’s allergic to peanuts.”

Before you could roll your eyes at your little brother and reassure him it was fine, Eddie turned and chucked the bag out your kitchen’s open window leaving you standing there in shock and Eddie horrified by his own impulse.

-

“I think that’s when she fell in love with you.”

Eddie’s head whipped over to Dustin. The kid had the audacity to look smug after completely shattering his world view. His mind spun with the revelation.

Love, a word so potent, was now intertwined with his thoughts of your relationship. Eddie knew he liked you, a lot, but his brain never brought him to love. He replayed moments from your friendship in his head, searching for the signs, trying to decipher if Dustin was telling the truth. If the sentiment was truly real. A mix of surprise and uncertainty overwhelmed him, but there was also something warm and hopeful there. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

He needed to see you and hear it from you directly. A million thoughts and memories raced through his mind, but one thing was clear–he needed to be with you, to tell you how he felt.

part 3 coming soon!

tags: @beeblisss @fishwithtitz @leah-loves-lilies

#stranger things #netflix #mutal pining #friends to lovers #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #henderson reader #dustin henderson #hellfire club #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #robin buckley #steve harrington #fanfic #fanfiction #peanut allergy #whump #jason carver #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt!reader #hospital #80s #protective eddie munson

[imagineteamfreewill]

Cursed

Title: Cursed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Brief heavy drinking, suggested dub con (nothing actually happens besides PG-13 touching, but more is suggested and the reader does not want to participate), cursed Dean, language, angst, a little fluff

Summary: Dean’s cursed after a witch hunt and Sam and Y/N are left to deal with the consequences.

A/N: This is a super random one shot I started writing in 2018 that I just recently found in an old WIP folder. I’ve changed it a lot from what it originally started as, but I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless. As always, thanks for reading and for supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Dean,” you sigh. You steal the sweaty, half-drunk beer bottle from his hand. “You can’t just drink until you black out!”

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling another bottle from the paper carton beside him. It’s already empty and he huffs in annoyance, setting it aside before grabbing the fourth and final beer from its slot.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pry the top off the bottle and take a long swig, then let out a satisfied sigh. The bottle cap clatters to the concrete beneath his pool chair. He smacks his lips and you try to disguise your disgust, even if he won’t care either way.

Frustrated, you stomp back to the motel room and push the door open, slamming your room key and the bottle you’d taken away on the table in front of Sam. The door hits the door jamb on the wall before bouncing back and slamming shut with a bang.

“Your brother is going to be the end of me!” you growl. 

Sam looks up, eyebrows raised as he tries to transition his mind from the lore he’s been reading to what you’ve said. “Hmm?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, inwardly praying for some patience, then look back down at him. “I said,” you begin, unable to even vaguely disguise how you feel, “that your brother is slowly annoying me to death! Please tell me that you have a cure, or at least a counter-curse! I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”

“I haven’t found anything so far,” Sam replies, shaking his head apologetically. He reaches for the beer bottle and you snatch it away, grinding your teeth in frustration. Though you want to take a sip of it yourself to make the next few hours—or days, depending on how long it takes you and Sam to find a cure—easier, you grip it hard in one hand for a second before sighing and putting it back on the edge of the table. Just because Dean was drinking himself to death, doesn’t necessarily mean that his younger brother had to suffer.

“Just… Just figure something out. I need to go back to keeping an eye on Mister R&R out there.” You gesture towards the door, then press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re exhausted; not only had yesterday’s witch hunt been nothing more than a dead end, but somehow, Dean managed to get himself cursed. It’s up to you and Sam to find the witch and a cure, and Dean’s no help. The curse has left him incapable of doing any actual work, instead convincing him that all he should do for the rest of his life is relax. All you’ve done for the last day and a half is chase after him to make sure that he doesn’t break any laws or get himself hurt.

“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise,” Sam reassures. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? Maybe we can convince Dean to come relax in here. If we’re lucky, he might sleep, too. Sleeping isn’t work—if we spin it the right way he might go for it.”

You nod wearily and pick up the beer again. You dump its contents down the bathroom drain before tossing the empty bottle in the plastic trash can. “Are there any more of those in here?” you ask, heading back out to the main part of the room.

Sam turns in his seat to glance around the room, then shakes his head. “Nope. I think Dean got ‘em all already.” He closes his laptop and pushes the chair back from the table, standing and grabbing your keycard. “You take a shower and I’ll go get Dean. You look like hell.”

Snorting, you send Sam a grateful look and go over to your duffel, where you pull out your bag of toiletries and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. After a second of thought, you grab a pair of shorts, just in case he’s feeling grabby. “Gee, thanks.”

The sound of the door closing is Sam’s response. You shut your eyes for a second, soaking in the still, peaceful silence of the room before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It’s the first time since yesterday morning that you’ve been alone, and it’s the first time it’s been so quiet, too.

Minutes later, you’re scrubbing yourself down and ignoring the way that the dirty water pools around your feet as you rinse away the grime from the past two days. It feels good to finally be clean. You’re just rinsing off your face and hair when you hear the bathroom door open and you freeze, carefully peeking open an eye to stare at the frosted white shower curtain. The person on the other side doesn’t move, nor do they make a sound.

“Sam?” you ask after a second. “Is that you?”

“Guess again,” Dean replies, a bit too cheerily for your liking.

You can only see his vague silhouette through the shower curtain, but you can clearly picture the arrogant smirk on his face. It’s been one of the few expressions on his face since he’d been cursed. The others in the rotation have left you equally as irritated.

Pursing your lips, you quickly finish rinsing off and turn the knob to shut off the water. “Hand me my towel,” you say, sticking a hand out around the curtain. It’s a request you’ve made many times in the past, yet now it comes out harsher, more like an order or a command than a simple task.

“Why? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Dean counters.

You sigh, your arm dropping slightly as you keep it held out. “Dean, come on. This isn’t you. Please just hand me my towel.”

“Of course it’s me,” he says. “I’m just wondering why my girl won’t let me see her wet and naked. We could have a lot of fun that way…” His fingertips brush your forearm as his silhouette moves closer, and you snatch your arm back.

“You’re cursed, Dean. We’ve talked about this. Now please, hand me my towel.” Dean only hums in response and you growl quietly to yourself before yelling, “Sam! Sam, get in here!”

A moment later, the bathroom door squeaks open again and you hear Sam shout in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Put on some clothes!”

“Of course he’s naked,” you mumble under your breath. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Dean chuckles and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to slip and fall. The chill from the bathroom has started to set in now that you’re no longer under hot water, and goosebumps have broken out over your damp skin. You shiver.

“Sam,” you call, a little louder so you can be certain that he’ll hear you. “Sam, please just hand me my towel. Your idiot brother refuses to.”

You feel the rough fabric in your hand as soon as you stick your arm out again, and you quickly yank it inside the shower with you before Dean can snatch it. After wrapping it around yourself, you pull the shower curtain open to find Dean buttoning his jeans, his upper half still bare.

“Thanks for putting pants on,” you say, pushing him out of the way so that you can get to the sink. Hopefully, your praise will incentivize him to do what you ask. Maybe he’ll be more willing to nap that way. It’s only a thread of hope, but you’ll cling to it until it breaks.

You wipe the fog off the mirror with your hand and peer at your reflection for a second before grabbing your comb and starting to comb out your hair, shivering when cold water drips onto your bare shoulders.

“Let me do that,” Dean says. He grabs the comb before you can answer and picks up where you left off, leaving you to hold up your towel in silence. His hands are gentle and for a moment, you forget that he’s cursed. This is something he does for you all the time. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares for you, even when he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts or when the two of you are too tired to even talk.

When the thought pops into your head, however, you begin to analyze the situation, trying to figure out exactly how this is helping Dean relax. So far, he’s only done things that help him relax, not others, which means that this somehow has to be more beneficial to him than it is to you.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach up and take the comb from his hands, ignoring the spark of electricity that runs up your arm when your skin brushes against his. “Why are you doing this?” you ask, crossing your arms over the top of your towel as you turn to face him.

Dean shrugs, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind you. His expression seems more normal than it has since the witch hunt, and you grip the edge of the towel a little tighter, watching him carefully. Has the curse been broken somehow?

“Dunno. I like playing with your hair, I guess.” A familiar, lazy smile crosses his face as he meets your eyes a second later, and he takes a step forward so his hips pin yours against the bathroom counter. “Plus, I know what happens when you get relaxed and you feel taken care of.”

Scoffing, you push Dean off of you and toss the comb down, then grab your shirt and shorts off the counter. “Get out. I need to change. Go…” You pause, frantically wracking your brain for some suggestion he might actually go for. “Go wait for me in bed, okay? Yeah? I’ll come join you in a minute.” You hope that your words sound promising enough, even if you don’t really plan on doing anything with him while he’s cursed. You couldn’t stomach it.

Dean dips his head to stare down at you with the same lazy, drunk smile on his face as before.  “Okay. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart. Don’t take too long.”

He slips out the door, finally leaving you alone, and you quickly push the door shut and flip the lock—something you should’ve done in the first place. You shudder, then glance at your phone on the counter. 

“Come on,” you mutter. “Anything is better than this.”

Reluctantly, you force yourself to pick up the phone and send a short, carefully worded text before setting it aside and changing into your clean clothes. Rowena’s response comes just as soon as you’re dressed, and you close your eyes when you read her message, relieved. After forwarding it to Sam, you carry your things out to the main room, only to find that Dean’s just where he had promised he would be. A quick glance around the room shows that Sam has chosen to make himself scarce, and you silently curse his name in every language you know.

“Hey there, Y/N,” Dean drawls, directing your attention back to him. His jeans are unbuttoned again, though not unzipped, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of his half-naked frame sprawled out on the bed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You need to sleep, and you figure that if Dean is sleeping, he can’t get into any trouble. It’s getting him to sleep that will be the problem.

“Hey,” you casually reply. You set your things down in your bag, taking a minute to rearrange them with your back to Dean. You hear noise coming from the bed as you plug your phone in on the TV stand and you slow your movement, listening as Dean moves the pillows and blankets around to his liking. When you turn around again, the extra pillows are all on the floor and he’s settled in the middle of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he regards you with a cocky smile.

“You gonna come over here or what?”

Forcing a smile of your own, you cross the room and grab a pillow off the floor, then crawl into bed with Dean. His hands immediately go for your hips in an attempt to pull you on top of him, but you push them away.

“Roll over,” you say, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. “Let me give you a massage first.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly liking your suggestion, then moves over to lay on his stomach. You get to work, doing your very best to get him to relax as much as possible.

You must’ve massaged Dean’s back and shoulders for an hour before you finally hear him let out a soft snore. Your hands are sore, but relief floods you and you carefully move to the opposite edge of the bed and lay on your stomach. You close your eyes, desperately hoping that you’ll fall asleep quickly so you can get as much rest as possible before he awakes.

When you wake up, you can hear Dean arguing with Sam, their voices hushed despite the anger lacing their words. Slowly, you open your eyes and lie still, listening. You’ve rolled over onto your side in your sleep, so you can stare at the wall and watch their shadows as they argue.

“Dean, you can’t go out right now. Y/N is sleeping and I’m not going with you,” Sam huffs. He’s all at once placating and annoyed with his older brother, the same way a parent who’s fed up with their child’s antics might speak. “I have better things to do than pick up chicks at a bar, including finding something to help break whatever curse you’re under.”

“I don’t need your help, Sammy. I’m fine! And I’m not going to a bar, I’m just going to get some food from the taco place down the street!”

“Really? You’re not cursed? Is that why you were taking up most of the bed and Y/N’s only got the edge? Because that’s not like you, man. You’ve been acting differently since we got back yesterday.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean hisses. “Just drop it.”

You listen intently for whatever Sam has to say in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out anything. After a minute, the door to the parking lot opens, then slams shut. You don’t hear Sam go after his brother, nor do you hear anyone moving around the room, and you frown against your pillow. 

Confused, you sit up in bed and rub your eyes before going over to the window, carefully pulling the curtain away from the edge so you can peek outside. It’s pitch black outside. You hadn’t glanced at the clock on the nightstand as you’d crawled out of bed, but you’re certain it’s the middle of the night. You’d slept for almost eight hours, which is practically a miracle.

The boys are just outside the door, on the walkway that runs from the motel office and past every room, all the way to the end of the building. They’re still arguing, but Sam looks more shocked than frustrated. The parking lot lights flicker for a second, and when they come back on, you realize that both Sam and Dean are staring at you.

Feeling a bit guilty that you were caught eavesdropping, you drop the curtain. Then, you step over to the door and pull it open so you can stand in the doorway. Though it’s dark out, Sam and Dean are close enough where you can see them clearly in the overhead lights, and you look between them.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

The two brothers glance at each other, their unspoken conversation ending with Dean’s shoulders slumping, before Sam bitterly answers, “Dean has something he’d like to tell you.”

“Okay…” You turn your attention to Dean, unsure of what to expect.

It takes him a minute to speak up. “I, uh… I wasn’t cursed.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to understand how his behavior the past 36 hours lines up with that statement. “What?”

“There’s no curse. I wasn’t cursed before, and I’m not cursed now. I’m fine,” he says.

Anger is starting to rise up into your chest and you clench your hands into fists. Slowly, in a way you hope will get you the clearest answer possible, you reply, “What do you mean there was no curse? If there’s no curse, then why have you been acting the way you have?”

Dean has the decency to look ashamed, and he looks away to stare at the window leading into the motel office. The employee manning the front desk looks asleep, with one hand propping his head up on the laminate countertop. The vacancy sign in the window flickers. Sam leaves and heads to the Impala, but you only spare him a glance. A few moments later, the car starts up and drives off toward the main part of town. 

“I don’t know. I needed a break from the responsibilities. I wanted to live like there was nothing to worry about, just for a day,” Dean tells you after the parking lot returns to silence once more.

You can’t decide if you’re more shocked at the revelation that he’s not cursed, angry that he’s done what he did, or saddened that Dean felt the way he had, yet he hadn’t felt like he could talk to you about it. You would’ve given him the best day off ever, had you known that’s what he needed. Instead, he’s taken advantage of you and his brother, and he’s treated you poorly in the process. He’s acted like a complete and total selfish asshole.

“I can’t believe you,” you finally scoff. You cross your arms over your chest, but you drop them back down to your sides almost immediately. Angry tears fill your eyes. “You are so selfish! If you had just said something, we could’ve done whatever you’d wanted, but instead, you had to act like you’d been cursed! We were worried sick, Dean!”

You step forward into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I was terrified that we’d never find a cure, and the way you treated me?” You scoff again and shake your head. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Dean! I can’t believe you’d treat me like that. I can’t believe you’d treat Sam like that! Do you know that we were this close to making a deal with Rowena?” You bring your hand up between his face and yours, holding your thumb and index finger only an inch apart to emphasize your point. “This close!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice quiet. He stares down at the sidewalk.

You drop your hand back down your side. “Are you?”

He nods and lifts his head to look up at you. In any other situation, you might’ve broken at the grief in his eyes, but you’re too furious to back down now.

“Y/N, you gotta believe me! If I’d known how out of hand this was going to get, I wouldn’t have done it, but by the time I realized how far I’d taken it, it was too late! I hadn’t thought of a way to get rid of the fake curse without it being too big of an issue, so I had to keep rolling with it.”

You shake your head again, shocked and disgusted that he’d done something so drastic. Throwing up both your hands, you take a step back towards the motel room. “You had to keep rolling with it? I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now! I’m going back to bed.” You turn and start to dig for your keycard in your pajama pocket, even though you know it’s not there.

“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You know, I honestly don’t even know if I want to talk to you,” you snap, turning to face him again. “And I’m not sure that there even is a way for you to make this up to me, Dean. This is so far beyond the realm of things that you could’ve done that I can’t even wrap my brain around it!”

You stomp back to the motel room door and yank on the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge, and you let out a shriek of frustration. Dean silently offers you his keycard, holding it by your hand though he stands just beyond your view. You snatch it from him and shove it into the slot above the handle. When the light turns green, you shove the door open and step inside, then slam it behind you again, leaving the Dean standing alone on the walkway.

Though you’d said you were going back to bed, you’re too riled up to sleep, so you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for your second shower of the day. Thankfully, this is the nicest motel you’ve had in a while. The water pressure may not be great, but the hot water lasts for a long time and there’s nothing suspicious growing anywhere in the bathroom. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and toss your stuff onto the vanity, ignoring it when it slides into the sink instead of staying on the countertop.

As you stand under the hot spray of the shower, you stare hard at the wall. You half-listen to the room, too, just in case Sam or Dean comes back in after you, but mostly you let yourself stew.

Dean’s a great guy. He’s an even better boyfriend, despite all his flaws; he’s attentive, kind, protective (to a fault), and he makes you laugh. He knows when to be gentle and when to leave things be, especially when you’re in a mood. You love him. That thought makes you frown harder, and you cross your arms over your bare chest. You love Dean, but he’s treated you so poorly that you can only doubt if he loves you in the same way. Surely someone couldn’t do something so horrid to someone they loved?

One of the boys knocks on the door and you ignore them. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard them enter the room. When they knock again, you roll your eyes and drop your arms, then grab the conditioner.

“What?” you snap.

“Sam came back. We’re going out to get some food. Do you want your usual?” Dean asks.

Huffing, you squirt a handful of conditioner into your palm and close the bottle, and you practically slam it onto the shelf in the shower. It immediately slips off and clatters to the floor, narrowly missing your foot. You curse and leave it there.

“Y/N?” Dean asks again.

“Sure! Fine! Whatever, Dean! Get whatever you want for me, I don’t care!”

“Y/N—”

“Just leave me alone? Okay?”

There’s silence on the other side of the door, and you think for a second that Dean’s actually done what you’ve asked for the first time since the hunt, but then he asks,

“Do you need a break? From me?”

You pause, your hands frozen where they’ve been working the conditioner into your hair, and you stare at the shower curtain for a moment or two while you think over Dean’s words. 

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “I’m angry, and I’m really fucking hurt. Do you know how exhausted I was, Dean? How worried I was that the second I stopped making sure you didn’t do something stupid, you’d get hurt or arrested? I didn’t shower after the hunt, and I’ve barely eaten anything.

“And when you came in here while I was showering earlier? I was so scared you’d do something that you couldn’t truly agree to. And then, for a minute, when you combed my hair, it was like everything was normal again. I guess it was normal, but I didn’t know that then, did I? And then, after a while, I thought you were doing it just to come onto me, and you played that up. You made me so uncomfortable, Dean, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop you from doing something if you were really dead set on having sex with me. If you’d really been cursed, you wouldn’t have been in your right mind to agree to anything, and I would’ve had to live with that thought if something had actually happened! I was so terrified of that, and yet the whole time you were just pretending! Like it was a game to you, or something!”

There’s a strangled noise from the other side of the door and you close your eyes, hands trembling. Dean doesn’t speak again for a minute. When there’s only silence, you start rinsing out your hair, and then you turn off the shower and grab your towel from the bar.

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Dean says, startling you as you reach for your comb. It’s exactly where you’d left it last night, after you’d thrown it aside. You stand on the cheap bath mat, holding the tiny plastic comb as you wait for Dean to continue.

“I probably never will, but I want to try. I know I’ve messed up, and I know I did horrible things. You have no idea how horrible I feel and how sick it makes me that I made you so uncomfortable. I should’ve stopped right away. I shouldn’t have even pretended to want that from you. If you can’t forgive me for what I did and how I made you feel, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you alone forever, but I love you, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what got into me.”

“This isn’t like you, Dean,” you interject, quieter than before. You feel deflated after his speech. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he says, almost pleading with you, as if you have all the answers. You wish you did.

You lean sideways against the door. It’s cold against your shoulder and you hold the towel tighter, staring at your blurred reflection in the foggy mirror. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?” 

“I don’t know. I should’ve. My head’s messed up and I was afraid you wouldn’t react the way I needed you to.”

“It’s okay to feel scared when you talk about how you feel, but we’ve gotta be honest with each other if this is going to work. You have to be honest with the person you’re dating, no matter what. That’s a big thing, Dean.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stand there in silence, each of you on opposite sides of the door. Finally, you straighten up and turn the handle. It unlocks automatically and you pull the door open to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks shocked that you’re facing him so soon, and though his eyes flicker down at the white towel you’re still wearing, he mostly just holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying, and though he’d mentioned that Sam was back, the room is silent.

“This kind of thing can never happen again,” you tell him firmly. “If it does, I’m out. I’m telling Sam that, too, so that if you pull something like this again and then try to find me, he can stop you.”

Dean nods. His voice breaks as he replies, “That’s fair. You deserve to be with someone who’s good for you, even if it’s not me.”

“And we have to talk about how we’re feeling, even if it’s hard. Maybe we should come up with a plan for when you feel this way.” Dean nods again and you look down at the comb in your hands. You pause for a second to collect your thoughts. “Dean, I’m still angry with you, and I probably will be for at least a little while, but I’m also hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to me. I know Sam probably is too, but I do understand how you feel. You’re not alone in this.”

“I know that now,” he softly answers.

You look up. “Do you?”

He nods. “I’m sorry,” Dean repeats.

“I know.” You look back at the comb, then up at him again. “You can start by combing out my hair and braiding it in those fancy braids you pretend not to know how to do.” You hold out the comb and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You wanna fix things? This is step one, Dean.”

He sighs and takes the comb, his shoulders slumped dramatically. There’s a hint of his normal self in his expression now. You step further into the bathroom to allow him room to stand behind you.

Dean’s hands are gentle as he begins to comb out your wet hair. You glance up at him in the mirror. He catches your eye almost right away, then smiles slightly. You smile back, just enough for him to see it before he focuses back on your hair, the first olive branch that you’ve extended him.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean fanfiction #dean angst #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester reader insert #supernatural reader insert #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #spn fic #dean x y/n #dean x you

[ihrtnjm]

Every Summertime - Park Jisung

Synopsis: You and Jisung's relationship blossoming over time -- from dating to marriage. Based on: “Every Summertime” by NIKI Pairing: Park Jisung (NCT) and fem!reader Genre: straight up fluff!!!!, uni!au, dating to marriage, relationship progression Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: use of she/her pronouns, cursing, mentions of weird coworkers, reader is shorter than jisung, reader eats a strawberry  Content: pet names (hun, honey, babe), second person pov, idols as friends, just two cuties <3, jisung is a dance major, if marrying jisung weirds you out pls leave… a/n: this is my first y/n fic EVERRR <333333 a lot of the locations are vague, so it’s up to reader interpretation! pls reblog, comment and send feedback! support is very much appreciated!!!!! jisung has been on my mind lately (probs bc i’m learning his part for candy) like he’s so boyfriend shaped how can u not love him!!!!!!!!!!

｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

Park, 5:32 AM

18, We were undergrads, 

Stayed out late, never made it to class

Jisung looks out at the sunrise and over to you. There’s no one else he would rather be with at this moment. Being with you makes him forget every worry on his mind. He admires the twinkle in your eyes, as the glow of the sunrise bathes you. As they sit out by the lake, he fumbles with the promise ring in his pocket. 

“Ji, you good?” you ask, trying to peek over at what he was hiding with curiosity in your voice.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing.” Jisung quickly takes his hand out of his jacket pocket. You’ve been out for a while now, but he doesn’t care if he comes back home and skips practice. He can make it up later. 

But with you, he doesn’t waste a single minute.

“You don’t have class later?” Jisung asks – he doesn’t plan on going to class later that day, but worries that you won’t make it. 

“I do,” you sigh, “but I don’t think I’ll go. I just wanna be with you.” you reply softly, leaning your head onto his shoulders, as you both take in the sunrise. You loved everything about Jisung -- the way he danced, the way he would buy her something because it reminded him of you, the way he stops and waits as you tie your shoelaces, every little thing he does. 

Jisung turns his head and kisses your forehead, then resumes to look onto the sunrise.

----

Dance Studio, 7:43 PM

And I swear the magnolias flashed a smile (flashed a smile)

And that's when I caught me hoping you'd stay a while (stay a while)

Jisung moves around the studio freely, with sharp yet somehow smooth movement. As he cleanly dances throughout the studio, you admire his talent from the walls in the studio. Seeing his facial expressions while he passionately dances his heart out, you can’t help but feel your heart glow.  

Here she is, admiring the love of her life as he does the thing that he loves. From every recital to late night rehearsal, she loves him all the same. You remember when you two started dating – when he asked if you wanted to watch one of his recitals. He was endearingly nervous, hands clammy and heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. When you had said ‘yes,’ it was like the largest weight was lifted from his body. Since then, you’ve seen him grow into one of the most talented dancers you’ve seen.

“This dance is coming along really nicely, hun.” you state, standing up and walking toward him. You wrap your arms around his torso, then nuzzle your face into his chest. Jisung smiles down at you, hugging you back. 

“Thanks. I think I still need to practice a couple more times, but I like where I’m at.” he replies breathlessly, taking a moment to grab his water bottle and take a swig. After putting it on the ground, he continues to hug you.

“Well as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” you smile, looking up at him with pride. Jisung hasn’t stopped smiling, bringing your lips together while smiling into the kiss.

At that moment, you knew you wanted to marry this man.

----

Mark’s Apartment, 9:30 PM

Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind

Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime

“Dude, when are you gonna propose? You two have definitely talked about it, and it doesn’t help that you’re always with her--” Jisung tunes Chenle out as he rambles on about your relationship. Instead, he looks over at you while you talk to Ningning. He doesn’t know what you guys are talking about, but as he looks at her he admires the passion in your eyes about whatever you’re saying. 

Jisung has seen your passionate eyes up close -- and God does he love them. In late night rants, discussions on class readings, and how dogs should wear pants. 

Meanwhile, you’re having a similar discussion with Ningning right across the room.

“Wait -- so Jisung hasn’t asked you?!” Ningning says with shock. Ningning has known you two for a while and shares the same sentiment as Chenle – but probably wouldn’t nag you the same way Chenle does.

“No Ningning, he hasn’t,” you deadpan, “But I don’t wanna force him into anything he doesn’t wanna do, y’know? He just seems so happy with where we are, and I don’t wanna make things weird--” 

“Make things weird? Tell that to the guy who’s staring at you as if he’s about to pop the question right now.” Ningning remarks, noticing Jisung stare at the two of you. She’s right -- Jisung hasn’t stopped at all – all while Chenle nags at him. 

“You should probably talk to him,” Ningning whispers into your ear, a grin on her face.

----

Park, 5:15 PM

25, man we're missing church

Laugh 'bout everyone we're hating at work

You and Jisung are in front of the lake yet again — but the only thing that has changed was time. Older, out of college, engagement rings on your fingers. Jisung sits while you lie your head on his lap. 

“Babe, I’m telling you this man is so weird. He treats the female coworkers as if they’re goddesses – mind you there’s a difference when a woman does it – and acts all lowly and shit!” you joke, taking a strawberry from the basket into your mouth. “It doesn’t help that when they say no to him, he acts like gave his soul to these women and acts pissed.” Jisung smiles down at you, taking a hand and brushing off loose hairs from your face. 

“Isn’t HR doing anything about it? This sounds like a problem that a lot of people have…” Jisung ponders, his hand traveling between your brows and smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“I don’t know, it’s not like he’s hurting anyone I guess,” you reply, “He’s just weird, y’know?”

“Alright but if he ever bothers you, you know who to go to!” he emphasizes, chest puffed up as if to come off as intimidating. You giggle at his gesture, sitting up and then holding his face in your hands.

“You’re so cute, did you know that?” you smile. He’s left flustered, as he takes his larger hands and puts them on top of yours. Jisung leans in closer to you, lips softly touching as he gets a taste of the strawberry that was on your lips earlier.

“Yeah, but you’re cuter.”

“Fine, but you’re the cutest.” 

----

Outside of Your Apartment, 10:30 PM

We're strolling down the boulevard

And dancing under streetlights 

Every year we get older, and I'm still on your side 

“Jisung, we’re gonna fall!” you laugh as you both stumble around the street, one Airpod in each other’s ears. A typical ballroom song plays in each of your earbuds while you adjust yourselves, figuring out how to dance to the music.

“Honey, just follow my lead,” Jisung giggles, “Mind you, you’re the one who wanted to learn!” Taking your hands in his, you sway around the street as the post lights shine. 

“Mind you, you’re the one with the dance degree!” you retaliate, looking down at your feet to avoid stepping on Jisung. 

“Mind you, you’re the one who’s married to me!” 

“You got me there.” you whisper, moving your arms to wrap around Jisung’s neck. Jisung’s hands then land on your hips, and softly pressing your lips together. 

As you admire the summertime moonlight, you both sway to the song that plays in your ears. 

Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime with you

#park jisung #nct jisung #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct oneshot #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines

[spicyseonghwas]

" illusory obsessions " - choi san

pairing :: choi san x male reader genres/au's :: angst, smut, romance, subtle yandere viewer rating :: 18+ ; heavy emotions & sexual content content warnings :: cursing, very rough sex, unprotected sex, degradation, vaguely implied breeding, possessive/slightly yandere!san, sexual masochism, san is in his mid-30s & pretty much 10 years older than reader in the fic (hes 24 irl), the last sentence is a lil bit dark lol network tag :: @preciousillusions-net event :: preciousillusions net's grand opening event! word count :: 1,881 synopsis :: ah, choi san… your best friend since preschool… and the love of your life. but are you the same to him? or are you just a playdate to him?

"ugh," san groaned, "i'm so bored, someone give me something to fuck."

"what the fuck do you mean, 'something to fuck'...?" you asked snippily, looking up from your phone to give your long-time best friend a suspicious, eyebrow-up look.

"what the hell do you think i mean when i say that? i want to fuck, m/n, you dumbass. i want a hole to stick my dick in."

you rolled your eyes, mumbling under your breath thinking san wouldn't hear.

"well maybe i'd give you myself if you'd fuckin' ask nicely."

but quite (un)fortunately for you, san did indeed hear every word you said.

and that was how you ended up in your current situation...

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you screamed, throwing your head back into the thick layer of blankets on san's bed and fisting the blankets as hard as you could in futile efforts to keep yourself from floating up onto cloud nine.

"yeah?" san purred, leaning in and biting your neck as hard as he could as he whispered filthy, possessive nothings into your ear. "you like that, bitch? you like being stuffed full of your best friend's cock, hm?"

he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed as hard as he could, letting loose a low, feral, wolf-like growl into your ear before letting his whole weight fall on top of you so he could fuck you harder.

"well your best friend likes it too, and now you don't get to fuck anyone else!" he said happily.

"fuck, s-san, right there," you whimpered weakly, wrapping your arms and legs around san's waist and shoulders and using all the strength you had left to squeeze as hard as you could in an effort to keep him as close as you could possibly get him to be.

"yeah, slut?" san hissed into your ear, pulling out to the tip before slamming back into you as hard as he could, making sure he was balls-deep inside you and nuzzling into your neck before he continued his beforehand movements of fucking you into oblivion.

"you love my cock so much, puppy, you're taking it so fucking well... you're gonna drive me insane..."

"fuuuck," you groaned, your face turning cherry-red and your eyes rolling back into your head as the tip of san's cock grazed your prostate again.

"f-shit, san, right there-"

san chuckled, deciding to change positions a bit. he pulled out, immediately replacing his cock with three fingers before you could register that you'd lost the feeling of his cock inside you. he wrapped his other hand around your cock and began to stroke it as fast as his wrist would let him whilst he continued to finger-fuck you into the clouds in the outer atmosphere with his fingers.

"such a filthy, slutty little bitch. such a cute little cocksleeve," san snapped, slapping your face- he didn't hit you hard, but he didn't exactly go soft on you either. he made sure to hit you just hard enough to get the cutest, most kitten-like little whimper out of you when you felt the light sting of his hand making contact with your cheek.

your face turned a little bit of a darker, bloodier shade of red when san slapped you, and despite your devout mental pleading with the universe that he didn't notice... he did.

"oh? you like it when i slap you around, you little whore?" san growled, giving you another, slightly softer slap on your cheek when you took a moment to respond- you were quite mentally unavailable at the moment with how hard and fast san's fingers were still fucking into you.

san smirked darkly when his second hit landed, taking his fingers out of your abused hole and reaching up and yanking you up by your hair. he moved you so that you were sitting on his lap, then wrapped his hand around your throat and yanked you closer.

"you said you wanted to try voyeurism, right?" he asked, looking right into your eyes with his dark, lustful, chocolate-colored ones.

you nodded vigorously, doing your dearest to pay full attention to san's words whilst imagining the things he was going to do to you next.

san let himself fall slightly out of character for a moment, a happy giggle escaping his throat as he smiled his shiny white trademark smile at you.

"yeah?" he asked, falling smoothly back into character as he leaned in to give you his next command.

"ride it, bitch." he hissed, "be a good, obedient little cocksleeve for your hyung, and maybe he'll let you suck it later while i talk with wooyoung."

you immediately obeyed san's wishes, taking hold of his cock and carefully sliding down back onto it. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck before starting to move.

"mmmm... fuck," san growled, slapping your ass cheek lightly. "speed up, slut. i'm feeling impatient tonight."

you once again obeyed san's wishes, speeding up the movements of your hips so that you were bouncing up and down quick and hard on his cock, fucking yourself on it like there was no tomorrow.

"you're so cute," san cooed, pulling you closer by your throat and smashing his lips onto yours as hard as he could while his hips started moving to help you keep up with the pace he had set for you.

after all, he wasn't completely heartless.

not completely.

"oh, m/n," he sighed dramatically, moving both hands to your hips to help you fuck yourself a little harder. "you're such a beautiful boy... tearing my heart up like a rabid dog. i love you so much..." he confessed, smiling softly and pulling you as close as he could physically get you while he sped up his thrusts and chasing his high like a starving cat after a plump mouse.

his hand strayed up to hold your chin, and he closed the distance again, pressing his lips to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip with his canines, just hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

"fuck, san, i-i'm getting close-" you whimpered, biting your already-broken bottom lip and licking a little bit of the blood off of the wound.

"cum for me, prince." san whispered, tangling his fingers into the hair on your scalp and yanking it in a tantalizingly slow manner before moving his hand to the hair on the base of your neck and yanking it as hard as he could without any warning to you.

and that one little feeling, that burning sting on the back of your neck, was the last little thing that drove you fully over the edge.

you screamed into san's neck as your orgasm hit you like a ship hitting the beach, biting into his collar to keep yourself from falling too far into the blissful void of feelings that was your orgasm.

"good boy." san said softly, helping you get yourself off of him. then he wrapped his arms around you and let his and your weight fall backward into the bed. he squeezed you as hard as he could. then he turned you carefully over onto your back and beginning to leave little butterfly kisses all over your neck, lips, body, chest, thighs, and forehead in an effort to give you soft feelings to focus on as you came down from your high.

"san?" you asked after a short while.

"yeah?" san replied softly.

"were you telling the truth when you said you love me?" you asked hesitantly, turning over onto your side and looking right into his eyes.

san smiled softly, reaching over and brushing some strands off of your sweaty forehead. his hand strayed to your cheek and his thumb began to softly caress your cheek, which was still slightly red from having been slapped twice earlier.

"of course i love you, darling," san said softly, "truthfully? i always have." he confessed.

"wait, really?" you asked confusedly, "what do you mean, you always have?"

san smiled softly again, his face turning a little red as his eyes strayed away from yours for a split second.

"i've been in love with you since you were eighteen, m/n."

"wait, really??" you said astonishedly, "san, baby, how come you never told me?? you've been in love with me since i was eighteen?? that's like- shit..."

you had to stop talking for a moment, and san just grinned in anticipation, waiting for you to figure it out.

"san..."

"yeah?"

"san, you're... you're thirty-five years old. you literally turned thirty-five, like, two days ago. and i'm almost twenty-five."

"mhmmm... and?" san said, trailing off in an effort to prompt you to figure the rest of it out.

"and.... and so that means you've been in love with me for... HOLY FUCKING-"

and san started laughing.

"SEVEN YEARS??" you shrieked.

"yeah, and??"

"AND- AND?? CHOI SAN, YOU'VE KEPT THIS INFORMATION FROM ME FOR SEVEN YEARS!!"

after san got his breath back enough to answer you coherently, he said,

"and i'd gladly fall in love with you for a thousand more and not tell you until the day you die if you not knowing that information keeps you from loving someone else the way it obviously has this time around."

you had no response for this.

"san..." you started softly, but trailed off; you couldn't find anything to say.

"san, why so long?"

"i just told you, it's so that you'd keep trailing along after me trying to find out whether i loved you back or not, and that would keep you from giving in to someone else's advances." san answered, taking your hand and squeezing it.

"m/n, the thought of you falling in love with another man haunts my dreams, it's the only thing i've had a nightmare about for almost eighteen years. i don't... i want you to love me. i don't want you to love someone else, because i'm afraid that if you do, i'll hurt them out of jealousy, and that'll drive you away."

your heart broke.

"san, i..."

your eyes started to burn, and you screwed them shut as they filled up with tears. you tried to keep them at bay, but san knew this would happen, and he wasn't going to let you continue this self-destructive habit you'd always had of acting tougher than you were. because the thought in his mind might sound sort of sick, and one could rightfully judge him if they thought it so...

but san wanted you to cry.

and no, it wasn't because of some sick fantasy of dacryphilia... no, it was for the sake of your heart, because, you see...

l/n m/n never cried.

and every time you kept yourself from crying, it broke san's already-shattered heart into another ten thousand tiny little pieces. he wanted you to cry. he wanted you to let your walls fall down for a while. he needed you to feel better, because you feeling a little more at peace with yourself would make san hate himself a little less for loving you as long as he had.

it would make him feel a little better about the things he wanted to do to you when you were comfortable with him doing them.

© seonghwas-lighter 2023-2024.

#chase.exe 🌑 #fever.dreams 🌑 #preciousillusionsnet #cacaokpop #k labels #ateez #san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez x male reader #choi san x male reader #ateez smut #ateez x male reader smut #kpop x male reader smut #choi san angst #san x male reader #choi san smut #choi san x male reader angst #ateez x atiny

[nickfowlerrr]

keeping secrets - chapter six

series masterlist / chapter seven

keeping secrets writing playlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ only. mention of light injury. angst. smut. if i’m missing something important pls let me know!

words: 5.7k

notes: things are happening 🫣🫣🫣 enjoy the sweetness while you can lol. please let me know what you think about this chapter! there’s so much more to come. thank you in advance for reading! as always, feedback and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated! 🖤

You let the warm water beat down on you as you stood under the steady stream. Vaguely you were aware you were going to take up all the hot water, but if he really wanted a warm shower, Bucky could wait until morning. He wasn’t the one who’d nearly had their nose broken tonight.

When Bucky had pulled up to the safe house, you made your way straight from the car to the bathroom without a word. You made sure you got the dried blood off your skin and then allowed yourself to sulk as the steam of the shower overtook you.

You didn’t shut the water off until the air became nearly unbreathable. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you soon realized you had neglected to bring a change of clothes with you into the bathroom. You silently cursed yourself before drying off as much as you could.

Rewrapping the towel around you as securely as you could, you cracked the door open to see if Bucky was anywhere around. The door to the bedroom was closed, so you counted yourself lucky as you walked out to the living room without feeling so cautious.

You were leaving water prints in your wake with each step down the hallway, but you didn’t really care. As you spotted your duffle still where you’d left it on the couch, you nearly stopped in your tracks as you recognized Bucky sitting on the couch with a tablet in hand.

You straightened your posture and grabbed more securely the towel around you before you continued forward. His back was to you as you approached and when you rounded the couch to get to your bag, you kept your eyes everywhere but on him.

Your avoidance didn’t stop him from looking at you, though. You felt the weight of his gaze as you moved as quickly as possible to grab your things, practically scurrying away as you refused to meet his eye.

“Bedroom’s yours tonight. I already grabbed my stuff,” he said after you, keeping his eyes on his tablet, willing himself to not turn around to watch you go.

You paused in your retreat only momentarily, debating on whether or not to offer a thank you before you thought better of it and made your way to the room to dress.

Half an hour later you were in your pajamas and if it wasn’t for your stomach growling or the throbbing in your face, you would have happily crashed out.

Instead you got up and walked to the kitchen.

You found Bucky already at the cabinet, eyeing its contents, so you walked to the rickety old fridge instead. You grabbed a cold water and took a drink before holding the bottle to your cheek. The cold felt nice against the soreness. You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the door of the fridge. You could have fallen asleep right then and there.

Bucky watched you intently from across the way. He knew it’d be better to not say anything, to keep to himself and avoid any more needless interactions with you.

It’d certainly be easier, or so he told himself.

Though when he saw the twitch of your cheek and yet another wince take over your face, he couldn’t stop himself. You obviously needed an ice pack and some pain pills and if you weren’t gonna get it for yourself, well, someone had to.

He left the room to get some things and came back to be met with you looking through cans of food where he had just been standing. He walked over to you, he could tell you felt him behind you but you kept your eyes forward, pretending to be enraptured by the selection of canned food before you.

He reached out his hand, touching your arm as you stilled at the contact. Bucky gently turned you to face him and was surprised when you let him without more than just a questioning brow. He took your hand then and dropped the pills into your palm.

“Sit,” he instructed.

You looked at him a moment before slowly walking to the small table and taking a seat. You eyed the pills he’d handed you and offered a small “thanks” before you swallowed them down with a drink of your water.

His attention was unexpected, but…nice. You weren’t sure you liked it, though. It wasn’t necessary.

The cracking of an ice pack had you turning to face him once again as he presented it to you.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you said as you denied the pack.

“Your face says otherwise,” he argued as he urged the ice pack to you again.

“Look, if I wanted one, I would’ve grabbed one, okay? Thanks,” you said, bordering on brutish.

He moved toward you with a roll of his eyes, attempting to touch the pack to your cheek. “Stop acting stupid-,” he started before you quickly cut him off.

“Stop acting like you care,” you said harshly, standing from your seat and taking a step back from him, the scraping of the chair along the floor in your rushed movements loud and disruptive. You took a breath, gathering your bearings as you stood there, eyes trained on the floor. “I just, I don’t want the ice pack, okay?” you spoke quietly, sounding almost defeated. You didn’t want to get into this right now, and you especially didn’t want to get into this with him.

You felt guilty.

You deserved that punch.

You deserved this pain and discomfort.

In fact, it was the least you deserved.

You didn’t register him approaching again until he was nearly right in front of you.

Bucky himself wasn’t even sure why he had gotten closer, it wasn’t even a thought as he took the steps toward you, just something he needed to do.

You were stood across from each other, close but not close enough. A feeling that made you want to hide yourself away from him, knowing that though he probably felt much the same, he wouldn’t do or say a thing about it. You had just been about to turn and head straight for the bedroom until his words broke the discomfort.

“I know it hurts,” he spoke softly after the moment of mounting tension.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, trying to find the right thing to say, not wanting to make your masochistic choice obvious to him, “I’ll live.”

His eyes were burning into you as he watched you. You only met his gaze for a second before you let your eyes flit away, scared of what he’d be able to see.

“Just sit down,” he said, finally looking away. The annoyance in his voice was clear as he spoke.

You watched him go back to the cabinet and grab two cans of something. Your stomach was in a flurry for more than one reason.

“Mission reports are almost done,” he informed you as he emptied the contents of the cans into the pot on the stove.

“Oh,” you breathed, having almost forgotten about them yourself, “good.”

“So the event was just a cover for Sergey’s funeral?” Bucky asked, apparently needing clarification on the details.

“Yeah. Like we knew, they weren’t at all prepared for a change in leadership. They’re still weak, vulnerable. They didn’t want anyone outside the organization knowing he’d passed until they had a new boss,”

“Which should have been Ar-”

“Yup,” you answered, cutting him off before he could get Artem’s name out completely.

He turned, eyeing you at your abrasiveness. You felt him watch for you a second before he turned back to the stove as you fiddled with your hands at the table.

“You think he really left?” he asked, an edge to his voice he couldn’t hide if he’d wanted to.

You took a moment before you answered, “I hope so. But I don’t know.”

You heard him chortle under his breath at your answer, making you cock your head at his response.

“Seems like there’s a lot you don’t know when it comes to him, huh,” his meaning provoking you into a quick response.

“Mission’s over. And even if it wasn’t, it’d still be none of your fucking business,” you said, wanting to end all talk of Artem.

Bucky scoffed with a shake of his head but let it go.

He walked over with two bowls, putting one down in front of you before he surprised you and took a seat at the table.

You were sure he’d leave you to your own devices once the food was done.

You bit your tongue as you measured your breaths and played with your food as the steam rose from the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you began, almost a whisper as you spoke, “I-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky cut you off, not offering anything more as he ate his food.

You looked at him before you looked back to your bowl, taking a bite of your own.

The silence between you grew as you sat, eating quietly until you spoke up again.

“Do you know what time we’re cleared to take off tomorrow?”

“Haven’t been cleared yet. Stark said to check in the morning, but we probably won’t be able to leave until sundown.”

Your eyes rounded at the new information. Another day here? You weren’t sure you could take it.

“When did he say that?”

“An hour or so ago.”

“And you’re just telling me now?”

“You’re just now asking,”

“Doesn’t seem like something I should have to ask for an update on,” you argued.

Bucky’s spoon clattered against his bowl as he picked his head up to look at you, exasperated.

There was a palpable silence as you looked at one another.

“So we’re here for at least another full day.

Alone..

You still don’t wanna talk about this?” you broached. Bucky sniffed before clicking his tongue, avoiding your eye now.

“Nothing to talk about,” he responded as he stood from his seat, taking his bowl to the sink and leaving without another word.

A sardonic titter left your lips unbidden.

You sat there, feeling like an idiot once again for even daring to bring it up.

That familiar sinking in your gut was back and you felt sick. And stupid. Pathetic.

Fuck, and now that throbbing in your face was back, accompanied by a throbbing in your head. If you assessed all of your feelings any deeper, you’d be able to identify the stinging in your heart, too.

You stood up and left your bowl where it was, you could clean it in the morning - god knows you’d have the time.

You went to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly before you planned on crawling into bed and staying there until you were cleared to head home tomorrow.

You rubbed at your eyes threatening to water and refused to cry because of him again.

You were in and out in five minutes. As you opened the bathroom door, you were met with Bucky leaning against the wall, his bag in hand as he waited for his turn.

You staggered a step as his presence caught you off guard. You stared at him a second, sure your eyes were wide and glossy. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what the right words were. He stared back before he eyed the empty bathroom behind you, clearing his throat as he stood up straight.

You stepped out of his way as he moved past you to walk in and then you just stood there a moment as you tried to think of what you wanted to say.

The sound of the door closing behind him broke you out of your stupor as you blinked and you slowly walked to the bedroom.

You sat on the bed, mind still trying to formulate how you wanted to approach him and what exactly you felt you needed to say.

Minutes passed. You heard the rushing of water through the old pipes - on and then off again after some time.

You still weren’t sure what to say. But you needed to say something.

You got up and softly walked back over to the bathroom, building some kind of nerve as you got closer and closer to the door until it suddenly opened and froze you in your path.

Your eyes met a shirtless Bucky with his sweats sitting quite low on his hips.

He raised a brow at you, “Have you just been standing out here the whole time?” he questioned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before you shook your head and stood up straighter.

Your mouth opened and closed before you took a deep breath and met his eye once again. You couldn’t pretend you didn’t see the look of stress on his face as he watched you, a flurry of what you thought might be impatience was growing as he waited for you to finally speak.

You didn’t have the words right in your mind, so when you spoke, you really just blurted out the only thing you had straight.

“We’re soulmates.”

It was a fact that you were stating. You watched him as you took a breath before continuing on, still not exactly sure what you were saying, but you trusted you’d catch up to your mouth eventually.

“We are soulmates. I know you know that. And I- I know you don’t care,” you took a breath before you swallowed hard, “but I..just, uh, I needed to say it. Out loud. To hear it. Because honestly,” you tittered, “it was kind of starting to make me feel a bit crazy, the way we just keep.. Burying it. Pretending it’s not real.. or true, or…” you shook your head, clearing your nerves and thinking, feeling more clearly now as you gazed into the blue tempests Bucky’s eyes held. Not so much anger, but a storm was raging nonetheless. That didn’t stop you, though. If anything it helped you realize what it was you truly needed to say to him right now. “It’s not just gonna go away, you know. And I get it, you’ve made it clear that you don’t want this, you don’t want me, so, whatever.. But I just - I needed to say it and acknowledge it. And you can go back to ignoring my existence after this but can you just.. Please, can you just acknowledge it?”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at each other, but it couldn’t have been more than a second or two. He looked almost pained as he watched you, conflicted.

You waited with baited breath for him to say something, anything.

You weren’t sure why you did it, but you took a small step toward him - some unconscious need to be closer you didn’t even truly recognize until he took a step closer to you. And then another step, and another until you were backed up against the wall of the hallway as he stood before you. You noted your change of breathing as you watched his chest moving up and down, nearly in sync with yours.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to his. You were entirely unsure of what was happening, but at the same time, you knew exactly what you were feeling. And you were sure he felt it, too.

Your eyes fell to his lips as he somehow got even closer to you, your bodies pressed against one another now. His right hand came up to your face, gently holding your cheek as he stared down at you, his lips parting as he leaned down slowly before he tilted your face up just a touch, allowing his lips to brush along yours, feather light, but electric as your skin prickled and you let your eyelids flutter shut.

His hold on your face tightened just a bit and you winced at the pressure on your bruise.

“Sorry,” he breathed as he lightened his touch, his forehead pressing to yours. You shook your head and raised your hands to hold his face in turn, not wanting him to back away. Not wanting this to end.

You were unclear on how exactly you got here, but it felt right. It felt good.

You pulled him to you and pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly, smiling at the minty taste of him as he pressed his tongue to your lips. You obliged him, parting your lips and allowing him access to your mouth as he took his time savoring you, his body pressing closer still as you were flush to the wall behind you.

His left hand fell to your waist before he gripped your hip and brought you closer to him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss, so caught up in the dizzying feeling of his lips on yours, you almost didn’t register the moment he lifted you off your feet, his large hands under your thick thighs, bringing your legs around his waist as he proceeded to walk with you down the hall and into the open bedroom.

There wasn’t much thinking anymore, both of you moving out of pure instinct, running on your desire and longing for one another.

Bucky laid you gently on the bed after breaking the kiss and allowing you to get in a much needed breath.

He pulled his sweats down and rid himself of his underwear while your heated stare stayed on him.

When he met your eyes again, you were amazed at how darkened his gaze was. Unadulterated lust swirling in the torrent blues of his stare, your throat went dry at the sight of him.

He got onto the bed, his movements measured as he crawled on top of you, no words exchanged as you laid further down on the mattress the closer he got. Only the sounds of your breathing and the soft squeaking of the bed could be heard in the quiet of the cabin.

As Bucky’s face was mere inches away from yours, you startled at the feeling of him pulling your shorts down, your hands flying to stop him.

“Wait,” you rushed out as his eyes flicked to yours, his brows furrowed in concern at your sudden change in demeanor. “I just, uhm,” you took a breath, “it’s - it’s been.. A while,” you spoke softly, trying not to let the embarrassment you were feeling slip through your words - though you knew you’d failed as Bucky’s gaze softened, relief flashing over his features as he let his forehead drop to yours. He took your lips in his again as he kissed you gently.

“We’ll go slow,” he assured you as you melted under him. “I’ll take care of you,” he breathed the promise on your lips.

You nodded and let his hands go. Your eyes fell shut as his touch lingered from your hips down your thighs as he pulled your shorts off. You lifted your hips to help him before you sat up a bit, considering yourself a moment before deciding to remove your tank top. Then slowly undoing your bra.

You relaxed back down, now completely bare to each other and were caught off guard by Bucky lowering his head to your tummy, crawling down your body, his lips lingering from down your waist, along your stomach and then on your hip as you sighed, reveling in his affection. He worked his way closer and closer to your sex as you watched him intently until a shuddered gasp left you when his lips brushed over your sensitive clit.

You reached for a pillow to push under you - the urge to lax into the bed not stronger than your desire to watch Bucky as he explored you with his tongue.

You were captivated by his attention, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight of his head between your legs, his strong hold on your thighs tightening with every twitch you gave as his tongue delved between your folds, drinking you in.

Your breathing was ragged as Bucky worked you over torturously slow now, taking his time before he slowly eased one thick finger into your wet and waiting hole - pumping the digit in and out of you as his tongue flicked over your clit incessantly. When he inserted another finger, you let out a sharp moan at the unexpected stretch as he worked you open for him.

The moment his icy blue eyes flicked up to meet your heady gaze, you nearly whimpered at the intensity - not of just his stare, but of everything he was putting you through, everything he was making you feel.

Despite how quick of a turn the night had taken, none of it felt rushed. Bucky really was taking his time with you, noticing every twitch of your thigh under his touch, each time your velvety walls tightened around his fingers, every moan and cry that fell from your perfect lips like an angel’s song to him.

He didn’t ever want to stop hearing those noises. And when he saw the look of pure blissed out pleasure on your face as you watched him take you apart, in that moment he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were always this taken care of.

He’d give you anything you asked for so long as it’d keep you this happy.

This is what you deserved. Pleasure and happiness and complete devotion - and he wanted to be the one to give it to you.

This is what he wanted.

You.

Bucky’s metal hand tightened around your thigh, desperate to feel as much of you as he could while he lost himself in the little heaven he’d found between your legs, your full attention on him and him alone.

Your back arched off the bed as you chased his touch, wanting more, wanting him closer. Breathy mewls leaving you as the salacious sounds of Bucky’s fingers pumping in and out of you meshed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your sex.

A tentative hand reached for his hair, your fingers threading through the damp strands before you tightened your hold a bit, gripping his hair as you urged him on.

You weren’t expecting the deep growl that emanated from him, sending chills through you - the vibrations along your cunt coaxing a whimpered moan from your throat as your eyes screwed shut. You tugged at his hair again before raking your nails along his scalp lightly, stroking his hair as he removed his fingers from you and readjusted his hold on either thigh, pulling you closer to him, delving ever deeper with his skilled tongue before moving to fuck you gently again with his hand. You were close, so fucking close.

Bucky’s tongue was firm against your clit, massaging it as he moved his fingers inside you rhythmically. Another pathetic mewl fell from you as you took a strangled breath, you couldn’t hold it back any longer, not that he wanted you to. Your toes curled as your legs shook from the orgasm that overtook you as you held Bucky closer, his name falling like a prayer from your lips as he refused to let up, your walls clenching down on his fingers as he worked you through the intensity of your climax.

Your thighs threatened to close around his head, but his strong arms kept you open to him as he lapped up everything you had to offer him before he slowly pulled himself off of you.

Your breathing was still quickened as you tried to come down from the high he’d given you, half lidded eyes looking on as he licked his wet, plump lips, his chin glistening with your juices as his large hands smoothed up your plush thighs. The corners of his lips upturned in a smile as he noted the way your body reacted to his touch, and then saw the look of satisfaction mingled with anticipation for more on your pretty face as you watched him.

His head fell to your chest as he crawled up your body, trailing kisses along your skin, up the column of your neck and across your cheek, gently, before he pressed his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself still on his tongue as you wound your fingers in his hair and pulled him down on top of you fully.

You could feel the length of him against you, hot and hard.

Bucky looked at you a moment, his lips soft and parted as he breathed a little harder, his eyes heavy as he gently took your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing over your skin before he leaned in and kissed you - deeper than he’d kissed you before, less restraint as your teeth clicked against one another’s, your tongue swirling around his before he pulled away.

His forehead pressed against yours as he took a breath, “You okay?” he asked softly as he let his hands fall and trail down your body.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “yes, yeah, I-,” you shook your head lightly, “you’re…amazing.”

Bucky breathed a laugh, smiling as he nodded before placing a kiss on your lips, “Good.”

His head was nuzzled in your neck where he left kiss after kiss along your skin while you wrapped your legs around him, your fingers playing in his hair as you sighed at the slight respite.

“Bucky,” you moaned breathily.

Your pussy ached as you felt his cock twitch against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He kissed down your neck and along your chest as his hands fondled your breasts, your nipples hardening under his touch. He took one into his mouth as he sucked on you, the stirring in your cunt growing tenfold under his attention, his hand squeezing your breast before he did the same to the other.

Bucky buried his face between your tits, his hands full as he kneaded them, lightly nipping and sucking, leaving kisses all over your chest as you whined and moaned beneath him, your fingers gripping his hair and emboldening him as you both got lost in the heat of your desire. He wanted to touch you, to feel every inch of your perfect body, to kiss every bit of you he possibly could. But he was getting too ahead of himself. Slow. He needed to go slow.

He pulled away from you, holding himself above you as he panted. “Fuck,” he breathed on an exhale as he gazed down at you. You just looked at one another for a moment, nothing to be said, but so much being told.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised softly, the sincerity in his voice causing your heart to ache as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I need you,” you nearly whispered as you held his eye, his understanding evident.

His gaze wasn’t so icy now - in fact, it was warm as he caressed you, his touch cool on your heated skin.

Bucky reached between you, gripping his cock as he lined himself up to your slick entrance. He was looking into your eyes as he guided himself into you. Your lips parted on an “o” as he stretched you out. He was a lot to take, but having been prepped, your pussy wet and wanting, the burn soon fading into something more pleasurable as he pushed further into you with a groan.

You lost yourself in his heavy gaze, his eyes were dark with need, but you could see the tenderness in the way he looked at you, too. You could feel it in his touch and you were like puddy in his hands.

When he was fully seated inside you, your warm walls tight around his thick shaft, Bucky began rocking into you at a slow and sensual pace, his heavy breaths and moans in your ear as he fucked you - deep strokes, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Your eyes shut as you took a stuttered breath - the feeling of him inside you overwhelming. You felt his lips press against your temple as he rubbed your hip soothingly.

Everything felt so surreal. You’d never imagined Bucky’d be so soft, so gentle. All of his focus was on you and you’d never be able to describe how perfect it felt being seen by him, being loved by him.

In your wildest dreams, you could have never imagined a soulmate connection to be this deep, this strong. You weren’t sure how you handled it before, either of you. Because this, this is impossible to deny. You moved perfectly together, you fit perfectly together. You just made sense.

Everything made sense now.

You hands were on Bucky’s back, urging him closer as he picked up his pace a bit, the sweet noises emanating from him only turning you on more as your pussy clenched around him - a moan of his name met with a pained groan in turn.

You hiked your leg around his waist as he leaned further into you, his weight on you making you feel warm - safe and comforted beneath his strong body as you gave yourself to him and he gave his all to you.

His grip on your thigh as he held you open for him only added to your delight.

As Bucky leaned over you, you pulled him down and crashed your lips into his. When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, his lips just barely apart from yours as you breathed in each other’s air. Your eyes were locked on his as he sent the bed frame thumping against the wall with his every thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the air as you held onto one another.

He kissed you again and you felt yourself edging closer and closer to your next climax, that coil in your lower belly tightening as Bucky’s cock was hitting just the right spots, over and over again making you whimper as you began to plead with him.

“Right there, Bucky,” you praised as your eyes screwed shut. “Oh, fuck,” the curse was a mere whisper under your breath.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” his voice husky through his tight throat.

“Yes,” you eked out, “yes, feels so good. You feel so good,” you cried. “I’m so close, Bucky, I’m gonna come, please, please,” you started to beg as the feeling of him began to be too much for you to handle. You felt like you were on the verge of combustion.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushed you before his lips collided with yours, your cries muffled against his lips as he brought his hand to your clit, swirling tight circles over your bud, leading you to shatter beneath him in mere seconds.

Bucky’s forehead pressed to yours as you felt a stray tear slip from your eye, the orgasm intense and seemingly never ending as he worked you through it.

“Doin’ so good, doll. Feel fuckin’ perfect around me, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect,” his voice strained as he cooed at you. “And you’re mine. Aren’t you?” he prompted.

You nodded your head at him desperately, “‘M yours, Bucky. I’m yours,” you insisted, your voice straining but earnest.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, soft reassurances spilling from his lips as he continued fucking you.

Soon he was a mess of grunts and moans he couldn’t hold back any longer as your walls gripped his cock tightly. “Fuck,” he choked out.

You watched as his face screwed up in pleasure as he let out a cry of his own, his orgasm ripping through him while he emptied himself inside of you, his hold on you tight as ever as he thrust into you once, twice more - holding himself against you for a moment before carefully pulling out.

Your leg slipped down as he gently let you go, his breathing harder than your own as he started to come down.

He rolled off of you as he caught his breath before he turned his head to look at you. You were already staring over at him longingly when he met your eye. You shared a delicate, almost shy smile before he pulled you into him easily, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled into him.

Feeling his spend between your thighs, you realized you should probably clean up before you fell asleep, pulling away from him as he looked at you questioningly.

“Bathroom,” you said softly with a kiss to his cheek as you got up.

It occurred to you as you cleaned yourself off that you and Bucky still needed to talk about everything. You honestly felt on top of the world right now, you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content, so complete. And that was all Bucky. In this moment, you felt truly happy. You smiled softly at yourself in the mirror, lifting a hand to touch your cheek where you still felt Bucky’s touch.

The conversation may be a little heavy, you knew that, but you’d both be better for it. As you reentered the bedroom, though, you found Bucky already under the covers, soft snores escaping him as he slept. You scoffed lightly at the sight of him, shaking your head as you approached the bed to crawl in on the other side.

You couldn’t really blame him for passing out so quickly, you were exhausted, too.

Your talk could wait until tomorrow, you conceded. As good as things felt right now, you knew you’d feel even better once you had everything hashed out with Bucky, and you were both finally on the same page with the same understanding.

As you settled in the bed, Bucky’s metal arm reached out for you, pulling you back into him as you laughed softly at his sleepy need for you. You cuddled into him under the blankets. Peacefulness was never a feeling you experienced often, always so fleeting to you, but right here as you laid in Bucky’s arms, it was the perfect word to describe how you felt.

This was good. No, this was perfect. How could you ever want for more when you had all of this love, when you felt this whole - this happy.

You let yourself relax into Bucky as your eyes fluttered shut.

No way it could get better than this.

#keeping secrets series #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes smut #soft dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky #dark!soulmate au #mean!bucky #curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes

[hollybell51]

It's ok - two

Navigation

Part one

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 7.5K

Summary: you and Adam deal with the aftermath of the pollen debacle

Content: referenced sex pollen and associated dubcon, SMUT, agan maybe a bit of perviness, Adam being down bad, reader being down bad, blowjobs, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's not technically a virgin any more but still kinda is, reader definitely isn't, bit of angst, with a happy ending, getting together, fluff, light dirty talk, praise kink, light body worship, subby Adam, again potential ooc

Notes: this is part 2 so you gotta read part 1 for it to make sense. I hope I fixed the numerous moral issues with part 1's ending lmao also before you come at me for the shower stuff; I'm so white I'm practically reflective, so I do apologise to all my textured-hair girlies for my crimes against you with that... I hope praise kink Adam who loves tits makes up for it. enjoy.

Oh yeah, this is also on my AO3

You woke slowly, swimming up against the gravity of sleep as though it were mud. Your whole body was tingling with a pleasant warmth and heaviness, underpinned by something that wasn’t quite unease, or discomfort, but close enough. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pulled the blanket closer around your neck. Hold on. Blanket? 

You shot upright, cursing as the cool air of the ship’s interior hit your bare skin. Of course. You vaguely remembered the sudden flush of heat that had overcome you, your suit constricting like it was being shrink wrapped to your skin, the incessant throbbing low in your stomach and then between your legs. Everything after that was foggy, as though you were watching a film with a hazy filter, shot through a curtain of water. But you could definitely see Adam’s concerned face close to your own, feel the echo of his hand on your back and on your forehead. And, well, everywhere else. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he’d asked, as if you hadn’t been dreaming about that for months. Hell, you’d been imagining that exact eventuality as you’d frantically gotten yourself off on the floor of the shower. 

Now, you wondered if he was ever going to look at you the same way. It had been quick, hard and rough and you felt bad now for how little thought you’d spared him. You weren’t even really thinking at all, your mind offered. He seemed ok. He came, didn’t he? You felt your cheeks heat at the memory, fuzzy as it was, of his face buried in the crook of your neck, hips jutting up against yours, strong arms wrapped around your waist and your name on his lips. It was better than anything your imagination had ever cooked up, and you were probably racking up some truly awful karma by stowing it away. 

You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed and running a hand through your (mostly) dry hair, fingers catching in the mess of tangles. You were never going to skim information on anything ever again. Actually, screw that, you were never going to go outside again. At least without a full suit and helmet, oxygen tank and air filter included.

The blanket trailed behind you like a grotesque bridal train as you headed for the bridge, bare feet slapping faintly on the cool floors. It had felt nice earlier, but now you wished you’d kept track of your clothes. You’d left your underwear in the shower, hadn’t you? What had happened to your suit? 

The ship was eerily quiet, the bridge deserted but for a pile you didn’t remember leaving on what had been your seat – still swivelled around to face Adam’s for the sole purpose of being able to watch him read the briefing and notes as you packed. 

The pile, as it turned out, was a fresh suit and your underwear, bearing no traces of the frankly ridiculous amount of wetness that had made the walk back so uncomfortable, or shower water. Had he washed them for you? Then dried them, too? Your heart gave a pathetic little jump and twist at the thought. Adam didn’t deserve something like this. Maybe if it had been anyone else you’d have been able to live it down, laugh it off and thank them for the good times, but him? No way in hell. 

You’d felt something towards the newest citizen of Knowhere almost as soon as you’d started really talking to him. He was funny once you’d gotten him to lighten up, and had practically jumped at the opportunity to help repair the damage to the planetoid, even if he’d been the one who caused a lot of it. There was so much genuine curiosity and wonder in him, the painfully obvious desire to do well – which you supposed came from the High Evolutionary and the whole Perfect Man thing – and the fact that he seemed to hang on your every word like it was the gospel… Well, you hadn’t stood a chance. It had only gone downhill from there, and before long you’d been wondering what it would be like to see what constituted the perfect man up close and personal. What would the hands that destroyed so much of your home, and then rebuilt it beside you, feel like on your bare skin? Would your arms fit around those broad shoulders as perfectly as you imagined? Would his lips be as soft as they looked? 

You supposed you knew some of that now. You fit against him perfectly, like you were made for each other. His hands were painfully gentle, and much softer than you’d thought they’d be. You regretted that you hadn’t kissed him more, and done a better job of it. You cringed at the memory of your teeth clashing against his, not an ounce of coordination or forethought. 

He’d been better at it when he’d kissed over your chest, sucked gently at the skin of your breasts. You could see a few faint marks as you did up your suit, far too ill-defined to be called hickeys. Guiltily, you wished you’d gotten him to leave more. 

You were jerked out of that line of thought by something rustling onto the floor. A note, scrawled hastily. 

“Dear (Y/N),” crossed out, then “To (Y/N),” crossed out again, finally just “(Y/N).”

You smiled stupidly. Who knew indecisiveness could be so endearing? 

“I hope you’re ok.” 

“Yep,” you whispered in return. “All fine here.” 

“Sorry I left. I hope you’re not cold. I didn’t want to wake you up so I didn’t dry your hair.” 

God, this man. 

“I washed your clothes for you, but I incinerated the other suit. Sorry. It had pollen on it. Don’t worry, I made sure it’s all gone.” 

You sighed. “Thank you, Adam.” 

“I’ve gone out, but I’ll be back in no more than three hours.” There was time here, too, underlined and in parenthesis. He had about half an hour left. Shit, had you been out that long? Seriously?

The next line started with “I h” but the rest was so heavily crossed out you couldn’t even begin to guess what it said. It was followed by “I hope you’re ok” again, then another bout of heavy censorship before his name. You wondered how he’d originally signed it, but quickly squashed that. Nope. 

“Alright,” you said to the note. You felt a bit stupid checking your surroundings as you folded it and placed it in your pocket, but hey, it might come in handy. For reports or future references or… something. 

How was he being so goddamn nice? A heavy stone of guilt settled in your stomach, along with the distinct sense that he was doing this because he didn’t know better. He was so eager to please, to do good, that he’d probably just assumed fucking you – letting you fuck him was probably a more apt description, actually – was the natural solution to the pollen problem. And yeah, you’d heard the part about dying if you didn’t (which you thought was ridiculous, frankly, and probably said something about humans and their suitability for anywhere outside Earth) but it still didn’t sit right with you. Not even a little. 

Something beeped on the console, the light for the door flashing cheerfully. “He’s back!” it seemed to be saying. “He’s back, he’s back, he’s back!” 

“Yeah, alright,” you muttered, flicking it off. “Think of the devil.” 

“What devil?” 

You jumped. Actually genuinely jumped before you turned towards the voice. “Figure of speech.” 

“Oh,” said Adam, boots thudding dully on the floor as he crossed the space. “Did you sleep ok?” 

“Yeah. Thanks for… this.” You didn’t know what to do with your hands. Fuck, why were your hands so sweaty? And since when had he looked good good in that damn suit? It was ugly on everyone, no matter how pretty they happened to be without it. 

Oblivious to the mini meltdown in your head, as he should be, Adam pulled off his gloves and set them down on his seat with a soft thwump noise. “That’s ok. Sorry I didn’t stay, I didn’t want to disturb you, and then I figured you’d be out for a while, then I thought maybe I should just get it over with since I can…” A pause, a breath, then, “Go out there.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled, “it’s fine. I’d have done the same.” Should you mention the note? No, you decided. It was staying tucked away in your pocket forever. 

He shrugged, then held up his arms. “I didn’t get any on me, by the way.” 

Right, yeah, the pollen. The pollen that had turned you into a goddamn nymphomaniac. You supposed it was going to come up, and better to just bite the bullet, right? 

“Adam,” you started, stepping around your chair to face him. 

His eyes followed every movement, as if he was memorising the way a person walked. Up close, you could make out a faint bronze tinge to his golden face, most likely from the heat outside. You could have studied it for hours. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. It came out quieter than you’d have liked, huskier and less sure of yourself. You forged on. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything, and I just… I…” Deep breath, look him in the eyes. “Thank you. For helping me. I know it’s how the whole ‘saving people’ gig usually goes but… you did. So, uh, thanks.” 

Maybe it was trite. Maybe it was a poor choice of words, but Adam didn’t seem to think so. Very carefully, as though he were afraid of somehow hurting you, he reached out and took your hand. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch as it had been before (after all, why should it have changed?), and just like it had in the shower, his thumb moved in little circles over the back of your hand. 

“It’s alright,” he said, sincere as anyone and only just tinged with something that might have been regret’s cousin. “You didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Yeah, I… yeah.” You couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that escaped you. You didn’t have much of a choice? Carefully, you lifted your gaze from the hypnotic movement of his thumb. It was odd how such a tiny gesture, such a light touch, could suffuse your entire being with such warmth. It wasn’t like the heat from earlier, it was gentle and soft and the fact that you clung so desperately to it probably said more about you than him, but still… “I’m glad it was you, Adam.” 

You could have sworn he stood straighter, and that the lines of his shoulders became less harsh. Maybe it was just the smile he was giving you, genuine and sweet, and wow you’d never felt so undeserving of a damn facial expression. 

He nodded. “I didn’t realise it could feel like that.” Then, at your frown, “Sex, I mean. I didn’t understand why people liked it so much, but now I think I do.” 

Oh. Oh. Right. That bit. Of course you were going to have to talk about that bit too. Looking back, you were pretty sure that you’d have thought absolutely anything was top-notch in the state you were in, and from what you remembered, the actual mechanics of it had been very one-sided. You had, if you were honest, simply fucked yourself on top of him. 

But you were not going to say that. Instead, you snorted and let your hand fall from his. “You’ve been having sex with the wrong people, then.” Not that I’m the right one, or anything. But maybe I could have been.

Adam eyed your hand, then shrugged and turned towards the panel. “I hadn’t had sex with anyone before you,” he said as he unclipped his radio and dropped it onto one of the few free spaces. 

Woah. Woah, hold on, rewind. He what? That was the first time for him? That? The guilt-stone had become a bloody guilt-boulder, and were you being dramatic or had the ship just wobbled? 

“What?” 

He turned back towards you, frowning. “I hadn’t done it before. Are you ok?” 

“Oh God.” 

“What? Is something wrong?” He was back in front of you, hands ghosting over your shoulders and arms as your mind raced. You hadn’t even considered that. Well yeah, you had, in various imagined scenarios and fantasies none of which involved the prospect of your death if you did not have sex with him. 

“Yeah, I–” You took a breath, forcing yourself to look at him. How the hell were you going to explain this? Should you? Would it just make it worse? But no, you owed him this at least. “Adam,” you said as gently as you could, “your first time should be with someone you want, because you want to do it with them. It shouldn’t be to save someone’s life, let alone someone who… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry.” 

He had a firm grip on your shoulders now, and that damned thumb was giving you the comfort treatment there, too. You wondered if he realised he was doing it. “Don’t be,” he said. “I still liked it. And I did want to do it with you. I know it was only me because there’s no one else here, but I still… I still wanted you.” He paused, then, “I just wish it had been you you.” 

Yeah, so did you. But that wasn’t what stuck with you. He’d wanted you. He’d liked it, shit as it had probably been from his end. “You…” You stopped, swallowed. “You wanted me, too?” 

He just nodded, searching your face. The tinge of bronze had deepened to copper. 

“Oh.” 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I think about you a lot. I wondered– wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Touch you, feel you like… like that.” 

Again, all you could manage was a soft “oh,” acutely aware of his closeness, how he filled your vision, the temperature of the ship (which seemed to have risen), and his hands through your clothes. “And?” 

His breath hitched in his chest, and his voice was low when he answered. “I’d have liked to kiss you, stay with you afterwards. Tell you… Tell you that you’re important to me, and I don’t ever want to see you in pain again.” 

You drew your own breath. How could this be happening? This didn’t exist outside your mind. It really shouldn’t even exist in your mind. But you heard yourself speak all the same. “You could. Kiss me, I mean. If you still want to.”

His thumb stilled. “Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded, moving a fraction of a step closer. “I’d like you to.” 

You did not like cliches. You did not like to be trite or banal, but you could have sworn you were living in slow motion as Adam leaned down the few inches between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it was almost chaste. 

You tilted your face towards his before he could pull away, parting your lips ever so slightly, leaning into the warmth at your shoulders. He seemed to get the idea, his hands sliding effortlessly up your neck to cradle your face, fingers caressing your jaw and cheeks, your own hands settling on his wrists. Your heart thudded wildly, and you felt for all the world like a schoolgirl playing truth or dare at a sleepover, a teenager spinning the bottle with the boy you liked sitting across from you, a Guardian of the goddamn Galaxy being touched so gently by the guy you’d ridden six ways into next week not three hours ago. 

You pulled back first, but barely. “I didn’t do a very good job of this before, did I?”

“It wasn’t too bad. Not what I expected.” You could feel the words on your skin, your face so close to his that his features were slightly blurred. His breath was warm against your lips. 

“Mm,” you sighed, “that’s not usually how it goes.” 

“Oh. Ok then.” He dipped back down momentarily, pulling away just as fast. “I like this a lot better.” 

“Me too,” you smiled, stretching up to kiss him again. This was firmer, more direct. This time his lips were parted too, and he gave a pleased little hum when you moved against him. You let go of his wrists, mourning the loss of his hands on your face for a moment before you mimicked the position, pulling him closer to you. He was good at this, and you vaguely wondered if it was just the sex part that was new to him. His hands had settled at your waist, holding you steady and he hummed into your mouth, a sound that you could have listened to forever. 

“I wanted this for so long, Adam,” you murmured between kisses. “I thought about you too, you know.” 

“(Y/N)...” Adam paused, raising a hand to press against your forehead. 

You just smiled, pressing into his touch. “It’s all me, don’t worry.” 

He nodded, following your lead as your tongue slipped along his lip, a tiny moan caught between his mouth and yours when you slid it alongside his. He tasted like the falsely sweet nutritious bars you never seemed to run out of, warm and smooth and so soft. How could a person’s mouth be that soft? Now you really felt bad for the borderline assault you’d launched on it earlier. 

You’d ended up with your hands on his shoulders, half bracing yourself and half mapping out the contours of his upper arms, neck, collar and chest. Your fingers slid easily through his hair where it brushed his neck, dipping occasionally under the high collar. You needed to get someone onto redesigning those. 

He was holding you so close you wondered if he was trying to somehow pull you into him, his grip firm and decisive on your hips. Carefully, experimentally, you pushed your pelvis against his, a bolt of heat shooting through you at the hardness already growing there. He cursed, muffled by the fact that his tongue was in your mouth, welcome as anything he was giving you. 

“Is this–?” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back enough to look at you. He was really flushed now, lips swollen and so, so pretty, eyes bright with want. “Yes, (Y/N).” 

“Are you sure? No lives on the line here.” 

He smiled, stroking your hip gently. “I’m sure.”

“Ok.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the bed you’d woken in, your steps sure and determined. He sat, as he had before, watching you expectantly. You considered simply shedding your clothes and letting him take the lead. Maybe you could sit on his lap and jerk him off, show him how to touch you. Maybe. 

“Can I?” you asked as you stood between his legs, fingers toying with the fastenings of his clothes.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to?” 

Again, “yes.” 

You smiled, running your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta help me out.” 

“Mhm.” He nodded, kissing your palm before reaching up to peel off the suit, rolling the material smoothly down his arms, his chest, letting it bunch at his hips.

This was not the first time you’d seen him without a shirt. There’d been the aftermath of the face-off with the High Evolutionary, for one, and you definitely remembered stripping him before. A few moments where he or you had entered the other’s space as he’d been pulling a shirt on or a suit up, nothing more than a glimpse of midasian shoulders, the ripple of a smooth back, the hint of a belt of muscle. You’d carefully stowed every inch of gleaming gold in the deepest recesses of your mind. 

Now you could touch, too. You bent to kiss him as your fingers curled around the ball of his shoulder, revelling in the little sigh he gave when you dragged your hand down to his sternum. His heart thudded under your palm, and you swore you could feel the warm rush of his blood beneath his skin as you slid your touch sideways, your hand now splayed over his ribs. 

He whispered your name as you moved your kisses to his jaw, still soft, gradually trailing down his neck. Goosebumps prickled under your hand when your tongue brushed his skin, the sharp rush of his breath stirring your hair when you sucked ever so lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Lower, over his heart, tiny bronze marks standing out against the smooth gold. You felt the skin of his stomach twitch as your fingers met the waistband of his underwear, and you paused. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him. 

“Yes.” His eyes were closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen anything so beautiful. 

“This?” You slipped your hand under the material, tracing the deep v of his pelvis.

“(Y/N), please–” 

Oh wow. The too-tight, too-hot feeling was back, only this time its cause wasn’t sprinkled all over you. He was looking at you like you were an oxygen tank and he was drowning, and how could you ever have said no to that? 

“I can’t do it all by myself,” you smiled, pulling at the bunched and folded material circling his waist, “you gonna help out?” 

He assured you he was, lifting his hips and kicking his pants down to his ankles. It was then that you both realised he still had his boots on. He cursed softly, apologised, bent to unlace them before your hands on his stopped him. You knew what you were doing now, and exactly where you were going. 

“Let me?” you said as you knelt between his legs, your fingers already at work. 

“Oh,” he whispered as he watched you. “(Y/N), you don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” you replied simply. “I wanna take care of you, Adam. Can I?” 

“Yes.” It was a sigh, and his eyes when you met them were so full of what could only be described as awe that you wondered if he’d actually heard you. You ran your hands up his muscular thighs, wriggling closer to the edge of the bed, forcing his legs further apart. You bent, laying a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses across his stomach, marvelling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin, the faint tang of sweat and something else that was distinctly Adam. 

“You took care of me,” you whispered as you pulled off his underwear. “I wanna return the favour.”

He was hard, you’d felt – and seen – that much already. What you hadn’t seen, and had failed to even consider in any detail, was that his dick would be – that any dick could be – so damn pretty. It was metallic as the rest of him, ample as you’d felt earlier, flushed copper and fuck you wanted to put it in your mouth right now. 

“Is…” He paused, breathing hard. “Is that ok?” 

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Yeah, Adam, you’re perfect. You’re just… You’re perfect.” 

He sighed again, this time with something close to relief. “Oh. Ok. That’s… That’s good. Thank you.” 

“Can I touch you?” You’d already touched him practically everywhere else, and had done a little earlier, so you didn’t expect that moan that slipped from him. 

“Yes, please,” he breathed. “Please, (Y/N), go ahead.” 

Go ahead, whispered into your neck before you’d sunk down on that dick. So of course, you spat into your hand and wrapped your fingers around him, moving your hand gently to coat the whole thing in moisture. Adam’s thigh tensed under your free hand, his breath catching in his chest. You watched his face carefully as you found a rhythm, mapping every vein and curve, the swell of the head, the wet slit which you slid your thumb over – making his hips jerk ever so slightly into your grip. 

“So beautiful,” you whispered as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect, Adam. How’d I get so lucky? What’d I ever do to deserve you?” 

Your name was little more than a sharp intake of breath, and you smiled as you continued your movements. His hand slid up to your hair, around the back of your neck, fingers dipping under the collar of your suit. “Your clothes,” he said softly. 

“Off?” You paused, relishing in the feel of his hand on you. It had been magnified thousand-fold earlier, every brush of his skin lighting you on fire. This was less severe, though not by much. 

“Mhm.” 

“Ok.” You turned your head, kissing his hand before it slipped from you as you stood. You were less graceful than Adam was in undressing, and you knew you were no stripper, but his eyes still followed every movement raptly, as though he were memorising every inch of skin you revealed. You kicked your suit aside, stepping back into place between his legs as you cast off your bra. 

Adam’s hands were quick to settle on your hips, dipping under the waistband of your underwear. “Do you want help with this, too?” 

“Yes,” you smiled as you brought your hands to his hair. You’d vaguely noticed that it was softer than you’d expected, and didn’t catch easily between your fingers, but that he’d seemed to like it when you’d pulled it a little. You could explore that more later, you supposed, too focussed on the way he slid the garment down over your thighs to pool at your feet. He hummed quietly as you continued to card through his hair, fingers stroking his scalp gently. 

You followed his movement as he ducked lower, sucking a harsh breath through your teeth when you felt him kiss your hip bone, his tongue warm and silken. He did again, his moan soft moan when your fingers involuntarily tightened in his hair stifled by your pelvis. He was copying you, you realised, giving you a belt of kisses just like you’d done to him. Except he was moving lower now, becoming sloppier, gently sucking every now and then. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked softly, frowning down at him. 

“I want to taste you,” he murmured, not raising his head. “Want to make you feel good.” 

Oh God. This man, you thought for the second time and certainly not the last. You laughed, the growing heat in your gut throbbing indignantly as you pulled him gently away. He pressed his cheek into your hand again as you let it fall from his hair, his brow pinched in confusion. 

“Next time,” you told him, “ok?” Then, “And you already made me feel good. You fucked me so good it saved my life. Now it’s my turn, hm?” 

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then the confusion cleared and he nodded, turning his head to kiss your wrist. He didn’t break eye contact as you knelt once more, rubbing your hands over his thighs again, up to his hips where you caressed the little belt of copper marks. You matched now. How cute. 

You leaned forwards, kissing the spot where his leg met his body. If you turned your head just an inch, your mouth would be on his cock. It was hot to the touch, still wet with your makeshitft lube, still flushed deep bronze, now beaded with precum at the tip. 

You looked up, meeting his eyes. “You tell me if you wanna stop, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

That was all you needed. You licked up the shaft, ignoring the twitch of his hips and the sharp gasp it conjured. He moaned – really moaned – when your lips closed over the head, then again, louder, as you relaxed your mouth and sank down on him. What didn’t fit in your mouth was taken care of by the hand that wasn’t holding his hips down, not that you’d be able to do much if he decided to face fuck you. 

“(Y/N),” he panted, “oh my– (Y/N).” 

“Good?” you mumbled, though it sounded nothing like the word. He seemed to get the idea. 

“Yes, yes it’s– you’re– Oh!” 

You’d sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks and sliding your head down as far as you could. You drew back, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before you did again. And again, and again. 

He groaned your name as you sped up, hand moving in tandem with your mouth, hot and heavy against your tongue. His hand had found its way to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting on the back of your head as you practically swallowed his dick. 

You’d never had a problem giving head. Liked it, sure, if the guy was nice, but you hadn’t loved it, and had never understood people who did. Now, as Adam cursed and whispered your name, all of it liberally punctuated by stilted moans and the occasional whine or grunt, you thought you got it. The idea that it was you doing that to him, you and you alone teasing forth those heady noises and making his body twitch and jerk like that… You could happily get on your knees for him every day of the rest of your life if this was what it was like every time. 

You breathed deeply through your nose, the warm, sweet and very Adam smell of him managing somehow to overpower the ever growing mess of spit and a little sweat your hand was sliding through. Maybe with anyone else it would have been gross, but here it only forced your own soft moan before trickling to join the wetness growing between your legs. Earlier, as your mind had cleared, right as Adam had been lifting you off his lap, you’d decided that you never wanted to be aroused ever again. You were very happy that wish hadn’t come true as you squeezed your thighs together, eager for any friction you could get. 

You could taste the saltiness of his precum at the back of your throat, feel the throb of his cock on your tongue as you relaxed even further, taking him deeper than you’d tried before. You prayed you weren’t about to make yourself throw up on him. 

“(Y/N),” he choked, thumb rubbing tiny circles where it rested in your hair. That was going to be a bitch to untangle. 

“Hm?” 

“You’re so–” He broke off as you sucked hard, the muscles of his thighs and stomach tensing. “Ah, you’re so beautiful. So soft, you’re so… Oh, (Y/N)--” 

You’d sped up at the praise, fuelled by the tiny, restrained thrusts into your mouth and the tightening of his hand in your hair. He was close, you could feel it, and you wanted nothing more than to make him cum in your mouth.

“So much,” he groaned. “It’s so… so much, I–” 

You squeezed gently at his thigh, a silent reassurance. He’d cum before – in you, no less – but maybe you should have started with something that you could talk to him through. You could have used your hand and told him that it was ok, that he was doing well, while you kissed him and he made all those beautiful noises against your lips. Hell, you could have gone straight to the ninth yard and let him fill you up again, given him control. 

Too late now, you supposed. His cock twitched, hips stuttering, whole body tensing. You squeezed his thigh again, I’ve got you, it’s alright, as he groaned deeply. His chest heaved, head tipped back as he came down your throat, hot and thick and salty. You didn’t stop your movements, hand and mouth working him through his high until there was no more. You pulled back and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently licked away the mess of your own spit coating him. 

You sat back on your heels, hand still resting on his shaking leg, and took him in. He shone with more than his usual iridescence, a sheen of sweat clinging to his torso, some pieces of hair sticking to his forehead, face and neck flushed so prettily, breath still coming hard and fast. You’d done that. You’d made him look like that. You were responsible for the pure, raw pleasure painted in every line of his being. 

“That was…” He broke off, swallowing hard before opening his eyes. He blinked, looked down at you on the floor, smiled. “That was incredible.” 

You smiled back, taking his hands in both your own. “You taste fucking divine,” you whispered as you kissed his knuckles. “And you did so well.” 

You couldn’t tell past the orgasm-glow, but you thought he might have blushed. “You’re so… so beautiful, (Y/N),” he repeated. “And so warm, and soft, I–” 

Now you were blushing, heat rolling up your neck, over your cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” you said softly as you stood, leaning down to press your lips against his. They immediately parted, tongue sliding beside your own, eager and exploratory. You shivered as his hands came to rest on your hips once more, pulling you closer as he shuffled backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. 

“Adam,” you murmured, still bent over him. 

He tried to pull you closer still, gently, but still insistent. “What?” 

You tried not to laugh at the hint of frustration in his voice. “Bed’s in the way. I can’t get any closer.” 

“Yes you can.” He broke away, frowning. “Just sit on me.” 

“Sit on you?” You glanced at his lap, back up again, raising your eyebrows. Did you hear that right? 

“Yes. Sit on me.” He pulled again, and you were struck suddenly by the realisation that he really didn’t have to ask – or tell – you to do anything. If he wanted you on top of him that badly, he could easily pick you up and place you there without breaking a sweat. Hell, he could throw you across the room if he really got the urge. But he wasn’t forcing you. Even the pressure on your hips was gentle enough that you could have pulled away any time you wanted. 

“Ok,” you smiled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you knelt over his thighs. 

“You can relax,” he urged, his hands running down over your hips to your thighs, back up again and over your waist, around to your back. His arms circled you, head bent as he mouthed at your neck. “Don’t have to hold yourself up.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok.” You relaxed your legs, sinking down to rest atop his. He hadn’t stopped the attention he was giving to your neck, nosing your hair aside to kiss under your ear, along the hollow of your jaw, over your jugular, right across the tendons at the base of your throat. You tipped your head back for him, sighing in satisfaction as you ran your hand through his hair. His palms were warm where they pressed into your back, his chest and stomach smooth against your own. 

“Closer,” he whispered under your ear, pushing you further up his legs. 

You shifted, your stomach backflipping as your pelvis met his. He hummed into your skin, pressing you harder against himself, his cock hard again and hot where it lay between your bodies. His mouth had moved lower, to your breasts, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin just as gently as he’d done to your neck. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you breathed, rocking your hips. 

“Hm, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smiled at that. “You won’t, I promise. I wanna see this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and maybe even the day after that, too.” 

You felt him nod, and then moaned because yes he was really using his mouth now. His teeth grazed your skin as he sucked a dark mark just below your collar bone, soothing it quickly with his tongue. He looked up at you momentarily for approval, and at your smile, bent again to repeat it. Yep, you were going to be seeing those for a while. 

“Adam,” you gasped as he stooped lower, leaving a trail of wet hickeys down the centre of your chest. 

“Hm?”

“I know I was kind of – oh – in control last time,” you started, biting your lip as he turned his attention to your breast. “Do you want – fuck, yes – to try being in charge?” 

“No,” he said after a pause. He looked up, hand ghosting up your side to stroke a particularly large and dark hickey. “I liked it.” 

That wasn’t what you’d been expecting. He was always so happy to go along with whatever everyone else was doing, which you supposed was another side effect of Sovereign upbringing, you’d assumed he might like to take the lead. He seemed to be having an excellent time exploring your body at his leisure. 

“Ok then,” you smiled as you ground against him. “Do you want me to do it again?” 

“Yes.” His breathing was heavy as he nodded. “Please, (Y/N).” 

“Ok.” You reached down, taking his cock in your hand. “Ready?” 

He broke away from your chest, looking up at you like you’d hung the bloody stars. His hand joined yours as he closed the distance, kissing you softly at first, then with less coordination as you lined him up and sank down, sighing against his lips. His fingers gripped your thigh, tight enough that you wondered if they were leaving marks, a deep groan echoing through the space between you. 

“Alright?” you murmured, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. 

“Alright,” he echoed. He stroked up your leg, under the back of your thigh, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your ass and lifting you. You wondered if he was trying to get you off him for a second, then he was lowering you back onto himself and it clicked. 

“Like this?” you asked, rocking your hips over his. God, he fit so perfectly, it was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. How had you glossed over that the first time? 

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “(Y/N), you’re– yes, like that.” 

You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you as you practically whined, steadying yourself against his shoulders just as you had before. His arm was around your waist, holding you close as you lifted and lowered your hips, your chest brushing his with every movement. 

His lips had returned to your neck, warm and soft. “Is this good?” he asked as he sucked at the as yet unmarked skin there. “For you?” 

Wow, you were ruined for anyone else. “So good, Adam,” you whispered, running your hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck. “You feel so fucking good.” 

He groaned deep in his chest, his hips jerking up into yours. And oh if that didn’t turn you on more than you already were. Just your words could have that effect on him. Eight little words and your touch, and he did that. The power was intoxicating. 

“What you do to me,” he was saying, guiding your movements. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

“Yeah?” You slid one hand down, trailing over his chest and stomach before finding the mess of heat and slick and sweat where your body met his. Your fingers danced over your clit, a sharp hiss of air between your teeth. 

“No idea,” he repeated, the words gliding over your skin like water. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, “fuck, Adam. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

You felt him smile. “Hm?” 

“You feel fucking amazing,” you hissed past the steady pleasure-ache of his cock hitting that place deep inside you, your fingers on your clit. It was building with every slap of your hips against his, hot and tight. 

“Oh, (Y/N)--” 

“Love feeling you fill me up,” you continued. “Dreamed about what it’d be like.” 

“What is it like?” 

“Like – fuck, Adam – it’s like fucking Heaven, I swear–” 

He groaned your name again, desperate and God, you were so close. 

“You look like Heaven,” you panted, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back. You searched his face past the pleasure-haze already clouding your vision, dipping down to kiss him hard. It was as messy as the first not-quite-kiss had been, all tongue and breath and your whispered “so fucking pretty” as you licked into his mouth. 

“So are you,” he managed, hands kneading at the soft skin of your waist and hips, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 

“Love hearing you say my name,” you went on, your fingers working harder and faster. “All those sounds you make, so perfect–” 

“(Y/N).” He said it like a prayer, like an incantation, and if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard, you didn’t know what was. 

“Gonna make me cum, Adam holy shit–” 

He thrust harder up into you, lips fastened to the hollow under your jaw, moving you hard and fast against himself. “Yes, do it, cum on me,” he babbled. “Let me make you feel good.” 

That did it. The bomb of pleasure inside you exploded, fizzing out though your legs as you spasmed around him, a desperate cry of his name torn from you. You held him tight, fingers twisting in his hair, half conscious of his own litany of curses and praises and your name repeated throughout as he continued to move your boneless body. He spilled hot inside you, and when you finally regained control of your mind, he was breathing hard against your chest and shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair. 

“Yes,” he nodded. His grip on you had loosened considerably, his hands roaming soothingly up and down your back. “Are you?” 

You sighed, then laughed as you drew back. His brow furrowed as you held his face between your hands. “Am I alright?” you echoed incredulously. “Adam, you are amazing.” 

The frown deepened. “So… yes?” 

“Yes.” You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. This kiss was gentle, slow and thorough, and he smiled at you when you parted. “Will you stay this time?” you asked.

“Yes.” Then, “Can I clean you up again?” 

“Yes.” You sighed as he effortlessly shifted you off himself, setting you gently on the bed. You could feel his cum leaking slowly out of you, the air cool against your sweat, his spit still on your skin, and the mess of arousal around your crotch. He wasn’t in any better shape, really, but still he moved with ease and grace towards the doorway, returning in record time with a damp cloth. 

Something inside you ached with how gentle he was. Thorough, but he drew away at the slightest hint of discomfort. He’d done this before, you supposed, when you’d been asleep. You remembered him telling you he was going to clean you up, had heard his footsteps retreating, but had dozed off before he’d returned. Still, you’d woken up relatively clean, and there’d been the blanket, too. If it had been anyone else the thought would have made you feel violated, perhaps, but not with him. With him it made your heart melt.

“Let me,” you said softly when he’d finished, taking the cloth and wiping at the mess around his crotch with a clean portion. You tossed the cloth aside when you were done, shuffling backwards, pulling him to lie with you. It took some wriggling, but eventually you settled face to face under the blanket, his arm draped over your ribs, fingers toying with the hair at the back of your head, your own hand splayed over his heart. 

“I meant it,” he said softly. “What I said before.” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re important to me.” Although the bronze had faded from his face, leaving it the shining gold you were used to, his lips were still slightly swollen, his eyes bright. In the dimness of the corner of the room, with the light behind him, he seemed to glow. 

“Oh,” you smiled, then sighed as you shifted barely an inch closer “You’re important to me too, Adam.” 

He leaned forward over the tiny gap, kissing your lips ever so gently. “Can we… do this again? When we’re back?” 

“Yeah. I’d like to.” You paused, taking your turn to kiss him. “I like being with you,” you whispered as you pulled away. 

Adam smiled. His hand flattening against your shoulder blades, he pulled you in against his chest. His skin was so warm, and you could hear his heart beating, feel his breathing. 

“I like being with you, too.” 

Note: I feel like this wasn't quite up to par with what I've written in the past, and I'm genuinely not sure why or how I can fix it. I've re-read both of these like five times now (after finishing them) and have edited them endlessly, but I just can't seem to make them feel right. Anyone else every get that? Either way, hope you guys enjoyed these x

#adam warlock #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #mcu #marvel #gotg3 #gotg vol 3 #fanfiction #fanfic #shameless smut #smut

[ink-sunflower]

A token of servitude (Sukuna x Reader)

No spoilers Words: 1095 Warning: yeah, it’s a sukuna ff after all, so there might be present some violents, dark content (though not something too much)

Summary: Reader travels to Heian age and meets Sukuna

✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧

Time is a thread with innumerable beads that are brimmed with life occurrences. It’s like a jewellery, and the treasure of it can never be purchased by a mortal. But in the world of jujutsu sorcerers, curse users and curses, one doesn't seem so unattainable.

My curse technique allows me to perceive the priceless jewellery of time. I’m called the Time Walker, but the comprehension of my ability is vague. Even I can’t be sure about how my powers work.

But one thing I know for sure: the beads of the past are unalterable and do not yield to forging. Therefore, we cannot change it. The outcome we encounter in the present is a sequence of actions taken from the past. Meaning, even my ability of travelling within the thread of time can do nothing to the formed beads. The future though is flexible. Obtained knowledge help reach the desirable result.

My master has burdened me with a glorious purpose. I have to go to Heian era to find the sword of the Damned. The blade of the weapon is so sharp that it cut everything. Even in Heian period it was lost somewhere. And my task is to find that place.

One being was seeking it. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Just his name brings fear. The powerful and the cruel being whose name alone is enough to make people tremble with fear.

One thousand is a significant number to pass. Yet it’s the least obstacle.

So my life brought me here. One moment, in the midst of busy streets. But after my eyes has falls shut and curse energy has started flowing through my vanes, the world started shifting. It takes no time in a basic understanding of the phenomenon. For me, though, it’s different. I can’t count time spending walking on the thread, calculating the right among of beads to bypass. Time as a measurable unit looses its senses here.

And after nothing but everything, a warmth of sun rays combined with placating breeze welcome me in an old era.

Feeling a bit drowsy, I spend some time sitting on the ground, unmindful of the outside world.

My state of was interrupted by a rustle of glass. I decipher a pair of human beings coming to this area.

Deciding not to reveal myself to them, I take a place to hide.

Now that they’ve become closer, I am able to discern the essence of their conversation.

“Do you think the rumours are truthful?” One of them babbles.

“Of course they are. He’s tall and monstrous. Thought some women would die to spend a night with him. Perhaps, If we are lucky, we’ll find one willing one,” the other replies. “Lord Sukuna rewards handsomely for nice offerings, brother.”

“And maybe we can have fun before handing her.”

Disgusting. Those pigs are not better ones from Zenin clan. But they can be of use. I think it’s time for a show.

“Help me! Somebody, please!” I yell, falling down to the ground. This got they attention immediately as they run to me. “Something was haunting me!”

They took a look around the forest but obviously find nothing suspicious. That makes two brothers glee thereof, they share a malicious grimace. One brother takes a rope to bound the prize and present it to the King of Curses like a toy enclosed with a ribbon.

“The luck is on our side today, brother.” And they have never been more wrong.

That’s what I need – to make them think of a prey that they have caught. A nameless face to give away as a some trinket. I give them something more to gloat: purity, so they think of me as even more worthy price.

I do not need my eyes to know that we’ve arrived to Sukuna’s shrine (or temple, whatever it is). An overwhelmingly magnificent and ominous energy emits from the walls, the power of which makes you suffocate on its presence.

Inside the shrine, I can behold the King himself.

There he is, sitting on his throne, his posture is confident and chin is high. Sukuna’s pink spiked hair slightly pushed upfront and black lines adorn his face and mighty body. The drawing in old books capture nothing of the real image.

For a second, a small second, my gaze is caged within his eyes. A bolt of emotions strikes though me, causing goosebumps to form on my skin. Was it dread or rather… excitement? I feel something that draws me in, something more subtle and complex.

A monstrous entity with four arms says nothing, but a predatory smirk appears, unrevealing his fangs.

Perhaps my boldness amuses him. I’m grateful to still have my head.

Two men pushes me to the ground, kneeling before the King. They’re forcing me to bend so low, that my forehead meets the ground.

My cue to act.

Breaking the robes with the help of mu cursed energy, I do not give them time to comprehend a single thought and seize their flabbergasted state to take care of brothers. With a swift motion, I punch them into their snouts of faces, making them land hard on their backs.

The smallest of them is knocked out within the first attempt, the other is tougher, it seems. He tries to stand up and blow a hit, but with a kick in the stomach, he ends up on the floor once again.

It is not enough for my satisfaction. The person does not deserve mercy.

Even though he knew he couldn’t have something in intimate senses in order not to stain his prize, it did not deter his hands from inappropriate touches. But I had to play a part, so I held back. I could tell, it was nothing new to the brothers, to treat women like this, and their misogynistic conversations made it difficult not to throw up.

I can pay back now.

With strong determination, I lift my leg and deliver a straight hit on his “valuable” part between his legs. A loud screech thunders though the walls. (🐣 An omelette is ready to be cooked)

The curtains close and I kneel before Sukuna. He exudes a powerful and sinister aura, just looking at him gives me a mixed feeling of awe and terror.

“My Lord, may I present you my offerings, these two fine pigs.”

Sukuna cackles wickedly, his deep voice rumbles, leaving a ringing in my ears. It flows effortlessly and enchants to listen to it.

“Well, that’s quite intriguing. Let’s see what else you have in you.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。

How was it? Should I continue writing the story?

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x oc #sukuna fanfic

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Title board created by the amazing @mochie85!

Lesson One

You’re given a chance to prove yourself when Loki of Asgard decides to be your mentor in magic. However, New Asgard doesn’t exactly give you much assurance, and you aren’t sure how you feel about Loki’s “teaching methods.”

**MASTERLIST HERE** Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

The Asgardian was the strangest one of all, but something inside you wanted to trust him all the same. 

You’d anticipated Fury to visit you again at noon, as he’d promised. However, Loki, God of Tricks, had found you instead. Having heard enough about his past adventures, both tearing apart the Earth and saving it, you weren’t sure what to think, now that the legend stood before you in the flesh. 

Honestly, you’d expected someone more intense. For someone who ruined a city, and had gone toe-to-toe with the God of Thunder multiple times over, Loki wore a studious look on his face, clearly fascinated by you, and also concerned. He didn’t speak with the boastful grandeur of someone of his caliber. He didn’t mock or taunt. He looked only slightly more intimidating than the average human. 

Instead, he sat on the other side of the glass, by you, and greeted you with a simple, “They’re terrible, aren’t they?”

You turned your head, looking into his blue eyes until the focus from them made you feel uncomfortable, as if he were undressing you, or at least trying to see through you. 

“You can fear me if you want, but I have good news for you,” he mentioned, smiling gently. 

You looked at him again, and thoughtlessly uttered a hopeful, “what?”

Loki’s smile grew. “She does have a voice, after all!” 

You felt your cheeks go hot. 

The god before you spoke again. “Next week, you and I will be leaving here. I have been given leave to help you.” 

You wished he wasn’t being so vague. “How?”

He took a breath. “For the next year, I will be training you in New Asgard, to help you control your magic.” 

Shaking your head and turning away again, you mumbled, “It’s not magic. It’s a curse.”

Nodding, Loki nearly chuckled. “We all feel that way from time to time, I must admit.” 

“You know nothing about me, or this,” you replied, bringing up a gloved hand, slowly peeling it off. 

“The fundamentals of magic are the same, no matter where it comes from,” Loki assured you. “All magic can be controlled. All magic can be strengthened. All magic is controlled through willpower.” 

“It’s not the same, I try, I really try!” You felt the emotion in your voice rise. “The only thing that lets me go into society safely are these!” you said, tossing the glove at Loki’s face, who didn’t flinch, knowing the wall was still between you. 

“Indeed, I noticed those. They will be coming off when we arrive, of course,” he said, as if it were fact. 

You shook your head vigorously, snatching up the glove and putting it on again. “Never. Its too risky.”

Loki’s voice grew stern. “You will if you want to learn!”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Why won’t you try?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO KILL AGAIN!”

Your outburst sent Loki leaning back in surprise, blinking. You growled at him, frustrated. “YOU may be fine with murder, but I’m certainly not! I don’t take this lightly. I can’t just go off to Hogwarts to stop this or make it better!”

Loki scoffed. “First of all, you’ll hardly find New Asgard to be that Hogwash place. It’s a bit…rustic.” 

“I don't care.”

“Secondly, Y/N, in case you forgot, I have already atoned for my wrongdoings by saving your entire world from a titan. I would thank you to stop defining me by my past, especially after I was the one to convince Fury to give you this chance to prove yourself.” 

This last sentence gave you pause. “But, why would you do that? You don't know me.” 

“A sad truth that will be remedied once we arrive,” Loki answered. “I won’t give you every detail, for they aren’t relevant. Just know that I once sat in a very similar cage, with everyone looking at me as if I were on display for their amusement like an animal. They never asked if I was truly the monster, for if they did, they would have learned that I was only performing the will of the puppetmaster, who tortured me for endless days until I bowed before him. These people aren’t exactly wonderful listeners.” 

Everything about Loki’s explanation felt sincere to you. 

“Perhaps I just didn’t want to be partially responsible for it happening to another, even if just by allowing it.” 

You bit your lip, finally sighing and nodding. “I suppose I have no option.”

“Oh, you do, and perhaps it would endear you to Fury to refuse,” suggested Loki. “But there is one other thing you must know, Y/N. S.H.I.E.L.D. will be watching us both. If we fail, our lives may be at risk.” 

“I was told as much,” you replied softly, feeling a chill go down your spine. “Wonderful to hear it twice in the same day. You’re such gracious hosts.” 

Loki smiled. “I enjoy a bit of cheek,” he said, winking. “Living with you for the next year may be more interesting than even I’d anticipated.” 

You couldn’t help but return his smile with one of your own. You didn’t realize how stiff your facial muscles had become for lack of smiling or speech for the past two days. 

“Maybe so,” you replied.

“There’s a girl,” Loki said sweetly, gently tapping the glass with his index finger. “If you can hold on in this cell for a few days while they prepare for our trip, we will leave the day after the New Year.”

Flying made you sick, even in the quinjet. You spent the entire ride with your face in a plastic bucket, insisting that Loki stay at the far end of the craft, looking away from you as you heaved pathetically. 

Looking mockingly at Fury, still riding high on his triumphant proposal, Loki said, “This is who you are so afraid of?”

“Watch it,” was the only answer he received. 

After the endless trip, you touched down on a hill outside of New Asgard, which wasn’t covered in snow as you’d anticipated, but was still brown, sickly green, and chilly. It smelled like a tacklebox, and you got extra whiffs of fish, beer, and sweat even from over the hill. The overcast sky felt like a low ceiling in a damp basement. In spite of the heavy air, it was still dry and brisk, and it made the insides of your nostrils, as well as the tender flesh on your lips, sting with every breath. At least there was minimal wind. 

Fury talked briefly with Loki before getting back inside the jet and unceremoniously taking off, not even addressing you, which made you tug on one of your leather gloves anxiously. 

Is he afraid of me like everyone else? That brick wall of a man?

You slung your duffle bag over your shoulder with a sigh, deciding to begin trekking over the hill and down into the village without waiting for your escort. 

As you slowly came over the crest of the hill, the rest of the village of New Asgard became visible, about a quarter of a mile down the path. As Loki had mentioned, it was a far, far cry from the gilded splendor you’d imagined a place with the title of ‘Asgard’ would be. No house was above two stories, and most cottages were no bigger than a one-bedroom apartment in New York City. There was a rotting pier jutting out into the fjord, with a few pathetic fishing boats moored to the side. You could see people meandering about, none of them in a hurry.

“New Asgard,” said Loki, coming up behind you, each hand carrying a bag of his own. “Grand…spectacular…smelly…” he wrinkled his nose, and you couldn’t help but smile a little, which, in turn, made him smile back. 

Loki’s smile was your favorite thing about him thus far. As you;d been prepped for your journey over the past few, agonizing days, he’d stayed beside you, as promised, not only to be your advocate, but your friend. It was a stark contrast to his reputation of being a scoundrel, a trickster, a wild card. You’d learned quickly that his mouth spoke volumes. Any sort of smile could mean something completely different was cooking within his sharp mind. You also quickly developed a thing for his impossibly straight, white teeth, and once you found yourself dreaming of running your tongue over them until you snapped back to reality. 

Steady, Y/N, you told yourself. Not now! You’d always been prone to crushes, and this was the worst time to have one, when your life was on the line! 

“Our grand city for the next year,” Loki continued, stepping beside you. “What do you say?”

You took a deep breath. “I guess it’s better than the tank.”

“Ah, that’s the spirit,” your keeper remarked. “It looks rather desolate right now, but it’s winter. Once spring arrives, the sun will shine on us again.” 

You finally began down the path leading into the village. The Asgardians going about their lives stopped briefly to observe Loki as the pair of you walked by, but only momentarily, some nodding curtly, before returning to their business. 

Loki sighed. “They forget who saved their lives in the first place,” he said, rather arrogantly. 

“I heard you helped destroy Asgard,” you replied, a hint of cheek in your tone. “I heard you released the monster that caused Ragnarok.” 

Loki cringed, stopping in his tracks, looking at you resentfully. “It was for the…best. Don't bring it up again.” 

You knew in that moment that you struck a nerve, and you continued on in silence for a moment before Loki was able to shake off the awkwardness and continue his tour of the town. 

“We have a tavern, and the barkeep carries some basic medicines should you need them. However, I’m afraid there are no physicians of any sort, so if you develop a cough or a toothache, we’ll have to summon someone from Oslo, and that could take days,” Loki informed you. “Best to stay on top of your health.” 

The smell of fish intensified as you wandered deeper into New Asgard, making you wish you did have a cold. At least then you’d be congested and not have to smell the air. 

“Most of them eat communally in the dining hall at the end of this alley,” Loki continued. “However, our circumstances are a bit special, so we will be able to sup in our space, away from them.” 

You nodded quietly. 

“Speaking of,” continued your tour guide, indicating a small side path leading to one of the larger buildings in the village. “Here is our humble abode.”

He pointed to a set of steps that led underground, to a door on the bottom level of the house. “We’re living in a cellar?” you asked, hesitantly.

Loki shrugged. “I suspect they couldn’t build a new cabin in the five days’ warning they had.”

“I’m supposed to learn magic in a basement?” you groaned, displeased. 

The god of Asgard shook his head, his hair tossing about his face. “We will do that outside, up on the hill.” 

You went inside before it got any chillier (or smellier) outside. The cellar apartment was dimly lit by a few free-hanging bulbs dangling from the ceiling. The main ‘parlor’ was a room about the side of the tank you’d been kept in, furnished with a ratty sofa and unstable coffee table. In the next room was the kitchen, again, so small one could barely turn around. Through a hallway off to the right, two bedrooms and a bathroom awaited, none of which were impressive. The bathroom only held a toilet and a shower stall. It seemed that you would have to wash your hands in the shower after using the toilet. 

The only windows in the place were a few small, brick-sized openings just under the ceiling. They wouldn’t be good for light. Behind the sofa in the living room was a locked door, behind which were the stairs leading up to the rest of the building. 

“What’s above us?” you asked. 

Loki cocked his head. “I think it’s either the armory or a shop.”

“Armory?!” you asked, not sure how you felt about having a stash of lethal weapons mere feet above your head. 

Loki’s smile only slightly reassured you. “We’re still Asgardians, and thus, still warriors.” 

He gave you the larger bedroom and instructed you to get settled. “We’ll have your first lesson in an hour,” he instructed, not giving you any say (not that you had an opinion either way). 

Your bed was more comfortable than you expected. At least the mattress and sheets seemed to be new. Setting down your duffle, you looked around the small space, wishing it had more than a wooden armoire and a waist-high bookshelf with nothing stored on it. You didn’t like how dark it was, even with the lights on. It was unsettling. 

After an hour, you met Loki in the living room. He was on the couch, his legs apart as he leaned back, clearly at home in spite of the spartan arrangements he surely wasn’t used to. 

“Two minutes late,” he scoffed. “I prefer my students to be punctual.”

“I’m your first student,” you reminded him. 

Loki folded his arms. “Come and sit beside me,” he ordered. “Allow me to explain my terms.”

“Your terms?” you asked defensively, sitting next to your teacher regardless. 

“Yes,” answered Loki. “I have three rules that you will obey if we are to have any chance of succeeding, do you understand?”

You nodded, and he began. “Our first rule: no pitying ourselves. All magic is controlled by the will of the magician, but it requires a clean mind, free of anything tethering you to your insecurities. You will fail as long as you fear your powers.” 

Loki leaned in as he said this, and the smell of wintergreen from his breath filled your nose, a relief from the rest of New Asgard’s peculiar odor. 

“Yes, Loki,” you said. 

“My second rule,” he went on, “is that every day you are here, you will push yourself a little further, no matter how uncomfortable you feel. Magic is stronger if it’s exercised.”

You shook your head. “But we aren’t here to make me stronger--”

“--THIRD,” Loki barked, his voice rising with impatience as he grabbed your chin, drawing your eyes to meet his, “you will obey me.” 

“W…what?” you asked meekly. 

“I cannot work if I’m to be continually questioned in my motives. I have been a master of seidr for thousands of years before your ancestors existed. I will have to insist that in everything you do, you defer to me. I need your trust, Y/N.”

“What if I decide that I don’t like being treated like a child?” you asked.

Loki growled under his breath, not releasing your chin. “Then we will both be at the mercy of S.H.I.E.L.D. I will not be their plaything, nor their victim. You can snivel at their feet all you want, but I am STILL a Prince of Asgard!” 

You’d definitely struck a nerve with him this time, and for some reason, you weren’t in the mood to be more of a brat at that moment, so you cast your gaze down and gently nodded your head.

He still didn’t let go of your face, but his harsh look melted into a more gentle one. “In return, I promise I will take care of you. I will be your savior. I chose you because I wouldn’t wish the pain of my past on anyone else...well, perhaps I would, but not on someone innocent like you.” 

“Innocent?” you chuckled. “I’m not at all sure what you mean.” 

Loki shrugged. “You are a lamb, my dear. You want to be one with the world, don’t you? You want to live in gentle peace, your death touch handled and hidden. Let me be your shepherd, Y/N. You just need to follow my lead when I ask.” 

You weren’t sure you liked being compared to a farm animal, but you had to admit that he was on to something nonetheless. It was all you wanted to be rid of the stress and responsibility of your ‘gift’ and to live in harmony with everyone else. You weren’t just here to save your life. You were here for your best chance to achieve that peace with yourself. 

“Fine,” you acquiesced, looking into his eyes again and feeling your cheeks grow hot. 

Loki smiled. “Good, very good,” he remarked, finally letting your chin go. “Now, for your first lesson.”

“Which is?” you asked softly. 

He reached out, taking your gloved hand in his. “We take these off.”

Reflexively, you shouted “No!” and pulled back, yanking your arm violently out of Loki’s grip. He gritted his teeth. “What did I just say about obedience, Y/N?”

“You can’t, not today, not so soon!” you pleaded, the stress having a near instantaneous effect on your mind, and you felt the heat in your skin rise as your lip trembled. “Please?”

Loki looked a little angry, as well as a little sympathetic. Perhaps he’d gone too far too quickly?

“How long?” he asked. “How long have you used these?”

“I was six when this happened,” you answered. “Don’t ask me how it happened, no one ever seemed to figure it out. I went to pet a cat I saw on the street, and it died immediately. Then I was given a bouquet of flowers for my birthday, and I didn’t even have a chance to smell them before they crumbled in my hands. After a few more small incidents, we figured it out. In school, we told them it was a circulation issue, or sometimes it was a deformity. Whatever we made up, it’s worked since then, at least before now.”

He studied you for a moment. “You understand that the longer you hesitate to take these off, the harder it will become?”

You felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes in the midst of your panic attack. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“You won’t,” he dismissed. 

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “You don’t understand. Luke was twice my size and he didn’t know what hit him…”

“I know you won’t kill me,” Loki repeated, standing and coming after you as you began to head towards the bedroom. Before you could shelter yourself inside, Loki stepped between you and the door. 

“Y/N, I will let you act like an infant today. It’s been a long afternoon already, and I need to go to the square for supplies. I’d bring you along, but it looks like you want to take a nap,” he directed, looking at you with authoritative intensity again. 

Whether it was some covert magic on Loki’s part, or your own psychological needs catching up with you, you suddenly felt a vague sense of drowsiness. “Yes, Loki,” you mumbled, the idea of an early-evening snooze suddenly becoming appealing. 

“There’s a girl. I will be back in an hour, but feel free to rest until supper,” he instructed, turning away from you. He stopped again with an afterthought. “And you will do well to gather your courage, for I am going to burn those gloves tomorrow night, so help me Norns.” 

Turning his back again, Loki headed out of the basement, leaving you to crawl into bed and bury yourself under the sheets, letting yourself sob heavily until sleep found you. 

@kats72 @violethaze @cheekyscamp @javagirl328 @yelkmelk @mischief2sarawr @buttercupcookies-blog @lokidokieokie @fictive-sl0th @jaidenhawke @caothicshit @holdmytesseract @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @meowmeow-motherfucker @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl @loz-3 @mjsthrillernp @alexakeyloveloki @linaax @noideakitten @evelyn-rathmore @lovingchoices14

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki smut #loki/reader #soft!dom!loki #dom!loki #dom!loki x sub!reader #new asgard #death #dont fear the reaper #sub!reader

[duskspring]

A Pet and Clothes - Rain/ Mountain

Domestic December - Day 4

Summary: Rain brings in a cat from a snowstorm and Mountain takes care of them both

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): A cat implied to have been abandoned, Rain being cold (literally), fluff

Word count: ~2.1k

It wasn't uncommon for the ghouls to be sent out on errands between tours. It was mostly chores like handiwork or running to town to pick up some groceries or mail that didn’t get to the abbey.

Rain was the one sent to town today. It was meant to have been Dew, but Rain volunteered since a heavy rain had been predicted to fall that day. The water ghoul didn’t mind rain at all, in fact it made him more energetic. The problem was that it hadn’t actually ended up raining. It was a snowstorm instead.

Rain cursed himself for having walked the way there, unable to drive and not knowing just how strong the wind was gonna get. Each step took an incredible amount of effort, even for the non-human being. The big bag of previously undelivered packages slung over his shoulder didn’t exactly help either. His teeth were chattering, his steps unsteady on shaky legs. The wind and snowflakes blew right against his front, slowly making him lose all sensation in his face. His simple long sleeve shirt and jeans weren’t doing him any favors.

As he marched past an alleyway, a strange noise caused his head to turn. It was soft and high pitched. He thought he’d made it up for a moment. It must have been the wind. Except, he heard it again, much more recognizable as a meow this time.

Rain’s heart clenched in his chest. The idea of some poor animal caught outside in this temperature was terrible.

He decided he would just have a quick peek. See if the critter had a collar, a place to go. He’d see that and then be on his way again.

Yeah, right.

The alley protected him a bit more from the wind. He wiped the snowflakes off his face, his numb hand barely able to get that done. He waddled further down the street, his eyes scanning around him trying to find the hidden cat.

A third meow led him towards a set of trash cans. Rain lifted the top of one of them, seeing a full trash bag inside and praying it wasn’t in there.

Before going through the effort of ripping the bag apart, he decided to first check the other. But he didn’t even lift the lid ahead of spotting a black stain upon the snowy ground. He instantly fell to his knees, his jeans soaking through as he reached out as delicately as possible. He tried wiping the snow off the cat, to which it luckily didn’t respond with aggression or evasiveness. It was quite small. Not fully a kitten, but certainly young. It wasn’t wearing a collar.

Of course there was still a chance it was someone’s pet, but Rain didn’t think about that at the moment. He didn’t want to risk it. He carefully lifted it up, bringing it underneath the collar of his shirt to try and warm it up. He tensed up at the extra cold hitting his chest.

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Rain’s voice shook, moving back on his way towards the ministry.

The journey felt like it took hours. He tried to somehow stay positive, to just look forward to being home. Still, it felt like the road was endless. It was freezing, miserable. He wanted to cry, but knew it wouldn’t help at all.

The cat’s nails dug into his chest. Not so much in an aggressive manner, it appeared more afraid than anything. He tried shushing the creature and, in a way, also himself.

As soon as home was in sight, Rain found the last reserves of his energy to steadily stomp its way.

The wind and snow had only gotten worse. He could barely see at this point. Opening his eyes further than a sliver only hurt and blinded him more. He had no idea how he would even open the property gate when he could barely see.

“Rain!” There was a muffled yell a little bit in the distance. The water ghoul tried looking up beyond his squinted eyes, a vague shape waiting at the gate. The person quickly came closer to him, a big, dark stain on the icy wasteland his home was turning into, “Fuck, you had me worried.” Mountain’s voice cut through the wind much clearer now that he stood right in front of him.

Rain wanted to respond, but his jaw almost seemed frozen shut.

“Come on.” Mountain didn’t hesitate to pick his packmate up, the bag Rain had been carrying now dragging behind them.  He was dressed much more appropriately for the weather. He was still really cold, but at least he was able to move his muscles properly.

Rain snuggled up in the big arms that held him, careful not to crush the cat that still rested in his shirt. The mail bag got let go off as soon as they were inside the building. That would be someone else’s problem. Rain, however, was not put down. He was carried all the way past the ghouls’ common room, and towards Mountain’s bathroom. The earth ghoul carefully put him down on a countertop, turning the taps of his bath and rushing out for a moment.

Rain’s hands and toes hurt like hell as they started to warm up again. They tingled and itched, but he just tried to focus on being happy that he was finally home. He tried removing his soaking wet tshirt, his arms stiff and shaking.

“Here, let me help.” Mountain walked back in. He’d removed his jacket, carrying some of his own clothes for Rain to wear. He quickly stopped the bath’s tap from running before coming to stand before Rain, “Can you lift your arms?”

“Wait.” Rain whispered, his arms still cradling the cat up against his chest.

Only now did Mountain get a good look at his friend, noticing the weird bump on his torso which was covered by his shirt.

His eyes flicked up to Rain’s, “What’d ya got there?”

Rain wanted to take the cat out from underneath his garment and show it off, but his arms were still too cold. Instead he simply explained, “Cat.”

Mountain’s eyebrow raised, but quickly moved Rain’s shirt up. Indeed, he spotted and carefully took the black cat over from the water ghoul’s hands. He held it up in front of his face, “Hello, little friend,” He smiled, “Where did you come from?” The question was framed towards the cat, but his face turned questioningly to Rain.

The response was a shaky shrug, which made Mountain turn nearly his full attention back to him.

The taller guy quickly grabbed two towels from a cabinet, putting the cat down on one of them on top of the counter. “Arms up.” He repeated.

Rain was luckily able to move according to the instructions, trying to ignore the tingling pain that spread to the rest of his limbs.

Mountain lifted the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor where it landed with a wet splat. It’d been completely soaked through. He put the second towel around Rain’s shoulders, before moving on to his pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped it before helping Rain stand up to remove them.

The water ghoul had to lean on the counter for his legs to not give out. He allowed Mountain to undress him fully, then pick him up a second time and carefully put him down into the warm bath.

Rain involuntarily gasped, sinking into the water in delight. He closed his eyes and tried to fully relax.

Mountain, meanwhile, was focused on the cat now. He patted it with the towel in an attempt to dry it. It looked and meowed at him, gaining a smile in return. He then quickly moved out of the room to get his phone. He took a quick picture of the cat and sent it to their pack’s group chat, asking if anyone could find something for the critter to eat. Finally, he grabbed it, together with the towel it’d been sitting on, and sank to the floor.

“How’re you holding up, Lilypad?”

Rain’s eyes opened again to look at him, “How long did you wait for me outside?”

“Not too long,” Mountain dismissed, “But I needed to make sure you were ok. Why were you even out? It wasn’t your turn. Dew could’ve melted the snow as soon as it hit him.”

Rain shrugged, “We thought it was gonna rain.”

The response he got was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “You’re too nice, Rainy.” The cat happened to meow just as he said that, “See? This little buddy agrees. It’s the living proof of it.” He held it up for Rain to look at.

He smiled, “They need a name.”

“Are you even sure it’s a stray? Cause you know it’s better to put up ‘found’ posters in town once we can get back there. Someone might miss it.”

“They were gonna freeze.” He defended himself.

Mountain was quiet for a moment and Rain expected to get scolded, “How about Salem?”

“What?”

“We could name the cat Salem. Salem the black cat. I know it’s cliche, but I think it’s cute.”

Rain giggled, “I like it.”

The two sat there having a simple, pleasant chat for a bit. At least until the clear sound of the door to Mountain’s bedroom being busted open shook their attention away. Footsteps hurried their way and the bathroom door soon flew open as well.

“Where is-” Cirrus cut herself off with a gasp, crouching down next to Mountain and immediately holding her hand out for the cat to sniff.

It was no secret Cirrus loved cats. They were some of the few things that could make her lose her normally cool attitude. Mountain let her take the cat from him without protest. She’d have put up a fight otherwise.

“Do they have a name?” She asked, “Oh, and are you ok?” She looked at Rain.

“I’m fine. The name’s Salem.” Rain smiled.

“Hi, little Salem.” She smiled at it, “Cumulus is trying to find the sister whose cat is always running around. We’ll get you food soon enough.”

“Cir, do you mind?” Mountain asked gently, wanting to give Rain the chance to relax and not immediately be overwhelmed.

She stood up, “My cat now. But you can visit them on the weekend.” She joked, though she actually didn’t put the cat down and instead left the room with it.

The two men laughed at her antics. After which they picked up conversation again, Rain enjoying the warmth of the bath until it ran cold. He shivered as he got out, taking the towel Mountain held out for him again.

The taller ghoul wrapped his arms around Rain from behind and rubbed his arms for further warmth, “You can wear those for now if you’d like.” He nodded towards the clothes he’d picked up earlier.

“Thank you.” Rain smiled. He loved wearing other people's clothing, especially Mountain’s. The knit sweater and oversized, on him at least, sweatpants carried the signature earthy scent that always managed to make him feel at ease.

Mountain effortlessly picked him up a third time, carrying him into his bedroom bridal style.

“My legs work again, you know?” Rain chuckled, though only snuggling closer.

“But you deserve to rest up fully.” The water ghoul was a little disappointed to be put down again so soon, but couldn’t complain that he got the chance to snuggle up under Mountain’s blanket.

“I’ll go get you something to eat. You just stay put, alright?”

“Alright.” Rain yawned. Being in bed, finally warmed up and comfortable, immediately made him sleepy. He thought maybe if he did eat something he’d get his energy back. But he didn’t even get the chance.

Mountain had spent a little while cooking up a rich pumpkin soup. He went all out with it, wanting to spoil Rain and just hoping he wouldn’t end up sick.

Making his way back to his own bedroom with a little tray his heart warmed at the sight he was greeted with. Cirrus had reentered the room, together with Cumulus this time. They tried their hardest to stifle their giggles and aw’s at Salem, who had made their way onto Rain’s chest. He seemed to still be asleep regardless of the extra weight, torso calmly rising and falling with his breathing.

Mountain didn’t make a single move. He wanted to freeze the moment; the warm, cozy, togetherness in the room. He’d been worried sick for Rain’s wellbeing a mere few hours prior, yet now he thought he may perish from joy. Rain was alright. So was he. And so was Salem.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

#another one I'm not fully satisfied with but I'll cry about that later #getting a good banner for this one was also hard. GIVE US MORE PICS OF RAIN AND MOUNTAIN! #domestic december #the band ghost fanfiction #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #headcanon #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 10

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of alcohol, straight men eww, unwanted advances, reader is implied to be shorter than both abby and ellie (if you think you're not, let's just pretend for a line or two for the sake of storytelling lol), descriptions of sexual harassment, descriptions of physical violence, minors do not interact

word count: 5.5k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

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

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the equal creatures song "waiting in the wings"

Friday night came a little too quickly for your liking. After much consideration, you’d settled on a pink bomber jacket with a white corset top and black leggings for your outing at the Bow and Arrow. You contemplate wearing your usual black boots, but you decide for tonight to give your feet a rest from being covered with painful blisters. While you meticulously add finishing touches to your makeup, your phone buzzes furiously on your bathroom counter. You tap it to reveal a text from Abby.

You allow yourself a tiny smile at Abby’s banter before setting your phone back down. 

After you decide that you’re satisfied with your appearance, you spray yourself with hints of a freesia perfume Tara had gifted you for your birthday last year. Normally, you’d wear your signature lavender fragrance, but you’d figured that even tiny advances outside of your comfort zone were a good, healthy first step to moving forward with your life. You wonder silently if Abby would notice and like it. 

You spend the next couple of minutes pacing all around your living room, occasionally bouncing up and down on your tiptoes in sheer nervousness. When you hear three gentle knocks on your front door, your heart jumps out of your chest. You breathe in deeply from between pursed, painted lips, just the way your old therapist taught you, before striding over to anxiously turn the doorknob and reveal Abby waiting expectantly. 

She was wearing a brown, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over her muscled forearms and the top two buttons undone. Her dirty blonde hair was in her usual tight braid and fell down her back. She has her hands tucked into the front pockets of her black slacks and upon laying eyes on you, her face breaks out in a wide smile. 

“Well, good evening, pretty lady,” She greets you. “You look very nice tonight.” 

“You’re looking pretty suave yourself,” You reply, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks. 

Abby smirks. 

“You ready to go?” She asks. 

“Mhmm,” You murmur, reaching for your purse & keys from the entryway table before closing and locking your front door behind you. “Lead the way, Miss Anderson.” 

You and Abby chat about your respective days on the way to the Bow and Arrow. You take the bus part-way, sitting next to her towards the back. It isn’t lost on you the way Abby’s hand twitches almost expectantly to hold yours, but you can’t summon enough courage in the moment to welcome the action. Though your body yearned for the physical intimacy, something else inside didn’t feel right just yet. However, you did at least allow yourself to take Abby’s hand for a few, short moments when she helped you out of your seat, and then again when she helped you hop off of the bus. 

The sun had almost entirely set by now, your shadows mainly illuminated by the lampposts and lights from the nearby shops and restaurants along the street. After several minutes of skipping next to Abby, you start to see the vague outline of the Bow and Arrow from a distance. Your fingers start to nervously fidget and you feel yourself chewing the inside of your lip in apprehensive anticipation. 

Making up an excuse to turn around and go home right now would be simple enough, though a little sudden and impolite. For the past day, you’d been trying to focus diligently on your schoolwork and classes so as not to dwell too far on what tonight could bring. However, the reality was starting to set in and your hands became clammier with every tentative step you took towards your destination. Perhaps it was a preemptively good idea not to take Abby’s hand earlier. 

You turn towards Abby, who hasn’t noticed your apparent restlessness. She looks completely at ease, confident as she always was. She oozes of enthusiasm, clearly looking forward to the night out. You sigh discreetly, resolving to at least make an effort to live it up, even just for a few hours. You make sure not to let your eyes wander too far towards the familiar, dark alleyway next to the bar. 

When reaching the entrance, you’d already pulled out your ID to flash at the bouncer, who lazily glances at it before handing it back to you and nodding you forward. The bouncer doesn’t card Abby and instead, gets up from their stool to clasp her hand and pat her back. 

“Yo, what’s up, Anderson?” The bouncer says in welcome. 

“Hey, Cam,” Abby replies. “Didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

“We’re not all doctors, man. Gotta pay those bills somehow.” 

“Not a doctor yet, dude.” Abby chuckles. 

“Yeah, yeah,” The bouncer waves her off nonchalantly. “You go enjoy your night.” 

You stand there and watch the interaction in both awkwardness and admiration. Abby really did know everyone around, even outside of campus. 

“Come on,” Abby motions you to follow her. “I think I see some of my friends here already.” 

You nod your head and trail after her timidly. 

Your wary eyes explore the bar, slowly taking in how it’s changed since the last time you’d visited. They’d added another TV among the line-up against one of the walls, and there were numerous amounts of low-lit string lights now hanging from the ceiling. You recognize a couple of the bartenders working tonight, in addition to a few more who seemed fairly new. They’d hung up a large version of the original rainbow Pride flag by a window in the front right next to the blue-pink-and-white transgender one. But even with these few new changes, the place looks generally the same. You secretly wish it didn’t, afraid that the daunting familiarity might trigger some unpleasant memories. 

Abby leads you towards a group of people gathered around one of the wall-mounted television screens where a Nintendo 64 was hooked up to. Three of them were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, all yelling at each other over both the race course music and a SZA song currently blasting through the bar’s speakers. Their spectating friends were heckling genially and cheering them on as the race ended with whichever player competing as Yoshi finishing in first place. 

“That’s how it’s done, bitches!” A guy who you recognize as Abby’s friend Jordan from the other day proclaims in triumph. 

“Whatever, asshole. You only won ‘cause I slipped on a banana peel during the second lap.” A girl wearing a black leather jacket to his left complains. 

“Excuses, excuses,” Jordan waves off, shaking his head mockingly. “Sounds like a serious skill issue to me.” 

“Leah, you better get your man right now before I beat his ass.” 

As you and Abby approach the group, one of her friends leaning against the wall looks up from the bickering to meet Abby’s gaze. 

“Yo, Abs, finally!” He says, beckoning her over. He was a tall, beefy man with his black hair tied up in a man bun and his face covered with a full beard. You knew he was one of Abby’s close friends, but you couldn’t remember which one he was. 

“You missed me that much, Alvarez?” Abby taunts, nudging him in the shoulder before grasping his outreached hand in greeting. 

“Cocky asshole,” Her friend chuckles. “Please save me from the torture of watching Jordan and Nora bitch at each other over this game all night.” 

“Why’d you even let them near this again after the last time we were here?” 

Abby and her friend jest for a moment or two before you’re eventually acknowledged. 

“So anyway, who’s this?” He asks. 

“Oh, right—” Abby says apologetically before introducing you. 

“Nice to meet you,” Her friend responds. “Manny. Have we met before?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly,” You admit. “I haven’t really been the most social or noticeable person of late.” 

“Pretty girl like you? Nah, I’m sure that’s not true.” Manny remarks boldly. 

You freeze at his unwanted flattery, which Abby doesn’t notice. You wonder internally what the hell her obviously and painfully straight guy friend was doing at this lesbian bar. 

Abby proceeds to acquaint you with the rest of her friend group: Jordan, Leah, Nora, Nick, and Jay. Jordan, Nora, and Jay were the three holding the controllers connected to the video game console, each either saying hello or nodding towards you in friendly greeting. The guy Nick who wore a black beanie raised his can of beer towards your direction when Abby introduced him before uttering a simple “wassup” to you. Next to Jordan is a girl with long black hair tied back in a low ponytail. Abby introduces her as Leah, after which she smiles sweetly at you. 

After she’s named all her friends, Abby turns towards you. 

“Wanna grab a drink?” She questions. 

“Yes, please.” You reply gratefully. 

You follow her to the semi-crowded bar where she settles on a somehow unoccupied barstool, you taking a seat on the one next to her. 

“What would you like, pretty girl?” Abby asks. 

“Umm, vodka cranberry, maybe?” You say. 

Abby smiles and nods before raising her hand to grab the attention of a bartender. After a few moments, she’s able to flag one down. 

“Can I get a vodka cranberry and a blue motorcycle?” She yells over the music, pulling out her wallet and handing over her credit card. “And start a tab?” 

“No worries, Abby,” The bartender smiles, taking her card. “Light ice on the motorcycle?” 

“Please.” 

The bartender nods as they swipe Abby’s card on the POS system before handing it back to her and walking to the side to prepare your drinks. 

“So you come here a whole lot, huh?” You remark as you both wait. 

“What makes you say that?” Abby asks, turning her body to face you better. 

“Everyone around here seems to know who you are.” 

“Nah, I’m just that cool and hot and popular that just about everyone knows my name anywhere I go.” Abby teases arrogantly. 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. 

“You are so full of yourself, Miss Anderson.” 

“Anything to make you laugh, pretty girl.” 

You and Abby banter for a minute or two before your respective drinks are placed in front of you, the bartender additionally handing you each a napkin. 

“Okay, so what the hell did you order?” You inquire of Abby, eyeing her turquoise-coloured beverage. 

“You’ve never had a blue motorcycle before?” 

“Hey, I’m a simple gal; I know only like, four or five different names of basic alcohol. Two of which are vodka.” 

Abby throws her head back, laughing boisterously. 

“Oh, man, are you really that much of a grandma?” She teases you. 

“Absolutely,” You joke. “I just shape-shifted for tonight to give the appearance of a 20-something-year-old college student so as not to be judged for my wild, party animal habits.” 

“God, you are so nerdy,” Abby chuckles. “Good thing you’re really cute.” 

You roll your eyes at her once more before taking a sip of your drink. 

“How’s your very basic and boring vodka cranberry?” Abby quips. 

“Oh, fuck off,” You giggle. “How’s your weird, little smurf drink?” 

“Extremely delicious, thank you so much for asking.” She responds. “Want a taste?” 

You grimace. 

“What!” Abby exclaims, chuckling. 

“I’m not exactly the most adventurous when it comes to what I put in my body.” 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Abby offers, sliding over her blue drink towards your direction. 

“What the hell is even in it?” 

“Oh, just try it, you fucking wimp!” 

You whine in hesitation before bringing the cup up to your pursed lips, taking the most minuscule of sips. 

“Oh, come on!” Abby complains as you place the drink back down. “That was barely fucking anything!” 

“You wanted me to drink it, so I drank it!” 

“Chug it like a fucking man!” 

“Are you trying to get me drunk tonight, Miss Anderson?” 

“Drink it.” Abby tauntingly asserts. 

You purse your lips once more before relenting to take a much bigger gulp from the cup. As you slam the drink back down onto the bar and slide it back towards Abby, you scowl at the mixture of different flavours staining the surface of your tongue. 

“What the hell did you just fucking poison me with?” You grumble, your mouth salivating in disgust. 

“Calm down, you big baby, it’s just some basic liquor with a bit of Blue Curaçao mixed in.” Abby chuckles. “You know, rum, tequila, gin.” 

“Oh god, tequila?” You anxiously chuckle. “Well, get ready for just about anything to happen tonight.” 

“Oh?” 

“Tequila is my sworn enemy and weakness.” You admit. “Never know what’s gonna happen when I’ve got that shit in my system.” 

“Is that so?” Abby asks, placing her elbows on the bar and her chin on top of her interlocked hands. “I’m very much intrigued to know more.” 

“I’m sure you are.” You say, taking a generous sip from your own drink. 

“Any other weaknesses that you care to share with the class?” She coaxes. 

You lean in close enough for her to hear you whisper pointedly, “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself, Miss Anderson.” 

As the night goes by gradually and the more intoxicated you get, the more at ease you begin to feel. Abby’s friends eventually reveal that a local band was going to be playing a few songs live on the rooftop dancefloor later on, and you all liquor up in case they turn out to be an amateur disaster. 

Though they weren’t exactly your crowd, Abby’s friend group was generally amiable and sociable. She made sense amongst them, all of them having established a repartee with her and not being intimidated like a lot of people were. You didn’t care much for her guy friends, who were slightly crude & vulgar and all of whom you could easily tell were straight and who you felt had no place being in a lesbian bar. But with the rest, you generally got along well with. 

You piece together that the nice girl Leah is Jordan’s girlfriend from the way they stuck to each other’s side as much as possible. She was friendly, always including you in the conversations and acknowledging when you spoke.

Often standing beside her was Jay, who Abby at some point quietly whispers to you is her best friend. Next to Abby, she was the most outwardly lesbian-looking one in the group. She wore a sports cap backwards over her long, straight black hair and a grey hoodie underneath an old, dishevelled jean jacket. Her fingers were decorated with several silver rings, and you saw hints of tattoos whenever she would stretch her arms out and cause her sleeves to ride up slightly. Her rather short stature was dwarfed by her rambunctious character, often making you giggle at her drunken jabs at straight people. 

The girl Nora was who aroused the most curiosity from you out of the whole friend group. She was slim, athletic-looking, and very beautiful. Her dark, kinky hair was worn in a tight, high bun, apart from a few ringlets that fell effortlessly down the sides of her face. She wore a tight, black leather jacket that hugged her form nicely. From both her physical appearance and disposition, she gave off the vibe of the beautiful, mysterious love interest to the main character in a romantic indie film. She seemed to have this easy, welcoming banter with everyone, especially Abby. You wonder to yourself if there was something there between them before realizing that it was none of your business. 

You were surprised at how much of a good time you were having. Abby was by your side for most of the night, often nudging your shoulder playfully, explaining references, or whispering flirty comments in your ear. She paid for both of your drinks, to which you reprimanded her for the entire time, even up until she closed out her tab when you’d both had enough to drink. You were enjoying yourself to the point where you’d almost forgotten the significance this bar held for you. 

A little while before the promised local band were set to make their appearance, another friend of Abby’s belatedly joined the group. 

A gust of cold, autumn wind blew in unkindly from the outside when the front door of the bar opened to receive another patron. Your eyes unwittingly wander towards the movement, suddenly widening when they fall on the face of the familiar newcomer. 

Your ex-girlfriend Adriana strides into the bar, scanning the place for her friends. Your rattled and petrified state is short-lived when Jordan spots her as well and hails her over. 

“Yo! Adriana! Over here!” He calls. 

As Abby and the rest of her friends greet her and playfully berate her for her tardiness, you shrink behind the group as you attempt to compose yourself. Though it had ended amicably between you two, it had still been several years since you’d actually come face-to-face with Adriana. You’d never established a friendship with her afterwards despite it all, still feeling too much guilt for hooking up with her friend almost immediately after your breakup. 

Adriana leisurely makes her way through the group, greeting each one jovially. After she laughed at an inside joke Nora had uttered to her, you concede silently that you couldn’t avoid being seen by her any further, not without resorting to running to the bathroom and hiding for the rest of the night. You slowly step out behind Abby’s tall, burly figure, attempting not to draw attention to yourself and trying to ease back into the situation naturally. 

After a few moments, Adriana’s eyes fall on you. You see the recognition slowly setting in by the expression on her face and once you can tell that she’s realized who you were, she gives you a small smile. She doesn’t say anything to you and continues to engage in conversation with others, but you feel a little less awkwardness after you return her smile. Though your chest still feels a bit tight from the tension, you’re slightly more relieved and at ease knowing that Adriana still kept her word after all these years of having no ill will towards you. 

Several minutes after Adriana’s arrival, you saw other patrons starting to head towards the rooftop, and your group eventually followed suit. Once you reach the next floor, you see a small stage where a few instruments were already in place and a couple of band members were setting up for the show. Your group chatters amongst themselves as you all wait patiently. 

Abby taps your shoulder at one point to let you know she was heading back down to use the restroom for a second. You giggle and tell her she didn’t need to let you know, to which she rolls her eyes humorously and promises she won’t be gone for too long. As she walks away, you realize that on her other side was Adriana and that you were now stuck standing side-by-side with each other. 

“H-hey, Adriana.” You say, giving her a slightly uncomfortable smile. 

“Hey. Didn’t know I was gonna see you here tonight.” She responds lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, Abby invited me out.” You explain. 

“Oh, I see. I didn’t know that you two still talked.” 

“Honestly, we reconnected only recently.” 

“Ahh, I see.” 

There was a moment or two of silence where you were unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. Luckily, Adriana seemed comfortable enough to continue speaking. 

“So how have you been since we last saw each other?” She asks you. 

“Oh, umm,” You begin slowly. You didn’t feel the most comfortable sharing the traumatic shit show your life has been the past two years with your ex-girlfriend, so you settle for a simple “same old, same old” at the moment. 

“That’s good.” She replies. 

“How about you?” 

“Swamped as fuck with all my courses. I honestly wasn’t gonna come out tonight ‘cause I was busy as hell trying to get some work done. That’s why I was late. But my partner is actually in the band that’s performing tonight, and I wanted to be supportive.” 

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you. I’m sure they’ll appreciate you being here.” 

“Just wanna be a good and loyal girlfriend, that’s all.” 

Another lull follows. Adriana seems perfectly calm and content with the silence, but you continue to struggle internally with overdue guilt. You decide that dealing with the discomfort for the rest of the night wasn’t worth it. 

“Hey, uhh,” You start. “By the way, I’m sorry about how things went down between us. You know, how we ended and all.” 

“Hey, ancient history.” She assures. “It was honestly fun while it lasted, but I still think it was for the best.” 

“Still, I honestly do still regret how I was back then.” 

“Nah, don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t think it would have worked out regardless.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You hesitantly agree. “Probably should have put in more effort on my part, though.” 

“I don’t really think that was the case,” Adriana says. “It was just sort of obvious at one point that you were just way into someone else so much more than you were into me.” 

You cringe. 

Damn. Was I that bad at hiding how much I liked Abby back then? Sorry for being such a shitty girlfriend, Adriana… 

“Was I that obvious?” You ask remorsefully, grimacing. 

“A little,” Adriana chuckles. “But it’s okay. She was obviously more your type than I was.” 

“You think?” 

“I mean, I think Ellie Williams is a lot of girls’ type, at least around here.” 

Everything around you freezes immediately as you feel your heart come to a stop. Your throat closes up at the same time that your hands grow cold and clammy. 

E-Ellie? 

Before you’re able to wrench yourself from your petrified state, Adriana speaks again. 

“Oh, I think I see my partner up there. I’m gonna move up closer, but I’ll meet up with you guys later on, okay?” 

She glances at you for half a second to give a short farewell smile before walking towards the stage where another band member with an electric guitar slung around their shoulders has joined the others. 

You remain suspended in the moment Adriana had left you behind with. The rest of Abby’s friend group was busy drunkenly conversing with one another to notice your near-comatose state. A deafening ringing resonates in your ears, the sounds of the expectant crowd and the tuning of instruments completely drowned out. 

Ellie… 

Your eyes wander towards the middle of the dancefloor that is currently occupied by unfamiliar audience members. Without warning, you’re suddenly and unwillingly ripped back into your memories. 

“Look, I’m really not interested!” You yelled over the music blaring from the DJ station on the stage. “I’m sorry!” 

“Oh, come on,” A woman at least ten years your senior griped. “We’re just dancing! Doesn’t have to mean anything!” 

You attempted to tug her hands away that were clutching your hips far too intimately, but her grip was tight and unrelenting. 

“Please, just leave me alone!” You implored the handsy stranger. 

“Don’t be like that now!” She exclaims. “Let’s just see where this takes us and—” 

Her sentence was cut short by a sudden fist in the air colliding with her face. Even over the loud bass drops, you could hear a crunch that you were almost sure was the sound of the woman’s nose being broken. 

“What the FUCK, you fucking cunt!” She screamed. 

You looked over at your saviour assailant to see an outraged Ellie. 

“You like harassing innocent girls, bitch?” Ellie spat. “Don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself? Well, it seems like I can’t either.” 

You saw Ellie winding up to attack once more, and you quickly grabbed her right arm before she could move any further. 

“Ellie! Ellie, it’s okay, I’m fine! It’s not that—” 

“This bitch thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants to you!” Ellie hissed towards the stranger who was slowly retreating into the crowd, cowering at Ellie’s growing fury. 

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt!” 

“It’s not fucking okay!” 

“Ellie, baby, please, let’s just move—” 

The rest of your sentence was cut off when Ellie angrily marched off towards the staircase leading back down to the main floor of the bar. 

You nearly tripped over your high-heeled boots trying to run after her. 

“Ellie!” 

A firm hand on your shoulder transports you back to the present. You jump and look up to see Abby has returned, your hazy eyes meeting her blue ones. 

“You good?” Abby asks. 

“Oh, um, yeah, sorry.” You utter. “Just spaced out there for a second.” 

Abby chuckles and says, “Already lost without me even after a few minutes, pretty girl?” 

You give her flirty joke a half-hearted smile before turning towards the stage, realizing that the band is about to play. 

They start out with their own rendition of Paramore’s “All I Wanted,” and you note to yourself that they were actually quite good. But as they progress through the song, you find yourself unable to fully concentrate on their performance. 

Ellie… 

Abby and her friends cheer and yell in support as the music comes to a momentary end. You barely register the lead singer introducing their next song, an original of theirs called “Waiting in the Wings.” 

You feel Abby move closer towards you, her body radiating heat onto you. At this sudden contact, you force yourself to be more present in the moment and attempt to push all thoughts of Ellie out of your mind. 

The song begins in a minor key, starting off slow as the lead singer begins to croon. 

🎶 There’s a million people in this room who want me more than you // There’s a million people who want me more than you 

There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do // There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do 🎶 

You watch as the crowd of people nod along to the song, some already preemptively whooping. 

🎶 Alone in a crowded room, I wish I was with you // Whether I’m here or there, it doesn’t matter to you 

But you don’t know what you have ‘til it leaves you // You don’t know what you have until it leaves you 🎶 

You suddenly feel one of Abby’s arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in closer to her. 

🎶 There’s a line of people waitin’ for this to fall through // There’s a line of people waitin’ for me to leave you 

So please, baby, love me like I love you 🎶 

You can feel Abby’s piercing blue eyes gazing at your face, expectantly and determinedly. 

🎶 Someone here wants me, they want me more than you // Someone here wants me, they want me more than you 

There’s someone here who wants me, they want me more than you // There’s someone here who wants me, they want me more than you 🎶 

Despite this aching feeling bubbling in your stomach, you will yourself to meet Abby’s stare. 

🎶 There’s a million people in this room who want me more than you // There’s a million people who want me more than you 

There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do // There’s no one in this world who loves you like I do 🎶 

Abby begins to lower her face, her lips nearly touching yours. Her breath tickles your cheeks before you suddenly pull away from her embrace. 

The crowd is distracted as the song ends, applauding and sounding off in response. As their cheering eventually dies down, you watch as Abby’s face falls a little and an expression of slight regret is painted across her features. 

“O-oh, oh my god, Abby, I’m so sorry,” You quickly explain. “I didn’t mean to pull away like that; I swear to god, you just surprised me, that’s all.” 

You knew that it was all quickly strewn lies streaming from your lips, but you didn’t want to ruin Abby’s night by making her feel guilty. You pray that she believes your feeble excuses, and it thankfully seems that she does. 

“Serves me right for trying to sneak a kiss from you out of nowhere,” She says, smirking lightly. “I’ll do better next time.” 

“It’s okay, it’s just the tequila,” You laugh shakily. “Even just a few sips of it kind of makes my emotions a wild card.” 

“Well, you did warn me earlier,” Abby remarks, smiling. “No tequila next time; got it.” 

You chuckle nervously, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Abby begins to say something when Nora suddenly grabs her attention. 

“Oh my god, Abs, that’s the girl I was telling you about before,” Nora exclaims, pointing in a vague direction where it was indistinguishable who she was referring to. “See with the long ponytail?” 

“Holy shit, where?” Abby asks distractedly, looking away from you and towards where Nora's gesturing. 

Seeing an opportunity, you place your hand lightly on Abby’s arm before saying, “Just gonna run down to the restroom for a quick second, okay?” 

Abby turns back towards you and asks, “Do you want me to come with?” 

You muster enough bravado to jokingly say, “Believe it or not, I actually know how to pee all on my own like a big girl.” 

“Alright, alright,” Abby chuckles. “Hurry back.” 

You give her a noncommittal smile before weaving your way out of the crowd and towards the staircase. 

The bar’s gender-neutral restrooms were your first choice in brief sanctuary, but that plan was immediately foiled when you see the long line leading towards it. You sigh and resort to walking out the front door of the bar to catch your breath outside instead. 

Though it was much later in the night, the weekend guaranteed plenty of college students noisily roaming the streets of the downtown area. Wanting not to be disturbed, you reluctantly turn into the dingy alleyway to the left of the Bow and Arrow. 

A couple of people pass through the dark street, but you feel safe positioning yourself underneath the closest streetlamp as none of them lingered for too long. 

Sighing as you lean against the cold, stone wall of the next-door building, you look up at the lamp post you’d chosen as your temporary companion. You place a hand on its cool, metal base, remembering the last time you stood underneath its dim luminescence. 

“Why, Ellie?” You asked her. “Why’d you take it to that extreme?” 

Ellie’s eyes bore into you, the unspoken truth threatening to overflow from the ocean green. 

“You know why.” She said softly. 

“I—” You began, your lips trembling in hesitation. 

“You do, don’t you?” Ellie whispers. 

You don’t respond. Without thought or consideration, you find your body pressed up against Ellie’s, your mouth instinctively finding that of her own. 

The moment your lips met hers, you knew you never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again. 

Every knowing and deliberate look, every inside joke, every accidental brush of your hands led up to this exact moment. And yet nothing could have prepared you for the bliss, the euphoria of finally kissing Ellie. Her strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, nearly lifting you off of the ground to pull you closer. You surrendered to your body’s instinct, almost as if fate was guiding it. 

The meaning of life laid behind Ellie’s lips, and what other choice did you have but to fervently search for it? 

You didn’t remember when you’d wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck, only realizing you had done so when you found your fingers clutching at her auburn hair so firmly that her half-bun updo threatened to come undone. The more Ellie moaned into you, the tighter your grip on her hair became. 

You’d both forgotten where you were and how you’d gotten there. You just knew that you were no longer standing in that dark alleyway next to the Bow and Arrow. You were suddenly in this completely separate universe, a vast yet secret galaxy that consisted only of you and Ellie. It belonged to nobody else but you two. Nothing else mattered anymore, only you and Ellie and your little infinity. 

But you didn’t exist there anymore. It’s two years later, and you no longer live in that bubble of romance and fantasy. 

You step away from the wall, staring up at the clear, black sky. You try but fail desperately not to find the intricate patterns of Ellie’s freckles replicated in the constellations above. 

That universe of yours and Ellie’s was no longer within your grasp. It’s a place you hadn’t allowed yourself to visit for an eternity. This present moment, lonely and nostalgic, is the closest you can find to it. It was like a narrow, cruel window that allowed only a glimpse at the heaven you once knew. 

You sigh. Reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Ellie’s celestial clones, you bid farewell to your brief, ill-lit hideout and exit back to the main sidewalk. You make your way once more towards the front door of the Bow and Arrow, knowing that you would make Abby worry if you lingered too long outside of the bar.

author’s notes:

it's here it's here, it's finally here. can y'all believe i've really written TEN whole chapters of this fucking series? the word count is literally like, over 40k. what the hell!

as mentioned and linked above, i created a playlist for this series if you wanna check it out! it's all songs that are either mentioned or included in the series, in addition to songs that i feel match the vibe of the story! i will continue to add to it as we progress (and if you pay attention, i may add some songs preemptively right before publishing a chapter that may have to do with that specific chapter)

again, if you lowkey recognize the lesbian bar i very, very loosely based the bow and arrow on, no you don't

jay is lowkey inspired by my irl ex-girlfriend adriana's friends back in college who had a similar physical description and i was lowkey more attracted to than adriana herself oops

the song in this chapter is by the band called equal creatures where my very good friend laurie is the lead singer! if you love me, please check them out!

sorry to make the creep hitting on the reader in the flashback a woman, but sexual harassment is not gender exclusive and i wanted to showcase that as well.

the line "the moment your lips met hers, you knew you never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again" is heavily inspired by valerie's speech from the "v for vendetta" movie (if you haven't seen the movie, even if you have no intentions of actually watching it, please watch this scene, it's so fucking moving and it's one of my all-time favourite scenes in cinematic history, no joke)! the line is said at the 2-minute mark!

reader and ellie's first kiss is also heavily inspired by my first kiss with my ex (it was romantic as hell, ask me one day to tell y'all how it happened)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman,

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#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #Spotify #audio #belle speaks #v #belle writes