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#smut eventually
buckysimp101 · 2 years
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Everything the Light Touches (18+) - Chapter Five
Mafia!Bucky x F!Reader
warning: language, angst (sorry yall but i promise the smut is coming, it’s just a slow burn besties)
a/n: the response from the last chapter has been AMAZING! I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this fic, I’m enjoying writing it! If you read “Love at First Grade” as it came out and you’re reading “Everything the Light Touches” now, you’re probably noticing that I’m not posting as fast and I feel like that’s just because I want to make this story last a little longer than my last. So. hope that’s okay, hope you enjoy! 
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The date with Liam rolled around faster than you expected. As you sat in front of your vanity, fixing your hair and your makeup and wearing one of your nicest dresses, a part of you couldn’t believe that you’d only been back in the city for 72 hours and already your mother had successfully set you up on a date. Liam had texted you this morning, Marsha must’ve relayed the news to him because you’d promptly discarded the contacts of everyone of your hometown acquaintances when you left for California a decade ago, and told you that he’d be at your apartment to pick you up around seven and to ‘wear something pretty.’ The semi-demand put you off almost immediately and had you dreading the date all day. 
A small part of you was thankful that Pepper and Tony had given you a few days to settle back in before having you go to work, but if you had known your mother had planned this, you probably would’ve told them that you didn’t need any time to get back used to the city and you would start back as soon as the movers left your apartment. Not that it would’ve prevented your mother from setting up this date. Your whole life she’d been practically forcing the two of you to hang out, whether by inviting Marsha and Alexander over for dinner, or just by hosting parties and he happened to be there, Liam Stinson was always around.
He was the kid to pull on your hair and make fun of your bows or your pink dresses when you were in elementary school. In fact, Liam Stinson picking on you was how Bucky and Steve became your friends in the first place.
Twenty Years Ago
“Leave me alone, Liam!” You yelled as he tugged your hair in between his fingers, laughing as you struggled to get away. He managed to successfully free your bow from your hair and was now dangling it in front of you face as he teased.
“Awww, does the wittle baby want her bow?” He pushed out his lips in a mock pout as he held it just out of your reach, making you stand on the tips of your toes to try and wrangle it out of his grasp. An evil grin took over Liam’s face as he flung your bow into the mud puddle, your jaw dropping and tears welling up in your eyes as you watched your favorite bow sink into the puddle. Liam’s laugh was cut short by a loud “ow!” The noise had you whipping around to see Liam holding his face and running away from two boys. 
“Are you okay? Did Liam hurt you?” the blonde one asked, the brunette still watching the path that Liam had taken to make sure he didn’t run to one of the teachers. 
You shook your head softly, unsure if they were going to pick on you like Liam, before answering, “I’m okay, he just pulled my hair and threw my bow in the mud…” you trailed off to see that the brunette had picked up your bow from the mud puddle and was in the process of wringing it out before handing it back to you with a grimace, almost as if he was apologizing for not being able to clean it all the way.
“Thank you…?” You questioned, waiting for the boys to introduce themselves.
“Oh, I’m Steve, that’s Bucky,” the blonde spoke with a smile as he nodded his head in the direction of his friend. The first thing you noticed about Bucky, besides that you thought his name was funny, were his eyes. A blue so deep you almost got lost in them at just eight years old. You knew that the polite thing to do would have been to thank them for helping you and getting your bow but your mouth spoke before your brain could stop you.
“Bucky? What kind of a name is Bucky?” Your nose wrinkled a little before you realized what you had said but before you could apologize the boy in question was laughing.
“It’s my nickname, Stevie gave it to me. My real name is James Buchanan Barnes…but we agree that’s just a lot,” he spoke as if he’d had to explain his nickname a thousand times over in his short lifetime. 
You nodded your head slowly before responding, “I like Bucky…but why not Jamie?” 
His lips quirked up into a little grin, “you can call me Jamie if you like it.”
His words caused your cheeks to heat up and Steve to laugh at his friend. 
“Well thank you Steve and Bucky for helping me…do you wanna play with me? We could play tag?” Twin grins etched upon their faces, the three of you chased each other around the playground of the rest of recess. You had always wondered what Steve and Bucky had said to Liam to make him run away but not tell any teachers about what had happened… but then you just considered yourself lucky that no questions were ever asked.
And thus a tight-knit friendship was formed. Or so you thought.
“You look great,” Liam drawled, his eyes raking over your body, as you had to force yourself to not roll your eyes and to thank him instead, returning the compliment as ‘sincerely’ as you could as he ushered you inside the restaurant. You weren’t necessarily lying. Liam Stinson was attractive in the robotic, young politician way. With short brown hair and brown eyes, a polite smile that could sometimes be viewed as a sneer, he looked like every young Senator you’d ever seen. All you could do was cross your fingers that the date would be over before you knew it and pray that your mother had only promised one date and not a follow up. 
After the incident with Bucky and Steve all those years ago, Liam hadn’t teased you again. In fact, for high school his mother and Alexander had actually moved Liam to another private school closer to his house so you weren’t forced to see his face every single day. But, his mother was close with yours, which meant that you would occasionally see each other or be forced to hang out when there were parties hosted at your house. Occasionally, Bucky was there to act as a buffer, especially when his parents were invited, but the invitation extension to the Barnes family became less and less common as the years went on even as you and Bucky had grown closer, something that had confused you to no end. 
“So your mom tells mine that you’re back in town for good. You’re working with Stark Industries now? Secretary?” Liam questioned as he leaned into the booth, smoothing one arm over your shoulders, making a shiver crawl down your spine. 
Taking a sip of your wine for a little liquid courage you corrected him, “I am back in town, for as long as Stark Industries is at least. And no, I used to be an Executive Assistant, I’m now their lawyer.” Liam’s eyes bulged at that last tidbit, as if it was the first time he was hearing it and it wouldn’t have surprised you if it was. Your mother was not super thrilled when you had told her you were going to law school for corporate law. She had wished you would have stayed as a receptionist or secretary instead so that you could start a family faster. You’d very quickly shut those hopes down.
“Wow, corporate lawyer…that’s…wow,” he muttered as he sipped his own drink. You were about to question his run for Senate, something that you really didn’t care all that much about but you figured it was an easy turn of topic, when a voice you hadn’t heard in years interrupted you.
“Oh my god, Y/N L/N is that you sweetheart?” The all-too-familiar voice of Winnifred Barnes broke out as your attention was turned to the entirety of the Barnes family. Next thing you knew, you were being engulfed in a hug by Winnie, the comfort of her hug forcing up reminders of days past when she would hug you and tell you she loved you, and how lucky she and her family were to have you in their lives. George was next. When you were younger, he always acted a little more aloof than his wife, but he never failed to tell you how proud he was of you and how he knew you were going to go far. 
When George pulled you in for a hug of his own he whispered in your ear, “heard you kicked the Bar Exam’s ass, superstar,” he winked as he pulled away, a look of mixed confusion and embarrassment pulling over your features. You knew after Bucky had left you that your parents had begun to massively limit their interactions with the Barnes family so the fact that George knew you were a lawyer had you slightly confused. 
The only member of the Barnes family that was reacting in any fashion of ‘normal’ was Bucky. He didn’t say a word the entire interaction, merely keeping his eyes narrowed on you and Liam. The only words he spoke were to his parents so they could return to their table, yet another cold and harsh interaction to remind you that he was not the same man you had once loved. 
“So…you seemed…pretty close with the Barnes family…what was that about?” Liam questioned right as your food was arriving, your stomach clenching at the mere thought of how close you’d truly been to them once upon a time.
“Oh…um…Bucky and I used to date. That’s all,” you offered the information as nonchalantly as you could, to try and make it seem like it was no big deal, but either the information or your delivery startled Liam as he almost choked on his lamb. 
“Wait…you…and James Barnes…used to date?” His question sounded almost non-believing and borderline teasing, with a hint of interest as if he was digging for more. The tone made you square your shoulders and face him with as serious a look as you could muster.
“Something funny?”
“No it’s just…hard to imagine you with a mobster.” 
Liam spoke lazily but intentionally, as if he was trying to get some information out of you or embarrass you or…both. But you weren’t having it. And as much as it pained you, you also weren’t about to out Bucky or his family legacy to Liam Stinson.
“James Barnes isn’t a mobster. He’s a businessman. Enough about the Barnes family. Tell me about your run for Senate.” The topic change worked because Liam launched into his story about fundraising, attending multiple charity events and even droning on and on about how helpful Alexander was during the whole thing. The topic became boring rather quickly but it gave you something else to focus on than the George and Winnie Barnes shaped hole that was re-forming in your heart. When the meal was finally over you thanked the universe that you didn’t run into Bucky or his family any more, and that Liam had stepped back from offering you a ride home. You thought that was it as you waited for your ride…until Liam brought up a little piece of information that you’d not been given.
“I had fun, Y/N. Can’t wait to do it again next week.”
The moment was spit take worthy, but sadly for you there was no drink to be found. Your head whipped towards him, eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that he was joking. 
“What do you mean next week?”
“Your mom told me that we’d be going on these dinner dates once a week for the next month…she must’ve forgotten to remind you. But don’t worry, I’ll pick you up next week. Wear something like this again, your legs are killer,” he offered a sleazy winky before heading to his chauffeur and riding off into the night, leaving you in front of the restaurant with your mouth agape at the news bomb he’d dropped.
An earful. That’s what your mother received when you’d returned to your apartment and called her immediately to fuss at her for promising something you had no intention of delivering. 
“Mom, no. I told you one date. Not one date a week for a MONTH!” You had practically screamed into your phone, trying to keep your heart rate normal as you listened to her tone deaf apology.
“Oh sweetie, it couldn’t have been that bad! I’m sure you had a great time, and it’s a free meal! Oh please just indulge your poor mother for a little bit,” she’d pouted, weakening your resolve until you finally groaned out a partial agreement to her plan. Promising to go on only one more date with Liam but no more after that. She agreed to the compromise pretty quickly, alarmingly quick if you had thought about it, but you merely brushed it off. Your first day at work brought up even strange news.
“A gala, Tony? Really?” you groaned after Tony entered your office to tell you all about the welcome home party he’d been planning under the guise of a gala. Tony Stark liked to party. You knew that. Hell everyone in Manhattan knew that. And a small part of you knew that you wouldn't be able to worm your way out of attending.
“Come on, Stark Industries is back in the city! We’ve got to celebrate it in style and YOU, my little cutthroat lawyer, are going to party and you’re going to like it,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, looking to Pepper in hopes that she’d be able to assign you with something to keep you busy but she just shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize and squeezed your arm.
“I know it’s soon to drop it on you, but we bought you a dress. And shoes. And we know you don’t have anything to do thanks to the fact that you have your personal calendar still linked with ours-OW!” Tony exclaimed, Pepper’s lips drawing together in a tight line after she elbowed him to get him to shut up.
“What Tony means is, we would love to have you there. We do already have some clothes purchased for you if you do come, but we’re not going to force you to go,” Pepper spoke calmly, her eyes glaring daggers at a somewhat sheepish Tony. Your sigh spoke volumes but you agreed, knowing that it would give you an excuse to not see Liam for your second date.  Sadly, Liam only stated his understanding and how he would just reschedule your dinner for another time. The silent groan of dread filling your mind as you read his text to reschedule for the following week. 
The gala, much like the first date with Liam, arrived quicker than anticipated. Even though Tony hadn’t given you enough time to truly prep for it, he’d obviously given Pepper enough time to plan a gorgeous party. The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was practically glittering from all the camera flashes as more members of Manhattan’s elite began to crowd the hall. Sadly, a number of Manhattan’s elite included people you hadn’t seen in years, but they seemed to recognize you. One by one half of the parents of your old classmates, your parents’ old friends, and even neighbors you hadn’t seen in years approached you, asking how you were and what you were doing, how your parents were and if you were single. And one by one, their conversations became more and more overwhelming. 
Your shoulders grew tense as you tried your best to find a way out of the conversations when all of a sudden, a warm hand slipped around your waist and a smooth voice spoke, “excuse me everyone, but Ms. L/N owes me a dance.”
Bucky Barnes stood next to you in his tuxedoed glory with a cocky smirk plastered onto his lips as he pulled you away from the growing crowd and forced you onto the dance floor. Anger simmered in your stomach at his manhandling and you attempted to rip yourself from his grasp, but his hands only tightened as they moved to your waist and your free hand, moving one to his shoulder. As he began moving the two of you around in a waltz he leaned in close to whisper in your ear.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms/ L/N. The way I see it, I saved you from the overstimulation you were receiving back there.”
His voice was cool, knowing, as if to prove that he could still read your body language after all these years. But the cockiness in his smirk only angered you more causing you to hiss, “I don’t owe you anything, Mr. Barnes. Now if you wish to keep your hands attached to your body, I recommend you letting me go. Now.”
Bucky chuckled at your threat but only continued to dance with you, even going so far as to pulling you tighter to him, as if proving that your threats meant nothing.
“I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready, Ms. L/N. But first I have a few questions for you.”
“Well I have a question for you. What the fuck are you doing here?” You spat, hoping your tone would show that you were only seconds away from completely losing your cool. Again, your tone and your threats seemed to do nothing to Bucky as he shrugged lightly and responded.
“Didn’t you hear? Stark Industries and Barnes Inc. have been connected for years. One would think a corporate lawyer would have done her research for the company she works for,” his voice was teasing but his eyes were serious and the pit in your stomach returned at the realization that by moving back to New York with Stark Industries you had unintentionally opened yourself up to Bucky and his ‘family.’ 
So that’s how George knew I was a lawyer…he’d talked with Tony…Tony and I are gonna have to have a real serious conversation after this…
“Now that I’ve answered your question you can answer mine, what were you doing with Liam Stinson the other night?” Bucky quipped, pulling you from your thoughts. You tried not to let the confusion show on your face at his question and instead attempted to goad him a little.
“Why? Jealous?” You cringed internally at the juvenile way you’d shot back at Bucky, but didn’t let that embarrassment show on your face. Instead, you focused on his eyes. They always told you how he truly felt when you were younger but now they were merely two balls of steel blue sat on his face, not conveying a twinge of emotion. 
“How could I ever be jealous of him,” Bucky sneered as he spun you around before pulling you tight to his chest again, “only one of us has ever truly known you….”
Your anger bubbled over at what Bucky was insinuating and you ‘accidentally’ misstepped and stomped on his foot in the process. The brief stint of pain was enough to distract Bucky and allow you to stagger out of his arms. “Fuck you, Barnes. You don’t get to speak about me like that. You don’t get to touch me. If I want to go on a date with Liam fucking Stinson I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Bucky straightened himself up, his eyes aflame with an emotion you couldn’t quite read. 
“Liam fucking Stinson,” he growled before taking a step closer to you, keeping his hands to himself in fists by his side this time, “is dangerous, Y/N. You’d do well to keep away from him.” Something in Bucky’s eyes flickered as he spoke the last part, something akin to pain, before his harsh mask returned.
Your mouth twisted into a sneer at his audacity to speak to you like he knew what was best for you, “I’ll do. Whatever the fuck. I want,” you bit before whirling away and heading away from Bucky. Not looking back once at the man you left on a crowded dance floor. 
Your heart thundered in your chest as you made your way to the born, requesting an Old Fashioned as soon as possible. Downing one. And another. And another. The booze coating your stomach as a way to try and drown out the sound of your heart in your ears. Bucky must have left, or at least he didn’t approach you for the rest of the night. And at some point between Old Fashioned 1 and 2, you pulled out your phone to let Liam know you’d see him tomorrow…and the week after that…and the week after that. 
Because what better way to get James Barnes out of your head than by doing the thing he’d warned against?
a/n 2: Also, if there are any grammatical/spelling errors in this chapter, I apologize! I’m not feeling 100% today but I wanted to get this out to yall before my ridiculously busy work week!
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demonsanddemogorgons · 9 months
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Sunny in Philadelphia - A Joseph Quinn Story (Chapter 7)
Chapter 7 - Safe Travels
You quietly closed the hotel room door after walking in the dark room, trying not to wake Rachel. You tip-toed over to turn the bathroom light on to get ready for bed and the light shining out into the room a bit revealed her standing off to the side of you, startling you.
“Jesus!” you exhaled, putting your hand on your chest.
“How was it?” She wanted to go right to the details immediately, not caring that she just about made you shit yourself.
“Why aren’t you asleep? We are leaving at 7.”
“You think I was going to sleep a full night knowing you were out with JOE?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I don’t know if I will sleep tonight now either,” you laughed.
“Tell me!” she urged for details. You sighed in preparation.
“It was amazing. He’s amazing. I felt like nothing else existed, like we were the only two people in the world.”
“EEEEEE!” she squealed as quietly as possible in excitement for you. “They say that means he’s the one.”
“Now, now. Slow your roll,” you giggled. “As nice as that would be, I don’t want to rush. Our lives are very different, and I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You won’t! Trust me.”
You went over to the end table beside your bed and plugged your phone in for the night, heading towards the bathroom to get cleaned up for bed. Rachel watched you as you walked with a huge grin on her face. You stopped when you caught her.
“What?”
“Okay, I have to say it.”
“Say what?” you replied with a confused giggle.
“I was definitely watching through the peep hole. THAT KISS!”
“Rachelllll,” you whined, running your hands over your face.
“I’m sorry! I heard you guys coming and I had to see. It was so romantic!”
You smirked at her and nodded in agreement, allowing your smirk to morph into a proud smile.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah, next week. He is actually coming to me.”
“WHAT? No way!” she grabbed your arms. “He’s coming to town?”
“I guess so. He said he has a bit of time off before he starts filming his next movie and wants to come see me since I’m on vacation. Get some time away from the hecticness before filming.”
“Wow!”
“I know!”
“Girl, he likes you. And I mean LIKES you. No one else would do that after one date. Come on!”
“Yeah,” you swooned, looking off into space with a smile. “Alright, I’m going to at least try to get some sleep so I’m not falling asleep driving in the morning.”
You jumped in the shower to clean up and laid down in bed. You checked your phone one last time before silencing it. Your heart fluttered in your chest at the name on the notification banner that displayed.
I had a great time tonight. Goodnight, love.
You felt your cheeks flushing as you smiled at your phone screen and started to dose off to sleep, your phone still in your hand. What a way to end the day. It surely was not at all how you expected, coming to meet one of your favorite actors and ending the day by kissing him. You still weren’t sure it was real, convinced you would wake up to it all being a vivid dream.
Your alarm went off at 6:30 am, waking both you and Rachel up. You got up and changed clothes, put all your last-minute things in your bag, and putting on some light makeup since you would be in the car for the next 4 hours. You both headed downstairs to the lobby to grab some breakfast and check out. You were headed to the main doors to walk to the car when, off to the left, you caught a familiar sight sitting at one of the tables in the corner, out of the sight of anyone walking by outside. You did a double-take, unable to believe that your eyes weren’t deceiving you. Joe was sitting there scrolling on his phone in jeans and loafers, a jacket, and a hat, something he had used in the past to ineffectively disguise himself while in public. Your eyes widened and you turned to Rachel.
“Look!” you whispered to her, silently gesturing towards Joe. Her eyes widened as she looked back at you.
“Oh my God.”
Joe looked up from his phone and saw you staring at him in shock, your suitcase handle still in your hand. He smiled at you and stood up as you let go of your suitcase and headed towards him. The closer you got to him, the faster you were moving. You ran into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. He steadied you and hugged you back, swaying the two of you back and forth, and kissed the top of your head.
“What are you doing here?” you asked in surprise, pulling out of his hug and holding his hands.
“I couldn’t let you leave without a proper goodbye,” he replied with a crooked smile, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. You smiled at him and pulled him in for another hug. Rachel approached slowly, dragging both of your suitcases with her.
“Oh, Joe. This is my best friend, Rachel.”
“Lovely to meet you,” he said to her, shaking her hand.
“Likewise. You sure you’re ready to handle this one?” she asks, gesturing towards you. You playfully slap her on the arm.
“I’m up for the challenge,” Joe replies, smiling at you and earning a laugh from Rachel.
“I’ll take our stuff to the car, give you guys some time,” Rachel said to you. “Take care, Joe.”
“You as well!” he said to her as she started heading out the front doors. He turned back to you and took your hands. “Safe travels, darling. Let me know when you’re home safe.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. Joe moved his hand to your cheek, and you let your head rest into his hand.
“Hey, don’t cry, love. I’ll see you soon. Next week will be here before you know it. And I’ll call you every night before you go to work.” You smiled at his memory holding the small detail that you worked nights.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, darling.”
He leaned down and kissed you, not caring in that moment that there was a lobby full of people, but still hoping that his hat was enough to preserve his anonymity for the time being. You didn’t want to pull away. That meant leaving and not being able to see, taste, touch this man for a week. You wouldn’t feel his hands on your hips, running down your arms, caressing your cheeks. You wouldn’t be able to get lost in those warm brown eyes that reminded you of the most delicious chocolate bar you have ever tasted, feel those lips touch yours ever so warmly and gently. You wished this moment could last a lifetime, but you knew it couldn’t. With each motion of his lips, the twinge of heartache grew stronger. This was going to be a long week.
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tired-biscuit · 4 months
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i think bakugou wouldn’t be all that vocal during sex, at least not in the beginning.
it’s more huffing and panting and deep grunts voiced through a tightly clenched jaw and gritted teeth when it comes to him. occasionally you’ll maybe get him to whisper a quiet fuck or shit into the small empty space where your mouths continuously meet, but that’s pretty much it.
instead, he allows his body to exhibit the pleasure he feels rather than his voice. he shows you how good you make him feel by the way his scarred, calloused hands run up and down your bare back when you’re riding him, taking him with a certain hot, wet ease that every salacious movement of your hips slamming against his own invokes.
by the way his warm lips press into the crook of your neck; teeth sinking into the tender sweet spot there, just deep enough for you to feel the nip of the bite. by the way he squeezes you so tight that you feel like your bones are going to crack because he sometimes forgets how strong he actually is. by the way he makes sure to kiss every inch of naked skin he can reach. by the way he drags his tongue over you to taste the sweat, and the way his fingers glide up the back of your neck, wishing to tangle into your hair but settling on your cheek instead.
and finally, he shows you how you make him feel by the way his longer limbs intertwine with yours when you’re done with the deed afterwards; laying there and basking in the afterglow while feeling completely and utterly spent.
he rolls over to squish you flat against the mattress with a raspy chuckle at some point and it’s like you can hear the i love you.
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Kinkmas (2)- Naughty Or Nice?
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Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+
Summary-  Whilst being blindfolded and tied up, your girlfriends ask you whether you think you deserve to be on the naughty list. Naively, you say no, only to fall into their trap...
Word Count- 4K
Warnings/Tags: 18+ Smut, Threesome, Dom WandaNat/Sub Reader, Blindfolds, Restraints, Safe words, Choking, Punishments, Edging, Orgasm Delay, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Degrading, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons, Begging, Praise Kink, Brief Fluff
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Darkness surrounded your vision as you knelt on the bed, a black silk tie wrapped securely around your eyes and a red one wrapped around your wrists, binding them together behind your back. You had been left to wait on the bed for your girlfriends to return, the few minutes feeling like hours as your knees pressed into the soft mattress under you, your chest rising and falling with laboured breaths as you tried to control your excitement and anticipation, ears intensely listening out for any sign of them.
With how long they took, arousal pooled between your legs, thighs slick with wetness as you fantasised about what they would do to you, what you wanted them to do to you all night long.
You imagined their fingers, their mouths, fuck even their straps filling you up in multiple positions, hands roaming your skin while filthy words gracefully spilled from their lips, the thought causing you to squeeze your legs together to help alleviate the intolerable heat in your lower abdomen.
The feeling of the bed dipping from both sides surprised you, too lost in your lustful thoughts to hear them approaching, your head naturally turning towards where the noises were coming from. A hand placed itself against your jaw, fingers splayed across the underside of it, guiding your face forwards as a body pressed into your back, your breath hitching at the feeling of bare skin pressing against yours, the sensation engraved into your mind as their touch sent butterflies swarming throughout you.
The fingers at your face softly caressed your skin as your lips parted to let out a shaky breath, the two women smirking at your submissive form all tied up for them to play with.
"Hey Detka," Wanda softly murmurs out, her thumbs moving to brush over your cheek, her eyes raking over your bare body, her smirk growing a little at the sight of your legs pressed tightly together, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. "Colour?" she asks, letting her thumb move to brush over your lip, dragging your bottom one down before releasing it, Natasha moving her hands to glide around your body, snaking around your lower abdomen and pulling you slightly closer to her body, her hot breath tickling the side of your neck as her lips ghost your skin.
"Green," you sigh out in a barely audible whisper, scared to speak any louder as your heart drums against your chest, waiting for them to touch you.
"Good girl," Natasha praises in a sultry tone, a small affected noise escaping you as you feel her hands slide up your body, teasingly and purposely not reaching high enough to cup your breasts before moving down to your thighs, her hands resting on them as her mouth moves to your ear, teeth nibbling on your earlobe momentarily, a soft sigh leaving her lips to tease you further. "Have you been naughty or nice recently, Krasotka?" she asks with a hint of playfulness to her tone, her emerald eyes meeting the darkening green opposite her as Wanda watches amused at how sensitive to her touch you already seem to be, breath hitching when the witch's hand travels lower, resting on the base of your neck and keeping you facing forwards.
Wanda notices the small smile that plays on your lips at Natasha's festive words, entertained and excited at her sexual undertone to it as you carefully choose your answer.
"Nice," you whisper out, a gasp leaving you at the warm feeling of Natasha's mouth placing a lewd kiss to your neck and Wanda's hand applying a little more pressure to your neck.
"Speak up Detka," Wanda reminds you, knowing exactly what you said and wanting you to fall for the trap.
"Nice," you repeat a little louder, "I've been good," you add, tilting your head marginally to the side to accommodate more of Natasha's arousing kisses, the feeling of her tongue swiping over your skin addictive, her teeth occasionally grazing you making your thighs press harder against each other.
At your answer, you miss the way both of their smirks turn predatory, dominance swirling in their eyes as Wanda merely bites her lip in excitement. Oh they were going to ruin you.
"Is that so Detka?" Wanda purrs out, her tone containing hints of danger as arousal floods through you, the soft tone from early gone as power radiates off of her. "I'm not sure that's true," she says, prompting you to think again about your answer, the recent events flickering through your mind.
Fuck.
Stark's Christmas Party.
"That's it," Wanda mutters, hearing your thoughts. "Stark's Party."
"I-"
"Apologies aren't going to get you anywhere Krasotka," Natasha husks out, using her hands to part your thighs, fingers teasingly stroking the skin of your inner thighs, feeling your arousal that's coated them. "You wanted a reaction out of us, acting like such a brat, but we didn't give you one, did we?"
"No," you say, voice wavering as all you can focus on is her hands so close to where you desperately need her, body aching for their touch, yearning for pleasure to course through you.
"What did we do instead?" Wanda asks, relishing in your nervous but aroused form, entranced by the way your body practically buzzes with anticipation.
Your mind flickers back to the night, remembering how you tried your best to get a reaction out of them by disobeying a few of their rules for the night, purposely pushing their buttons, wanting them to snap and fuck you roughly, make you scream their names all night long and show you that you belonged to them. Instead, they were soft with you, they gave you everything you wanted and didn't once tease or edge you, your mind now only realising it was a trick to make you think you had gotten away with it without punishment.
"You... You gave me everything I wanted, everything I asked for," you say, both of them smiling as they sense your moment of realisation, a low chuckle escaping Natasha.
"That's right," she murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your neck before replacing Wanda's hand at your throat, turning your head so that your lips were millimetres away from hers, making you want to chase them. "Now, I think Wanda and I are owed a punishment, don't you?"
You nod in response, not sure you could form words right now as you could imagine her smug smile and Wanda's eyes watching you attentively, admiring your reaction to Natasha's words.
"Words Detka," Wanda says, replacing Natasha's hands between your legs, nails scratching your skin softly, leaving faint red marks in their trails.
"Yes, I deserve to be punished," you're tone nothing but submissive, laced with desperation as your mind fogged with delirium at every scorching touch.
"Good girl," Wanda whispers, Natasha's lips brushing your own, a whimper leaving you as you couldn't stand anymore teasing, your body needing them to touch you. "Don't even think about coming until we say so," her accent wrapping around her words sultrily, adding a low rasp that has you whining in response, the redhead's lips claiming yours to silence you.
Natasha's mouth was warm, wet and addictive, her lips perfectly moving against yours in a lewd and sinful manner, stealing your breath away as her tongue slid into your mouth, effortlessly dominating the kiss. While your lips messily met the redhead's over and over again, Wanda moved her fingers to meet your dripping core, gently sliding the tip of her digits over your sensitive folds, a moan escaping you that was swallowed by the redhead's relentless mouth.
"Spread your legs for Wanda," Natasha pants against your lips, one hand resting on your neck, the other sliding down and patting your thigh, motioning for you to separate them further.
"Wider," Wanda encourages, a low curse leaving you as Natasha's hand ventures back up your body, cupping your breast firmly, earning a groan in response while Wanda drags the pad of her finger up your core to circle your clit at a torturous pace, her hand grabbing your chin and directing you away from Natasha's lips to her own.
Her kisses are sensual and soft as sighs escape her and you, her finger gliding back down your wet sex to your entrance, sliding her finger in effortlessly to cause a pleasurable buzz to flow throughout your body.
"Fuck," you moan against her lips, Wanda swallowing each and every sound out of you, her kisses turning hungry as your hips rocked against her hand, hands forming fists behind your back. "Please," you whimper as her touch wasn't enough and she knew that, Wanda continuing to slowly thrust her finger in and out of your soaking cunt, curling it at your sweet spot to hear you groan desperately into her mouth, her eyes meeting Natasha's who was currently marking your neck.
The redhead's hands continued to tease your chest, pinching and pulling on your nipples to have your back arch closer into Wanda's body, the witch's free hand moving to slide across your cheek, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping your head in place as your hips rolled against her, struggling to kiss her back at the way your head was spinning.
"Please," Wanda mocks, tone condescending and sending a flood of arousal through you, a pathetic whimper escaping you as her fingers tighten in your locks briefly. "So desperate... You're just a slut for us to ruin, aren't you?"
"Yes," you sigh out immediately, her sliding another figure into you, stretching out beautifully while Natasha bites down softly on your neck, ensuring you knew you were theirs. "Your slut," you pant out, trying to chase Wanda's lips as she pulled back, admiring the scene of you and Natasha in front of her.
"Ours," Natasha murmurs against your skin, Wanda smirking at the redhead who moves her kisses up along your neck, then along your jaw till her mouth reaches your ear, letting out a small moan at the way you whine.
You wish you could see the state of yourself right now, body marked by the redhead's mouth, hips rocking unabashedly against Wanda's hand as you chase your release, the muscles in her forearm flexing slightly as she fingers you expertly, giving you enough to have you on edge but not enough to fall over and crash into you release.
"Wanda," you moan out and she knows just by your tone what you're asking for, the heat in your lower abdomen unbearable as her fingers curl inside you, sparking pleasure and euphoria as you desperately need more to come all over her hand.
Speeding up her actions a little, you were naïve enough to think she had taken mercy on you, giving you that little bit more that you craved as your mouth parted, unable to control the string of moans escaping you at the feeling of teetering on the edge.
"Shit, Just like that, Plea-No, no, please," your sighs of pleasure turn to begging as her fingers slide out of you, hips bucking against the air as she edges you, a cruel but loving smile on her face as your hands struggle behind your back, wanting to reach out to her body and pull her back.
"That's one," Natasha whispers into your ear, a displeased noise leaving you as you lean back against her body, frustration flowing through you at being denied. Her fingers then move to your hands, untying the red silk binding your wrists, her fingers deftly massaging where the tie was before instructing you. "Hands and knees Krasotka," she murmurs before kissing your cheek, Wanda guiding you into position as you still couldn't see, her hands guiding you to settle in a position where you could eat her out while Natasha was behind you, the spy currently putting on the harness, ready to fill you up.
Fingers threaded through your hair as your arms locked around Wanda's thighs, her hands guiding you closer to her core, not letting you please her yet, too busy admiring the sight of you obediently letting them use you.
"Fuck Detka," Wanda moans when she finally lets you swipe your tongue through her dripping folds, a moan escaping you at her heavenly taste. Her hips immediately bucked up, teasing you having turned her on immensely, arousal coating your mouth as you kissed her wet core repeatedly, addicted and starved of her. The sinful noises leaving her lips only fuelled your desire to please her and taste her come dripping onto your tongue.
A broken moan escaped you when you felt Natasha drag the tip of the strap on across your folds, teasing your entrance as she slowly thrusted it in, letting you adjust to the large toy.
"Come on Detka, you can do better than this," Wanda teases you as your mouth rests at her inner thigh, hot breath fanning across her skin as you try to function with the feeling of Natasha slowly pulling the toy out and thrusting back in, nothing but pleasure filling your mind.
"Keep going Krasotka," Natasha reminds you as your mouth returns to Wanda, her head lolling back against the mattress, showing off her sharp jawline to Natasha as she picks up the pace of her hips, snapping the toy into you and revelling in the moans leaving you both.
"Just like that, good girl," Wanda praises, fingers guiding your head to where she wants you as your tongue swipes over her clit, swirling over it in a way that causes her back to arch off the bed, pleasure and arousal building between her thighs. Her words encourage you, mouth wrapping softly around her sensitive sex and sucking, her hips bucking against your face as a guttural noise leaves her, a similar one leaving you as Natasha's hands move to grip your hips, her thrusts more powerful as she pounds the toy into you.
"Nat," you pant out against Wanda's core, the witch groaning at the sound of you moaning the other woman's name while between her legs, her hips grinding against your tongue as you flatten it for her, too busy focussing on the toy being buried deep inside you.
"You can take it," the redhead pants, watching as your greedy cunt swallows the toy up, your arousal glistening in the dim light of the room, a loud moan from Wanda gaining the redhead's attention.
Her free hand moves to her chest, hips fucking your face as you let her use you however she wants, arousal practically coating your chin while she chases her high.
"Fuck, don't stop," she groans out, fingers holding your head still as you continue doing what you were doing, letting her fall over the edge with a guttural moan, her back arching further off the bed as her legs trembled and closed briefly around your head, pleasure filling her. You listened to every soft pant that left her, every hitch of her breath as you didn't stop your actions, moving your tongue around her slowly to begin with before thrusting it into her, moaning at the taste of her cum and the feeling of Natasha sliding a hand around your body, her finger working on your clit perfectly.
Your hips pushed back against hers as she kept up her merciless pace, your own release building within you swiftly as the toy reached deeper inside you, hitting all of your sweet spots at the same time.
"You're taking me so well Krasotka," she praises, causing you to whimper into Wanda's core, earning a lewd noise from her as you try your best to continue eating her out, pleasure and the desire to come clouding your mind.
"Nat, I- Fuck, Please," you plead, hands gripping Wanda's thighs a little tighter as you move your tongue to lap at her clit, switching to a slower pace as you were struggling to think straight with the redhead pounding into you.
"Hold it," she rasps out, tone laced with dominance as you whimper and whine, legs trembling making her hand support your body, Wanda's hands moving to interlock with yours, comforting you as you try to delay your orgasm.
"I can't," you're tone desperate as you move your head to rest against Wanda's thigh, her fingers soothingly scratching your scalp as she can hear your thoughts and the concentration of trying to obey Natasha, needing to please them both and be their good girl.
When another desperate and pathetic whimper leaves you, signalling how close you were to coming, Natasha pulls the toy out of you, her hands holding your body as your legs tremble at being denied again, another frustrated noise leaving you. Your head rests against Wanda's thigh as you whine, hips pushing back into the redhead's body in search of friction, her hands gliding up and down your body as you eventually calm down, Wanda's fingers still tangled in your hair.
"That's two," Wanda murmurs, pulling you away from her soft skin and admiring your dishevelled state; hair ruffled, lips kiss swollen, the blindfold loosely tied around your eyes as you look where she guides you. At the small noise that leaves you, Wanda's eyes meet Natasha's and they silently agree on ending your punishment, taking mercy on you, the both of them having edged you at least once and teasing you beyond madness. "I'm so proud of you Detka, good girl for taking your punishment so well," Wanda softly whispers while guiding you away from her legs, Natasha moving so she was laying down, waiting for the two of you.
Wanda kisses your lips softly, her hands guiding you into a new position, straddling the redhead as she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue, reluctantly parting from your mouth when Natasha wants a turn with you.
"Our good girl," Natasha husks out, breath fanning your lips as she brushes hers against yours, smiling against you while she pulls back marginally, your body naturally leaning forwards to chase them, hands searching for her shoulders. "What do you want, Krasotka?" Her tone a hum as her kisses travel along your jaw, her fingers gliding up your back slowly, eventually sliding through your hair and untying the blindfold, unravelling the tie and letting you see the two of them.
Your eyes blink as you adjust to not seeing darkness, the dim light helping you not be shocked at how bright the room was, the two sets of green eyes gazing at you immediately catching your attention.
"Please let me come," you beg and you don't care anymore at how desperate you sound, how needy you must seem as your eyes plead them to finally give you the pleasure of your release.
Wanda responds by moving her hand to cup your cheek, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss while Natasha moves her hands to your hips, lifting you up slightly so she could slide the toy back inside you, a broken noise being ripped from the back of your throat, the sound muffled by the witch's mouth as her tongue slides against yours messily.
Natasha's hands caress the curve of your hips affectionately as she lets you rock your hips against the toy, your body already moving a little frantically, your hands using the redhead as support.
"Show me how much you want it, Detka," Wanda pants against you, lips parting in a gasp as one of her hands move to your throat, eyes peering into yours with nothing but lust and desire as you whimper, pleasure building swiftly in your lower abdomen.
"Fuck," is all you can sigh out, hips increasing your pace as you roll them, the toy buried deep inside you making your eyes flutter close at the pleasure that shoots through you, nails digging into Natasha's shoulders.
You hear her hiss a little at the dull pain, her hips thrusting up into you as one of her hands move to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and gripping on your roots softly. Your eyes eventually flutter open, a wave of arousal flooding through you at the sight of the two of them making out, your hips stuttering against the redhead's lap.
Natasha's mouth opened to welcome Wanda's tongue, the witch letting out a sinful sound as she slid her tongue against the spy's, messily locking their lips as they put on a show for you, lewd sounds escaping them both. You almost come at the sight of the string of saliva that connects their lips, the two of them connecting their lips again before it breaks off, addicted to each other.
"Nat," Wanda groans, her accent becoming more prominent as you watch them eventually pull away from each other's lips, eyes overflowing with lust as they turn their gazes to you when you whimper, a smirk gracing both of their faces.
"Are you close Krasotka?" Natasha rasps out, leaning forwards to crash ghost her lips against yours, one of her fingers sliding between your bodies to find your clit, Wanda's hand tightening at your throat as she busies herself kissing the redhead's neck, teeth grazing the creamy skin.
"So close," you whisper, resting your head against hers as your hips rock frantically against her, the base of the toy brushing her clit making her moan quietly while you chase your high, pushing her towards her own.
Your hands travel further down her toned back, a groan leaving you as you feel her muscles twitch under your touch, red marks being left by your nails at the pleasure coursing through you, the redhead unable to stop the small sighs leaving her as her orgasm approaches. Her arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer and helping you with your hips as your rhythm falters, legs starting to tremble as you teeter on the edge of your desired release, her head dropping to rest against your shoulder.
"Come with me," she pants against your bare skin, her hips stuttering up into you as your body tenses on top of her. Your moans become unrestricted as your release crashes through you powerfully, body buzzing with satisfaction as you clench around the toy, obeying her words as you come all over the strap, vision blurring with pleasure.
Soft pants and gentle breaths filled the room as you relaxed against Wanda's body at your side, Natasha resting against you as you both recovered, Wanda's fingers threading through your hair in a comforting manner, you mirroring the action with Natasha. The redhead's hands slide up and down your back in a loving caress, warmth fluttering in your chest as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softening green as she pulls away from your shoulder.
Your lips break out into a tender, awkward smile as you lift your hips off of her, letting her remove the harness before joining the two of you back on the bed, arms enveloping you in an embrace as Wanda sandwiches you between them, smiles playing on all of your lips.
"We're so proud of you," Wanda murmurs against your temple, kissing your skin and lingering against the top of your head, nose brushing your hair as you relax against them, Natasha's fingers tracing random patterns against your hip bone.
"So proud," Natasha adds, your cheeks tinting pink at their praise, face moving to hide at Wanda's neck, a soft laugh leaving the witch at your flustered state.
"Stop," you mutter shyly, making them both chuckle adorningly, Wanda's fingers scratching your scalp in an affectionate manner while Natasha kisses your shoulder, smiling against your skin at the domestic moment, the three of you savouring the tranquil atmosphere.
"I love you," you whisper to the both of them after a while, feeling your powerful release catch up on you, exhaustion creeping up on you as their warm bodies surround you.
"We love you too," Wanda murmurs, kissing your temple once more as your eyes eventually flutter close, body drifting off to sleep as the two of them smile at each other knowingly.
It was only a couple days till Christmas...
Only a couple more days till they could ask you to be their wife. 
1K notes · View notes
anastasiabowe · 23 days
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𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙈𝙀 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝘼𝘽𝙔 𝘿𝘼𝘿! — Your boyfriend’s baby mama keep trying to get him back, so you gotta show her how you fuck her baby dad..
Note: I do not condone ANY content that is sent to your partners ex.. but if it’s Choso, it’s Choso so enjoy! (Also isn’t proofread so Ntm)
Content Warnings: SWEARING, piv, unprotected sex, recording of intimacy, hair pulling, revenge on ex, sharing 18+ content, mention of Choso having a child (not in any 18+ moments.) , MINORS JUST GO AWAY thank you!
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“Fuck me.” Choso cursed to himself. You were in the kitchen washing your breakfast dishes. You looked over your shoulder to see him rub his forehead in what seems to be stress.
“Everything alright?” You dried your hands on the towel, and made your way to him. You wrap your arms around him, letting his ease into your warm arms.
“Just my ex..” he looked up at you, showing his phone. They one thing you appreciated about him is how honest he is. He always shows you his phone, and it’s almost comforting to know he has nothing to hide from you.
You grabbed his phone, and he stared at your face as you read the messages.
Jenny
11:40am
J: “Been thinking about you lately Cho..”
C: “I haven’t. What do you want, Jenny? Is something wrong with Mani?”
J: “nah, just been missing you.. can I do that?”
C: “I’ve told you to only contact me if it’s about Mani. If it isn’t, I’m done talking to you.”
J: “Cho, please, I miss you, I miss your smile. Why can’t I ever see you again? Like we only see each other when you come to pick up mani or I drop him off.”
Seen
“I’m going to beat her ass.” You pushed his phone back into his hands, and made your way to the front door only for Choso to grab your wrist.
“What?”
“Who the fuck does she is calling you ‘Cho’ like that?”
“Well don’t go beating her ass, she’s with mani right now.”
“Well what else can I do, this the 7th fucking time she coming out with these messages.”
Choso looked around in thought until a smirk appeared on his face.
“I got an idea.”
-
-
-
“F-fuck!” Choso had both of your arms wrapped behind your back as he slammed his hips into your ass. He held your phone in his hand as he recorded you moaning out his name.
“Come on baby, who’s dick making you like this?”
“Y-yours!” You squealed when he readjusted, pushing the cold phone into your lower back, and stopping his movements. He soon picked up the pace again and it felt more than amazing.
Choso leaned on your back, bringing he camera around to face your messy face. Your head was half hurried in the comforter and your hands were gripping the sheets.
“Come on baby, we want to see your face!” Choso grabbed your hair, and you smiled as you stared into the camera, eyes threatening to roll back into your head.
“Good girl, doing so good for me.” Choso dropped the camera onto the bed, and swiftly turned you over, dick still inside.
“Gotta see your pretty face for real.” He picked up the camera and recorded how your cunt sucked him in every time he pulled out and pushed in.
The sight was more than unholy, it was obscene, but it only turned you on to know that this will be on your phone for you to see, and this would be the video showing how you fuck her baby dad.
You smiled at the thought of her thinking about the video everytime she even opens his contact.
“What’s got you so smiley?” Choso I’m assuming ended the video and tossed your phone next to your head. He then leaned in closer, chest to chest, and kissed your wet lips.
“Just thinking.” You giggled. He smiled, and deepened his thrusts. He pulled back, and brought your legs up into his shoulders. He then pounded harder into you, still having a smile of love and passion on his face.
“O-ooh Cho! S-shit slow down!” You cried as he kissed your ankle. Your stomach filled with butterfly’s as you felt your high coming quick.
“I’m gonna cum, Cho, I’m gonna cum!” He laughed, and leaned down to kiss you.
“Cum for me.” Those words made you let out a cry of pleasure as you came. Choso continued to rut and kiss you through it, and you couldn’t be more grateful.
“F-fuck baby, where d’you wan’ it?” Choso noted, waiting for your response.
“Inside!” You moaned, and Choso bit your ankle to stop himself from making any loud noises. He let out whimpers, and you smiled feeling him relax.
Choso quickly grabbed your phone, and swiped to the camera and pressed record. He slowly pulled out, and his cum mixed with yours flowed out.
Choso chuckled at the masterpiece you and him made.
“Look at that shit,” Choso scooped some of it up and pushed it back inside. “Keep it all in baby, tryna get you pregnant.”
Those words made your stomach flutter from the mere thought of having his kid. Everything about this was so filthy yet so thrilling, and you couldn’t wait to get that positive pregnancy test.
Choso then tossed your phone down onto a pile of clothes on the floor, and kissed you.
“You’d like that huh?” He pinched your side and you let out a laugh. He knew you’d like that very much.
-
-
-
You were sound asleep when Choso opened your phone and sent the video to himself. He then sent that video to Jenny, making sure she knows who he really wanted.
Not even 5 minutes later, Jenny sent a message that made Choso laugh a little to loud.
J: “You guys are so fucking disgusting, I hope you choke on your fucking ego. I don’t want to see your face ever again, you fucking cunt.”
What made that funny was he had to see her in not even 8 hours when he has to pick up his son from her house. This will be a fun exchange.
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mypoisonedvine · 8 months
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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader
title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k
𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??
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Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy.  You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.  
But, the point is, you were sorting tapes.  Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.
There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow.  You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.  
You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.  
"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close.  "I'm kind of a movie buff."
He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair.  He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store.  "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task.  This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…
"Oh, really?" he smirked.  "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"
"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."
"Right," he said, not seeming convinced.  "You like Kubrick?"
You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut.  But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him.  "Yeah, he's pretty good.  Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."
"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"
You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you.  "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.
"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.
"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod.  "Can you name five women you've made come?"
Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.
“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned.  “What are you saying to these guys?”
“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.
“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”
“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”
“Wha— no!” Neil denied.  
“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look.  “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”
“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised.  “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you!  Nobody even rents movies anymore.”  He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly.  “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”
“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”
“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.
“No,” you said again.  “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”
“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested.  “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”
He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.
“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example.  Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”
“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf.  “But that’s not the point.”
“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”
“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.
“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.
“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.
"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little?  Get our sales up?"
He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time.  At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up.  You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.
But you let Neil get away with a lot.  It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.
It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends.  Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade.  That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.  
As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying.  Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone.  That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.
“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered.  “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”
“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected.  “Just, you know—”
You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms.  It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage.  “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.
“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.
“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.
“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.
“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.
You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming.  They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.  
When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.
~
This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club.  In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.
"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.
The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it.  You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion.  She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”
There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate.  You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.
“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested.  “Get over Denise, you know.”
“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.
“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”
You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.
“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.  
You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though.  Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.
You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking.  That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up.  Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages.  The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself.  He’s still Neil…
“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you?  Anybody here catching your eye?”
“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied.  “Anybody.”
You snorted.  “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”
He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.
The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled.  “Wanna dance with me?”
“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage.  Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.
Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude.  You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry.  You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?
Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now?  What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together?  What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?
“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.
“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.
“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left.  You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.
“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again.  “What’d you say?”
“We should ask the band if they—”
And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor.  You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage.  A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.
Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.
“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed.  “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”
“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember?  We’re getting brunch and—”
“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you.  “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”
You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile.  “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.
~
As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile.  “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed.  “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why.  “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”
It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there.  “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”
“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.
“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.
“Seriously?  Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”
He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open.  “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.
“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road.  Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often.  Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own. 
You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.
“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.  
“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”
“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk.  “You can handle it on your own.”
“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer.  And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”
Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left.  You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…
“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”
“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.
For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something.  But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.
Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week.  You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.
And now the fun part: picking a shirt.  You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.  
But the button-downs?  Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.
You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded.  The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.
The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms.  You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.  
Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.
Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically.  You waited for him to say something, but he didn't.  "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.
"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."
You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.
(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today?  Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)
“Hey!  You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.
“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.
“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth.  “Did… you two…?”
You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.
“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.
You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.
“Oh my god!” he yelped.  “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky!  Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”
“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.
“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in.  “She just borrowed my shirt!  ‘Cause she— because—”
“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along.  “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”
“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you.  “What does that mean?”
Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him.  “W-well, I just mean—” he started.
“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed.  “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”
“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”
“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment.  “You know, that’s so reductive.  For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not!  ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”
“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”
“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”
You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously.  “Well, I—”
“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused.  “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”
“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”
“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted.  “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”
“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.
“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.
“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening.  That made you furrow your brow a bit.  It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.
“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”
Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick.  You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together.  You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.
“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”
That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile.  Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you?  “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.
“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged.  “That’s just the vibe I got, okay?  That she’s sorta… off-limits.”
Neil hesitated.  “Well… she’s not,” he decided.  “You’re grown-ups.  Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”
“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.
“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.
“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.
“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.
“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”
You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan.  “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know.  He gets weird about that.”
“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically.  “Didn’t notice.”
“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.
“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”
You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.
“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.
~
"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball.  Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach.  “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”
“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”
“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”
“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.
“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you.  “Wanna bite?”
You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you.  You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.
Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given).  Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore.  It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently.  So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.  
You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad.  Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now.  You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change.  Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.
But here you were anyways.  “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765.  “Beat that!”
Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff.  “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.
As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide.  “Alright, if you say so.”
You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh.  “What are you doing?”
“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.  
He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance.  He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.
“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”
Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly.  “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly.  “I know I can beat you at that.”
The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then.  As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.
~
You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off.  He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really.  You just weren’t sure what to say.  You weren’t sure if you should say anything.  And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird.  Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this.  Not that you couldn’t— but should you?
So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.
“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”
“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.
“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.
“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”
“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.
“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”
You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard.  “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.
“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically.  “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Carter, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”
“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed.  “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”
“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.
“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality?  Does she know?”
“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.
“Is she gonna tell me?  What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”
“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.
“And is this the Sarah Carter that’s already had John?  ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”
“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.
“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table.  “You fuck Carter, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”
“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.
“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided.  You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.
“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug.  “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”
Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows.  “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”
“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”
You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?
Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer.  “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing.  “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”
“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.
“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him.  “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”
“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied.  “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”
But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you.  “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.
“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that.  What did he expect you to say?  Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.
“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”
“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.
“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se.  He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.
“Well,” you mumbled, “no.  I don’t.”
Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit.  “Why not?”
“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”
He nodded, pursing his lips together.
“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued.  “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And honestly?  You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”
The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped.  But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.
“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”
“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”
“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”
“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed. 
“Is a six-pack enough?”
"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you.  “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”
You swallowed nervously.  “Um, I… well, I’m not coming.  I’ve got a date, actually.”
Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.
“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.
“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised.  “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”
“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight?  I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”
“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”
“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”
Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical.  "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"
"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained 
"You can't wear that to a date?" Julien wondered.
"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt.  "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"
Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.  
"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"
"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured.  "What, I don't look good in a suit?  'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"
"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"
"I think it's cool," Neil agreed.  "Have fun, alright?  And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."
"I'm not really worried about—"
"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."
"Dude, chill," you groaned.  "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."
You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later.  Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).
They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date.  You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.
“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.
“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.  
“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.
“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.
“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.
“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie.  We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”
“Okay!  That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.
“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”
“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.
“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”
“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.
“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.
“What?” Jonathan scoffed again.  “Why not?”
“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know.  “I think I’m just, like, friend material.  I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know?  Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”
“But isn’t that what every guy wants?  To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head.  You get what I mean, right?”
“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang.  That’s the best.”
“Well, here I am!  Hanging!” you snapped.  “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”
“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back.  “No, no, you look cool!  I mean, you look really great.  I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”
"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested.  "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."
"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.
"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured.  "If he wanted me, he would.  He doesn't.  It's not that deep."
Neil looked away when you said that.
"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.
"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.
"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.
"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him.  "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."
You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from.  "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.
~
Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.
You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.
“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window.  We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”
“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled.  “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”
“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed.  “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started.
"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.
"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed.  "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”
“Really?” Neil scoffed.  “Then why’d you ask him out?”
Just in case.  “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”
“Huh?  You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.
You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully.  “You know what I mean,” you groaned.
“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it.  It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”
“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.
“No!  I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful.  “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”
Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.
“Seriously!” he insisted.  “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”
The guy I want is already there every day.  Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again.  “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though.  I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”
“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.
“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.
After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued.  “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”
“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that.  I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”
“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer.  It was funny.  And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”
You snorted.  “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”
“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird.  So, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you assured.  “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”
“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”
“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling.  “Why?”
“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him.  He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”
You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…
“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse?  Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship.  ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious.  But with you…”
“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can.  “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.  Least of all you and I being married.  Talk about a disaster.”
You choked on your throat.  “Yeah.  No kidding…”
“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”
“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite.  “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”
“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that.  Have a good night, then, kid.”
“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.  
You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second.  Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that?  Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?
It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad.  What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?
Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street.  You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club.  You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.
You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.
“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back.  He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit.  “You here alone?” he noticed.
“Yeah,” you shrugged.
“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”
You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.
And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too.  Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights.  “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.
“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.
“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you.  “I’ll do a shot with you.”
He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better with you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor.  "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.
"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."
"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"
"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement.  "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."
"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time.  "You're not doing it with me?"
"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.
He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn.  You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.
"Is it working yet?" he wondered.
"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.
“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off.  “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight.  And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”
“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured.  “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve ever been around.”
“Oh?” he pressed.  “Let me guess… boy troubles?”
“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.
“But this is just one boy,” he presumed.  “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”
“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.
“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.
“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered.  “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him?  Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”
“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much.  “You… you’re…”
“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.
“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider.  “Sheesh.  No, I had no clue.  Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”
“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad.  It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”
“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely.  “So, you’re not his type?”
“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed.  “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”
“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.
“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him?  One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while.  And then, uh—”
“Tanisha,” he remembered.
“Right!  I liked her,” you hummed.
“What happened to her again?” he wondered.
“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.
“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.  
“She told me before she told him,” you admitted.  “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him.  But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”
Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.  
“What?” you wondered.
“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided.  “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”
You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit.  “What do you mean?”
“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”
“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed.  “That was a fucking disaster.”
“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”
“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed.  “That would’ve been awful.”
“But really, though,” he insisted.  “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”
“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”
“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.
“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is.  He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar.  Too comfortable.”
“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”
“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”
“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”
“Why do you think that?” 
“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.
“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.
“Did you see his face?  He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently.  “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”
“Nervous about what?”
“That something could really happen with us!”
“You really think he would care?” you frowned.
“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”
“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.
“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.
“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.
“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.
“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”
“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”
“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”
“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”
You sighed again, even harder.  “Yeah,” you nodded.
“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know I love you, but—”
“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.
His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.
“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.
part 2
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sweetlyskz · 6 months
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Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1
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Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|
Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader
Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.
Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn
unedited*
At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.
You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.
Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?
And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.
“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”
The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.
It’s a person.
“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.
You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.
You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”
You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?
“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.
“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”
With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.
While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.
“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.
“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.
“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”
***
You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.
“You want us to do what?!”
“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.
“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”
“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”
He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”
That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.
And you could use the company.
“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”
One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”
Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”
He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.
When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.
Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility
*Taglist open!
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joelalorian · 19 days
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Fall Into Me
dbf!Joel x f!reader
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The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 4.1k
Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Chapter One: The Day That I Met You
If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.
No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.
He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.
Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.
He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.
He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.
The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.
When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.
“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.
“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.
“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.
Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”
“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.
“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.
The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.
“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.
“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”
“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”
Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”
“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.
Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”
“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.
Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…
“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.
“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”
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Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.
You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…
Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.
You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.
The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.
“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”
“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”
“Me, too, kid.”
You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”
“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.
Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.
“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”
You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”
Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”
Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.
“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”
Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”
A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”
“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”
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“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.
“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.
Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”
“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.
“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.
Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”
His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”
The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.
After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.
At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.
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It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.
“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.
“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”
You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.
“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.
You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.
Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.
“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.
“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.
“I’m ready!”
Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”
“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.
The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.
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“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”
“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.
“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.
“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.
“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”
“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.
Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”
Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.
“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”
Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.
“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.
“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”
“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”
You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”
Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.
“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.
“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”
“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”
Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.
“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.
Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.
“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”
How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.
Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.
TBC
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deadbranch · 13 days
Text
The Day is My Enemy (1)
Author: @deadbranch
Pairing: werewolf!Captain Price x fem!Reader
Summary:  You and John are acquainted with one another, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Word Count:  1.1k
Warnings:  18+ MDNI, light angsty emotion, impolite language, eventual smut.
A/N:  Takes place in the same werewolf AU as Midnight in a Perfect World, but on the other side of the Atlantic.  Click here for AU lore.  This first chapter was written for @glitterypirateduck ‘s Captain Price writing challenge, using prompt #62 “Story takes place in an airport or on a plane.”
SERIES MASTERLIST
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THE DAY IS MY ENEMY (1)
There are times you miss the rank and file.
Perhaps you just long for simplicity. The clarity of service in uniform.  They still call you by your rank, observing the hierarchical courtesies, but it all drives you a little mad by the end of the week.  This isn’t the army.  It’s something else entirely.
Most of the seats on this flight are filled with werewolves.
There are a few trait carriers, otherwise human in appearance, among them but not many.
The flight attendants and crew likely have no idea.  Or maybe they know and don’t pay mind to it.  Regardless, it’s rare to find yourself in a flight cabin with this many.
The representative bodies of the Twenty Nations meet every two decades.  It’s tradition.
You’re certain the advent of trains, planes, and other vehicles makes the pilgrimage easier, but for you it would always be difficult.
You’re already making plans to avoid the next one in twenty years.
“Excuse me.”
You glance upward abruptly, not having realized you were zoned out to the buzzing activity on the tarmac outside the window across the aisle.
It’s Captain Price.  You know him as John, at his previous insistence, but you still call him Price.  There’s something to be said about keeping a wolf like him at a professional distance.  You’re not interested in a legacy more than fifty generations deep, nor any legacy for that matter.  Your bloodline ends with you.
You hadn’t realized Price was on the same flight.  Despite the near statistical certainty of sharing a plane, someone like him seldom occupies your thoughts beyond institutional annoyance.
He takes a breath as though to speak but stops himself.  Of all things, you admire his eyebrows for a moment.  They’re expressive, almost as much as they are when he’s more wolf than man.
You never served under the same command, but you’d participated in the same joint force exercises.  It feels like forever ago, but upon reflection it was less than three years.  You thought you’d never see most of your former teammates, acquaintances, even your enemies once you were recruited for off-books work.  Seeing Price’s restrained smile across the room during orientation gave you no small amount of trepidation.  You were looking forward to a fresh start. 
You dutifully stand to let him pass.  Tempted to ask if he’s sure he’s on the correct row, you decide less is more.
At this rate, maybe you’ll catch a short nap before takeoff.
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Price closes his book and lays it against his chest in contemplation.  He spares a glance at the woman next to him.
He’s certain she remembers him, by the look in her eye every time they bump into each other.  He knows her name, she knows his.
She’s asleep in the seat next to him, arms folded and cover pulled down in the manner of a sleeping soldier.
He takes a sharp intake of air through his nostrils.  He still can’t tell if she’s a wolf on suppressors or a carrier.  The medication messes with their natural scent, making wolves smell...not like wolves.  He knows someone who can pull her records, to confirm.  He doesn’t want to do that.  Although not exactly an egregious transgression, he doesn’t like the idea of invading her privacy.
And does it even matter?  He sighs inwardly.  It does to the custodial members of his bloodline.  Pair with a wolf.  Sire full-wolf children.  Maintain the legacy.
Fucking legacy.
He runs a hand through his close-cropped beard as he averts his eyes from her sleeping form.  He can’t help feeling guilty.  The opportunity presented itself for him to ask her, a few years back.  He didn’t take it.  It felt wrong to ask.  What are you?
Price shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe too deeply as he attempts to doze off.
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The pressure inside your head wakes you.  The drop in altitude means you’re almost home.  You smile bitterly.  Not home.  Just where you sleep while you’re not working.  Your parents believe you’ve taken a civilian job.  The bitter smile fades.
Price rouses from his own nap, book sliding off his chest and into his lap, causing the muscles in his chest and abdomen to flex at the unexpected movement.
His eyes, still bleary with sleep, meet yours.  You look away.  You’re hoping he didn’t notice your line of sight, but it’s too late.  The way his brows perk up, you’re all but certain he can smell your shift in perception.
“Sleep well?” he asks innocently, followed with a soundless yawn and rubbing of his left eye with the heel of his palm.  He’s giving you the dignity of feeling unseen.  Christ.  A gentleman werewolf.
“Well enough,” you say dismissively, avoiding his gaze as you tuck your cover under one arm before digging through your pockets.  You’ve got aspirin somewhere, but you suspect you likely left it in your carryon, now in the bin above and behind your seat.
He’s staring at you.  As you look up, you catch the aftermath of his flared nostrils.  He turns a little crimson under the collar but doesn’t look away.
“You’re…in discomfort?” he asks, nearly choking on the effort to speak.  You’re accustomed to the young wolves and non-legacies losing their nerve around you, but a wolf like Price?
“Just a headache.”
He reaches into the small carryon seated between his boots, withdraws a small bottle, and presses it into your palm.  You don’t recall reaching for it, but you take it gratefully.
You knock two of them into the back of your throat and swallow.  He winces.  You frown at him with mild amusement as you replace the plastic cap and press the bottle back into his open hand.  His fingers close around yours for the briefest moment before your hand slips through his grasp, his skin warm and dry to the touch.
“I’ll never get used to watching someone swallow pills dry.”
“Then don’t watch.”
He blinks slowly as he laughs in response to your logic.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Thank you.  For the aspirin,” you amend quickly, unsure of where this is going.  You’ve lost all concept of time and space.
“You’re most welcome.  I was hoping I could offer you something, anything.  At some point.”
Shaking your head, you mentally retract yourself from the moment.
“I don’t need anything from you.”
An infuriating level of patience and sincerity emanates from his every expression, gesture, even the movements of his mouth.
“I know you don’t.  But I’m here…if you ever do.”
With that, he shuts his eyes and turns toward the window again, his book still in his lap.
As his body shifts subtly to adjust to the attempt at sleep, you can’t help noticing his nostrils flare twice more and the hint of a smile at the near corner of his mouth.
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Next Chapter
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@tacticalanxiety @smoggyfogbottom @valkyri @argella1300 @mini-metal @glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @lollycotton @writeforfandoms @tiredmetalenthusiast @homicidal-slvt @tapioca-marzipan @macravishedbymactavish @kiki-is-hyperfixating @luciferstempest @luminousbeings-crudematter @oleworldblues @crunchlite @cathnoneofyourbusiness @b-lovedobserver @efingart @astraluminaaa @skinnyazn @http-paprika @fel0ny-01 @adnauseum11 @bluerosetarot @socially-awkward-skeleton @pastawench @gazs-blue-hat @sans-chara @thegreyjoyed
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spaceshipellie · 8 months
Text
sitting pretty
gamer!ellie x reader
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summary: you’re desperate for ellie to touch you but she’s too busy playing video games, so you compromise.
warnings: dom!ellie, sub!reader, use of strap (r receiving), reader’s wearing a skirt, strap/cockwarming, thigh riding, consensual videoing, 18+ MDNI
author’s note: so my lovely @lonelyfooryouonly made this SCRUMPTIOUSLY FERAL PIECE OF ART of ellie!! ellie in a hoodie and beanie makes me wanna do unhinged things so ofc i had to write something inspired by it.. thanks loony babe 🌷💋
˚ · • . ° .
you were lying on your bed in the apartment you shared with your girlfriend, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. your thumb flicking between the same three apps, barely paying attention to anything you were actually doing.
that familiar feeling was happening between your legs and you squeezed your thighs together, desperate for some release. what you really needed was your girlfriend but she was busy playing video games in the other room when she should be busy with you.
you reached your hand down and applied some pressure on your underwear, a tiny whimper escaping your lips. you rubbed a few slow circles before giving up. your fingers just weren’t the same. swinging your legs off the bed, you shuffled over to the door of the room where she was. it was open slightly and you could see her sat slumped in the massive chair, hands resting on her lower stomach with the controller. her knees were parted, one leg bouncing as she concentrated on the screen. the sight of her alone made you wanna come.
you snuck through the door, hoping she’d turn and look at you but she didn’t. she just kept playing as if she didn’t even know you were there.
you watched, almost falling into a trance, as her skilled fingers repeatedly pressed buttons and swivelled the joystick. you went up behind her chair and put your hands on her shoulders, resting your chin on top of her beanie.
“you okay, babe?” she deadpanned.
“ellie,” you dragged her name out a bit.
“what?”
“can you stop playing for a bit please?”
“why?”
you rolled your eyes.
“i miss you.”
“i’m right here.”
“no, i mean…” surely she knew what you meant. either she was playing dumb or she just was dumb. either way, you weren’t giving up. you squeezed her shoulders harder.
“i mean i miss you.”
she paused her game and span the chair around so she was facing you. her fingers reached out to lazily play with the hem of your pleated skirt before she dropped her hand to her thigh.
“oh yeah?”
you nodded.
“well what do you want?”
you shifted on your feet. “you.”
she chuckled to herself. “so cute. but i’m busy here, babe. can’t it wait?”
you groaned a little in annoyance.
“don’t pout.”
“i’m not pouting.”
“are you that desperate?”
you let out a frustrated, “yes.”
she smiled wickedly as she started to spin her chair back around to the screen.
“ellie, please.” you grabbed the top of the chair preventing her from turning it any further.
“tell me what you want then maybe i’ll do it.”
you huffed at the way she was making you work for it.
“can i sit in your lap? then you can still play.”
“is that all?” she saw right through you.
“fine. please can i sit on your strap?” you almost whispered, feeling embarrassed to ask but god, you wanted it so badly.
she laughed tauntingly again and flicked her eyes at the door.
“go get it then.”
you scampered off back to the bedroom, grabbing the pink strap. you took a second whilst your brain span wildly as you looked at the veins and ridges on it.
she watched as you eagerly bounced back into the room. she was very nonchalant as she held her hand out for it and put it on with ease. unzipping her jeans enough to be able to shove her hand around to get it on before resuming her slouched position in the chair. you moved forward towards her, your thighs bumping the side of hers. you suddenly felt a bit intimidated about taking the size of it. she looked up at you.
“need some help first?” her words might have been sweet but her tone was anything but. it was sadistic and mocking.
“yes.” your leg nudged hers.
with her hand closest to you, she reached under your skirt and pushed your underwear to the side, running a finger through your folds, teasingly letting it linger on your clit before pulling it away. the simple touch was enough to make you flinch and she snickered at how easy it was for her to make you like this. completely at her mercy.
she then pulled your underwear down and you kicked them off when they fell to your feet. she patted her thigh and waited for you to straddle it, whimpering as your clit came into contact with the rough material of her black jeans.
“happy?”
you nodded and she squeezed your thigh before directing her attention back to her game, both hands now on the controller and eyes glued to the screen, leaving you to fend for yourself.
you rocked your hips against her, revelling in the friction that was happening. ellie completely ignored you. it partly frustrated you but also turned you on to an impossible level. you knew you were probably in for a long night when she was like this and the thought made your insides twist.
you kept grinding on her, your hands stabilising yourself on her thigh in front of you, a couple fingers loosely gripping her hoodie. you kept eyeing the strap, desperately trying to get yourself to a point where you felt ready to take it. ellie didn’t seem to care how long it took you, she was fine occupying herself with the video game whilst you used her to get off. her eyes didn’t even glance over.
the sensation in your cunt suddenly heightened as you felt yourself about to come. your hand gripped her shoulder through her soft, thick hoodie. you sped up your pace ever so slightly as you felt the knot in your stomach unravel. your eyelids already felt heavy and your brain foggy so it made you jump slightly when you felt her hand glide up the outside of your thigh, dipping under your skirt. you looked at her but she was still looking at the screen. you buried your head in her shoulder.
“you done?” she said, her fingers brushing your skin. the first semi-attentive thing she’d done so far. you nodded your head against her shoulder. she tapped your thigh and you climbed off. putting her hand on the back of your thigh she encouraged you to straddle her lap.
you held onto her shoulders as you hovered above the strap which she held steady for you, the tip brushing against your clit before you tried to sink down on it. you moaned as you got past the tip. ellie watched your face intensely as you slowly lowered yourself, feeling the entire length fill you up and stretch you. you gasped at the sting mixed with pleasure and adjusted your hips to get comfortable. ellie’s hand rested on your thigh that was squashed against her own in the gaming chair.
“feeling better?” her head cocked sideways slightly as she looked at you.
“yes,” you mumbled, leaning your head back on her shoulder.
she adjusted in her seat slightly so she could see the screen clearly (and so she could fuck with you) and the slight movement from her hips caused you to clench. her arms wrapped around your waist as she resumed playing the game. she might have been acting to you like she didn’t care but she was loving this. her girl clinging to her because you’re just that needy.
she played for what felt like ages to you. occasionally you would wiggle or lift your hips slightly, whimpering at the warm feeling it caused deep inside. you couldn’t see but every time those pretty little noises left your mouth, ellie smirked to herself. the feeling of your body against her chest whilst you warmed her strap gave her the biggest ego boost.
thinking that you had been doing this long enough you started to pepper tiny kisses on her neck, moaning about how she was taking so long. she ignored you for a bit before you decided to gently graze your teeth on her skin to get her attention. she paused the game and turned her head to look at you.
“getting impatient?”
you nodded.
“i thought you wanted this,” she teased.
“i do but i need more, ellie, it’s been ages,” you said softly.
she lifted up your skirt to look at where you were wrapped around her, admiring the shine from the juices that had dripped down all over the base. she laughed.
“so fucking messy.”
she reached an arm around you to grab her phone from the desk and rolled the chair over a little to where there was a mirror leaning against the wall.
“look at yourself,” she instructed and with your back to the mirror, you turned your head over your shoulder to look at yourself in her lap. she gripped your ass, pushing the skirt up a little and used her hold to move you up and down a couple times slowly. you let out a strangled moan at the feeling and the sight of your pussy sliding up and down from behind. she gave your ass a little slap before setting you down again.
“you okay if i video it, baby?”
you nodded eagerly. she got her phone out and recorded the mirrors imagine of you slowly riding her dick. her other hand pushed the skirt up again so that she could get a clear view.
“fuck,” she breathed as she stopped recording and put her phone down. “look at you, so eager to please.”
you kept rolling your hips pathetically as she rested her arms on the arms of the chair, looking up at your face. she watched how your eyes pleaded with her to do more. to touch you. have her way with you. but she wanted to drag this out.
“please touch me,” you whined.
“no, do this yourself,” she smiled devilishly at you, “make yourself come on my cock.”
you groaned as your fingers dug deeper into her shoulders and you continued rolling your hips, your clit brushing up against the fabric of her hoodie. you started sloppily bouncing, your legs feeling too shaky to hold yourself up. the wet, sticky sounds that came from it were loud and humiliating.
“ellie, i can’t.”
“yes, you can.”
you pushed yourself through until you were coming undone around her. white, creamy cum dribbled out of you and down the strap onto her jeans. she finally put her hands on you for a second when she lifted the skirt up to look at the aftermath. she swiped a bit of your cum from her jeans and sucked it off her finger whilst holding eye contact with you.
“go and wait on the bed for me.”
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Text
Rigor Mortis (part 1)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
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(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Prologue, Part 2
summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.
warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end
a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here <3
wc: 4.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
or in the cold, crisp morn:
"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.
It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 
The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.
So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.
You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…
“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”
“Miguel?”
“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 
Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.
~~~
You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 
You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 
Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 
…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 
It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 
He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 
You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 
It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 
"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 
He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 
"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 
You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 
" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 
He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 
" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 
[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 
He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 
"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 
"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 
"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.
Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."
"I like to be early." 
"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."
He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .
~~~
His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 
Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 
So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 
You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 
The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 
As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 
Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 
“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”
You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”
“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”
You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 
There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 
"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 
" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 
You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 
A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 
He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 
"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."
You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  
He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 
"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."
You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."
"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 
"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 
He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 
"...I think that's mine."
He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 
He shrugs, noncommittal. 
"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."
~~~
It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.
You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.
There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.
When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 
“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 
“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.
You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 
“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”
With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 
“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 
So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”
“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.
“...was it two sugars, or three?”
“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”
You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.
He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 
“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.
“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”
From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”
With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.
“...Technically?” 
“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”
“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”
She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.
You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.
He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 
The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 
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promiscuouscutie · 8 months
Text
All Yours pt. 1
Ethan Landry x fem. Reader, reader is a little naive and Ethan’s obsessed, eventual smut
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7
Word count: 1979
Warnings for this part: uhhh drinking under 21, murder, mentions of vomit
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
You look at yourself in the mirror in disgust. You were dripping in beer liquid, courtesy to a sorority blonde devil named Michelle. Ironically, Michelle was dressed as an angel. It was meant to represent her ‘angelic personality.’ At least that’s what she put on her instagram caption for her costume reveal post. She hated you, but you never knew why. Did she have an actual reason, or did she just want to put others down? You just wanted her to stop talking to you. You wanted her to stop trying to spread rumors about you, when she didn’t even know what she was talking about. You wanted her to stop sending you threats on social media. She never bothered making anonymous accounts. She didn’t care if you knew it was her. She thought she walked on water, that she could do no wrong.
“Angelic personality. What a joke,” You said to yourself. You dig through your purse and pull out tissues, trying to wipe some of liquid off of your skin. You sniffed your dress and gagged; you stunk of cheap beer.
Ding! You pull out your phone and read the contact name: Cason. You pressed on the notification and read the message:
I’m here, at the party. Can we talk, bunny? I really owe you an explanation.
You chewed the inside of your cheek. Bunny, his nickname for you. The way he said it would make you smile, but not this time. The pet name barely made you react. Some part of you felt happy to get a text from him. He hadn’t texted you in weeks. He hadn’t spoken to you in person. Every time you tried to talk to him, he’d walk the other way.
Most of all, you felt awful. He used to flirt with you, just simple teasing and compliments during your tutor sessions. You didn’t realize his intentions right away. You just thought he was being kind. When he gave you the nickname, you thought it was a sign you were becoming close friends. You were wrong. During one of your tutoring sessions, he kissed you. You were so shocked, but you didn’t kiss him back.
He had a girlfriend. He still does, the girl you hate more than anyone. Michelle, the devil’s wife herself. You pushed him away and ended the tutoring session early.
Despite your hatred for Michelle, you didn’t want to break up a relationship. But why would he make a move? You didn’t understand that part, but maybe he’d explain himself. Maybe he could explain why Michelle spread the rumor that you made the move on him, knowing that he had a girlfriend. The rumor made traction around campus, making you lose some customers for your job. People saw you as a home wrecker, a horrible girl.
You sniffled. God, don’t start crying. It’s going to be okay. Just hear him out. You took a deep breath and reply to his message:
Should we find somewhere private to talk? Maybe you could take me on a walk or something? -you
He read it immediately.
Let’s talk in an hour. Michelle’s slobbering all over me rn. -Cason
This was fine. You were going to be fine. He’d explain himself, clear everything up. He could apologize for the kiss and even try to debunk the rumor his girlfriend started. But why didn’t he in the first place? A good question, one you couldn’t answer yourself. Only Cason could, and he would. You were positive he had a good reason for it. You just couldn’t figure out what it could be.
You still smelled like beer. But who doesn’t at this party? There’s a mix of alcohol and weed in the air that’s traveled to the first and second floor of this frat house. You adjusted your sparkly, lavender wings to make them less crooked. The purple glitter on your eyes still stayed perfect, which you were relieved about.
It took forever to put it on. Your roommate Anika had to assist you with it, but she didn’t complain. She was obsessed with your costume. She thought you made the perfect fairy! Your dress was a royal purple and made of silk. It had lace on the chest, giving it a lingerie look. You had a flower crown on earlier, but it found itself on Mindy’s head halfway through the party. You didn’t mind of course; Mindy looks great with it on.
There was a knock at the door. “Yo hurry up in there!”
“Coming!” You shouted. You grabbed your purse and threw away your garbage quickly before the stranger let out another complaint. You opened the door and rushed past the random guy. You looked around the room, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd. You spot a shirtless cowboy: Chad Meeks-Martin, the frat boy and self-acclaimed feminist. He spots you from a distance and waves. “Y/N! Come have a drink!” He called out. You walk over to him and catch the beers can he throws at you. As you opened it, you spot a familiar face.
“Hey Ethan! I didn’t know you were coming,” you smiled sweetly. He smiled back at you, right before glancing at the floor awkwardly.
“It was a last minute decision,” Chad explains. He puts his arm around Ethan, pulling him close. “I managed to convince him to come hang out,” Chad added with a joking tone. Ethan rolled his eyes at his friend’s words.
“You make me sound like a hermit,” Ethan comments.
“That’s cause you are, my boy. You’re a hermit crab.”
“Don’t tease the guy! He’s just trying to have a good time,” you lightly pushed Chad’s shoulder. You took a big sip from your beer and looked around the room again. Ethan’s eyes moved down your body, fully focusing on your costume. He took notice to the fishnet stockings on your legs. He liked them. He liked them a lot. Your eyes landed on Ethan’s face, making him avoid eye contact. You caught him staring at you. You thought it was a little cute, but probably just a coincidence. After all, how could sweet, quiet, adorable Ethan look at you like that?
You felt a a shoulder hit yours hard. You watch Michelle walk past you, snickering to her friends. She had two drinks in hand, and her angel wings were practically almost falling off her body. You winced as your rubbed your shoulder as Ethan and Chad watched the blonde walk up the stairs.
“What a bitch,” Chad says bluntly.
“Yeah. Major bitch,” Ethan agrees. You were a little surprised by Ethan. You never heard him say something like that before, and his face! He was practically glaring at her as she disappeared. If looks could kill, Michelle would be dead by now. You awkwardly laugh it off, trying to move on. You reach into your purse and pull out your phone.
I ran into Michelle. I take it she’s done slobbering all over you? -you
He didn’t answer right away. It took him maybe five or six minutes to reply:
She didn’t give you any problems, did she?-Cason
Nothing too horrible. Can we talk now?-you
You watched the thinking bubble appear quickly, making you smile.
Give me a few more minutes, bunny. I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?-Cason
You sighed in disappointment. You felt guilty for being impatient. He’s trying to have fun, just like you! You shove your phone back into your pocket and brushed your dress down.
“Let’s just keep the drinks coming, huh Chad?” You shake your beer can. Chad points at your face, grinning. “I like the way you’re thinking tonight, Y/N.” You both laugh as you chug your drinks, Ethan drinking his silently.
He watched you take drink after drink. After two more beer cans, you were cut off. Chad banned you from the fridges and coolers, but you managed to find one laying around. You just wanted to make your brain become sludge tonight. You wanted to forget your problems for just a few more hours. Fortunately for you, it was working. You found yourself wandering up the stairs, trying not step in vomit. You gag at the sight, trying to hold back any possible bile from your throat. When you made it to the top, you said “yes!” under your breath. That was your greatest accomplishment for the night.
You walk past rooms, trying to find an empty room to lock yourself in and close your eyes. You thought you found one, not seeing anyone on the bed. The music was so loud. The song Heartbeat by Childish Gambino started to play, and you dramatically sighed. “I love this song!” You grin. You shut the door behind you and throw yourself on the bed. How many hours had it been since you showed up to the party? Two? Three? Four? One? You couldn’t quite focus with the music playing in the background. You could practically feel the music’s beat inside your chest, matching your own heartbeat. You heard thumps near you, thinking it was just from the music. But you were wrong. You look to your left, seeing a tall, cloaked figure. You recognized the look immediately.
“Really? Another Ghostface? I’ve seen like two of you at this party already!” You sit up and stare up at the masked stranger. They tilt their head, staring at you. You notice the red knife in their hand and try to grab it. They move it away from you immediately, making you whine.
“Let me see it! Can’t I hold it? Just once?” You bat your eyelashes at them. To your surprise, it worked. They wiped the red liquid on their sleeve and handed the knife to you.
They still hadn’t said a single word to you. They just watched you grip the handle, swinging it around like it was a toy. You thought it was, at least. You tried to stand up, but you wobbled. The Ghostface grabbed your arms and helped you stand up straight. You looked up at the masked stranger and smiled. “Thank you, sweet thing!” Your feet feel stuck to the wooden floor, as if they were superglued down. Their grip on your arms felt stronger than before. “Can you..can you let me go please? I need to pee,” You squeak out. One of their hands lifts up and cups your face. The leather glove felt strange against your skin. You felt a fluttery feeling inside your stomach. It was a new feeling. They tuck some of your hair behind your ear, revealing one of your collarbones that hid underneath.
“Use the one downstairs. The one up here is broken,” the Ghostface spoke with a strange voice. Did they have a voice modulator? That’s pretty cool. You nodded along, as if stuck in a trance. They loosened their grip on you, finally letting you go. You reach for your purse on the bed, bending over. You felt the cold air on your upper thighs and ass as your short dress lifted up. You didn’t even think about how you could’ve been flashing this stranger. You didn’t actually think you were, but you were. They stared at the exposed skin they could see until you stood up straight again.
You turned back around to face the Ghostface. “Don’t be a lady killer, Mr. Ghostface.” You blew a kiss at them and walked out of the room, trying not to wobble or stumble again.
If you had gone into the upstairs bathroom, you would’ve found a very dead Michelle laying in the tub with her throat slit. But you didn’t. You believed the Ghostface, naively and foolishly.
Who knew how much of a problem this would be in the future?
Not you, but Ghostface would. Ethan would.
1K notes · View notes
ugh-yoongi · 3 months
Note
hi! hope youre well!! would u mind putting together a taehyung rec list whenever u have the time? 🥹 happy holidays!
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decided to combine these while i have a quick minute! thank you both for asking, hope you find something you enjoy in here. :)
most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!
i know there are a bunch i’ve forgotten (and i feel like i see jimin/tae fics the least these days???), so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!
taehyung x reader
a human touch by @snackhobi
heatwave by @curly-bangtan
too long; didn't read by @fortunexkookie
upstream colour by @honeymoonjin
backseat serenade by @jungkxook
just a taste by @xjoonchildx
let it snow by @suga-kookiemonster
everything by @gukyi (special shoutout to good luck charm tho)
all of @here2bbtstrash's drabbles
jimin x reader
catch your drift by @snackhobi
into the wilderness by @gukyi
the devil in his details by @johobi
warm hands (ice cold heart) by @hobidreams
florezco by @honeymoonjin
red flag by @xjoonchildx
dreamy by @1kook
point of no return by @wwilloww
the shape of your body by @here2bbtstrash
menace by @eoieopda
good for you
as always, member x member fics under the cut!
member x member
taegi/yoonmin: see yoongi recs here
taejoon/minimoni: see namjoon recs here
vhope/jihope: see hoseok recs here
taejin/jinmin: see seokjin recs here
taekook/jikook: see jungkook recs here
you're only brave in the moonlight (vmin)
paint (vmin)
ring the changes (vmin)
you keep me up at night (vmin)
help me hold onto you (vmin)
i will make you whole (vmin)
hooters on peachtree (vmin)
meaner than mean (vmin)
you know i know (vmin)
the only one who makes me (vmin)
you are my bravest everything (vmin)
461 notes · View notes
Text
Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart
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Wanda X Reader 18+
Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.
Word Count: 10.8k 
Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare 
Kinkmas Masterlist
---
Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.
The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.
You.
Where were you?
"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.
Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.
It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.
"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.
"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.
"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.
"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.
"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.
"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.
"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.
"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.
Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.
Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.
"What-"
"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.
"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.
"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.
"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.
"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.
"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.
"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.
"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.
"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.
"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.
***
"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.
"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.
"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.
"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.
"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.
A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.
"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.
It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.
"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.
"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.
"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.
"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.
"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.
Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.
***
"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.
A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.
"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.
"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.
"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.
"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.
"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.
"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.
"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.
After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.
Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.
As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.
"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.
"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"
"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"
She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.
"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.
"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.
"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.
***
A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.
Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.
The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.
"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.
"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.
"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.
"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.
"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.
"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.
"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.
Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.
"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.
"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.
***
"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.
"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.
You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.
"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.
"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.
"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.
"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.
Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.
"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.
The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.
Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.
"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.
"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.
The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.
"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.
"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.
***
A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.
"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.
"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.
"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.
"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.
"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.
"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.
"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.
"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.
A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.
You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.
Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.
"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.
You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.
Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.
"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.
Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.
"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.
"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.
Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.
"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.
"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.
She kissed you.
You actually just kissed her.
A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.
What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.
Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.
***
Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.
A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.
The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.
"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.
"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.
"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.
"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.
As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.
Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.
"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.
"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.
"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.
"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.
"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.
"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"
"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.
Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.
It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.
When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.
You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.
A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.
"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.
Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.
"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.
"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."
"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"
"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.
"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.
"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.
"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.
She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.
When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.
"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.
"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.
Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.
Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.
"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.
"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.
"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.
"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.
"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.
"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.
"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.
You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.
"Can I-"
"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.
Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.
"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.
"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.
"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.
"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.
"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.
"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.
"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.
"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.
"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.
"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.
Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.
"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.
Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.
Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.
She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.
"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.
"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.
"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.
"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.
"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.
"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.
"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart. 
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distantdarlings · 4 months
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BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott
RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS
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Theodore Nott x Fem Reader
+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.
+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS
*sorry for the short chapter
- - -
You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.
The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.
You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.
Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.
You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.
The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.
Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.
After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.
You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.
Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.
Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.
“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.
“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…
No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.
“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.
His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.
You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.
But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.
Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.
You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—
You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.
“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.
“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”
You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.
“You go first,” he says. You sigh.
“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.
“What were you going to say?” you ask.
His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.
“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”
“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.
His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…
“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.
“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.
“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.
His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.
“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.
“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”
His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.
“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.
He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”
You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.
You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.
“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.
“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.
“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.
Part 5!
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dreaming-medium · 5 months
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Animals Without Direction Masterlist
Ao3 Link - Latest Update (March 4) - Chapter Thirty-Three
⚔️ Updates every Thursday ⚔️ Character Descriptions World Map ot8 x reader Stray Kids Fantasy!AU 18+ MDNI Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Swordfighting, Magic, Eventual Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Romance, Adventure, Fighting, High Fantast, Slow Burn, Extremely Slow Burn, Plot Heavy
Summary:
“No.” Your voice was stern, your eyes didn’t even look up from the plate in front of you. A healthy helping of roasted potatoes being pushed around by the metal fork in your hand.
“I am offering you a hefty sum of gold,” the man’s voice pleaded with you.
“I am well aware of the amount you offer, but you must think me mad to go anywhere near Miroh.”
“Thrice the amount, then.”
You paused.
Swallowing your mouthful of food, you placed your fork back on the table; tonguing your cheek and shifting on your seat.
Individually, you cracked each knuckle on both hands, your mind reeling.
“Explain the job to me once more.”
Chapter One - Thrice The Amount Chapter Two - Stained Glass Window Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows Chapter Four - Sword Sparks Chapter Five - Careful, Merchant Chapter Six - Aye, My Lord Chapter Seven - Decree Chapter Eight - Twenty Laps Chapter Nine - Clear Your Plate Chapter Ten - By First Light Chapter Eleven - Permitted to Die Chapter Twelve - Rest Chapter Thirteen - Jump Chapter Fourteen - Quite Certain Chapter Fifteen - Serendipitously Chapter Sixteen - Make it in Three Chapter Seventeen - Hang in There Chapter Eighteen - Sunshine in the Night Chapter Nineteen - Dance Lessons Chapter Twenty - While Dancing Chapter Twenty One - Mend Chapter Twenty Two - Of Course Chapter Twenty Three - Tea With Sugar Chapter Twenty Four - Dagger Chapter Twenty Five - The Gracious Host Chapter Twenty Six - The Dove Waltz Chapter Twenty Seven - Imported Cigars Chapter Twenty Eight - Use Chapter Twenty-Nine - Between Two Walls Chapter Thirty - Missed You Chapter Thirty-One - Bonfire Chapter Thirty-Two - Music of the World Chapter Thirty-Three - Stay Here
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