#-ruining someone than with actually fixing the problem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

danysdaughter · 5 days ago

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Love Island!Bucky (Pt. 2)

pairing | love!island!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | The next morning, instead of questioning bucky, the girls paint you as the problem — the messy one who blindsided sharon and stirred the pot. the judgment builds. the energy shifts. Then comes the dumping. Three girls vulnerable. One will go.

a/n | guys omg, I did not expect so much love for the love island headcanons lollll, anyway I went hella overboard for this. also I wrote this in present tense and it was giving me the ick and making my fingers crawlllll

taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist 🩵

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1

divider by @cafekitsune

The Next Morning 🌅

Cue soft acoustic guitar and wide drone shot of the villa bathed in early morning sunlight.

Iain Stirling (voiceover): “It’s a brand new day in the Love Island villa, and after last night’s emotionally devastating, slow-motion, whisper-in-the-dark, Soul Ties-level drama, you’d think things might have calmed down…”

Cut to you and Bucky, asleep and cuddled up in Soul Ties.

“But no. Because this is Love Island, and peace is just a rumor.”

Cut to the girls’ dressing room, where tension is spreading faster than MJ’s lip gloss.

“Elektra’s getting ready to look flawless while ruining someone’s morning. MJ’s in her usual position — two inches from drama. And Trish? Trish is there because no one wants to be the third wheel and the fourth wall.”

The dressing room is thick with hair spray and tension. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting golden lines across countertops cluttered with makeup bags and hair tools.

Elektra sits at the center vanity like it's a throne, legs crossed, one brow arched as she slowly runs a brush through her hair. Her voice is soft, almost casual — which makes it sting worse.

“I just think it’s wild,” she says, watching her own reflection with amusement. “Bucky brings Sharon back, and now he’s creeping into bed with her like it’s nothing?”

MJ lets out a gasp that practically echoes off the tile. She's leaned close to Elektra, glossing her lips and pretending she's not dying to be the one spilling the tea. “Wait, they were actually together last night?”

Trish, sitting behind them and stretching like she hadn’t been up for an hour waiting for this conversation to kick off, nods like it pained her to confirm. “I heard he left the bed after lights out. Went straight to her. Didn’t even try to be subtle.”

Elektra gives a low, theatrical laugh. “Please. That girl’s been crying all week — now she’s in Soul Ties with Bucky again? She’s been playing the victim card like it’s her job. It’s giving... manipulative.”

“And Sharon?” MJ adds, voice pitched to sound sincere, but there's that edge in it — the same one she always has when she wants someone to look bad. “She’s literally so sweet. Like, she did nothing wrong.”

“She got blindsided, that’s what happened,” Elektra mutters, tossing her brush onto the counter. “And that one—” she doesn't even say your name, just nods toward the door, “—knew exactly what she was doing.”

“She’s not even subtle about it,” Trish says. “I mean, don’t act like you’re above the mess and then go sneak a boy out of bed.”

Elektra’s lips curl. “Exactly. Some people talk about loyalty like it’s a brand — but clearly she’s only loyal when it benefits her.”

Across the room, Ororo stands by the mirror, arms folded as she slowly applies her moisturizer, not once looking in their direction. Karen sits nearby, silent, eyes fixed on her reflection, jaw tight. Neither of them says a word — but the air around them has changed. They heard every syllable.

“I swear,” Ororo mutters under her breath once the others are too busy giggling to notice, “if she says one more word...”

Karen leans in slightly. “She’s poking for a reaction. They all are. Don’t give it to them.” Then, quieter still, “But we’ve got her back. No matter what.”

You push open the dressing room door with one hand, the other tugging the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head. You don’t say anything — not “morning,” not even a nod. You just walk in with your face mostly hidden, body language tight, and that stiff, quiet air of someone who’s not sure whether they want to cry or scream.

You feel the eyes on you immediately. Not all of them. But enough.

You can practically hear them stop talking.

You know what they’re thinking. You know what you’re thinking — and that’s the worst part.

You're still torn. Still bruised.

He came back with another girl. But then he left her bed, broke the rules, and found you. Held you. Slept beside you like nothing in the world could’ve pulled him away.

So what the fuck does that mean?

You’re still figuring it out when Elektra says, without even turning fully around, “Well. Looks like someone had a wild night.”

You stop in your tracks. You don’t look at her — not yet. But your voice is clear when it comes out.

“Don’t start. Not this early.”

There’s a pause. MJ tries — tries — to stifle a reaction. Trish looks up from her water bottle, waiting.

But Elektra? She’s already smiling. Not wide. Just the kind of smile that says she was hoping you’d bite.

“I’m just making conversation,” she says lightly, flicking her mascara wand up through her lashes. “Didn’t realize that was off-limits now.”

You let out a short laugh through your nose. Dry. Exhausted. “You know what you’re doing.”

Elektra glances at you in the mirror, her tone casual. “What? I can’t ask about the villa’s newest and most confusing love triangle?”

Karen, sitting nearby, shifts slightly — not looking up, but her grip on her brush tightens.

Ororo doesn’t even pretend to ignore it. She turns her head, calm but watching.

Elektra continues, voice cool. “Bucky brings Sharon back from Casa, and not even twenty-four hours later he’s cuddled up with you like it didn’t happen. But sure, I’m the one being messy.”

The way she says it — soft, deliberate — isn’t loud. Isn’t obviously cruel. But it’s sharp. She doesn’t need volume to cut deep.

You lift your head finally, just enough for your eyes to meet hers in the mirror.

“You don’t care about Sharon,” you say flatly. “You just don’t like not being in the middle of the drama.”

Trish stifles a breath. MJ goes quiet.

Elektra doesn’t blink. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be saying anything.”

“You’re not saying anything helpful,” you shoot back. “You’re stirring shit you know nothing about.”

Elektra leans back slightly, crossing one leg over the other, eyes locked on yours through the mirror like she’s bored, but her smile is too precise for that to be true.

She shrugs, slow and cool. “Hey, if you can dish it out, you should be able to take it.”

You squint at her, that dull throb in your temples starting to flare.

“Dish what out?” you ask, voice quieter now, but sharper. “You’ve been talking shit since you walked in this villa.”

“I’ve been asking questions,” Elektra says innocently, setting down her mascara wand like she’s so done with this. “If that gets under your skin, maybe there’s something worth unpacking.”

Ororo makes a sound from across the room — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Karen just tilts her head down, like she’s reading the label on her moisturizer just to keep from rolling her eyes.

You open your mouth to say something else, heat rising up the back of your neck —

And then the door opens.

Sharon steps in quietly, wrapped in her robe, makeup-free, her expression open and uncertain. She looks around the room, her eyes scanning like she’s stepping into something she wasn’t invited to. Her brows knit just slightly, but she keeps her posture calm.

“Hey,” she says gently. “I just need a few minutes to get ready. Is the shower free?”

Elektra is up like clockwork — the switch in her tone almost whiplash-inducing.

“Yeah, of course, babe,” she says, turning to face Sharon with the perfect balance of warm concern and subtle drama. “You okay? You look kind of... off.”

Sharon hesitates, just a second too long. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Elektra gives her a soft, pitying look that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I would think so. Must be weird trying to sleep while your guy’s out in another bed.”

That lands like a pin drop.

You lift your head immediately, expression tightening.

“Elektra,” you warn, voice low, but she waves it off like you’re being dramatic.

“No, I’m just saying,” she continues, still looking at Sharon, voice all faux-sympathy. “I’d be pretty torn up too. First night in the villa and he’s already moving on. That’s... brutal.”

You step forward, pulse spiking. “Don’t do that. Don’t put this on me.”

Elektra finally looks at you — not angry, not loud — just surgical.

“You went off with him. While she was still sleeping in his bed. After everything. That’s not just messy, it’s fucked.”

Sharon shifts slightly, her face still composed, but there’s something behind her eyes now — not shock, just quiet confirmation that she’s already been thinking everything Elektra’s saying.

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It wasn’t like that.”

Elektra lets out a breath of disbelief. “Oh come on. You think that makes it better? You’re not stupid — you knew what it looked like.”

You glance at Sharon — and the worst part is, she’s not glaring. She’s not accusing. She just looks... tired. Like she’s trying not to feel humiliated.

And now, you feel sick.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen that way,” you say quickly, eyes still on Sharon. “I didn’t plan any of it. He came to me. I didn’t even know he would.”

Elektra scoffs. “Yeah, but you let him stay.”

Silence.

No one says a word. MJ’s frozen mid-makeup swipe. Trish has stopped pretending she’s not watching.

Ororo stands by the sink, arms crossed now, expression unreadable. Karen meets your eyes from across the room — no judgment, but concern. She knows this isn’t black and white.

But Elektra just tilts her head, all soft venom.

“You can do what you want,” she says sweetly. “Just don’t act like you’re the victim anymore. Not when someone else is standing right there.”

You stare at the floor for a second, jaw clenched, vision hot.

Elektra’s words hang in the air like smoke, still curling around the room, seeping into everyone’s silence. Sharon doesn’t say anything — she’s polite like that — but you can feel the judgment twisting, building, pressing against your chest like a weight.

You laugh once — short, sharp, humorless.

And then it just snaps.

“You know what?” Your voice is low, but it cuts through the room like a blade. “Go ahead. All of you. Dogpile on me. That’s clearly the game today, yeah?”

You look up, eyes bright and full of fire now. “Like I wasn’t the one standing at that firepit yesterday in front of all of you looking like a fucking idiot. Like I wasn’t the one humiliated on national fucking television while he walked in with someone else.”

No one says anything. MJ shifts her weight like she wants to disappear. Trish stares at the floor.

You keep going, voice steady but shaking from the sheer force of everything behind it.

“And now I’m the bad guy because I didn’t shove him off me in the middle of the night? Because for one second I wanted to feel like I didn’t imagine all of it?”

You glance at Sharon again, and your voice softens — not apologetic, but real.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. And I’m sorry that you did. But I’m done pretending like I’m the one who fucked this whole thing up.”

You look back at Elektra, finally meeting her eyes head-on.

“You wanna play girl's girl? Cool. Just don’t rewrite the story like Bucky didn’t make the mess. You all wanna call me messy, but none of you have had the balls to say anything to him.”

But Elektra says nothing now.

Because you’re right. And everyone in that room knows it.

You exhale hard, rubbing your face once, then shake your head. “I’m done with this shit.”

And you walk out — hoodie still up, heart still bruised.

You find the staircase that wraps around the back of the villa — barely used, tucked between two walls where the cameras can’t quite catch a clean angle. You sit on the third step, legs pulled up, arms resting on your knees, trying to fold in on yourself like maybe you could disappear if you got small enough.

It’s quiet. For a few seconds. Then soft footsteps approach.

Ororo and Karen don’t say your name. Don’t announce themselves. They just stop a few steps down, careful not to crowd you.

Karen crouches down beside you, her expression gentle but serious. Ororo leans against the railing, arms crossed lightly, watching you like she’s waiting for you to look up first.

You don’t.

Karen’s voice is soft. “Are you okay?”

You laugh. Not because it’s funny. Just because what else are you supposed to do?

“No,” you say. Quiet, but real. “Seriously—no. I’m not.”

You finally lift your head, and the way your voice cracks a little as you speak again makes Karen reach for your hand instinctively.

“I have no fucking clue what’s going on anymore. I don’t know where I stand with him. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. One second I’m being embarrassed in front of everyone, and the next he’s sneaking out to hold me like—like that didn’t happen.”

Your eyes glass over, and you blink hard.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind. Everyone’s looking at me like I’m the bad guy, and I don’t even know what I’m defending anymore. I’m just… so fucking tired.”

Ororo still hasn’t moved. She’s quiet for a beat, then says softly, “You’re not crazy. You’re in the middle of something real, and people forget that just because it’s on camera.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, well, it feels crazy.”

Karen squeezes your hand gently. “You don’t have to have it figured out right now. You just need space to feel it.”

Ororo steps forward, finally, kneeling on the step just above yours.

“You’re not alone,” she says simply. “You never have to be.”

You exhale slowly, pressing your knuckles to your eyes for a second before letting your hands drop back into your lap. The weight in your chest hasn’t shifted, and your voice is quieter now, like you're already tired of hearing yourself talk — but it needs to come out.

Karen tilts her head gently. “What… actually happened last night?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking between her and Ororo. There’s no pressure in their faces. Just space. Space to be honest.

You finally speak.

“He found out I was sleeping in Soul Ties,” you say, voice low. “And then… after everyone went to sleep, he came out.”

You stare down at your hands. “Didn’t say much. Just got in behind me and held me. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Karen watches you closely, her brows pulling together just slightly.

“He said he didn’t care if he wasn’t supposed to. That he couldn’t sleep knowing I was out there alone. And then he…” You trail off for a second. The words feel heavier in your mouth than they did in your memory. “He said some things before that. About how he didn’t think I’d pick him. About how he made the wrong choice. And then… we kissed.”

Ororo’s expression shifts subtly — not shock, not judgment. Just concern. Like she knows what’s coming before you even say it.

You let the silence hang for a second longer before your voice comes back, brittle and quiet.

“That was it. That’s all that happened. But—”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek before the rest tumbles out.

“Words are cheap. Anyone can say nice shit when they’re lying next to you at two in the morning. What matters is what they do when the lights are on. And all I’ve seen so far is him choosing someone else and me being the one who looks pathetic.”

You blink again, hard.

“I feel like the biggest piece of shit. Like I let myself be played again. And now Sharon’s hurt, Elektra’s making it her mission to drag me, and I’m just sitting here trying to remember how I even got in the middle of this.”

Karen doesn’t speak. She just lets you sit with it.

Ororo’s voice is calm when it comes, steady and grounding. “You’re not the piece of shit in this story. You’re the one they keep expecting to carry all the guilt while he walks around like he didn’t light the match.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head again, like you can physically will the tears not to fall.

“I just…” your voice is barely there now, hoarse around the tightness in your throat, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

You stare down at the floor, blinking fast, willing yourself not to fall apart in front of them. Not now. Not again.

“I don’t know if what he said meant anything. I don’t know if he’s just playing a game, or if I am for letting him in. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to fix it, and honestly…”

You stop. Take a deep breath. It shakes on the way out.

“I just wanna go home.”

The words fall out small, tired, and honest in a way that makes the air feel still. You don’t say it for sympathy.

You say it because you mean it. Because for the first time since you got here, the idea of finishing the show doesn’t feel like a challenge — it feels like punishment.

Karen gently leans into you, resting her head against your shoulder without a word. Ororo doesn’t move, but her presence wraps around you like a second spine.

They don’t say anything right away.

Because they know that sometimes the most important thing someone can do is just be there when you can’t carry it anymore.

Tweet Challenge📱

The islanders are gathered around the firepit, energy nervous and unsettled. A few people try to fake-laugh their way through it, but no one’s really relaxed — not with a card on the table marked “#VillaTalks”.

A text informs Trish to take the first card, who reads it out loud.

“It’s time to find out what the world really thinks. One by one, tweets from viewers will be read out loud. Some are nice. Most… not so much.”

The first few tweets are harmless — jabs at random couples, calling Matt a walking red flag, teasing MJ for always stirring the pot (she takes it in stride, grinning). You’re sitting off to the side, Karen beside you, Ororo on your other side, silent support flanking you like armor.

Then the next tweet is pulled.

Elektra leans forward, plucking the card with dramatic flair. Her eyes flick across the words, and you already know — from the flicker of her smile — it’s about you.

She reads it out loud, tone sweet but loaded.

“Not her crying all week then playing sleepover with Mr. Flip-Flop 🤡#PickASide #MessyQueen”

A few people laugh awkwardly. MJ lets out a “Yikes” under her breath. Sharon’s expression doesn’t move, but her hand tenses slightly on her knee.

You stare straight ahead, jaw locked.

Elektra raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oof. Wonder who that could be.”

Karen shifts beside you. “We don’t have to pretend.”

The text prompt: “Islanders, who do you think that tweet’s about?”

It’s rhetorical. Everyone knows.

You speak before anyone else can.

“Me,” you say flatly. “Obviously.”

The next card comes, but the tension hasn’t broken. It clings to you, thick and sharp, like you’ve just been handed a version of yourself that the outside world has already judged.

And the worst part?

They don’t know half the story.

Bucky’s across from you, hands clasped between his knees, head lowered slightly. You don’t look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the weight of his guilt across the firepit.

And still — no one says anything.

The tweet sits there in the air, sharper than anything Elektra could’ve cooked up.

And you sit in the middle of it, stone-still, trying to hold your head up — even though your chest is caving in.

The cards keep coming.

MJ grabs the next one, eyes widening slightly as she reads. Her tone is more neutral now — less playful.

“Her reaction was raw, real, and heartbreaking. Bucky doesn’t deserve her. #StayStrongQueen #KnowYourWorth”

A few murmurs ripple through the group. Karen nods slightly beside you. Ororo doesn’t react — but you feel the subtle shift in her posture, like she’s quietly validating it.

You don’t smile. You just stare ahead. You can’t smile, not when your heart’s still tangled up in all the parts of this that didn’t happen in front of a camera.

But then Sharon — quiet, careful — picks up the next tweet.

Her voice is steady, but there’s an edge under it.

“Bucky's out here doing everything but picking a lane. One day he’s with Sharon, next he’s in Soul Ties whispering sweet nothings to Y/N. Bro’s a full-time shapeshifter. #CasualKing #CuddleContractRenewed”

Even Bucky lets out a quiet breath — part laugh, part groan.

The villa chuckles, but no one’s really laughing.

You don’t look at him. You just fold your arms across your chest tighter.

Then Trish pulls the next one — and you know from her expression before she even speaks that this one’s going to sting.

“I tried to feel bad for Y/N but girl… you let him embarrass you at the firepit and still kissed him? You’re not a victim. You’re a volunteer. #Embarrassing #HaveSomeSelfRespect”

It hits harder than you expect.

Hard enough that your stomach flips.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, eyes locked on the fire like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Karen reaches out, her hand brushing yours in a way that’s subtle but sure.

Ororo doesn’t speak, but her gaze is locked on Trish — and Trish suddenly looks a little uncomfortable holding the card.

Elektra, of course, can't help herself. “People are just saying what we’re all thinking,” she says lightly.

You turn your head slowly, finally looking at her. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Elektra smiles, tilting her head. “I didn’t write the tweets, babe.”

The air stills again. Even Bucky looks up now, eyes locked on you like he’s finally realizing how much this is costing you.

And the producers? They call it there — challenge over. Maybe it’s too real now. Maybe they got what they wanted.

You stand up slowly, brushing invisible dust off your legs, not looking at anyone as you walk off.

After The Challenge ❤️‍🩹

You find the far edge of the villa near the swing bench — not because it’s hidden, but because it’s just far enough from the cameras and the people and the noise.

You sit with your hands folded in your lap, staring at nothing, your breath coming in that slow, numb way that only happens when you’ve stopped trying to fight the burn in your throat.

And then you hear his footsteps.

You don’t even have to look. The weight in the air changes when he’s around now.

Bucky doesn’t speak right away. He just stops a few feet away, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s even allowed to stand that close to you anymore.

You can feel his eyes on you — studying the way your shoulders are curled in slightly, how you’re blinking a little too often, trying to keep your face neutral.

He steps forward once.

You look up. Not all the way. Just enough to catch him in your periphery.

Your voice is soft. Frayed.

“Not now. Please.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to sound so… tired. Not angry. Not biting. Just done.

But then he speaks — quiet, almost like he’s trying not to scare you off.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

You shake your head once, still not looking directly at him. “Too late for that.”

“I know,” he says. “I know I’ve made all of this worse. I just… I didn’t see it until today. The way they’re coming for you. How it’s all landing on you instead of me.”

You finally look at him then. And it’s not with hate. It’s worse — it’s with that expression of someone who’s still holding onto the last sliver of something soft and hurt and doesn't know if it’s even worth it anymore.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you say. “I didn’t want a storyline or screen time or whatever the hell they think I’m doing. I just—” you stop yourself. The rest sits in your throat, unspoken.

He swallows, eyes searching yours. “I know. I’m not here to defend myself.”

You exhale slowly, like each breath is being pulled from your ribs.

“I can’t do this right now, Bucky.”

A pause. Then quieter:

“Please don’t make me.”

And that’s when it finally hits him — fully, deeply — that this isn’t just some tension to smooth over. This is a wound he’s responsible for. One you’ve bled from in silence while everyone else clapped and laughed and read tweets.

He nods once. Not in defeat. In understanding.

“I’ll give you space,” he says. “But I’m not gonna stop trying to make it right.”

You don’t answer. You just close your eyes for a second. And he walks away.

This time, he looks like the one carrying the weight.

Your Confessional 📹

You sit back in the chair, hoodie still on, strings pulled halfway tight around your face like you’re trying to disappear but couldn’t be bothered to finish the job. Your eyes are red-rimmed — not from sobbing, just worn out. Like sleep hasn’t found you in days.

For a second, you just sit there.

Then you huff a small laugh — not amused, not bitter. Just... tired. You shake your head and drag your hand down your face, pausing to press your fingers over your eyes for a moment, like maybe that’ll hold everything in place.

You drop your hand.

Look straight at the camera.

And smile — just barely.

“Apparently America hates me, which is unfortunate. But also kinda impressive, ‘cause America can’t hate me more than I hate myself right now.”

Your laugh is quiet, almost like it escaped by accident.

“No seriously, I got humiliated on national television, kissed the guy who humiliated me, then woke up to be called a messy queen by a Twitter handle named @/hornyforyourdad. Like. What the actual fuck am I doing.”

There’s no self-pity in your tone — just exhaustion. The kind that comes after feeling too much, too fast, for too long. You glance off camera, shrug once.

“I should’ve just gone home yesterday. But I stayed. Because some part of me thought maybe…”

You stop. Then shake your head.

“Anyway. That’s on me.”

You exhale hard, sit up straighter, and give the camera one last deadpan look.

“Can I go now? Or do I have to read another tweet from someone who thinks I’m ruining feminism.”

Few Days Later — The Firepit 🌙🔥

Cue slow aerial shot of the villa under moonlight. Fairy lights twinkle across the patio. Wine glasses clink. Someone’s laughing too loud.

Iain Stirling (voiceover): “The moon is shining. The water is warm. And the tension? Well, that’s about to boil over like Karen after three glasses of white wine and a poorly timed truth-or-dare…”

“After a few blissful days of silence — and by blissful I mean emotionally repressed — it’s time for another Love Island classic: America’s vote.”

Cut to a group text alert. Everyone’s phones buzz at once.

“Islanders, please gather around the firepit immediately.”

The islanders file in, uneasy. You’re not even trying to hide the exhaustion on your face anymore.

Ariana walks in, flawless as always, cards in hand and not a single strand of hair out of place.

“Good evening, islanders.”

They respond — quiet, respectful, nervous.

Ariana wastes no time.

“As you know, America has been voting for who they believe are the least compatible couples in the villa.”

She pauses, lets the silence build.

“The three with the fewest votes are…”

She looks at the card.

“…MJ and Peter.”

Peter stiffens. MJ exhales, muttering, “Knew it.”

“…Karen and Frank.”

Karen swallows hard, jaw tense. Frank says nothing.

“And the third… is Y/N.”

A few heads turn your way. You stare straight ahead. Expression flat. Not surprised.

The firepit glows soft and orange against the night, casting shadows across stiff shoulders and tense expressions.

Everyone’s sitting upright, backs straight like posture might protect them from what’s coming. You stand with Karen and MJ on either side — the only three girls up for elimination.

Your hands rest neatly at your sides. You’re not shaking. You’re not crying. You’re past all that.

Ariana stands in front of you, perfectly lit, her expression calm but unreadably focused — the kind of expression that means this was not the production plan.

She scans the card again, then looks back up.

“As there are three girls standing here — and only one will be leaving tonight — the decision falls to the islanders.”

The villa goes dead silent. You can feel people looking at each other, calculating, already shifting.

You already know.

The moment Ariana says it’s down to the islanders, you know.

And that’s when you step forward.

Not dramatically. Not slowly. Just one clean step, like you’re simply ready to be done.

“Ariana,” you say, clearly.

She pauses — caught off guard. That never happens.

“Yes?”

You exhale, not even blinking. “Can I volunteer to be voted off?”

There’s an audible reaction. Not gasps — just stunned silence. The kind that comes when people don’t know what to say, because no one expected this to come out of your mouth.

Ariana blinks. “You want to… step forward?”

“Yeah,” you say. Still composed, still poised. “I’d rather go on my own than stand here while everyone pretends it’s not already decided.”

It erupts. Quiet gasps, some whispered “what?” s, one “nah, she’s not serious” from the back.

Karen, standing beside you, instantly shakes her head. “No—no. What? No. Don’t—”

You glance at her just once, soft but steady. “Kare. It’s fine.”

She’s already blinking too fast, her lips parted like she wants to argue, but she’s choking on the emotion. Her hand twitches like she wants to grab yours and hold you there.

Ororo, still seated across the firepit, has her hand over her mouth. Wide-eyed. Frozen. Like watching someone walk into oncoming traffic in slow motion.

Ariana, still holding her cue card like it might save her, hesitates. “Are you sure?”

You nod once, then again. “Yeah.”

She takes a half step closer, voice quieter. “You don’t have to do this. You can wait for the vote. You still have people here.”

You let out the smallest breath, and you smile — just barely. Not a performance. Just the kind of smile people give when they’ve already made peace with something.

“Not enough of them.”

The air shifts. You’re not angry. You’re not bitter. You’re just done. And that honesty? It stings more than anything you could’ve shouted.

Ariana’s eyes scan you for a beat longer, like she’s trying to read something off you — trying to confirm you’re not breaking under the surface.

“Last chance to change your mind,” she says softly. “Are you sure?”

You nod again.

“I’m sure.”

The words land like a closing door. No one knows what to say.

Bucky hasn’t moved.

Karen’s face is crumpling now — barely holding it together. You feel her beside you, trembling.

Ororo finally lowers her hand from her mouth, jaw tense, eyes locked on you like she wants to get up and pull you away from this.

You’ve stepped forward. Ariana’s face has softened slightly — professional still, but there’s a flicker of something real in her voice now.

She looks at you one more time, calm, composed. “Well... if that’s your decision—”

“No.”

The word cuts through the night like glass.

Everyone turns.

Bucky’s standing now — two steps out from the bench, his jaw tight, eyes wide, like he can’t believe what’s happening even though he’s been watching it unravel for days.

“No,” he says again, louder now. His voice isn’t angry — it’s broken. “That’s not fair. She didn’t even let us vote. She just—she just stepped forward like it was already done.”

Ariana’s caught off guard again. Her brows lift. “Bucky—”

He keeps going, not hearing her. Not hearing anything.

“You don’t just get to decide that. You don’t get to stand up and walk out like you didn’t matter here. Like we were all gonna pick you without even thinking. You didn’t let us—you can't just leave.”

His voice is cracking, pitching up.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to say—”

He stops himself. But the words are still there, hanging in the silence like smoke.

Karen’s crying now. Not hiding it anymore. Shoulders shaking as she turns away, hand over her mouth.

You still haven’t turned to look at him.

Not yet.

Ariana glances between the two of you, then gently speaks again. “Bucky… she's made her choice.”

But he doesn’t move.

“I didn’t.”

His voice is softer now. Almost to himself.

“I didn’t choose right when I should have. And now she’s leaving before I get the chance to make it right?”

You finally look at him. Eyes rimmed red, but dry. And it’s not anger in your face.

It’s sadness.

Because maybe, just maybe, this is the first time he’s finally saying what you needed — but it’s three days, and a thousand cuts, too late.

You offer him something soft — something you’ve barely had left for yourself these past few days.

“It’s fine,” you say gently.

His head snaps a little, like you just told him the sky isn’t blue.

“No,” he says, voice sharp, shaky. “It’s not.”

He takes a step closer. Not crossing boundaries — just reacting like he physically can’t stand where he is anymore.

“You’re just—what? You’re gonna volunteer to go and act like that’s normal? Like we didn’t all just sit here stunned because no one was gonna pick you. Not a single person.”

You open your mouth, but he keeps going — not at you, for you.

“You think it’s fine because you’re tired. Because you’ve been carrying everything and everyone’s been letting you do it. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to walk out like you don’t belong here.”

His voice drops, quieter now, but tighter. Barely held together.

“You’re still here because people care about you. Because I care about you.”

That hangs in the air. No one moves.

The fire crackles behind you.

You inhale slowly.

The silence stretches long enough that everyone expects you might break.

But you don’t.

You steady your voice — not cold, not distant — just honest. Exhausted. Real.

“I want to go home.”

Bucky’s eyes flash — like he’s about to say something, but you raise your hand slightly, not to silence him, just to finish.

“I don’t want Karen to go,” you say, turning slightly toward her, just enough to feel her body trembling beside you. “She’s been solid since day one. She hasn’t played a single game. She deserves more time here.”

Karen’s hand covers her mouth again, and she shakes her head slightly, trying to stay quiet through it.

“And yeah,” you continue, with the hint of a wry smile, “me and MJ haven’t exactly braided each other’s hair this week. But she has a real connection. Peter has her back.”

You turn back to Ariana.

Your posture straightens — not stiff, just ready.

“This isn’t about who deserves to be punished. It’s about who has something left to do here. And I don’t.”

Your hands are at your sides. Your voice hasn’t cracked once.

Bucky’s chest rises again, and he opens his mouth — but for the first time tonight, he doesn’t speak.

Because what can he say?

You’ve already said it all. And this time, you’re not asking permission. You’re telling them.

You’ve just said your piece.

Your voice is steady. Your decision is clear.

And for a second — just a second — it feels like everyone might finally accept it.

Then Bucky exhales, sharp and short.

And says, “Okay.”

You glance at him — unsure what that means — but then he steps forward.

“I’m going too.”

There’s an audible reaction now. Not just gasps — full-on shock. Heads turning. Elektra's mouth drops. Sam sits forward like he's misheard.

Even Ariana’s expression cracks slightly. “Sorry—what?”

Bucky looks right at her. “I’m going with her.”

You blink — stunned. “Bucky.”

He doesn’t look at you. Not yet. His eyes are locked on Ariana. “I’m not gonna stay here and watch her leave like she’s disposable. I’ve done enough of that already.”

Ariana raises her hand, trying to maintain order. “Bucky, this isn’t—”

“I know it’s not how it works,” he cuts in, voice firm but not aggressive. “But I’ve made up my mind.”

You step closer now, voice low and urgent. “You’re going to walk away from the villa for me? After everything?”

He nods once. No hesitation.

But you’re not moved — you’re panicking now, because you know what comes next if he leaves for you.

“You think this is romantic,” you say, eyes shining now, not with tears — with clarity. “But it’s not. This is adrenaline. This is guilt. You’re gonna step out of here, get one breath of air, and start resenting me for it.”

“I won’t,” he says, voice sharp.

“Yes, you will,” you snap, heart racing. “Because you didn’t finish what you started here. And when it all settles and you’re sitting at home thinking about what could’ve happened — you’ll look at me and wonder if I was worth it.”

His jaw tightens. “You are worth it.”

“Then prove it by staying.”

The firepit is dead silent now. No one dares breathe.

He steps forward again, closer now. Not aggressive — just desperate. Real.

“I don’t want a better connection,” he says, his voice cracking at the edge. “I don’t want to flirt around and see what’s out there. I want you.”

You close your eyes for a second, chest tight, trying to hold the line.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “This isn’t the time to figure that out.”

He swallows hard, shaking his head. “It’s the only time that’s ever mattered.”

The air between you is so charged it almost hurts to stand in it.

Ariana waits for a beat longer, giving you both space to speak — to come down, maybe.

But when neither of you moves, she straightens, the weight of production behind her now.

“I have to ask,” she says carefully, her voice as gentle as it’s ever been. “Y/N, Bucky — is this your final decision?”

She looks at you first, but you glance at Bucky.

He answers before you can.

“I’m going.”

The words come out clear. No hesitation. Just certainty — the kind that makes the rest of the firepit collectively freeze.

Ariana blinks. “Bucky…”

But he’s already stepping forward, standing beside you now. Fully.

“I made my choice too late the first time,” he says, looking at you. “I’m not doing that again.”

It’s real. You can see it in his face.

But then Sam stands up from the bench, shaking his head.

“Buck, man,” he says, voice low, not condescending — worried. “Just think about this. You’ve still got a spot here. Don’t throw it away on impulse.”

Logan joins him. “You guys need space to figure this out — not both get dumped on a firepit and regret it next week.”

Frank speaks up, surprisingly sincere. “This isn’t a movie, bro. It’s your life. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

Bucky doesn’t move.

“I know what I’m doing.”

He looks at you again, quieter now.

“And I’m not staying here without her.”

Sharon's hand is over her mouth again. Trish is leaning forward like she’s witnessing history unfold. Even MJ — lips pressed in a hard line — looks shaken.

You?

You’re just standing there, trying to hold it together while the man who let you fall is now trying to catch you, after you already hit the ground.

Ariana clears her throat once, a beat longer before speaking.

“Alright,” she says gently. “If you’re both sure, then you have thirty minutes to pack your things.”

You nod. Bucky nods.

And just like that — it's done.

Girl's Dressing Room 👜

The villa’s quieter now. Thirty minutes.

That’s all you’ve got left.

Your suitcase is already half-packed. The dressing room feels weirdly still — like even the lights are dimmer, like the walls are holding their breath with you. And Karen is sitting cross-legged beside it, absolutely no help, sniffling so hard she’s practically shaking the floor.

And then Ororo walks in.

She stops in the doorway, blinking fast like she meant to hold it together — and then just doesn’t.

“Bitch.”

That’s all she says before the tears start. She walks across the room with fire in her step and heartbreak in her chest.

“We walked into this place together,” she says, voice cracking as she reaches you. “You and me. Day one. First step through the door.”

Her arms wrap around you so tight it’s like she’s trying to anchor you there.

You’ve been stone-faced for hours. Holding it in. Keeping it neat.

But the second you hear her voice crack, your whole chest caves in.

You don’t say anything — just bury your face into her neck and let go. Sobs shake out of you like they’ve been waiting for permission. You nod against her shoulder, helpless, clinging.

“I know,” you whisper. “Rori, I know.”

She tightens her grip. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m not letting you go like this. Not like this.”

Karen’s still on the floor beside your suitcase, full-on crying now, her hands fumbling with a half-folded dress like maybe if she just packs slow enough you won’t really leave.

“I’m so mad at you,” she says through a laugh-sob. “But I love you so much.”

You drop to your knees with her, still holding Ororo, and Karen just throws herself forward into your arms, the three of you wrapped up in one heap of heartbreak and mascara.

In The Bedroom 🏠

The crying from the dressing room is so loud it’s echoing through the villa.

Frank’s lying on his bed, pillow over his face. “Blondie is trying to zip herself into that girl's suitcase.”

Logan’s leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. “And Storm’s gripping her like she’s got a death grip on a limited edition Birkin.”

They all pause for a second as another wave of sobs carries across the villa walls.

“Damn it,” Logan mutters.

At the end of the row, Sam’s still talking to Bucky, voice low but tense. “Man, just think about it. You walk out now, you’re done. You don’t even know what this is yet. You haven’t figured it out.”

Bucky doesn’t look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, bag already half-packed.

His tone is calm. Clear.

“If my girl’s leaving,” he says, zipping his suitcase, “then I’m leaving.”

By The Docks🌙🏝️

The sky is velvet blue now. The moon hangs low over the water, casting silver light across the still surface. It’s quiet — quiet enough that you can hear your own breathing.

Bucky’s already waiting at the end of the dock.

Shoulders tense. Hands in his pockets. But when he hears your footsteps, he turns.

And the second he sees your face, his softens. You’ve cried too much to pretend now. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes red and shining. You don’t even bother wiping them this time.

You stop in front of him, heart pounding, breath shallow.

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice raw. “Like really sure.”

He steps forward immediately, hands reaching up — one settling on your shoulder, the other rubbing gently at your upper arm.

“I’m sure.”

You shake your head, voice cracking. “You don’t have to do this for me, Buck. I’m not asking you to.”

He nods. “I know.”

You look up at him, hands trembling slightly as you press your palms flat to his chest — not pushing him away, just holding him there.

“This could ruin everything,” you whisper.

He exhales through his nose, then cups the side of your neck, thumb brushing the damp corner of your eye.

“I don’t care,” he says quietly. “You’ve been the only thing in this villa that’s ever felt real. And if I stay, I’m not just losing you — I’m staying in something that never meant shit without you in it.”

You press your forehead into his chest, eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep the emotion from swallowing you whole. His hands stay steady on your shoulders, rubbing soft, grounding circles into your skin like he’s trying to remind your body to breathe.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” you say, voice muffled, trembling. “Staying would mean a real chance for you. New connections. A shot at the money. Everything.”

Bucky exhales — deep, slow — like he’s been holding that thought in too.

“That’s exactly why I’m not staying,” he says.

You look up, confused through the blur in your vision.

“If I stayed,” he continues, “it’d mean I’d have to explore more connections. Get to know more girls. Do the whole thing again.”

He pauses, gaze locked with yours, calm but serious now.

“I don’t want another connection,” he says. “I just want you.”

Your breath catches. It’s not sweet-talk. It’s not a line. It’s just true.

“But what about the money?” you ask, your voice thin, eyes searching his face for something — logic, doubt, anything.

He lets out a small laugh — not dismissive, just almost surprised that it still matters to anyone.

“I don’t care about the 100K,” he says, gently brushing his hand along the back of your neck. “What would I even do with it if I lost the one thing that made being here worth it?”

You shake your head, overwhelmed, tears welling again despite yourself. “You’re gonna ruin your chance.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’d rather leave here broke and with you than win it all and feel empty as hell every time I go to bed.”

You let out a soft sob, clutching at his shirt now, and he just holds you tighter.

“You’ve carried this whole thing alone,” he whispers. “Let me carry the rest with you.”

You’re still wrapped in his arms, hands balled in the fabric of his shirt, tears hot and silent now as they slip down your cheeks.

You’ve fought so hard to be strong, to be rational, to not let this mess define you — and now here he is, undoing every wall you built with one truth after another.

Bucky leans back just slightly, just enough to see your face. His hand comes up to gently brush a tear away from your cheek, thumb grazing the edge of your jaw like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

He’s quiet for a second.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t choose you once.”

You freeze.

“And it was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

His voice isn’t trembling anymore. It’s solid. Certain.

“I’m not making that mistake again.”

You look at him — really look at him — and you know this time, he means every word.

This isn’t about guilt. It’s not about saving face.

It’s about finally showing up. And this time… he did choose you. Out loud. In front of everyone. No hesitation.

Your lip trembles as you pull your gaze away from him, turning your face slightly — not because you don’t believe him, but because it’s too much. Too much love, too much regret, too much truth.

You lift a hand quickly, trying to wipe your face, get it together — keep the illusion of being okay just a little longer.

But he notices.

He always notices.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky says softly.

You shake your head, still turned slightly, but he lifts his hand — slow, careful — and gently guides your chin back toward him.

“Don’t hide your face from me,” he says again, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes never leave yours. “Not now. Lemme see you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your defenses crumbling all over again — not from his touch, but from his attention. The way he’s looking at you like you're the only person in the world who matters.

And for once… you let him see all of it.

Even the tears. Even the fear. Even the hope that maybe — just maybe — this isn’t the end.

You’re still holding his gaze, breathing uneven, heart thudding against your ribcage like it’s trying to get to him first.

He brushes his thumb gently over your jaw, voice barely audible over the sound of the waves nearby.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s so quiet — the kind of question that feels like a vow.

You nod, almost instantly, but there’s a hitch in your breath as you do. A soft, shaky little exhale slips out of you, part laugh, part hiccup — like even this feels surreal.

Your hands lift, instinctively, fingers grazing his face — one cupping his cheek, the other resting just under his jaw. His stubble brushes your skin, grounding you. This is real.

He leans in slowly, eyes on your mouth for a breath longer than he should. His hand finds the back of your neck, warm and steady, thumb sliding just beneath your hairline.

And then finally — finally — his lips meet yours.

It starts soft. Delicate.

Like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth. Like he’s afraid to ruin it by rushing.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world — like he wants to undo every moment you felt unwanted, like he’s trying to rewrite all the nights you cried.

But then? You kiss him back. And it changes.

You press into him with something that isn’t just relief — it’s heat. Desperate. Your hands move up into his hair, threading through it as you pull him closer. You feel him exhale hard through his nose, his other hand gripping your waist now, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

The kiss deepens — no longer slow, no longer sweet. It’s breathless now. Messy. Full of everything you’ve been holding back.

Your mouth parts and he takes the invitation without hesitation — tongue meeting yours in a rhythm that’s equal parts apology and promise.

He’s kissing you like he can’t get close enough.

And you’re kissing him like you’ve waited too damn long.

You pull back slightly, both of you still breathless, lips tingling. You try to catch your breath, your fingers still lightly curled in his shirt, chest rising and falling as you laugh softly.

“I can’t even think straight,” you murmur, voice barely a whisper.

Bucky just looks at you — eyes flickering down to your mouth again, lips parted like he’s considering whether to let you finish that thought.

And then he makes the decision for both of you.

He leans back in without warning and steals another kiss — not soft this time. Hungry.

His mouth crashes into yours, and this time there’s nothing gentle about it. His tongue slides deep into your mouth like he’s claiming every inch of you, tasting you like he wants to burn this moment into his memory.

His hands find your body again — rougher now, more confident. One grips the back of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair. The other drops to your waist, sliding around to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him like he needs you pressed to him.

You let out a soft moan, completely overtaken, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as your back arches instinctively under his touch. He groans low in his throat when you push up against him, like you just knocked the last bit of restraint out of him.

Your fingers claw lightly at the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep your balance, your lips moving with his like you’re starved — like you’ve both been craving this too long and now it’s spilling out of you all at once.

When he finally pulls back — just barely — his mouth lingers near yours, breathing heavy.

You blink at him, dazed, your lips wet and parted, and let out a breathless laugh.

“Okay,” you whisper, dazed. “Now I really can’t think straight.”

He smiles, breath still ragged. “Good.”

Your Confessional 📹

You’re sitting alone on the velvet bench, the light soft and warm on your skin. For the first time in days, your shoulders aren’t slumped. There’s no hoodie. No deep sigh. No tears.

You look like you again.

And even though you try — really try — not to smile… you fail miserably.

A small grin tugs at the corner of your mouth, and you bite your lip, cheeks lifting as your eyes flicker off-camera, bashful but glowing. You shake your head slightly.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

You look right at the camera now, eyes bright.

“I’m getting dumped from Love Island…”

You shrug, smile growing.

“…and I’ve never felt lighter in my life.”

There’s something warm behind your eyes now — not fire, not anger — just peace. Peace that only comes after surviving the storm and finding something real in the wreckage.

You pause, playing with the hem of your dress as you lean forward, elbows on your knees.

“For days, it felt like I was trying to hold the world up on my own. Carrying the silence. The judgment. Even trying to protect him.”

You glance down, your smile softening into something deeper now.

“And then… he chose me.”

You say it quietly. Like it still doesn’t feel real.

“But not like ‘I pick you in the next recoupling’ kinda way. I mean, actually chose me.”

Your voice thickens slightly, in the best way.

“Walked away from the game. The connections. The hundred grand. For me.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“This was the ultimate choice. And he didn’t flinch.”

You lean back now, more relaxed than you’ve been the entire season. A sparkle in your eye.

“I’m leaving broke. Dumped. Probably roasted on Twitter.”

You purse your lips trying to contain your smile.

“But I’m also walking out with Bucky Barnes’ hand in mine.”

You glance sideways, that cheeky grin sneaking back in full force.

“And I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a win to me.”

Villa – Main Walkway 🌴

You and Bucky stand just at the top of the stairs.

His fingers lace with yours, firm, warm. You give him one last glance — that kind of look that says are we really doing this? — and he just squeezes your hand tighter.

Yeah. You are.

And then the two of you start walking.

The lights lining the path glow soft gold, like the villa itself is quietly watching you go. The islanders are still gathered at the firepit — Karen’s sniffling again, Ororo’s got her arms crossed like she’s proud and pissed, and the boys are quiet, even Frank, for the first time ever.

But you don’t look back.

Not once.

Because this exit? It’s about moving forward.

With him.

Iain Stirling (voiceover): “Ah yes, there they go… Bucky and Y/N. The emotional damage duo.”

The camera cuts to a slow-mo of you both walking in sync, fingers tightly interlocked, the music swelling underneath like something off a season finale soundtrack.

“Dumped by America, walked out by choice, left the hundred grand behind — but gained a man who finally learned how to use his heart instead of his… well, other assets.”

Cut to Bucky opening the gate for you — a tiny, stupidly sweet gesture — and you walking through first, glancing at him with a smirk.

“They say love is a battlefield. But in this villa? Apparently, it’s a firepit, a daybed, one tweet challenge, and emotional devastation wrapped in lip gloss and jawlines.”

The final shot catches your intertwined hands, backs to camera, walking into the night — away from the lights, the drama, the game.

Together.

“Will they make it on the outside? Who knows. But one thing’s for sure: they’ve just delivered the most dramatic exit since Natasha tried to storm out in 9-inch heels”

The gate closes behind you.

Cue black screen.

The Girliesss (in case people didnt understand my love island multiverse): Ororo Munroe (X-Men), you, Karen Page (Daredevil). Trish Walker (Jessica Jones), Elektra Natchios (Daredevil), MJ Watson (Spiderman)

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@ruexj283 @muchwita @fayeatheart @Leathynn @thealloveru2 @person-005 @princeescalus @lilac13 @solana-jpeg @jeongiegram @winchestert101 @s-sh-ne @n3ptoonz @avgdestitute @xamapolax @Finnickodairslut @honeyhera29 @macbaetwo @rafespeach @bythecloset @ashpeace888 @buckmybarnes @c-grace56 @ozwriterchick @slutforsr @novaslov @xamapolax @theoraekenslover @user911224 @Tafuller @luminousvenomvagrant @byhuenii @rollsonrollss @shookethslut @a9053 @jasontoddswhitestreak @iah1606 @timelylovergirl @doperebelgoopland @fatlin-23 @500daysofhannah @grovelingmen

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

785 notes · View notes

acoazlove · 10 months ago

Text

A New Place

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

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They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.

You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.

So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.

For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.

Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.

As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.

What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.

─

Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.

Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.

Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.

Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.

Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.

You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.

The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.

Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.

You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses

But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.

“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.

Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”

Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”

With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.

─

Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.

Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.

“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.

Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.

“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.

She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.

“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.

As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.

“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.

Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”

Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.

─

After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.

With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.

“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.

“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.

“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.

Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.

“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.

“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”

Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.

Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.

The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.

You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.

At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.

The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.

Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.

Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.

“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.

A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.

─────────────────────────

a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @blackgirlmagicforever

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a new place

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hannie-berrie · 2 months ago

Text

WEAK HERO CLASS 1-2 ‘s reactions to their S/O teasing them.

Minors DNI

Yeon Sieun:

A quiet evening at home, you and your boyfriend’s favourites. He’s deep into a book, studying some new topic he’s really into, something intellectual and absorbing.

Things have been too peaceful, and you couldn’t let Sieun be at peace for long periods of time, being the tease you are, it was your mission to be his late night problem.

You casually lean over him with a playful smirk on your face

“You know, for someone so ‘rational,’ you blush surprisingly easy when I do this…” You trailed your fingers along his back and neck as you whispered in his ear

Sieun stiffened slightly, not expecting so much play from you, he’s caught off guard but not uncomfortable. His mind raced for a moment, analyzing the little game you’re playing and trying to anticipante your next moves.

His eyes are still fixed on his book sheet, trying to maintain composure but the slight blush on his cheeks betrays him.

He turns to you slowly, with a calm expression but his eyes are locked onto yours.

“You’re dangerously good at interrupting my concentration. You plan that?” He gives you a very slight smirk. Not the playful way but more so the « I can’t belive this » way.

“Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”

The challenge turned him on more than expected, he’s tempted to throw you on the bed behind you and give you a lesson but he kept his almost too calm tone

“Document it, then retaliate when you least expect it. Consider yourself… warned.”

He goes back to his task, but you notice the subtle shift in his behaviour. The way he taps his pen on his desk, shakes his leg under the table, the forced extra focus on his reading.

It’s his way of reclaiming control, but you’ve won. His focus is gone and all he can think about is the ways he wants to fuck you dumb.

Ahn Suho:

You and your boyfriend ate some chicken leftovers for dinner, as you both love that dish. You’re sat on the counter, legs swinging, watching your boyfriend dry the dishes, shirtless.

“You know, for someone who talks big at the gym, I expected more… definition.”

Suho turns his head just slightly your way, not stopping his task. “Oh yeah?” he laughs to himself “You sure you wanna go there?”

You smile and look down at your feet

“I’m just saying… Maybe those flexing selfies are doing more work than the actual workouts.”

Suho drops the plate he’s cleaning and with soapy hands, he grabs your face “That mouth of yours is dangerous.” He leans in close, the goal is the to get you nervous and back down. “You really think I’m all talk, huh?”

He grins, “Careful, babe. I might just prove you wrong, right here, right now.”

He lifting you up the counter and wrapped your legs around his waist

He teases back, “Still think I’m just talk?”

Seo Joontae:

Joontae is the most fun to tease, he melts under your touch, your voice, sometimes even under no pressure at all. Tonight you wore one of his shirts, barely covering your lower half, you knew about it, but didn’t care.

“What are you doing?” You interrupted his personal time

Joontae turns your way and his mouth drop a little, eyes flickering at your bare lower body.

“A-ah I’m not doing anything special.. You look- uh-.. really good right now.” He looked up at you with such big round eyes you could ruin him right now. But you decide to edge him on a little more,

“You always say that like you’re embarrassed you’re thinking it.” You sit your bare ass down on his lap with such casual confidence, running a hand through his hair.

“Tell me what you were doing before I walked in. Was it innocent.. or should I be worried?” You tease his lips with your index finger

Joontae’s cheeks are flaming hot, his stuttering habits showing once more, they were especially obvious when you were teasing him

“I-I wasn’t… It wasn’t like that, I just… I was just drawing. I didn’t expect you to-”

Your finger resting on his lips traced a slow way down his neck “Exactly. You never expect me. That’s what makes you so much fun to play with.”

His breath catches. He wants to lean into it, but also feels exposed. He gives a soft whimper of a laugh, wrapping his arms around your waist in self-defense more than boldness.

Park Hoomin (Baku):

You walk back from the grocery store, sharing a bag of snack. It’s golden hour, and he’s carrying most of the bags, even the ones you insisted you could handle. He’s wearing a compression shirt that he definitely chose on purpose.

“You know, I could carry some of those.”

“I know. But then you’d miss the view of me being unnecessarily heroic.”

Hoomin never lost an opportunity to be cocky. His cockiness made him even more charismatic in a way.

“Wow. How would I survive. ”

He nudged you with his elbow

“Hey, I’m just lifting the groceries to save your back from suffering, what a good man I am”

“Truly a Greek god in a Trader Joe’s parking lot.”

He laughs warmly, your quick responses is what he loves most about you. The way you can dodge his comments and make better ones.

“You joke, but if carrying your groceries scores me one of those cute smiles, I’ll do it every time.”

You shook your head, his words melting your heart a little, trying not to grin, but it’s still showing a little. He catches it, and you can tell he lives for that moment.

Go Hyuntak:

The tension has been in the air all day long, nothing big but teasing, subtle distance like you’ve been messing with his head on purpose. You’ve been purposely avoiding him after dropping suggestive comments, playing hot and cold and driving him nuts. You’re now finally at his place.

“You’ve been weirdly quiet today, what’s up with that? »

Hyuntak came closer to you

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Doing what?” Your fake innocence was only rilling him more.

“Testing me. Pulling back. Acting like I’m not crawling out of my skin wanting you to just stop teasing.”

You tried to argue back but he cut the distance in between your bodies even more, one hand on the wall behind you.

“You know I don’t do halfway. If you’re gonna look at me like that, teasing me in public, displaying to everyone that we aren’t « just friends ». Then you better be ready when I call you on it.”

Hyuntak was always big on privacy. He gladly agreed to be fuck buddies when you asked for it. He has liked you since grade 1 but knowing it’s not reciprocated, your little games messed with his naturally impatient temper even more.

Bonus! Geum SeongJe

It’s late at night and you’re in his upscale apartment. Cozy, wearing your boyfriend’s jacket like you own it. Waiting for his return home.

He’s came back late from something messy, business or something more dangerous, the kind he doesn’t explain. You’re aware he fights a lot but he likes to come home to some peace.

You’re sitting on his couch, legs curled up,

“You didn’t text. Again.”

Seongje grabs himself a drink, not paying attention to you. “Because you’d worry. And I don’t feel like hearing you lecture me. ”

“So you just disappear?”

“I’m not in the habit of reporting my movements. Not even to you.”

You flinch as he stepped closer to you, eyes sharp, staring you down

“But I watched you from the cameras when I left. All night. You didn’t even open the door. Good girl.”

His low voice has you swallow down your own bitterness. He really had a way to put your behaviour back in place with simple words. He’s close to you now, eyes almost cutting you down, amused by both your anger at him but also how easy he was able to shut you up.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?”

“Probably. But you still haven’t left.”

You don’t move, his finger slides along you jaw, you can’t tell if it’s suggestive or threatening

“You think you want nice. But you don’t. Don’t you love the idea of me possibly being watching you, at any angle, any moment I wish for? I bet that turns you on, and that’s why you stare right at the camera in our bedroom.. when you touch yourself in my absence, hm?”

Your eyes grew bigger and your hear dropped, you felt naked, called out.

“You’re mine. »

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sterifels-blog · 6 months ago

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creepypasta characters – how they’d react to you being upset over a small inconvenience 🤏

BEN drowned

•mocking sarcasm: “oh no, did the big scary printer jam again? total apocalypse. truly.” what became clear in his death, was he did, in fact, take his childish personality with him. he is no better than jeff when it comes down to teasing you for your dismays.

•playful teaser. he glitches around the room, mimicking your upset tone in a distorted voice, just to annoy you. it's spiteful, a little ignorant, but it's something you've come to grow used to. some things were just inevitable with BEN, and his torment was one of those things.

•offers digital comfort. BEN hacks a random game to create a hidden message for you, like “cheer up, loser.” if you don't reciprocate any sort of reaction back- you best believe he will be petty enough to rig a match for you. not so you can win, no. so you lose. just to agitate you again.

•awkward, awkward softness: if you’re seriously upset, he stammers, “hey, uh, don’t cry. i… don’t know how to deal with that.” very likely, he panics and goes to grab someone like jack or jane.

•weird with distractions. he'll float around, humming the zelda theme song until you laugh or throw something at him. if it works, it works. either way, you're too focused on smiling, or trying to hit him.

•over-the-top suggestion: “want me to corrupt their computer files? that’ll show them.”

•king of small gestures. leaves a pixelated heart drawn in a game you’re playing, then pretends it wasn’t him.

bloody painter:

•he observes quietly. sits in eerie silence, studying your emotions like he’s painting a mental portrait.

•when he is finished staring (although, admittedly, he does quite like the sight of you), he will offer some deadpan advice:

•“if it doesn’t matter in five years, it’s not worth ruining your eyeliner over.”

•if verbal reassurance doesn't do it for you, willingly, he'll engage in a paint-based gesture for his angel. he draws something comforting or silly (alternatively, absolutely crude) on a scrap of paper and hands it to you without a word, hoping it makes some difference.

•dark humor (where it is, and isn't appropriate.) “want me to take care of whoever pissed you off?” half-joking. maybe. if you say no, there is some genuine disappointment left lingering in his eyes. a missed opportunity to stock-up.

•unexpected comfort. gently touches your face and says some cheesy bullshit like, “the colors of sadness suit you, but i’d rather see you smile". he knows he's succeeded in making you feel something other than upset, when you are pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away with a groan of annoyance.

•will go extreme measures to make you a distracting gift. offers to paint you something. it’s his way of saying sorry.

•serious effort: if you’re really upset, he’ll spend hours creating something meaningful to cheer you up. although you'd clearly specified you didn't want him to maul the poor man who'd taken the last pint of your favorite ice cream flavor; the red coating of the little house he'd made you (in respect to the small abode you will "most definitely have" together), spoke otherwise to him listening.

•it's fucking disgusting, but don't discard it. it's the.. 'sweetest' way he shows that he cares.

clockwork:

•chaotic comfort. immediately threatens to stab whatever inconvenienced you. “who do i need to ‘fix’ for this?”

•pactical help (or a lack thereof): she does actually try to solve the problem for you, but gets frustrated if it’s not instant.

•(unhelpful) teasing: “aww, does my little clock need winding? let’s fix your mood.”

•joking aggression: “you’re upset? try getting stabbed in the eye and tell me how you feel". she soon after realizes this probably wasn't the best way to get through to you, and instead resorts to gently carding her fingers through your hair, sitting in an awkward silence after.

•when the silence gets to be too much, the most rational conclusion she could come up with was a random distraction. tosses something shiny or makes a loud noise to snap you out of it, almost, most definitely getting a sick kick of amusement when you jump in a startle.

•clumsy affection: roughly pulls you into a hug afterwards and says, “you’ll be fine. i’ve seen you handle worse.”

•this is shortly after followed by a soft admission. “i don’t like seeing you like this. it’s weird.” no sympathy on her face, just her nose being scrunched up in discomfort. but you can tell she means her words.. more for her sake.

eyeless jack

•jack is a quiet observer. he always has been, and will be. he notices you’re upset but waits for you to bring it up, not wanting to push you down a further slope than you were already on.

•when you finally begin to talk to him, for the most part, he simply listens. but if he notices it's getting to be too much, he'll offer some gentle reassurance: his voice is calm, almost nonchalant as he says, “it’s okay. you can talk to me.” he means it.

•words aren't easy for him. he's used to being silent, tucked away to the confines of his laboratory. it's why he chooses a more physical approach. cooking comfort. jack makes you a meal without being asked—though you might not want to know the ingredients. just eat it, and thank him.

•when he does speak, he offers the most practical advice out of the bunch: “you’ll survive. you’re stronger than whatever this is.”

•he's cold, but caring: “if it’s not life-threatening, it’s not worth worrying about. but... i get it.”

•soft-spoken comfort: stays close by, quietly grounding you with his presence. he'll offer you a spot in his laboratory for the time being, leaving you to watch as he hustles and bustles about. he isn't a fan of people in his space- in the slightest. but for you, he doesn't mind the company, so long as it helps. he won't directly admit it, but seeing you upset does something to his heart.

•it unfortunately, wouldn't be jack without some out of pocket, and highly untimed dark humor. he's working on his current 'patient', his scalpel against the lining of their abdomen when he would pause, as though an idea surfaced.

•“would harvesting an organ cheer you up? no? worth a shot.”

hoodie

•takes a more casual approach compared to the others. nudges your shoulder and says some nonchalant shit like; “what’s got you so down?”

•followed by some super-chill reassurance: “it’s not the end of the world. i’ve seen worse.”

•says it in a tone that makes him sound like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, and is instead saying it in prayer god gives him a second chance for being 'kind'. he does, genuinely care however. he wouldn't have asked if he didn't.

•when he realizes it's something 'trivial' (in his mind), he'll give you some lighthearted distraction. hoodie offers to hang out or go on a random drive to take your mind off it. if you accept to hang out, you're both watching some rag-tag channel that your old, boxy ass television could pull up. it's absolutely shit. if you accept the drive, the radio is on, playing some old song that helps you clear your mind. the two of you definitely get going.

•if it's not the radio you're focused on, it's his singing. it's either god awful, and it makes you want to die more than whatever inconvenienced you at first, or he should have been a choir boy.

•snack attack: you two pull into a gas station along the way to fill up the old piece of rust. he goes in, comes back out with a pack of cigarettes and some chips in hand. he'll carelessly throw the bag of chips at you and say, “here. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

•soft teasing: “you’re cute when you’re mad, but let’s not make it a habit.”

•followed by some subtle care: puts his hoodie around your shoulders if you look especially down, or you're out late on your drive and it's getting cold.

jason the toymaker

•100% makes a toy bribe: instantly offers to make you a custom toy to cheer you up. “what’s your favorite color again?” it's cheesy, but it does have it's odd way of working it's magic.

•jason can get into quite an overprotective mode, often getting himself frustrated when he cant disect the root of your problem. “what caused this? tell me so I can fix it." .. "am i going to kill them..? what does it matter?"

•the answer is yes. yes, he is.

•soft-spoken comfort: “don’t worry. i’ll always take care of you.” he has a way of reassuring you even when you have your doubts, almost with an expertise that surprises you. if you were ever questioning his genuinity, he's answered for you.

•possessive guilt-tripper. “i don’t like seeing my favorite person like this. smile for me, will you?” he's sweet, in the worst of ways. jason knew all he had to do was flash you that charming smile of his, and you'd bend to his will. it was both a curse and a blessing.

•makes up some distracting hobby. he invites you to join him on a whim in making something to calm your nerves. (he definitely ends up taking over your craft.)

•encourages gentle insistence much like bloody painter. “you’re allowed to be upset, but not for long. it doesn’t suit you.”

•creepy but.. comforting? reassurance: “nothing bad can happen to you while i’m here. i'll make sure of it.” you aren't allowed out of his sights for a while.

jeff the killer

•mockery overload. “aww, you’re upset? should I call the waaah-mbulance?” he's a fucking asshole and he knows it, but his emotional boundaries hold no shame. if you knew any better, you would think he didn't care if he made you feel better or worse.

•teasing to comfort: purposefully annoys you until you either laugh or yell at him. he is 100%, more than likely aiming for the latter, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from knowing you're wound up now because of him. “see? you’re not upset anymore!”

•he's a twat with territorial anger: if it’s someone else’s fault, he’s immediately ready to fight, thinking of the most irrational ways to kill someone for your sake (though there is already nothing rational about him). “who do i need to carve a smile into?”

•though a selfish sod, he does have some genuinely surprising softness when it comes to you. if you’re genuinely upset, he awkwardly wraps his arm around your shoulder and says, “it’s fine. just... chill, okay?” he's rubbing your back until his hand is numb, or you become agitated.

•clumsy reassurance: “you’ve got me, so who cares about dumb stuff like that?”

•even throughout the comforting, his offer of violence still stands. “say the word, and i’ll make it disappear. permanently.”

•jeff is the absolute fucking worst for guilt deflection. if he caused the inconvenience, he’ll deny responsibility, but quietly try to make it better. he sees admitting to his faults as a weakness, but a few hours later, when he‐ again‐, sees your mood hasn't improved— he's begrudgingly coming over and taking your hand to apologize. his words are lazy sounding, but they are true. it pisses him off that he has to go such lengths to make you feel better, but in the end, it's you. so he'll cope.

jane the killer

•she is a direct comfort sort of woman: “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

•when she notices its an re-occuring issue bothering you more than usual, she'll go into problem-solving mode. jane listens carefully and offers solutions, even if you just want to vent. she loves listening to you talk, even if it's under more unfortunate circumstances.

•has a protective streak much like her male counterpart: “if it’s someone else’s fault, i’ll handle it.” and she means it

•queen of tough love. it's her kingdom. “you’re stronger than this. don’t let it get to you.” she's seen too many people react irrationally because of minor inconveniences (jeff), and she would hate to see you deliberately get into trouble because of something as 'simple' as frustration.

•silent presence: if words won’t help, she stays with you until you feel better. if your room is a mess, she'll clean your clothes off the floor, fold, and carry your laundry to the washer while you relax on your bed. she won't let you leave until she's positive you're at least feeling a little better about your situation, and even then, she's by your side for most the day.

•though she can be just as stubborn as anyone else, jane does make a soft admission: “i hate seeing you so upset. tell me how to help.”

•makes some gentle distraction (unlike clockwork): she suggests watching a movie or doing something fun together to lift your spirits. she will likely end up doing your makeup, the two of you on the floor together until your spirits start to rise.

laughing Jack (i hate this motherfucker)

•over-the-top antics because he's just like that, unfortunately. he's a piece of shit, but tries to make you laugh with ridiculous jokes or obnoxious pranks. a for effort, i guess. he's giving it his best shot.

•much like jeff, being a complete dick, there is that aspect of mock concern: “oh no! we must alert the circus of your sorrow!” sarcastic cunt.

•there is some aspect of unexpected sweetness with him, i would think (hope). if you’re genuinely upset, he tones it down and says, “hey, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

•he's crouching down onto his knees as you sit on the edge of your bed, his large, ugly ass hands cupping your face the best he can without shanking you with his gross, long fingers. his thumbs 'gently' rub your cheeks as he let's you breathe your frustration out.

•clownish ass distractions: pulls out a random toy or silly object to cheer you up. from out of fuck-all nowhere, he pulls a doll out from behind its back. it's even more hideous than him, which is difficult. it's stuffing is gruesomely ripped out, instead, packed full with grotesque looking candies. he'll awkwardly discard it on the floor when he sees it's only made your mood worse. what an idiot.

•chaotic energy: “let’s go do something fun! or dangerous! or both!”

•you don't feel like doing anything

•gentle honesty: “i'm not good at this comforting stuff, but I’m here for you.”, even though you already knew that. though the semblance is appreciated.

kagekao

•you're still a victim of playful mockery. "you look adorable when you’re mad. like a tiny storm cloud". he's mocking you while you want to punch him into a smear.

•teasing distractions. he pokes at your cheeks or steals something of yours to make you chase him. he genuinely does not care that you feel murderous tendencies towards him at the moment. it's his life mission to torment you eternally.

•jovial comfort: “don’t worry, i’ll take care of everything. or, at least, pretend I did.”

•surprise gifts. when he knows he's pushed you too far, he will opt to leave you a random (sometimes unsettling) trinket to cheer you up. he knows he's the source of your agitation, so he tries his 'best' to make up for it.

•more lighthearted annoyance. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that, right?”

•unexpected wisdom from someone who is such a cunt to deal with. “life’s too short to stress over these things. laugh it off.”

•silently lurks nearby until you calm down, offering his silent presence as comfort.

masky

•masky will often show a reluctant concern, not outright admitting he's worried about your fluctuating attitude, but instead inviting you to chat. “what’s wrong now?” his tone is gruff, but he genuinely cares.

•practical help: masky fixes the problem (if possible) without saying much about it; especially when it comes down to it being an issue with anything containing an engine. if you're frustrated by an issue you're having with your vehicle, calmly, he'll tell you to give him the keys, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll invite you out to hold the flashlight for him. just make sure you keep it steady.

•vaguely annoyed, but supportive: “seriously? you’re upset over that? fine, let’s deal with it.” he's the type to teach you about fixing your own issues, so you'll know how to deal with it next time.

•protective side: “if you need help with this, come to me. you don't need to be going to.. random guys to fix your car."

•he's definitely jealous at the thought of you going to anyone else for help but him.

•silent comfort if it's anything else that physically, he cant fix. he sits near you, not saying a word but making it clear he’s there for you.

•backhanded affection: “you’re too stubborn to let this keep you down, right?” he knows you'll take it as he's doubting you; and that you'll smarten up quick.

•masky gives you grudging hugs. awkwardly, he pulls you into a hug if you’re really upset— often on the porch as he's having a smoke. you'll be sitting on the steps, tucked up to his side. if he feels nice enough- his jacket will end up slung over your shoulders.

slenderman

•i'm going to be flat with you, he does not care.

•but if he did, he would be calm and composed. it doesn’t affect him, so he has no reason to reacf but to calm you down. “you’re letting this get to you? that’s beneath you.” he sounds unamused.

•stoic support. slenderman offers silent reassurance with his unyielding presence. sometimes he's there, sometimes he isn't. but, you always have that lingering feeling of him being close by. it's both comforting and frightening.

•intimidation tactic: “shall i remove the source of your distress?” he’s deadly serious, for the most part.

•he's slightly patronizing. he doesn't really grasp a sense of confliction about this like you do. he doesn't really get why you're making such a fuss over something so blatant. “this is not worth your energy. focus on what truly matters.”

•both helps and frustrates you more. sometimes it's pointless to explain to him.

•..somewhat gentle understanding. if you’re truly distressed, he places a hand on your shoulder and will tell you to excuse yourself from any activities later in the day.

•eerie distraction: creates a serene yet unnerving environment to take your mind off things. the effort is.. there.

•cryptic advice: “all things are temporary. even this feeling.”

ticci toby

•dry sarcasm “wow, the world’s ending because of this. guess we should all panic.” his tone is teasing but not mean-spirited. he just doesn't understand that it's truly bothering you to that extent, until you breakdown to him.

•gentle understanding: “yeah, okay, I get it. sometimes the little stuff just… builds up.” he leans back and listens without pushing you. he knows you're already overwhelmed, and makes it a point to give you some space while still being there.

•subtle comfort. he offers you his jacket or quietly sits beside you, muttering, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i'm not going anywhere.” like masky, he keeps you close to his side, whether sitting on a log or walking down the path. he'll encourage you to hold onto his arm.

•toby has a protective streak: “tell me who or what caused this. i’ll take care of it.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge that means he’s serious. he doesn't like the idea of anyone pushing you around— only he can play around with you like that.

•gounding presence: if you’re spiraling, he places a hand on your shoulder or holds your hand. “breathe, okay? just focus on me for a minute.” too many times he's had to do this by himself. he understands the complications of losing yourself— and if you don't have to go through it alone, he won't allow you to.

•dull humor to lighten the mood. "if it makes you feel better, i've probably done something way stupider than whatever you’re upset about.”

•quiet reassurance: “you’ll get through this. you always do. it’s not as big as it feels right now, i promise.” he speaks softly but firmly, making sure you know he’s in your corner. he always is and will be. he's a bit more gentle than the rest.

#eyeless jack x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #masky x reader #ben drowned #jane the killer x reader #clockwork x reader #ticci toby x reader #slenderman x reader #bloody painter #jason the toymaker #laughing jack x reader #creepypasta #writing #writers on tumblr

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impishjesters · 2 years ago

Text

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc kinger #pomni x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #kinger #caine #pomni

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ddejavvu · 8 days ago

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actual Scottish person here who is in love with Hiccup!!!

It would be really fun if for a holiday on Berk or something, the reader paints celtic (Scottish,Irish etc) face markings on Hiccup but they get distracted and kiss so it smears and gets missed up but they don’t know until someone points it out,,,

Hiccup may be Berk's resident artist, but you're pretty proud of the designs you've spread all over each of your faces. Harsh edges and sharp points blend seamlessly with curving swirls, and Hiccup looks so good in his new face paint that you have to kiss him about it.

Of course, it's not that simple, one kiss is never enough. Not for Hiccup, and not for you, and you stumble out to kick off this year's Bork Week five minutes after your cue.

"It's fine." Hiccup hisses, keeping his head down as he rushes for the clearing where he's supposed to speak, "No one will notice."

You rush after him, your eyes firmly locked onto the back of his leather armor. He looks good in his wingsuit- which is something you don't need to be thinking right now, because it's Bork Week and you'll be celebrating all night with no hope of alone time. For now, you fix your eyes on your shoes, so that you won't get antsy staring at Hiccup's face as he gives his speech.

"Well," Gobber hums, and there's murmuring from the crowd as Hiccup takes his place, "Better late than never. And that face paint... you were going for... the northern lights?"

Your incredibly complicated, meticulously-drawn patterns were not meant to invoke the northern lights, as a matter of fact. But you'll correct Gobber indignantly later, when there isn't a spotlight waiting for you. But Hiccup doesn't think that far ahead, and when he looks confusedly at you through the crowd, your eyes drift up towards him, too.

Both of your eyes widen in sync.

As messy as your joint face paint has become, it may as well have been the northern lights. You suppose the colors are indicative of the shimmering hues, but the problem is everything you'd worked so hard on is nothing more than a mess of smeared paint, and you get ready to scold Hiccup for unconsciously rubbing his face when you realize how it had really happened.

You'd kissed him stupid, and ruined your face paint.

Your hand flies to your cheek and comes away every color of the rainbow. There's no design, no rhythm to the smears that stain your fingertips and as the onlookers put two and two together, a communal chuckle erupts from the crowd.

No one laughs louder than Gobber, though, who takes great pleasure in joining Hiccup in the center of the clearing, "That's why they were late, then. That's not how I'd typically celebrate Bork Week, but maybe they're trying to start a new tradition!"

"Gobber."

"Anywho," The man chuckles, gesturing towards the open sky above, "We'll let the dragons take it away- I don't think the Chief remembers his speech after that."

#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock imagine #hiccup haddock fanfiction #hiccup haddock fluff #hiccup haddock oneshot #hiccup haddock blurb #hiccup haddock drabble #hiccup haddock x you

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natsaffection · 1 year ago

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Heyyy :) So I've been thinking - Nat and R don't really like each other, there's no hate but occasionally fights and yeah they just avoid each other most of the time... R has been out drinking alone after one of those fights bc she realized that she actually fell for Nat some time ago and just denies it? And R gets in a fight on her way home with someone, ends up pretty badly hurt but doesn't call someone instead just tries to get to her room on the compound and fix herself but instead she ends up in Nats room somehow and Nat takes care of her? + some fluffy cuddles and kisses perhaps?

Fury and Friction. | N.R

Warnings: Fighting, arguing, description of injury

Word Count: 2,4k

A/N: I hope Y/n doesn't come across as too harsh, but that makes the end more..I don’t want to spoil. 🫂

It was another exhausting day of training. The Team had gathered to improve their skills, each focused on pushing their limits. Natasha and you were paired together, much to both of your displeasure. Your sparring sessions often ended with bruises and frayed nerves.

As you circled each other, the tension in the air was palpable. Natasha's movements were fluid and precise, each step carefully calculated. You, on the other hand, were aggressive and relentless, your strikes driven by a mix of frustration and determination.

"You need to control your anger," Natasha said as she dodged a particularly fierce blow. "It makes you predictable."

"And you need to stop underestimating me." you retorted, your eyes sparkling with defiance. Her words were as sharp as her movements, each sentence a deliberate jab meant to wound. It wasn't just about the fight, it was about proving a point, about not backing down. "Maybe you'd cause fewer problems if you learned to follow orders, Y/n."

"And maybe people would actually want to work with you if you weren't such a control freak." you shot back, your frustration evident. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I'm just trying to keep you from getting yourself killed. You need to think clearly, not just charge ahead blindly."

"Stop treating me like I don't know what I'm doing!" you snapped and Natasha's patience was wearing thin. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I want you to be careful. You're too valuable to be lost to reckless decisions."

But you weren't listening. You were convinced that Natasha saw you as a project, someone in need of constant correction. This belief only fueled your anger and made you more stubborn. The room fell silent, the others exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better than to intervene. The hostility between you and Natasha was a storm best weathered from a safe distance.

Six months ago:

The sun was setting over the ruins of Sokovia, casting long shadows across the devastated landscape. The air was thick with smoke and the echoes of distant explosions. Natasha was in the midst of coordinating the evacuation, her mind focused on the task at hand.

That's when she first met you.

You were a lone operative, sent by SHIELD to assist with the evacuation and gather intelligence. Your introduction was abrupt, almost confrontational. Natasha had seen you from afar, a solitary figure moving through the debris with near reckless determination.

"Who the hell are you?" Natasha demanded as she approached, "Agent L/N, here to help from SHIELD." Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't informed about additional operatives."

"Looks like you missed the memo.." You replied challengingly.

From that, the dynamic was tense. Natasha saw you as an impulsive rookie, someone who hadn't yet earned their place. You saw Natasha as overly cautious and controlling, a relic of an older generation out of touch with the times. Your approaches clashed immediately, setting the stage for the hostility that would follow.

Later that evening, the Team gathered in the common area for a rare moment of relaxation. Natasha, ever the social butterfly, laughed and chatted with some of the newer recruits. Her effortless charm and magnetic presence drew people in, and you noticed.

You watched from a distance, your eyes narrowing as Natasha casually flirted with a young agent. Jealousy stirred within you, a feeling unfamiliar. You tried to ignore it, but the more you watched, the harder it became.

"Everything okay?" Clint's voice broke through your thoughts, his concern evident. You forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired." Clint glanced at Natasha and then back at you, a knowing look in his eyes. "You know, she's not as bad as you think." Your smile faded. "She's insufferable."

"Or maybe you just don't see the whole picture.." Clint suggested gently before walking away, leaving you alone with your conflicting feelings.

The next mission briefing was tense again. The team was set to infiltrate another HYDRA facility, and the stakes were high. Tony outlined the plan, but it wasn't long before you and Natasha were at odds again. "This is a delicate operation," Natasha said, her tone brooking no argument. "We need to proceed with caution."

"And while we're sneaking around, HYDRA gets stronger," you snapped. "We need to hit them hard.."

"You're too reckless, Y/N." Natasha said. "You think you can solve everything with brute force."

"And you're a control freak.." your frustration boiling over. "You don't trust anyone but yourself." The room fell silent as your argument escalated. Your face was flushed with anger, your fists clenched at your sides. Natasha's eyes were cold, her jaw tightly set.

"You know nothing about trust," Natasha said quietly, but her words hit deep. "You're too busy trying to prove you're better than everyone else." Your eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Maybe I have to because people like you will never see me as anything but a liability."

Natasha, who usually tried to stay calm, finally lost her patience. She turned directly to Tony, effectively ending the argument by shutting you out. The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the deep-seated issues between you.

Back in the cold corridors of the HYDRA base, you and Natasha moved through the shadows, your movements silent and coordinated despite the underlying tensions. You reached a large room lined with computer servers.

As you worked to disable the security systems, a HYDRA agent emerged from a hidden passage, weapon raised. The agent fired, the bullet grazing your arm. You winced, a sharp intake of breath the only sign of pain.

"You're hit!" Natasha hissed, her eyes wide with concern as she swiftly took out the agent. "It's just a graze," you said, downplaying it. "I'm fine."

Natasha grabbed your arm, examining the wound. "You need to take this seriously. You could have been killed." You pulled your arm away, glaring at Natasha. "I said I'm fine. We have a mission to complete."

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and worry. "You need to stop pretending you're invincible. This isn't just about you." Your expression softened for a moment, but your pride wouldn't let you concede. "I know that. But I can't afford to be cautious. Not now."

Natasha's grip on your arm tightened for a moment before she let go. "Just be... careful, damnet.." she said, her voice gentler. "We can't afford to lose anyone." You nodded, a fleeting understanding passing between you. Despite your differences, there was mutual respect buried beneath the layers of conflict and stubbornness.

That night, you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You hated how Natasha got under your skin, how she made you feel vulnerable and inadequate. But there was something else, something deeper that you didn't want to acknowledge.

As you lay in the dark, memories of your mission in Siberia came to mind. Natasha's concern when you were grazed by the bullet, the way her eyes filled with worry . Just be...careful. It stirred something in you, something you desperately tried to suppress.

You got up and paced the room, your thoughts racing. "This is ridiculous.." you muttered to yourself. But the more you denied it, the stronger the feelings became. You couldn't ignore how your heart raced whenever Natasha was near, how your anger was tinged with something unsettlingly like longing.

The next day, you found yourself in the gym, trying to burn off your frustration of last night. You were in the middle of a rigorous workout when Natasha walked in. You exchanged a tense glance, but the atmosphere had shifted, a subtle change in how you moved around each other.

Natasha watched you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she approached cautiously. "Everything okay?" You paused, surprised by the question. "Why do you care?"

"Because despite everything, you're part of this team," Natasha said simply. "And I do care." Your eyes searched Natasha's, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was genuine concern. It confused you, made your defenses waver.

"I'm fine," you said, your voice softer than before. "Just trying to clear my head." Natasha nodded, her gaze lingering on you. "If you ever want to talk... I'm here."

It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot. In the weeks that followed, your relationship with Natasha began to improve. The sharp edges of your hostility softened, replaced by a cautious respect. You still argued, but the intensity had lessened, and there were moments of genuine camaraderie.

Natasha made an effort to give you more space and trust your instincts, while you tried to temper your impulsiveness with more strategic thinking. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

But the peace was short lived. One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, making a snack. Natasha entered the room, looking distracted. She opened the fridge and stared at the contents for a moment before closing it with a sigh.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light. "Just tired." Natasha replied curtly. You could feel the tension and, against your better judgment, pushed a little further. "You seem upset. What's going on?"

Natasha's eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "It's nothing. Just drop it." Your frustration boiled over. "Why do you always act like everything's fine when it's not? You can talk to me, you know.."

Natasha snapped. "And why do you always have to push? Not everything has to be a confrontation, Y/N!" You were stunned, your own anger rising. "I was just trying to offer help! Maybe I push because you never let anyone in! Do you think you're the only one who feels anything?"

Natasha, recognizing the futility of the exchange, finally threw up her hands in exasperation. "You know what? Do whatever you want," she said coldly. "I'm done arguing with you. It's pointless."

With that, Natasha turned and left, leaving you standing there, angry and confused. You didn't understand why Natasha kept shutting you out, but it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You grabbed your jacket and stormed out of the Tower, heading to a downtown bar. The neon lights and pulsing music were a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the Tower. You ordered a drink, then another, trying to drown your anger and confusion.

The bar was crowded, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. You found yourself the center of attention, a group of admirers drawn to your magnetic presence. You flirted and laughed, trying to distract yourself from thoughts of Natasha.

But the alcohol only amplified your feelings. The more you drank, the more your suppressed emotions surfaced. You couldn't stop thinking about Natasha, about your fights and the strange, confusing connection you kinda shared.

It wasn't long before one admirer decided to make a move. He grabbed your arm, his intentions clear. You yanked your arm free "Back off."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. Just a bit of fun.." he slurred and stepping closer. You shoved him hard, sending him crashing into a table. The bar fell silent for a moment, then chaos erupted as a brawl broke out.

You ducked as a bottle flew past your head and shattered against the wall. You landed a quick punch to the man's chin, sending him to the floor. Another patron charged at you, but you dodged and used his momentum to send him into a nearby chair. The fight was quick and brutal, you held your own despite the numbers.

But you didn't escape unscathed. A punch landed on your forehead, splitting the skin, blood trickling down your face. Another kick hit your ribs, leaving you gasping in pain. Finally, the bouncers intervened, pulling you and the other fighters apart. You were escorted out of the bar, your adrenaline still pumping.

You made your way back to the Tower, your thoughts a jumbled mess. You replayed the fight in your head, the raw emotions and physical release of your pent-up frustration. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake thoughts of Natasha. God..

When you entered the Tower, your feet moved almost on their own, leading you through familiar corridors. Your hand hovered over your door. You tried to gather your thoughts. All the anger, the confusion, the feelings you'd been suppressing came rushing back.

Before you could open the door, it opened on its own. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. "What happened to you?" she asked, her eyes scanning the bruises and cuts from the fight. You blinked, confusion washing over you. "I... thought this was my room..“

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Well, I see you've had a bit to drink. Come in, I can help you with that." You wanted to refuse, but the throbbing pain in your ribs and the blood dripping from your brow convinced you otherwise. You followed Natasha into the room.

Natasha led you to her bed and fetched a first aid kit from her dresser. She began cleaning your wounds with gentle hands, her touch surprisingly tender. You winced as the antiseptic stung, but you didn't pull away.

"Why did you get into a fight?" Natasha asked softly, her eyes focused on her work. You sighed, the alcohol and exhaustion making you more honest than usual. "I was angry. Frustrated. I needed to blow off steam.."

Natasha paused, her gaze meeting yours. "Was it because of our argument?" You looked away, feeling the weight of Natasha's gaze. "Partly. But it's more than that. I don't know how to handle...everything."

“I need to tell you something.” You turned to her, meeting her gaze. The vulnerability in her eyes was striking, a stark contrast to the fierce determination one had been used to seeing over the months.

“I’ve been unfair to you,” Natasha admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been treating you like you needed constant watching, and it’s because I was.. scared. Scared that your stubbornness would get you hurt, or worse.”

You felt a lump in your throat as her words sank in. “Nat, I know I can be reckless. But I never meant to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”

“I just want you to be safe. I push you because I care about you, more than I’ve let on..” Her words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes and felt your own start to well up, “..And god, your stubbornne-“

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. Natasha’s arms encircled you, pulling you close. She held you tightly, as if afraid to let go. “I’m sorry, Y/n..” she whispered into your hair. “I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I just didn’t know how else to keep you safe.”

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet light. The embrace was a balm to your frayed nerves, letting everything forget what has accumulated with you, "I-I care about you too, Nat..“ The room was silent. For the first time, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable. You looked up and into Natasha's eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the fear and..the hope.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Natasha froze, then she kissed you back, her hand gently cradling your cheek. The kiss was slow, filled with all the unspoken emotions you both had been holding back.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. "I'm sorry." you both said at the same time, laughing softly at the coincidence.

The mood lightened, the weight of your previous arguments lifted. You talked quietly through the night, sharing your fears and hopes, finally letting out what had been weighing on your hearts. As dawn broke, you were still curled up together, a newfound understanding and affection blossoming between you.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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vandme12 · 4 months ago

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I was the one who requested the Royal Cafe, Can you just do it as a Ronin x Reader?

Inspiration

SINFUL CAFE AND YOUR RONIN

CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!

SUMMARY : Your Cafe is almost dead, Angel saved and A Devil became a Cat?

So you've been in this serial killer server for eight months, and somehow, against all odds, you fell for Ronin. That purgatory of a first kiss? Yeah, it ruined you in the best way. Now it’s a whole trend—flirting, fighting, maybe even feeling.

You love him. He loves you. (Maybe.)

He’s feisty about it, of course. Teasing, testing, pushing you just enough to keep you on edge, but never quite letting you fall. And god, you love it. You love him. You love this—this insane little corner of the internet where murder is a casual conversation, where death is a game, and where your heart beats way too fast whenever his name pops up in your notifications.

So, tell me—what’s next?

So, you’re a writer. And an idiot. A beautiful, chaotic idiot who somehow—somehow—managed to open a royal-themed café because childhood-you watched one maid café anime and said, “Yeah, that’s the dream.”

And guess what? Dream achieved, baby. You’ve got the whole setup—maids in frilly dresses, butlers in crisp suits, fancy teacups, and a menu with way too many desserts. It’s perfect. Almost.

Except… your staff? Absolute disasters.

Your maids? Shit. Your butlers? Worse shit. Half of them can’t carry a tray without causing a full-scale catastrophe. The other half are more likely to flirt with customers for tips than serve them. You hired them for the aesthetic, not the competence, and it shows.

But hey, it’s your dream. And if you’re going to go down in flames, at least you’re doing it in a sparkly maid café, right?

Your royal café is on life support.

Sure, you’ve got the maids. You’ve got the butlers. You’ve got the fancy-ass menu with cakes that are probably overpriced. But there’s one tiny, devastating problem—nobody knows you exist.

Like, you’re out here living your sparkly childhood fantasy, and the universe decided to spit in your crème brûlée. Customers? Barely any. Popularity? Nonexistent. It’s so bad that your butlers started playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who actually has to work when someone—finally—walks through the door.

The closing sign is practically looming over your café’s head. You tried everything—social media posts, themed events, hell, you even forced your staff into a cringy dance routine on TikTok. Nothing. Still ghost town vibes.

And it’s really sad, okay? You didn’t go through all this chaos just to shut down like some tragic protagonist. There has to be a way to save it—right?

You felt like absolute shit.

This café was supposed to be your magnum opus—your crowning achievement of cute uniforms, elegant service, and the kind of fluffy desserts that make people squeal. Instead? You’re staring at the empty tables, wondering if it’s physically possible to die from secondhand embarrassment as your maids argue over who actually has to smile today.

Even your most loyal butler, who once prided himself on his "mysterious prince" aesthetic, just muttered, "Why bother?" while unironically sipping from a Garfield mug. Garfield, in your royal café. The disrespect.

You tried everything—promo flyers, ‘buy one, get one free’ events, you even begged your questionable internet friends (read: serial killers) to spread the word. Nothing worked.

And now, sitting behind the counter, chin in your hands, you feel the crushing weight of failure. Maybe this was a stupid dream. Maybe you should’ve just written your little murder book and called it a day.

But no. You’re too stubborn to quit now.

The café’s a mess. Your staff is a disaster. But dammit, this is your disaster.

You were overstressed, underslept, and one more burnt crème brûlée away from a complete breakdown.

Between fixing the café’s finances, dragging your chaotic staff out of whatever emotional crisis they were having this time, and trying to figure out if it was actually legal for one of your maids to threaten a customer (it wasn’t), you hadn’t logged into the server for a week.

A week.

Which, in "Serial Killer Chatroom Time," was practically a century.

Your phone buzzed. Again. And again. You ignored it—because if you saw one more "URGENT!!!" message from your accountant (who now ended every email with "we’re so fucked"), you were going to scream.

But then… a familiar notification popped up.

GOREBOY:

Did you die or are you ghosting me? I can make both happen. 💔

You blinked. Oh. Shit.

You hadn’t answered Ronin in days. And if there was one thing that man hated more than authority figures, it was being ignored.

Another message.

K9:

You’ve been offline too long. Something wrong?

HITMEUPPP:

bro if ur dead lmk

Your heart gave a weird, guilty little flutter. Even V was checking in, and that man was emotionally repressed on principle.

You rubbed your face, debating if you should respond or just fake your death and move to another country. Before you could decide, your phone buzzed again—hard enough to make you flinch.

GOREBOY (PRIVATE DM):

You’re either working too hard or digging your own grave. Which is it...

Oh. You were so fucked.

Your notifications were cursed. Every time you tried to catch a break, another ping dragged you back into the chaos. And now? Everyone was in on it.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

brooo u alive?? 🏄‍♂️ i was gonna invite u surfing but like. ur ghosting us.

EVISCERATOR1990:

Are You Okay?

angelic:

babe, if you needed a break, you could’ve said so. but if you died, I’m gonna be pissed.

FELICITE:

You okay? No judgment, just checking. If you need help, I’ve got a shovel and an alibi.

Even Ai Hua—sweet, terrifying Ai Hua—sent a message.

Ai Hua:

☹️

When Ai Hua pulls out the sad face, you know you messed up.

You exhaled, feeling that familiar ache crawl up your spine. The stress. The exhaustion. The fact that you hadn’t eaten anything besides café leftovers for days. Your dream café was circling the drain, your staff couldn’t brew a latte without setting something on fire, and now your murder chatroom friends were worried you’d become a cold case.

Before you could spiral any harder, your phone buzzed again—one more DM from Ronin.

GOREBOY:

Last chance, baby. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m breaking into your life.

And with him, you believed it.

You crack your knuckles, sighing as you finally cave and open the server. Bad idea? Probably. But if you didn’t say something soon, you were half-convinced Ronin would break into your apartment and bother you in person—which, knowing him, wasn’t even the weirdest thing he’d do.

You hit the general chat and type:

you:

lol sorry i died but i came back bc i heard the devil crying 😔 gotta support local businesses

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

YOURE BACKKKKK 🎉

angelic:

tf kind of fanfic-ass excuse is that.

EVISCERATOR1990:

typical. the devil’s always needy.

Ai Hua:

😌👍

GOREBOY:

you’re lucky i’m cute, or i’d haunt you myself.

You roll your eyes, but your heart does a stupid little flip. Of course, he would twist this into being about him. You barely hesitate before sliding into his DMs, fingers flying.

you:

why are u like this

you:

i’ve been stressed out of my mind and here you are playing “where’s my favorite corpse”

you:

my café is dying. my employees are morons. i haven’t slept in days. everything sucks.

you:

and you?? teasing me like “where’s my baby 😢 are you in the afterlife?? did you leave me??”

You should stop. You should. But your thumbs don’t.

you:

like bro. i’m about to pass out in a puddle of failed cappuccinos and you’re making it MY problem that i’m not flirting back??

You stare at the screen, expecting some sarcastic reply. Something cocky. Something Ronin.

Instead, after a beat—

GOREBOY:

...tell me everything.

You blink.

you:

what?

GOREBOY:

everything. all of it.

GOREBOY:

i’m listening, baby. go ahead—vent it out.

And just like that—you break. You tell him everything. The constant stress, the unpaid bills, the fact that your “dream café” is hanging by a thread because nobody wants to buy overpriced lattes served by questionable maids and worse butlers. How you’ve been grinding yourself into the ground, and it still isn’t enough.

And the whole time? He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tease. He just… listens.

Finally, when you’re done—when you’ve vomited every anxious thought into his DMs—he replies.

GOREBOY:

okay. first? if you die, i’m bringing you back myself.

GOREBOY:

second? i’m coming over.

you:

?????

GOREBOY:

did i stutter?

You: hey!!!!

You slam the message into Ronin’s DMs He's not try to pull that "I’m coming over" nonsense. You’re stressed, overworked, and no way in hell are you dealing with that in person.

GOREBOY:

oh? suddenly alive again? miss me already, baby?

You:

shut up omg. i’m fine. go be evil somewhere else.

GOREBOY:

nah. you’re my favorite pastime.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man. This man. And like the problem he is, he doesn’t stop there.

GOREBOY:

c’mon, sweet thing. tell me more.

GOREBOY:

my muse needs their muse, don't they?

And, damn it, he knows exactly how to work you. Your head’s been a mess—deadlines on your novel, bills piling up from the café, maids and butlers who couldn’t charm a customer to save their lives. Your dream’s slipping through your fingers, and you’ve been too tired to write, too tired to do anything but spiral.

But he keeps talking.

GOREBOY:

bet you’re cute when you pout.

GOREBOY:

and if your little café is your house? yeah, angel—burn the world down before you let anyone take it.

Your heart does a dumb little flip.

You:

it’s different, though… if i lose this place, i’ll break. me and my parents—we worked so hard. it’s not just a shop. it’s… home.

He goes quiet for a second. Too quiet.

Then—your phone buzzes. He’s calling you. Of course he is.

You hesitate… but pick up.

The screen flickers, and there he is—Ronin, all lazy smirk and sharp angles, his silver hair falling into his eyes. He scans you, slow and deliberate, and yeah… you’ve got eyebags for days, but the way he looks at you—shit.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you mutter, voice softer than you mean it.

“Yeah,” he drawls, tilting his head. “I was just thinkin’… even with the eyebags, you look great, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

But he keeps staring. Long. Intense. Like he’s memorizing you.

“What?” you snap, feeling your face heat.

“Nothing,” he says—too casual. “Just… go to sleep.”

You blink. “What, why—”

“I’ll watch,” he cuts in, voice dropping to that smooth, velvet tone that makes your stomach flip. “Until you’re out. That a problem, baby?”

Your heart stutters. “Why are you—”

“‘Cause I’m nice.” He leans closer to the camera, grin curling wicked. “And this is how I get repaid? My Darlin an ungrateful idiot, huh?”

You swallow hard, brain short-circuiting. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice softens, teasing but warm. “Shoulder devils gotta take care of their angels, baby. You work too hard. So, shut up and let me be sweet. Just this once.”

And hell—you’d argue, but you’re already sinking deeper under his spell.

Your laughter slips out before you can stop it—light, tired, but real. “Thanks, Ronin.”

For once, he doesn’t shoot back a smart-ass comment. Instead, he just… smiles. Soft at the edges, like he’s letting his guard down without realizing it. And damn, if that doesn’t make your chest ache a little.

“Good night, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice smooth as sin.

You smirk, letting your head fall against the pillow. “Good night, Butcher.”

His eyes flash with something dangerous—amused. “Tch. Call me that again, angel, and I might think you’re flirting.”

“Maybe I am,” you tease, your voice dipping just enough to make it stick.

He huffs a laugh under his breath. “You’re lucky I’m feeling sweet. Sleep. Before I crawl through the screen and tuck you in myself.”

“Promises, promises…” you mumble, already half-asleep.

And as you drift off, the last thing you hear is his voice—lower, softer than before.

“…Sweet dreams, baby.”

Ronin leans back in his chair after hanging up, fingers drumming against his thigh. For once, the usual smirk on his face fades into something… complicated. The hell’s he supposed to do with this?

You’re stressed—overworked, overwhelmed, cracking at the edges. And sure, he loves teasing you, loves watching you squirm, but… this? This hits different. You care about that dumb café like it’s your soul stitched into the walls. If you lose it, you’ll break.

And—ugh—he doesn’t like when you sound broken.

A sharp ping breaks his thoughts.

Angelic: hey goreboy, any update? hitmeuppp: fr fr bossman u know what’s up right? Eviscerator1990: WORRYING. This isn’t slasher-behavior, kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: bro, did they die again? Ai Hua: 👍

Ronin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fucking vultures…”

He could brush them off—should brush them off—but his eyes flick back to your DM window. Your sleepy voice still lingers in his head. It’s like your house.

Tch. Of course you’d say something sappy like that. Of course he gives a shit.

goreboy: I don’t know. Let ‘em breathe.

A pause. Then—

Angelic: Liar.

He barks a laugh. They know him too well.

But… he does have a plan. Something stupid. Something reckless. Something only he can pull off.

If you’re gonna keep your café from crumbling, you’ll need one thing.

Publicity.

And who better to stir up a little chaos than the devil himself?

Ronin cracks his neck, the familiar edge of a smirk curling his lips as he types back.

goreboy: I have a wonderful plan.

The server erupts immediately.

Angelic: That’s never comforting. hitmeuppp: oh no oh no oh no Eviscerator1990: Define "wonderful," kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: is it illegal. wait no. dumb question. Ai Hua: 👀

Ronin kicks his feet up on his desk, stretching like a cat that’s found fresh prey. He should probably explain—nah—he likes the suspense.

goreboy: Sit tight, sinners. Devil’s about to perform a miracle.

Even Felicite, who usually keeps her distance from the server’s chaos, drops a rare message.

Félicité: I’m almost scared to ask.

Ronin barks out a laugh, tipping his head back. If she’s curious, this plan is already off to a fantastic start.

goreboy: Don’t worry, princess. You’re gonna love it.

hitmeuppp: if u get them arrested, i’m telling their mom.

goreboy: Please, like I’m that sloppy.

goreboy: alright, angels—brainstorm time. how do we save my darlin’s dying café?

angelicc: OH. MY. GOD. I GOT THIS.

Before Ronin can even blink, Angel creates a new group chat and drags him in. The name?

💀 "Operation: Save the Café (ft. Hot Butcher)" 💀

hitmeuppp: wow u really just out here putting their whole situationship on blast huh

angelicc: duh. it’s cute. shut up, Misaki.

goreboy: so, what’s the master plan, sweetheart?

angelicc: Simple. I’ll feature their café on my channel. "Mystery Maid & Butler Café – The Hidden Gem You NEED To Visit!"

angelicc: Cute aesthetic. Mystery theme. And you? You’re coming too.

goreboy: oh?

angelicc: Yeah, I need the butcher boy for emotional support vibes.

Ronin snorts, already imagining how much fun he could have with this. If Angel’s running the show, the café is about to get flooded with curious fans.

goreboy: i’m in. tell me when to show up.

angelicc: Of course!

hitmeuppp: WAIT—WAIT. HOLD UP.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: DareDarvil rules, baby!!! 😎

goreboy: you mean to tell me…

angelicc: No. Luca.

hitmeuppp: YES.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: YESSSSS.

goreboy: …You want me to show up in a maid dress. With cat ears. And a tail.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: AND FAKE BLOOD! Don’t forget the blood—like a cute lil’ murder maid, bro.

There’s a long pause. Ronin leans back in his chair, dragging his tongue over his teeth, half amused and half what the actual hell.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Think about it. Viral marketing. “Sinful Maid Café” featuring a devilishly hot butcher.

hitmeuppp: Bro, if you pull up in cat ears, you KNOW they’ll have a line out the door.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Exactly. Chicks and Ddes dig murder maids.

goreboy: ...You’re all insane.

angelicc: As long you're okay with it. I don't really like this idea..

A slow, wicked smile curls at the corner of Ronin’s mouth. He pictures your stressed-out, sleep-deprived face when he walks into your café like that—oh, he’s gonna ruin you.

goreboy: Fine. But if I’m doing it, I’m going all in.

angelicc: Define “all in”…

goreboy: Tail. Ears. Knife. And if anyone gets blood on my skirt, they’re next.

hitmeuppp: Bro’s about to awaken something in half the city.

The next day

You blink, still half-asleep, as the café door swings open—and in walks Angel, glowing like a literal angel with her flawless makeup and bright smile. She’s dressed to kill, all elegance and danger wrapped in a leather jacket that probably costs more than your rent. Behind her, Ronin—looking like he rolled out of bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, eyes half-lidded but sharp.

“Morning, sunshine,” Angel coos, voice dripping honey as she surveys your café. “I couldn’t just sit back and let you spiral. You know I hate watching cute things break.”

You stare at her, still processing the fact that she’s standing here, in your café, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And your staff? Oh, your staff is losing their minds.

“Wait, wait—you’re Angelic?” one of your waitresses gasps, clutching the edge of a tray like she might faint.

“The one and only.” Angel winks, spinning on her heel. “And I’m here to save this adorable little café. So, listen up—new plan, everyone! We’re rebranding.”

You blink rapidly. “Re…branding?”

She flashes you a devilish smile. “Sinful Café. Think blood-splattered butlers, seductive maids—" She lowers her voice into a sultry purr, “—danger with your dessert. It’ll go viral in days. Trust me.”

And of course—because she’s Angel—your staff is eating it up. They’re already brainstorming costumes, throwing out ideas, hanging off her every word. You should be grateful. You should say thank you. But…

Your eyes drift to Ronin. He’s quiet, leaning against the counter, his gaze locked on you—steady, unreadable.

Did they… really do all this? For you?

You swallow hard. “Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it.

Angel tilts her head, smiling like it’s obvious. “Because you’re ours, duh.”

Your heart stutters.

“Don’t get soft on me now, darlin’,” Ronin drawls finally, breaking his silence. His voice—low, smooth, dangerously amused—crawls right under your skin. “You didn’t think we’d let your little house fall apart, did you?”

“You’re here!” The words slip out faster than you can stop them—your voice cracking with something dangerously close to relief. And, of course, Ronin hears it.

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “Missed me that bad, huh?” He leans in, the scent of leather and something sharper brushing against your senses.

You flush, heat crawling up your neck. “Pfft—no. I’m just surprised you’re awake before noon.”

“Ouch. And here I was, being all sweet, coming to save your ass.” His finger lifts, smooth and deliberate, and—boop—he taps the tip of your nose with the cocky audacity only he could pull off.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Did you just—?”

“What? You wanna do something about it, darlin’?” His voice drips teasing venom, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—are locked on yours, watching every little reaction like it’s his favorite show.

Without thinking, you reach out and boop him back. Harder. “Two can play that game, Butcher.”

His grin widens, teeth flashing sharp. “Aw, baby—don’t start something you can’t finish.”

And just like that, you’re caught in a spiral—back and forth, noses being bopped like you’re flirting in some chaotic cartoon. Until—

“...They’re seriously gonna do this in front of everyone?”

You freeze. Your staff. And Angel.

Oh no.

Angel, being her usual self, is lounging against a table with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, it’s cute. Like, stupidly cute.”

“They’re literally blushing—look at them!” one of your waiters whisper-yells, half-hiding behind a coffee tray.

“And they say we’re unprofessional,” one of your maids adds, crossing her arms—but her face is way too entertained.

Meanwhile, you? You’re dying inside. Absolutely dying.

Ronin? Oh, he’s thriving.

He bops your nose again—softer this time, like he’s savoring how easy it is to make you squirm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Losing your edge?” His hand barely brushes your waist as he leans closer, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “I thought you liked a little attention.”

You want to slap him. You also want to kiss him. Dangerous combo.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, trying (and failing) to glare at him.

“And you love it,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Your grip on a glass tightens—so much so that it nearly shatters in your hands. Your heart’s pounding, and you swear the room’s hotter than it should be.

Your staff? Fully gossiping under their breath.

You noticed it immediately—the way your staff kept sneaking glances at Ronin. And not the “oh no, scary serial killer” kind of glances. No. It was the other kind.

The "he’s cute as hell" kind.

The whispering was bad enough.

“Why is he kinda hot, though?”

“Okay, but the messy hair? The voice??”

“I’d let him ruin my life, honestly.”

Your eye twitched. Why were they like this?

And why—out of everyone—did it have to be him they were thirsting over?

Ronin, of course, was oblivious. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was too busy looking like a whole damn problem—leaning against the counter like he owned the place, one hand shoved casually into his jacket pocket, the other still too close to your waist.

He caught you glaring and quirked a brow. "What’s with the face, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re jealous."

You rolled your eyes. "Of what? Your fan club?"

His smirk sharpened. "What can I say? People love a bad boy."

Okay, that was it. Enough.

You shot a death glare at your staff—the kind that screamed "I will fire all of you if you keep simping."

Instantly, they froze.

And, as one, they all gave you awkward thumbs-ups before scrambling out of the room.

Cowards.

Ronin laughed low in his throat. "Did you just chase them off?"

"Someone had to." You huffed, crossing your arms. "They were staring at you like you’re a damn dessert menu."

His gaze slid over you, slow and too pleased with himself. "Maybe they’ve just got good taste."

Oh, for the love of—

"Get out of my café, Ronin"

He only grinned wider. "Make me, sweetheart."

Angel spread out the plan with all the flair of someone who lived for the spotlight. "Alright, listen up, sinners." She clapped her hands, and the entire staff leaned in, hanging onto her every word. "We’re turning this café into a killer’s paradise—literally. Blood, danger, hot people in unholy outfits. We want every customer leaving here questioning their morality and maybe their life choices."

Your staff murmured excitedly—because of course they did.

Meanwhile, you?

Yeah, you were not listening.

Because Ronin—the actual Devil in a leather jacket—was still standing too close, arms folded, head tilted as he half-listened to Angel’s pitch. And you? You were just… staring.

Why did he have to look that good doing absolutely nothing?

His hair was a mess, that lazy smirk was doing something to your heart, and you were blushing like an idiot. And worse? He knew it.

Angel caught your stare immediately because she was evil like that. Her gaze flicked between you and Ronin, and when you met her eyes—oh, she was already smirking.

You shot her back a glare. Shut up.

She only grinned wider and mouthed, "Adorable."

Ugh.

You forced yourself to focus as she dramatically flipped through her phone. "And now… costumes." With a flourish, she spun her phone around to reveal the lineup. "Everyone’s getting a killer makeover. Think blood-splattered chic. Sexy slasher. Haute homicide."

Your staff was way too excited about this.

"I call being the ghost-faced butler!"

"Can I be a psycho doll?"

"I’m doing a vampire killer—deal with it."

Angel winked at you. "And don’t worry, babe. I’ve got a special costume just for you."

You groaned. "Should I be scared?"

"Always," she said sweetly.

But your heart stuttered when Ronin—still leaning against the counter—sighed with fake boredom. "Yeah, yeah. Blood, knives, murder. Real original. You’re all having fun, but what am I wearing, Angel?" His tone was lazy, but there was a glint in his eyes—a challenge.

Angel had no mercy.

The outfit she shoved into your arms? Unholy.

A sleek, gender-neutral ensemble that clung to all the right places—black leather, blood-red accents splattered across your chest like you walked out of a crime scene. The jacket? Cropped and shredded, showing just enough skin to be dangerous. Fingerless gloves, a choker with a dangling silver knife charm, and thigh straps. Why did there have to be thigh straps?!

"You’re welcome," Angel purred as you stared at yourself in the mirror, half-horrified and half-impressed.

You tried to play it cool. "You think I’m gonna wear this?"

"I think you’re gonna rock it." She gave you a once-over, biting back a smirk. "Don’t worry, darling—if the café thing tanks, you’ll have a backup career as a heartbreaker."

And, yeah. You wore it.

The moment you stepped out, your staff did a collective double take.

One of your butlers—bless his soul—whistled low. "Boss, uh… is this café legal? ‘Cause you’re about to cause crimes."

Angel winked at you from across the room, holding up two thumbs. "Looking like you’re ready to commit murder and steal some hearts. Perfect."

But nothing—nothing—prepared you for Ronin’s reaction.

He had been leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, but the second he saw you? His gaze dragged up from your boots to your neck, slow and heavy, like he was memorizing every inch.

And when he met your eyes?

Oh, you were screwed.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, pushing off the counter. His voice dipped, velvet smooth. "Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’."

You tried to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Don’t start."

"Can’t help it." He tilted his head, devil horns peeking through his hair. "You dress up like my next bad decision, and you expect me to behave?"

Before you could snap back, the front doors of your café burst open—and in poured a wave of customers.

Apparently, the paparazzi spotted Angel outside, and that meant the whole city wanted to be here. The crowd was ridiculous—half the people here probably couldn’t tell a latte from a cappuccino, but they definitely wanted photos with Angel.

And your café?

It was packed.

One of your waitresses rushed past, wide-eyed. "I can’t believe it—we’re trending."

Angel tossed her hair over her shoulder, all casual. "Of course we are. I’m a genius." She leaned in, voice softer. "I told you I’d fix this, babe."

You almost didn’t hear her—because Ronin was still watching you, still too close.

"You gonna keep gawking?" you muttered.

Your staff? Absolutely killing it.

Angel's twisted, bloodied aesthetic turned your struggling café into the hottest place in town. Every maid and butler was decked out in outfits straight from a killer's fever dream—splattered with fake blood, ripped in all the right places, and more than a little suggestive.

Your barista? Serial killer chic, with a blood-streaked apron and a knife tucked into their belt. One of the butlers had a leather harness over his vest, the bloodstains on his gloves just this side of illegal. Even the shyest maid—normally too nervous to hold eye contact—was working the crowd in a blood-smeared lace dress, balancing a tray of lattes while twirling a fake cleaver.

It was chaotic. It was hot. And the customers? They were eating it up.

Angel, perched at a VIP table with Ronin, looked pleased as hell. She clinked her glass against his. "I told you," she said sweetly, watching the café hum with energy. "All they needed was a little edge."

"Yeah, yeah." Ronin stretched, all lazy confidence, but his eyes hadn’t left you once. "Don’t get too smug, sweetheart. This ain’t your masterpiece."

Angel snorted. "Jealous?"

"Of you?" His smirk sharpened. "No, babe. I’m invested."

You barely had a second to breathe before one of your butlers slid up beside you, flashing a teasing grin. "Hey, boss." He tugged at the bloodied cuffs of his sleeves. "Think we’re gonna need combat pay for all these stares. Never thought working here would mean breaking hearts too."

"You’ll survive," you deadpanned, trying not to laugh.

"You sure? ‘Cause your devil boyfriend’s been glaring holes through anyone who looks at you too long." He tilted his head toward Ronin, who��yeah—was definitely watching you with that lazy, heavy-lidded gaze.

Ronin caught you looking. And winked.

Your heart did a stupid, traitorous flip.

Angel’s plan wasn’t just working—it was thriving. The line outside wrapped around the block. Your social media was blowing up. Every time a customer left, they posted pictures of the blood-soaked, dangerously hot staff, tagging the café with captions like:

"Who knew horror could be this hot?? #SinfulCafe #KillerVibes"

"Maid cafés are cute—this one’s a crime scene and I’m obsessed."

Angel didn’t just post it—she made a whole event out of it.

The photo? Flawless.

A perfectly curated shot of the café’s chaos—bloodied maids, dangerously hot butlers, and you at the center, caught mid-laugh. You were leaning back against the counter, still wearing the killer-chic outfit she picked, the fake blood on your collar making you look like you just stepped out of a slasher movie.

He was right beside you, one hand casually draped around your waist, head tilted close—like he wasn’t just near you, but claiming you. His usual sharp-edged smirk was in full force, the kind that promised trouble.

The caption?

"Blood, guts, and a little bit of love~ ❤️🍷 @SinfulCafe is OPEN. Come for the coffee, stay for the danger. #KillerVibes #SinfulCafe #MariaDelRosa"

And that name—Maria Del Rosa—was all the hook anyone needed.

Because if there was one thing Angel knew how to do, it was make a scandal.

Maria Del Rosa wasn’t just a pop sensation—she was controversy in high heels, and Angel had just hinted to her millions of followers that this café was her new obsession.

The second the post went live, your notifications exploded.

"Wait—Maria Del Rosa is hanging out at a haunted café?!"

"Angel really said blood is the new black, huh?"

Your café was trending before you could even process it—news outlets were already picking it up, hyping the place as a “celebrity hideout with a bloody twist.”

You were working, Ronin said he had a work.

Your brain short-circuited.

Ronin. In the maid outfit.

Cat ears. Tail. Bloodied knife.

What the actual hell.

And he was working—or, well, his version of it. Strutting through the café like he owned the place, giving the new customers a devil’s welcome with that lazy, sharp-edged grin that promised a good time… or a terrible mistake.

“Welcome to Sinful Café,” he drawled, voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned down toward a table of wide-eyed customers. “Order fast, darlings… or else.” He spun the fake knife between his fingers like he was born with it, flashing his fangs in a grin as one girl nearly fainted.

The whole café was staring—even your staff was frozen, whispering among themselves like he was some kind of exotic attraction.

Someone even whipped out their phone—you heard the camera shutters, the murmurs of, “Holy shit, is he part of the show?!” and “I will sell my soul to be stepped on—”

You barely processed any of it because, goddamn, he looked good.

The maid dress hugged him in all the right places—short enough to tease but just messy enough with the blood splatters to make him look like he walked out of a horror fantasy. The cat ears twitched as he tilted his head toward a customer who was too stunned to speak.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred.

You clutched the counter to stay upright.

And then—he caught you staring.

That slow, dangerous smile of his stretched wider, and he sauntered over like he had all the time in the world. Each step was deliberate, and you swore half the café was tracking his movements.

He leaned down, voice just for you this time. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Gonna break another glass lookin’ at me like that?”

Your throat dried. “I—uh—why—” Words? Who needed them? Not you apparently.

He tilted your chin up with the tip of the bloody knife (prop… hopefully), his crimson-painted nails brushing your skin. "Luca dared me," he admitted, way too pleased with himself. "Thought I’d… liven the place up."

Liven it up?! You wanted to scream. The café was practically vibrating with energy—the air buzzing with whispers and cameras flashing.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, studying your face, “it’s worth it just to see you blush like that. Thought you liked the attention?”

“I—I do, but—” You swallowed, heat crawling up your neck as his eyes dropped—lingering low before meeting yours again. "This is different."

Ronin chuckled low in his throat, pulling back slightly—but not before dragging the blunt edge of the knife down your chest in one slow line. "Different’s good, sweetheart. Keeps things… interesting."

And just when you thought you’d survive—

He winked. "Anything for you, boss."

Your heart? Gone. Dead. Buried.

You tried—really tried—to be normal about it.

But how the hell were you supposed to act normal when Ronin looked like that?

The cat ears, the tail, the scandalously short maid dress—it was criminal how good he looked. The lace edging flirted with his thighs every time he moved, and the fake blood on his apron wasn’t helping your sanity. And the knife? Oh, the knife. He spun it like a promise, the gleam catching the light as if it were taunting you.

You sucked in a breath, gripping the counter for dear life, because if you didn’t hold onto something, you were going to lose it.

Meanwhile, Ronin? Completely unbothered—in fact, he seemed to be having the time of his life. He strolled through the café like a devil on holiday, sending playful winks and lazy smirks to anyone brave (or stupid) enough to stare too long.

And, oh—they were staring.

Your staff? Losing it. You caught two maids whispering frantically behind a menu, eyes wide as they tracked his every move. A butler actually dropped a tray, the clatter nearly drowned out by the murmurs rippling through the café.

The customers? Even worse.

“I didn’t know this was a thing,” one girl gasped, clutching her friend’s arm. “I’d pay extra if he threatened me,” her friend muttered, practically drooling.

Your jaw clenched. Oh, hell no.

You tried—really—to be professional, plastering on a smile as you took an order from a table. But your focus kept slipping. Your eyes? Betraying you. Every time you glanced up, he was there—a walking distraction with legs far too long and a smirk far too dangerous.

And he knew it.

You caught him watching you—his golden eyes sharp, hungry, and just a little too pleased with himself. When your eyes met, he tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching with the motion.

The knife twirled in his fingers. Slow. Deliberate.

A tease—just for you.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” His voice slid across the café, smooth and dark, cutting through the buzz of conversation like silk over a blade.

Your stomach flipped. You scrambled for composure, tossing him a glare. “Stop that.”

His grin only widened. “Stop what? Bein’ cute?” He took a step closer—too close—until the counter was the only thing between you. He leaned in, the scent of leather and something dangerous curling around you. “Can’t help it. It’s natural.”

You huffed, face burning. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack.”

He chuckled low in his throat, dragging the blunt edge of the knife along his lip in a way that should’ve been illegal. “Long as it’s not yours, we’re fine, sugar.”

You were not surviving this day.

Especially when you noticed the way everyone else was looking at him. Customers whispering, staff swooning—hell, you spotted a person blatantly checking him out,

Your eye twitched.

Mine.

The thought flared up so fast it startled you—but, God, you weren’t wrong.

And Ronin? He must’ve caught the flash of jealousy in your eyes because the next thing you knew, he was sliding closer—too close—the tip of the knife brushing against your wrist where you clutched the counter.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice dipped lower—private, rough around the edges. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll think you’re jealous.”

Your heart pounded. “I am not jealous.”

“Mm.” He didn’t believe you for a second. “Coulda fooled me. Don’t worry, darlin’. No one else gets me like you do."

Asshole.

And when you didn’t answer, too busy trying not to combust, he reached up—bopped your nose—and laughed.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

You slammed your hands on the counter—loud—loud enough to cut through the chatter and grab everyone’s attention.

“The café is closed due to… due to a food shortage!” You snapped, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

A blatant lie—there were plenty of pastries in the back, and you knew it. But if you had to watch one more person drool over Ronin in that damn maid outfit, you were going to start flipping tables.

The crowd groaned in disappointment but no one moved—because, of course, they didn’t. Not when Ronin stood there like a walking sin, twirling his knife with that easy, flirtatious grace.

One girl, practically vibrating, tilted her head with wide eyes. “But… can we stay if we’re just… watching?”

Watching?!

You nearly choked. What the hell—was he a café attraction now? A sideshow? What, were people going to start tipping him for existing?

Meanwhile, Ronin? That bastard was eating it up.

“Aw, sugar, you closin’ up so soon?” He purred, leaning against the counter, his black cat tail curling playfully behind him. His gaze flicked over you—slow, heavy, dangerous—and he grinned like he was born to be a problem. “Guess I’ll have to entertain ‘em while you’re bein’ stingy.”

Oh, hell no.

And as if the universe hadn’t tortured you enough, someone from the back whistled—a low, appreciative sound—and you caught at least three people whispering about how “mysterious and hot” he was.

You snapped.

“Out.” Your voice cracked through the air like a whip, sharp enough to make the nearest table flinch. “We are closed—I don’t care if God himself walks in here; you’re all leaving.”

A mix of grumbling and disappointment filled the room as the customers reluctantly shuffled toward the exit, throwing longing glances at Ronin as they went. One particularly bold person actually slipped a phone number onto the counter—for Ronin.

The audacity.

You snatched the paper before he could see it and crumpled it into your fist. No way in hell. Not on your watch.

Finally, the door closed behind the last customer, the bell jingling softly in the silence.

You exhaled hard, pressing a hand to your chest to keep your jealous heart from exploding. Peace. At last.

…Until you realized Ronin was still there, watching you with the smuggest look you’d ever seen. His golden eyes glittered with pure, unfiltered amusement—like he knew exactly what game you were playing.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” he drawled, pushing off the counter to prowl closer, the hem of the maid skirt dangerously high with each step. “Seemed a little… possessive."

“I’m not,” you lied—poorly. Your voice cracked on the last word.

He tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching like he was enjoying every second of your unraveling. “Really? ‘Cause it kinda felt like you wanted to throw hands back there.”

“I’m not jealous!” You blurted, too loud—too defensive.

“Mm-hm.” He stopped right in front of you, towering over you in those ridiculous cat ears and lace. The fake blood on his apron only made him look more dangerous, more irresistible. “Y’know, darlin’, if you wanted my attention that bad…” He lowered his voice, rough and teasing. “…you just had to ask.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat flooding your face. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Only ‘cause I am.” His grin turned wicked. “C’mon, admit it—you liked it. Me in this little thing?” He gave the hem of the maid skirt a taunting tug, showing a sinful hint of thigh. “Drives you crazy, huh?”

“You drive me crazy,” you snapped, but your gaze dipped—traitorously—to his legs. “And put your knife down before you stab someone.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, vibrating straight through your bones. “Careful, darlin’. If I didn’t know better…” He leaned in, lips hovering by your ear, breath warm against your skin. “…I’d think you were jealous of everyone checkin’ me out.”

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. “I’m not jealous,” you muttered, glaring at his smirk. “I just… I didn’t like it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t like what?”

“Them.” You huffed, pushing at his chest—bad idea—because the second your fingers touched the soft lace of the dress, he caught your wrist. “I didn’t like them looking at you.”

For a beat, he didn’t move—just stared at you, his expression shifting into something slower, heavier. And when he spoke next, his voice was different—still teasing, but laced with something else beneath the surface.

“Aw, sugar…” He lifted your hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across your knuckles. “You don’t gotta be jealous. They can look all they want, but…” His smile softened—just a little—and his black eyes locked with yours. “…I’m yours.”

You screamed—a full, undignified scream—so loud it echoed through the empty café. Your legs buckled beneath you from the sheer force of your overheated brain trying to process what had just happened.

And, of course, because the universe was cruel, you nearly ate the floor—until Ronin caught you.

With one hand.

On your waist.

And, oh God, the maid outfit—you could feel the lace brushing against your skin as he held you steady. His grip was firm, possessive, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“You good there, darlin’?” His voice was warm—too warm—smug as hell, but there was something else underneath it. Something sincere, something dangerous.

You opened your mouth—probably to yell again—but your words died in your throat because suddenly, he kissed you.

Soft at first—too soft—like he was testing if you’d push him away. But when you didn’t—when you clung to him like you’d lose your mind if he stopped—he deepened it. His free hand slid to the small of your back, tugging you flush against him, and you swear you could feel the flick of his damn cat tail brushing your leg.

When he pulled back, his lips were curved in a lazy, satisfied smile. “Told ya,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “I’m yours.”

Your brain? Mush. Gone. Obliterated.

The only thing you could do was stare at him—scandalized, flustered, and very much not okay.

And he knew it.

The next day?

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Your café? Blown up—not literally, but it might as well have been. Thanks to Angel’s post, it had gone viral overnight. The hashtag #SinfulCafe was trending, and you had a line stretching around the block before you even opened.

And the worst part?

The photo posted—the one everyone was losing their minds over—wasn’t even of her.

It was of him.

Ronin, in the bloody maid outfit, mid-stride with that devil-may-care smirk, twirling his knife like he was about to cut someone’s heart out—and everyone wanted a piece.

Customers wouldn’t stop asking about the “maid guy”—some even left love letters at the counter, like he was some kind of celebrity crush. And Ronin? That bastard was loving every second of it. Happy news is The photos people posted was so blurry when it had his face.

No one sees your man.

At one point, he leaned against the counter, watching you scramble around with the sweetest, most infuriating grin on his face.

“Y’know,” he drawled, spinning a fake blood-covered spoon between his fingers, “if I knew wearin’ a little lace would get you this riled up, I’d’ve done it sooner.”

You threw a dish towel at his head. He caught it without looking—because of course, he did.

When you finally had a moment to breathe, you flopped onto a chair in the break room and opened your phone.

The server was on fire—everyone was still buzzing about the café, Angel’s post, and him.

You typed out a quick message:

YOU: @angelicc I owe you one. Seriously. Thanks for saving my ass.

A second later, Angel replied:

ANGELICC: lmao anytime, babe 💋 but let’s be real—u should be thanking me for putting u two in the same room long enough to FINALLY KISS.

Your face burned.

LUCA: wait wait WAIT??? U TWO KISSED???

FELICITE: They WHAT.

You: Aren't we already in a relationship?

You groaned, slamming your forehead against the table while your notifications exploded.

Goreboy: They act like everything is a horror.

Of course, it was him.

Every single photo—every—one of that viral post had his face conveniently blurred or cropped just enough to keep his identity a mystery. Fans online were already obsessing over the “Sinful Butcher Maid,” speculating who he was, but no one had a clear shot.

And you? You were suspicious.

So, naturally, you DM’d him.

YOU: okay, be honest. is this YOUR doing??

It took him exactly thirty seconds to respond—because, of course, he was waiting.

Goreboy: obviously.

You rolled your eyes. Of course.

YOU: why tho?? u love attention. don’t lie.

Goreboy: babe, I know I’m hot. but I also know when to keep my shit private.

Goreboy: plus, you know how messy it’d get if people started recognizing me? one glimpse of this face and your lil’ café turns into a damn crime scene.

You snorted. Dramatic as always.

YOU: sooooo, u admit you’re obsessed with me enough to hide your face for my sake?

Goreboy: tsk. don’t push it, darlin’. I’m already doin’ charity work lookin’ this good in cat ears.

YOU: HA. YOU agreed to the dare, don’t even play.

Goreboy: yeah, well. someone had to save your ass, and it sure wasn’t your tragic lil’ butlers.

You couldn’t help the stupid, giddy smile pulling at your lips. For all his teasing, he was right—if Ronin hadn’t shown up (in that outfit, no less), you might’ve lost your café. And now? Business was booming.

But, still.

YOU: soooooo... u gonna wear it again?

Goreboy: you wanna see me in it again?

Your face burned.

YOU: shut up.

Goreboy: nah. you’re cute when you’re jealous.

The worst part? He was right, and he damn well knew it.

#killer chat #kc #killer chat x reader #killerchat #killer chat ronin #kc ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin x reader #kc ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #killer chat vn #ronin killer chat #killer chat ronin beaufort #ronin beaufort x reader #ronin x

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aizenscumslut · 11 months ago

Text

Bathroom encounter

Pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Lowkey somewhat a plot, smut.

Summary: After a mission, you just wanna take a shower and relax, your luck is so bad that your bathroom suddenly decided to ruin your plans. But that isn’t gonna stop you from getting what you want even if it means using someone else’s bathroom. Well, not only did you get a nice shower, you even got to have fun.

Word count: 4k+

A/N: I personally don’t know what i just cooked, this is my first ever fanfic. I’m personally more of a reader than writer. I thought about this in Sunday morning and decided why not write it, and after years of reading, I believe my writing is acceptable and readable. I apologise in advance if my writing makes you cringe.

After a long, tiring mission, you finally arrive at the X Mansion. All you wanna do is lock yourself in your room and take a nice hot shower to make the fatigue go away and take a long nap. Surely, things are gonna go your way, right?

You quickly run to your room and ignore everyone on sight. Few even greet you but the last thing you wanna do is stand and chat with a person. You lock your door and leave a long sigh out of exhaustion. You start to undress yourself and your mood lightens when you enter your bathroom “Finally..” just as you started to feel better your hopes were immediately crushed. You turn the lever left and right, you even pull it multiple times but not a single droplet of water comes out of the shower head. Great. “FUCK!” you cursed angrily.

You come out of your bathroom and sit on your bed ‘why does this always happen to me?’ you press your fingers on your temples thinking about which of your past sins led to this situation. You felt like crying, then you let out a sigh out of frustration until you remembered something. Logan was sent out on a mission too and he wouldn’t be back for a while.. so using his bathroom won’t cause any problem, right? Yes, you could ask someone to fix your problem but you seriously don’t wanna talk to someone right now and Logan’s room was right across the hallway so, why not.

You quickly wear whatever you find, not caring if it’s literally the dirty clothes you just got out of. You pick up a towel and grab your bathroom products and open your door. You look around and sneakily make your way to Logan’s room not wanting to be spotted by anyone. You’re in front of his door, you reach your hand to the door knob praying it’s not locked and you feel relieved as the door unlocks.

You do a final look around before entering the room and quickly close it behind. You lean your back on the door as you look around, and actually thinking back, you’ve never been inside his room. The room is somewhat organised to your surprise, your nose is filled with the faint smell of his cigar which he always smokes and also a hint of whiskey. You don’t know why but you like the smell.

You walk towards the bathroom and toss your clothes in a corner and enter. You hang the towel and turn on the water. You become happy that you can finally relax and take a nice shower. As you wash all your fatigue away, letting the warm droplets make contact with your skin. You hum a melody as you continue showering.

After spending about more than 30 mins, you finally finish. You feel like a brand new person. Your mood has lightened and so has your body. You move to the sink with a mirror to wash your face.

Meanwhile, Logan's door opens, Logan groans as he enters his room "tch, what a day.." he mumbles to himself in a low voice. His attention is immediately drawn and walks towards the bathroom when he hears the water running and realises someone is in his bathroom, his eyebrows furrows. He waits until there is silence before he swings the door open.

You are unaware of what is happening outside the bathroom and casually splash water on your face. You turn off the sink and turn to take your towel and suddenly- the door swings open.

You quickly turn your head to the door and you are met with Logan's eyes. Your eyes widen as your breathing stops. He stares at you in awe and takes in your wet naked figure before looking down and says "Sorry." as he quickly closes the door behind him.

It takes a few seconds for you to comprehend what had happened, your face turns into a tomato and embarrassment takes over you. You quickly wrap the towel around you and stay in the bathroom for a while recalling what had just happened and how are you gonna get out of here without having to meet Logan.

You bite your lip in frustration and embarrassment, you suddenly think back about the way he looked at you ‘did he just check me out before lea-’ you shake your head ‘this isn't what you should thinking about, y/n.. ugh i wanna disappear.. I don’t wanna go out like this.’

Finally, you inhale and exhale and calm yourself ‘okay, it's okay.. i can do this. It's not like he's gonna kill me for using his bathroom, right?’ You think as you reach for the door and open it. You see Logan sitting on his bed, looking like he was waiting, obviously.

He stands up and looks at you, you chuckle awkwardly and say “Hey, aren't you supposed to come back a few days later?- okay, thats not even the point- so like- the water in my room wasn't working so l decided to use your bathroom, haha-” you laugh nervously to not make things awkward.

He walks towards you slowly as his eyes narrow, you walk backwards and gulp when your back hits the bathroom door. He left a small gap between you two, he was literally towering over you and looks down at you. Was he always this tall? Fuck.

Your mind turns into a mess seeing him like this ‘is he mad at me?’ ‘Is he gonna kill me?’ ‘Fuck, why does he look so hot?’ ‘Wait wha?-’

Logan starts speaking cutting off your thoughts “Yeah, i was but i was able to finish my work quickly than i imagined so i came back-”

You cut him off before he says anything more “Look please don’t kill me, i’m sorry. I swear i didn’t mess with your stuff and i even bought my own stuff to use, please spare this poor soul who just wanted a nice shower” you almost say this in one breath.

Logan chuckles softly at your innocent plea, “I’m not mad, bub.” in a low, deep tone and smirks.

You sigh out in relief and put your hand on your chest “oh, thank god..”

You spot your clothes which you had tucked in the corner and go to pick it up. Logan moves a little and watches your every move.

You have your clothes in your arms now. You clear your throat “So um, thank you i guess?- for the bathroom?-” you say awkwardly. God you just wanna leave this room and let the void swallow you whole.

You head to the door and just as you slightly open the door it’s shut again. You see Logan’s hand on the door, he was behind you. So close.

“You’re gonna go out like that, doll?” He says in a low voice, almost a whisper.

You can feel him behind you, you can feel his heat on you. “Yeah..?” You say in a low voice, slowly turning to him.

He moves back and goes to his wardrobe getting something. You watch him with curiosity and raise your eyebrow. He takes out two pieces of clothing which looks like a t-shirt? And what? Your eyebrows furrow and you look at him and then the clothes he has in his hold and back to his eyes as he walk towards you again.

“Huh?” You whisper out, turning your head in confusion.

“Wear these, don’t want anyone else to see you like this.” He says in a low voice, his smirk still plastered on his face.

You chuckle softly in confusion “Logan, it’s all good. I seriously don’t need it and my room is just across” you give him a smile, trying to politely decline. Who would’ve thought the cold lone wolf can be a little protective. Cute.

Logan leans in this time, he tucks a wet strand behind your ear “Not taking any risks, princess.”

“What will they think when they see a girl with only a small piece of cloth covering her, coming out of my room, hm?” He whispers in your ear. “Unless, you want that.”

His voice makes a shiver run down your spine, your cheeks slightly heat up when you realise what he means. You nod obediently, your breath uneven as you drop your clothes from your grasp and take Logan’s offering. “You’re right…”

Logan smirks as he sits on his bed, watching you.

You unfold the grey t-shirt “You wanna see me change or something? Turn around” you blush and hide your body with your arms.

“I have already seen it, darling. Don’t gotta be shy.” He says playfully, leaning back.

Your ears and face heat up and you immediately throw the trousers he gave you at him. “S-shut up!” You pout.

Logan lets the piece hits his face and grabs it “Kidding, princess. I’ll turn around.” He turns around, his back facing you now. “I did see everything though” he says and grins.

You ignore him and immediately wear the t-shirt and remove the towel. The t-shirt is really big on you. It falls above your knees, maybe you wouldn’t even need to wear bottoms. You can smell his scent, it’s nice.

“P-pass me the trousers now.” You say, looking away with your arms crossed.

Logan turns around and looks at you. God you look so fucking beautiful. Seeing you in his t-shirt makes him feel proud, like you’re his girl. Well, he wants you to be his girl. He stands up and walks towards you, he thinks your pouty embarrassed expression makes you look even more cuter.

You reach your hand out still pouting and flustered. Why do you have to be so adorable. He takes your hand and is towering over you again but this time he makes sure to leave a little to no gap between.

Your eyes never leaving his, you feel your words are stuck in your throat. Your heart flutters because of how close he is.

You’ve always had a school girl crush on Logan, the way he sometimes flirted with you, the way he would tease you, the way he would make eye contact with you during training. It makes you go head over heels for him. But you never had hope that this one sided crush could turn into something. Logan was always known to be smooth with the ladies and you were also very younger than him. You hated when he called you kid. ‘He probably acts the same way with others’ you would always tell yourself that and shrug your feelings off.

But right now, your heart is pumping is crazy. It might even come out. You are unable to predict Logan’s next moves.

Logan notices how stiff you are. He leaves your hand and caresses your cheek. “Relax, princess.” He slurs in a deep, low and gentle tone.

If you could scream right now, you definitely would. Not because of fear or anything but because of how crazy he is making you feel inside.

You close your eyes as you breathe in and out “Logan, i-” Logan cuts you off and crashes his lips on yours. You muffle something but he doesn’t care. His hands grips your thighs and start to wander under your shirt. His hands were everywhere-tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn't realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

He pulls away, chest heaving. “You okay with this, princess?” You nod, trying to catch your breath. He proceeds to leave wet kisses on your neck “Wanted you so bad, baby. Always wanted to do this.” He attacks your neck with aggressive bites, leaving hickeys. You whimper his name as you grabbed his fluffy hair and tugged them whenever he found that sensitive spot. You could feel his smile forming on his face, while sucking and licking your, now red neck. He leaves your neck and kisses you again.

You bring your hands up to his neck, giving in. Logan palms one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple before giving your breast a little squeeze making you gasp. He takes this chance to shove his tongue in and taste you even more. You moan into the kiss and your hand grips the collar of his shirt.

He pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged. You can see the neediness–you are just as desperate as him. “Need you now, pretty girl,” he growls. He pulls your t-shirt over your head, throwing it wherever.

“Need you too, Lo,” you whisper desperately. His gaze darkens as he picks you up effortlessly. You wrap your thighs around his waist and gently caress his face, smiling softly.

Logan takes you to the bed and puts you down. He felt your wetness, your arousal. How he was grateful for those urgent instincts right now. Your needy eyes not leaving his as you watched him creeping down. His devilish smile not leaving his face for a second. The image of Logan's face between your legs drives you crazy and you couldn't wait to finally feel him. “You smell s’fucking good, baby.” he said before his lips leaned against your folds.

Logan starts to spear his tongue inside of you, making swirls around your clit when he looks up at you. “Ohh my god- Logan- Mmh~” you mumble, you try to protest at first, but your hips grinding against his face told him enough. He grabs your legs and forces them down onto the bed as he buries his face even deeper into your heat, making you squirm even more under his grasp.

You throw your head back onto your pillow, gripping onto the sheets when he pulls away to nip at your inner thigh, pressing kisses on them before he continues to fuck your cunt with his tongue. His tongue laves through your folds, savoring you, exploring you. “Tastes so good, beautiful,” Logan mumbles against you. “Always s’sweet, s’perfect.”

You can only curse under your breath, biting your lip and let out a stifled moan in response. You feel him chuckle against you between the licking and sucking of your wetness.

“S’good, s’fucking good.” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue. Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it.

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Logan’s scalp at this point. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls. He fucking loves the way you use him.

Logan’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“Lo- hah!” thighs quivering, Logan’s grip bruising as he holds you down. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face.

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, baby. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Logan’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him. Your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high.

He’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. You watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy as he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one.

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Logan licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you. He now pulls his shirt off him, revealing his hot body and delicious abs. You admire the sight, nearly drooling.

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you, capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself.

You pull away and slur desperately “Want you s’bad, Lo, please-” you don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt.

“Greedy, are we?” Logan teases, helping you.

Logan’s pulling his boxers off - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. You looked down to see his cock and holy, your pupils widened at the sight. Logan chuckles a bit, catching your attention. “Too big for you, princess?” he asked provocatively. But this question sent more vibrations into your eager, soaking cunt, than any provocation or fear that it won't fit.

Logan was massive - so long and flushed your favourite shade of pretty pink. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs.

He kisses you as his hand makes their way to grip your ass, the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. "Please," you beg, trying to sink down onto him, but he holds you back, holding your hips in place.

Logan chuckles softly “Please what, baby? Use your words,” All your respect was long gone and you cared about nothing more than screwing this man. “Please, fuck me, Lo,” you put your forehead to his, while moving your hips back and forth, desperately trying to feel him. “Wan’ your cock in me s’bad, please”

What kind of man would deny you when you’re begging like this? He certainly can't.

“So fucking desperate and impatient,” Logan teases, suddenly thrusting into you, bottoming out, splitting you open.

“S’too big- Hngh!” You moaned as he was stretching your walls, those wet squishy sounds were music to your ears. “Look at me” he cupped your cheek and made you look into his lustful eyes. “That's it, good girl,” he clenched his teeth as he was almost balls deep into you. Your fingernails drag down his back, leaving bright red trails that heal almost immediately.

He presses his forehead to yours. He's deep inside you, unmoving. “Lo,” you whine. “P-please, m-move.”

“Wanna feel you first,” he grunts, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You're shuddering against him almost instantly, walls clenching around his cock. “S’fucking tight,” he murmurs, his lips meeting yours again. “S’ warm, fuck.” He finally pulls out and thrusts all the way back in, somehow deeper this time.

You both savor the feeling of him inside you, two halves of a whole forming into one, your bodies completely intertwined.

“Doing so good f’me,” Logan praises, the vibrations of his delicious voice going straight to your core. “Such a good girl,” He slides out, his cock dragging along your walls, and slams back in. “Like that?” He grunts, filling you up. You nod immediately and hum a soft yes, and Logan rams into you, his hips snapping roughly.

“It feels so good, Lo,” you whimper, the sound of his skin slapping against yours making your walls clench. “O-only want you.”

“I know, pretty girl,” Logan groans as he thrusts deeper, harder. “Always knew,” His pace is insatiable, unrelenting, frantic. “Think, i never notice? The way you look at me? The way you try not to rub your thighs when i tease you?” His thumb strokes your clit, adding more pressure with every swipe. “Think i don’t notice your lil’crush on me, hm?”

Your walls flutter around him as he flicks your overstimulated clit. You can’t even form words let alone comprehend what he’s saying by the way he’s fucking you right now. “L-logan, i-” you close your watery eyes and furrow your eyebrows at the overstimulation. “M’close- ah-” you whine as Logan plunges into you, his hips snapping against yours.

He coos “Shh, it’s okay, princess,” placing a kiss on your forehead. He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Shit.”

“Needed this ever since I saw you,” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. “And you just had to be here today, fuck,” Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. He’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal.

“You know how fucking crazy you made feel when i saw you like that, hm? Wanted to bend you over that sink and fuck you right there.” he slurs, fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you.

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Logan starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Lo- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Logan bites your pulse point, licking soothingly once he's finished. “Cum f’me, princess,” His thumb is still on your clit, drawing those tight little circles. “C’mon baby, cum on my cock,”

“Lo!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes-” you whimper as you finally reach your high. Your walls flutter again, your eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowing as you moan a string of curses and Logan's name.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl” Logan says softly, pressing a kiss on your temple. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. Logan isn't finished with you yet. You know there's more to come. “Think you can give me one more, baby? I know you can.”

“S’too m-much, Lo,” you choke, the tension already building back up at the bottom of your belly. “I-...” You trail off, fucked out beyond belief. He's still splitting you open with every thrust, filling you to the brim. “Fuck, princess. Squeezing m’so tight, want m’to come inside, hm?”

“Yes yes- please,” you whimper. Logan pinches your clit, circling roughly, and the current drags you under. It's more intense this time, stars flooding your vision as you let go.

He feels you shatter around him, your pussy squeezing him so tightly. He thrusts into you few more times and then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust spilling inside you, painting your walls. Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you.

You share one breath, your chests heaving together as Logan's cock stalls inside you. He strokes your clit, riding out your orgasm, easing you down from your high. His fingertips slip away from your bud and trail up your body, his arm wrapping around your back. He pulls you into his chest, holding you close, his cock still half-hard inside you.

He presses kisses to any skin he can get his mouth on until you pull him back up to your lips.

“L-logan?” You say in a low voice.

“Hm?” He hums in response.

“I-I..” you trail off “l-love you..” you blush, looking away.

“I love you too, doll.” He smirks at you and drops a kiss to your forehead.

You snuggle into him, giggling.

“Shower?” He asks and looks at you. But something about his smirk tells you that he still wants to continue but in the bathroom.

#wolverine smut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #james logan howlett #logan smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett x f!reader #xmen x reader

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pupyuj · 1 year ago

Text

→ “ruin our friendship.” || kim gaeul x reader fic.

— for years, gaeul has trusted your heart and tried to find whatever good you saw in your douchebag of a boyfriend, but she has had enough. and now she wants to show you that you deserve so much better...

word count: 6.9k.

dynamic: dom!kim gaeul x sub!taken!reader.

warnings: bffs-to-lovers, cheating, oral, fingering, cunnilingus, facesitting, faceriding, overstimulation, masturbation, praise kink.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: i don't even know how long this has been rotting in my drafts but SHE IS FINALLY FREE! and we have our first gaeul fic AND I HAVE OFFICIALLY WRITTEN A FIC FOR EVERY IVE MEMBER EYAYYYY 🥰💖 now i don't have to worry about possibly looking like i favor one member more than the others omg guys i can assure you i have thoughts about ive unnies all the time, the ones for yujin are just loud as FUCK. much like herself. ANYWAYS, HEHE I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS and i hope you all love it 💕

p.s. as usual this is not proofread thoroughly so apologies in advance for any mistakes! 😭💞

ever since entering college, you and your best friend gaeul have had to match your schedules perfectly in order to hang out and even talk regularly. those assignments couldn’t finish themselves after all, as much as you hoped they did. years before, you and her would have the time of your lives shopping and visiting the many different restaurants your vast city offered, but now, everything was different. and in gaeul’s most humble opinion, your busy lives as college students wasn’t the only problem. she could name a few actually! there was her part-time job at her mechanic father’s service shop where she spends most of her time sitting on a chair and listening to middle-aged men try to woo her as they wait for their car to get fixed, and there was your side gig as some small-time coordinator in a pretty popular live house in the downtown part of the city.

but gaeul can’t exactly be angry at your jobs for pulling the two of you away from each other! what she can be angry about was you were always distracted whenever you did go out together. here’s a clear picture: you would be sitting with her in a cute coffee shop after two weeks of not being able to see each other and there gaeul is, talking about the shenanigans that happens in her classes, her dad’s shop, and her life in general. then, she’d find you spacing out, or staring at your phone—just completely ignoring her. for the first few times it happened, gaeul just thought that perhaps you were just worried about your schoolwork!

it made sense after all. you were some kind of academic overachiever that always used to nag at gaeul to finish her geometry homework during your high school days. gaeul was going to be fine with it all; she even thought about things she could tell you to soothe your head but one little peek at your phone screen ruined it all. every ounce of patience in gaeul just disappeared into thin air once she saw that you were distressed because of your stupid boyfriend’s messages.

ugh. your boyfriend.

now, gaeul wasn’t one to shit on her best friend’s lovers just because, okay? ninety-three percent of the time she has a valid reason! here’s the breakdown: your boyfriend is manipulative, abusive, possessive, and ugly. one would say that maybe he wasn’t always that way, or that maybe he’s struggling with things! well, gaeul can confirm that he has always been horrible to you and that whatever the fuck he’s dealing with doesn’t give him the excuse to be such an asshole to someone that genuinely cares for him. gaeul can’t even count how many times you’ve showed up at her doorstep in tears because of him.

she really can’t understand why you’re still dating him. it’s been about five years since the two of you got together and really, the only good thing you got from that relationship is a ride to the campus and if you’re lucky and he actually feels like being a decent boyfriend for once, some fancy clothes. clothes that he picks out for you, and he can’t even get that shit right! he doesn’t know your style, the kind of clothes you want to wear, the brands you’ve always wanted to get clothes from, and in general, you. gaeul knows people like him all too well. people that only want you to fill a very specific void in their miserable life.

gaeul can’t stand him. you deserve so much better, you can do so much better.

and gaeul is better.

just like that, an idea pops up in gaeul’s head as she sits in a booth in her favorite diner, but she didn’t have time to think about it because she looks out the window and there you were in a pretty, pink sundress with your hair arranged in a cute braid adorned with little butterfly clips. gaeul lets out a chuckle—rei, your roommate, must’ve helped you with that. gaeul also notices that you were wearing the sneakers that the two of you bought together so you could match, which warmed her heart. even more so when she remembers that she was wearing her own pair of those sneakers too!

gaeul watched patiently as you entered the diner and greeted the waitress behind the counter like you always do. a bright smile spreads across your face once you find gaeul in your usual booth, and gaeul feels herself flashing her very own grin as you start walking faster towards her.

“hey! sorry, i’m late. i had to change my entire outfit. i didn’t think it would be so warm today.” you said, pulling gaeul into a quick hug before sitting across from her. gosh, you looked beautiful! the baby hairs that stuck to your forehead and the sides of your face only made you look even cuter, gaeul almost wanted to reach out and pinch your cheeks.

“careful. look any prettier and someone might mistake you as my girlfriend.” gaeul quipped. she finds herself grinning proudly as you laugh.

“you look dashing yourself! they probably already think you’re my boyfriend, but you’re not neglecting me for ‘a night with the boys’ so we would get found out quickly.” you sighed. you were clearly disappointed, but you covered it up with another laugh before sipping on the glass of water gaeul kindly ordered for you.

“then today is a date. he probably hasn’t taken you in one for ages, anyway.” gaeul doesn’t know if you’ll actually buy it. she wasn’t even joking! as far as she knows, his version of dates is taking you on a boring ass car ride and spoiling you with useless shit. she knows what you want on dates. she knows what you want in general. let this work.

you giggled, “true. it’s a date then.” and she doesn’t miss the shy smile on your face afterwards.

well! it looks like this was going to be easier than gaeul predicted.

as the two of you ate your lunch, you talked about school and how life has been treating you both. you were thriving for the most part! you were up to date with your coursework, your job hasn’t been too demanding or taxing, and you were able to have enough breathing space in your life to actually meet up with gaeul, like right now! it seems like the only problem in your life was your boyfriend. he hasn’t been spending too much time with you, and one would think it might be because he’s gotten busier but nope, he’s as shitty as gaeul describes him to be. he only wants to hang out with his team and his stupid friends, and he barely talks to you even in text! that asshole.

gaeul didn’t let you dwell on it all though. she absolutely detests seeing you upset. especially over that useless fucker. she distracts you with a few funny shenanigans from working in her dad’s shop, and how she has actually been doing quite well in her classes! it was clearly your influence. hell, if it weren’t for you, gaeul wouldn’t even be in college at all! you gave her direction, and now you were giving her all the motivation she needs to make it through one school day at a time.

fuck, your boyfriend was so lucky. gaeul has to let you see that he wasn’t worth anything you’re giving him. she has to pull you away and make you see that a pretty girl like you needs to feel good!

in more ways than one.

“so, boyfriend, where are we going?” you joked as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of her car. while gaeul started the engine, that was when she put her little scheme in motion.

“bowling. or rather, sending the balls to the gutter for two hours straight.” she said. bowling happens to be your favorite stress reliever, it always has been! gaeul always liked watching you as you played. even when you didn’t hit any of the pins, you still had fun. gaeul was willing to bet that your pathetic boyfriend rarely ever takes you bowling.

“god you’re the best.”

“mhm, i know.”

from then on, gaeul knew it was going to be a breeze. especially when she did get on the road and you just allowed her to put her hand on your thigh. you didn’t even notice at first, occupied with fixing your charming but unruly hair. but then gaeul lightly squeezed your thigh, caressing slowly just to test the waters, and finally, you noticed her. she was afraid that your attitude would change, but it seemed like… you liked what she was doing. and so gaeul’s hand stays in place. she took note of how you squeezed your legs together every time she caresses your skin gently, or how you would sometimes put your hand on top of hers.

the drive to the bowling alley was quiet, save for the music you’ve put on, of course. silence was a rarity between the two of you since there was always something to catch up on, things to complain and whine about, people to talk shit about, and casual conversations that have become needed just to have some sense of normality in your chaotic lives. gaeul was afraid she had made you uncomfortable because come on, she was quite literally trying to take over your boyfriend’s place! joke or not, this was bound to make you just the least bit weirded out!

imagine gaeul’s surprise when she briefly glanced over to your direction and find you looking relaxed. not even the constant buzzing of your phone was able to break your focus on the road. just like that, gaeul doesn’t stop a smile from forming on her face. forget about him.

and it seems like as soon as gaeul parked her car near the bowling alley—you did! you took gaeul’s arm and started gingerly dragging her through the doors, giggling as you did so. it was easy to secure a spot for the two of you, the place wasn’t too busy yet after all.

“two hours of this? you ready to lose, kim?” you said with a mocking smile as you approached the lane. gaeul sat back on the couches behind you, smirking as she very shamelessly checked your backside out unbeknownst to you. there was a small table in the middle of the u-shaped couch that gaeul sat on where you laid down your phone. as you busied yourself making your cute little bowling profile on the monitor near the lane, gaeul glances down at your phone that kept lighting up at it vibrated. your boyfriend was calling you, and he has sent you a dozen or more messages that you still haven’t bothered to look at.

gaeul sneers at the picture of your boyfriend on the screen. he really didn’t deserve you! luckily for him, she will happily take you off his hands. gaeul takes your phone and declines the call, smiling happily when she leaned back on the couch and continued on staring at your beautiful form. you hooked a medium-sized ball with your hand and prepared yourself—sure, you were never the best at the sport but you were to have fun and have fun only! and so you delivered the ball and hit exactly seven pins. gaeul tilts her head a bit to see the look of pure joy on your face and finds herself grinning along with you.

for once, it was not at all a bad start for you! you grabbed the smaller ball and prepared to take down the last three pins at the other end of the lane. upon staring at your near flawless little pose that especially accentuated your ass, gaeul whistles. the sound catches you off-guard and you end up messing up your throw, sending the ball into the gutter in a fit of laughter.

“you little devil.” you said, playfully glaring at your best friend who has stood up and started stretching all of her limbs.

“this is where your short-lived lucky streak ends,” gaeul pats your butt as she approaches the lane. and of course, she didn’t lie. gaeul delivers a ball and hits her first (and certainly not last!) strike. she winked at you while you stared at her, mouth agape at how she didn’t even hesitate to not go easy on you. “cat got your tongue, baby?” your best friend teased.

you don’t even notice the nickname, what with your competitive spirit alive and well. “oh, it is so on, kim gaeul!”

and for the next two hours, you and gaeul had the best time of your life in that bowling alley. the longer the two of you were together and the more you got drunk from pure joy of being with each other, gaeul got bolder. she was touching your waist, your back, and sometimes even rested her hand on your ass for more than a few seconds! you didn’t care—in fact, you were just as bad! grabbing her and pulling her close to whisper things in her ear (partly because the music would have drowned your voice, mostly because you wanted gaeul nearer), allowing her to not-so-discreetly touch you in places a best friend should definitely not, and finally, sitting on her lap, playing with the collar of her shirt and telling her to take you to her home.

exactly zero innocent intent at all, and gaeul was seemingly more than happy to comply!

on the way to gaeul’s apartment, it was noticeably… warm. both of your hearts were beating fast and loud from anticipation. gaeul yearned to feel your skin without the hindrance of your clothes getting in the way. her fingertips itched to feel goosebumps run along your arm, shoulders, and back as she touched you in ways she always dreamed of doing. her lips longed to taste yours since she knew that peach-flavored chapstick you two liked to share would taste so much sweeter if you were the direct source. gaeul wanted you, and she was going to have you—boyfriend be fucking damned.

when gaeul flipped the lock on her door, the two of you were all over each other. bags and jackets thrown to some random corners, shoes messily removed and left all over the living room area. gaeul barely twisted open the doorknob of her bedroom door, being so focused on exploring every crevice of your mouth with her tongue until she tugs you inside her room. her lips stayed locked with yours as she sat on her bed and pulled you to her lap, hiking your dress up and squeezing your ass. your moans were much, much sweeter than she imagined. she shivers at the feeling of your fingers playing with the back of her neck, her own whimpers only encouraging you to busy your hands with unbuttoning her shirt.

when you’ve successfully taken her shirt off, your dress was next. and gaeul made sure to take her sweet time with that! her hands caressed your thighs, gently squeezed your hips and even moved you so you could grind on her thigh (the cute whine she earned from that was very much appreciated!), and then her hands stayed wrapped around your waist as she placed soft kisses along your collarbone. you could feel her smile against your skin when you squeezed at her arms, knowing damn well what you wanted but refusing to give it to you because… well, if this happens to be the only time she fucks you then she might as well make it last!

finally, when gaeul was satisfied with the little marks she had left on your collarbone, she started pulling the ribbon on your back and loosened up your dress. “you made sure to look pretty for me, huh?” she asked as she watched you undress yourself. she took note of the bright blush on your cheeks under her dark stare, and it made her think that perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was thinking of fucking her best friend for the longest time. meanwhile, in your defense, it’s been quite a while since you had to dress yourself up and what better occasion to do that than hanging out with your best friend?

plus, if it got you to get fucked by the friend in question then you’d say that the two-hour preparation was worth it!

when gaeul laid you down on the bed, she noticed how you suddenly became quite tense, looking as though your boyfriend was about to come breaking down gaeul’s doors to drag you back with him. gaeul made sure to relieve you by kissing your forehead, taking your hands with hers and then putting your knuckles to her lips. “you’re safe with me, (y/n).” she whispered, pecking your knuckles gently and smiling at you. sure, it works… but the fear that bubbled up in your stomach did not go away.

“if he finds out about this…” you pull your best friend close, letting her embrace you while you wrap your arms around her neck.

gaeul scoffed arrogantly, “he won’t—”

“—if he does, i don’t know what i’ll do,” you never told gaeul that your boyfriend has been watching out for her for the longest time. he was always suspicious of gaeul, saying that he was so sure that she wanted to fuck you and make you hers. because of his suspicions (that now proved to be true), he always made sure to be annoying and text you and call you an absurd amount of times whenever you were hanging out with gaeul. he never does that when you’re out with your other friends. no. that behavior was reserved for the one person he was threatened by. “i don’t want him to hurt you.” you said. you can’t even imagine what he would do to you, let alone the girl he absolutely detests.

“he’s as dumb as a brick. i could fuck you in his own bathroom and he’d have no idea.” gaeul makes a mental note to reserve that exact scenario in the future.

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “you know he can very much send you to the hospital, right? he’s like, three heads taller than you!”

“three heads yet he’s still stupid enough to treat you horribly and practically give you away to me,” gaeul sneaks her hands behind you, unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you in one swift motion. your heart beats louder every second gaeul’s eyes travel downward, soaking in more and more of your naked beauty that she longed to set her eyes on forever. “i’ll teach him a thing or two about giving a pretty girl the pleasure she deserves.”

every doubt and fear you had evaporates into nothing as soon as gaeul puts her lips against your skin once again. sucking, biting, licking—anything she can do to leave marks and make you remember this night akin to a skilled painter perfecting their masterpiece with every stroke. you feel gaeul’s hand trail down your stomach and palm your soaked panties, and you had an almost automatic reaction to grind against her, blushing wildly upon hearing her chuckle at your enthusiasm. gaeul wraps her warm mouth around your nipple, your back arching at the feeling. an embarrassingly loud moan escapes your mouth when she flicks the hardened bud and presses her palm flat against your clit at the same time.

you were losing further control of your actions. grinding restlessly on gaeul’s hand for further pleasure, taking her free hand to play with your other breast, and even pushing her head impossibly closer to your chest. she was skilled with her tongue—you shuddered at the mere thought of what else she could do to you should this night go on for longer. you feel gaeul slide her hand inside your panties, only to feel your pussy with her fingers rather than fucking you immediately.

it was adorable how impatient you were. you needed and wanted to be pleasured. it must have been quite a while since you’ve gotten some action—gaeul isn’t surprised that even in sex your boyfriend can’t deliver. every flick of your nipple, every pinch to the other one, every parting of your pussy lips, and every brush against your clit, you were mewling. you would be embarrassed if you actually heard yourself but instead, all you could focus on was the little pleasure gaeul was giving you right now.

“that feel good, hon?” gaeul asks as she presses her lower palm against your clit harder than ever. she found your little nods endearing and your inability to find the words to answer her only inflates her ego, but as much as she would love to tease you all day long, she was just as desperate for you as you are for her.

“how long has it been since he’s made you cum?” she asked, slowly pulling your panties off and letting it drop to the floor. gaeul keeps her eyes fixed on you, looking for discomfort or doubt or any sign that tells her how you could be feeling about all of this. while gaeul knows that the two of you have already crossed a point of no return, she knows that if you gave yourself the time to think about all of this, you would come to your senses. in other words, you would get the fuck out of her house and never talk to her again. it would be disheartening, yes, but gaeul unfortunately knows you well enough to know that it would be possible.

to her surprise though, you seemed to have stopped caring now. you didn’t even bother to glance at your phone that was on the floor, vibrating wildly due to the amount of times you were being called by your boyfriend. you only silently beckoned for gaeul to touch you, to taste you, to claim you. and gaeul doesn’t need to be asked twice to oblige!

“he… he has never made me cum.” you admitted, looking away from the embarrassment.

“are you serious?” gaeul laughs, but then her jovial expression is replaced with an incredulous one. “you guys do have sex, right?”

“of course we do! just… h-he’s horrible at it… every time we’re done, i have to get myself off because he never can!” you covered your face in frustration, now just wondering how you actually survived years without being able to cum with your partner during the act.

“fuck, he really is worth nothing at all, huh?” gaeul cackles. ah, poor you… but you didn’t have to worry about not cumming tonight, because gaeul just now made a silent promise that she’ll make you cum as many times as you want. she lowers herself so she could be facing your pussy, all wet and ready just for her. just as gaeul was about to bury her face in between your legs, you take a hold of one of her hands and intertwine it with yours, making her heart swell with affection. she doesn’t look back up at you, knowing that the blush on her cheeks would be too noticeable. gaeul starts off giving your cunt gentle kisses and little licks—hearing you softly whimper and seeing you jolt every time the tip of her tongue so much as brush slightly around your clit gets her adrenaline going, and eventually, gaeul commits herself to eating you out.

within mere minutes of practically making out with your pussy, gael feels you put your free hand behind gaeul’s head and pushes her closer. “more…” you could barely say, too caught up with the euphoric feeling gaeul has instilled in you using her tongue alone. it takes everything in gaeul to let go of your hand to part your lips to have better access to your clit, and when you grabbed a fistful of her hair and let out a beautiful moan, gaeul knew she was doing something right.

something adorable gaeul notices is that you were extremely sensitive when it comes to your clit, more than any woman gaeul has ever been intimate with and even herself. she licks a stripe up your cunt, relishing in your taste and the way you whine her name, before sucking on your clit. it’s almost as if you’ve never had your pussy eaten out this good before! and truthfully, you really haven’t. gaeul’s own satisfied moans created a buzz in your head, letting you know just how much she loved and savored your taste with each lick. she brings a new kind of pleasure when she makes out with your clit at a gentle, slow pace. the kind of pleasure you would never find your boyfriend (or anyone else for that matter) to be giving you.

it almost makes you wonder what gaeul’s true intentions were. of course, you weren’t expecting her to be completely in love with you. if she was, the first thing she would do to show it was not making you cheat on your boyfriend with her. was she just looking for a quick hook-up? but if that was the case, she could have just grabbed some random girl instead of putting your friendship in an awkward spot like this. perhaps you were just another box in a list that she wants to check off, but that would be cruel and completely unlike the gaeul you have known since the two of you were young. with the way she was cautious with how she fucked you, touched you, and even handled you during all of this, you wanted to believe that she has some sort of undiscovered feelings towards you.

but why were you even thinking about that? did you even have feelings for her? that was a dangerous territory you never wanted to explore, not when you cherished your friendship too much. but the ‘idea’ of dating your own best friend was never really just an idea with you. not when gaeul had ten times the charm that makes your boyfriend look like some hopeless wimp. not when gaeul will forever be the person that knows you the best. not when every time she does something as simple as tell you you’re pretty, or open a door for you, or laugh at your jokes, or smile at you so handsomely, the tiniest of butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

it was a scary feeling, one that you always hoped to go away one day but these days, and especially today, it has been hard. maybe when this is over… you don’t have to run away from it anymore, because when you look at gaeul’s eyes that pierced right through yours even as she was eating you out, you can see something beyond the hunger, the lust, and the desperation.

whatever it was, you found yourself more willing to uncover it, even if it might ruin everything.

“you’re so perfect, (y/n)...” gaeul snaps you out of your trance and immediately after, she dips her tongue inside you. “you’re better off with someone else… someone who knows you better, inside and out… mmhn... don’t you agree, princess?”

you whine shamelessly, “y-yes..! ahh… with you…” now you didn’t even mean to let that slip past your lips, but gaeul seems beyond satisfied that you did. completely addicted to your taste, gaeul pulls you closer and further down the bed by your waist, your back arching with how well she was using her mouth. the pleasure gaeul brought was enough to make your thighs twitch, your legs slightly rise in the air, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“you cumming soon, baby…?” gaeul asks, briefly lifting her head slightly from in between your legs. a sly smirk graced her features, knowing that the cause of your incoherence was her. it gives her the confidence to do a lot more to you, to do everything she has been wanting to do for years. you seem to notice how she had paused to stare at you, and you shoved her face back down to your core, earning a chuckle from her. gaeul pushes your thigh back, almost lifting your leg up, for better access and eats you out better than before as if that was even possible.

at this point both of your hands were on her head. you would be worried about the tight grip you had on her hair but you were way too busy on that tight knot in your stomach. you think you hear gaeul encouraging you to cum, and you can vaguely feel her palm resting on your stomach and it does help you relax a bit. enough for you to have the strength to look down at your best friend, whose eyes have always been on you this entire time. god, she was pretty… and she looked like she belonged right where she was. she didn’t give you any more time to admire her though, as a flick of her tongue on your clit sends you to a blissful orgasm.

your body softly falls backwards your bed as you throw your head back with only gaeul’s name filling the air. gaeul spends a good few seconds staring at your face—her doing. you were simply bewitching in her eyes. she made sure to take her time cleaning you up while you came down from your high, waiting patiently until you’ve caught your breath and calmed down. she sees you breathing normally and smiles before rising up, attacking your face with a barrage of kisses while you laugh and take her in your arms.

“don’t get comfortable. this is all we’re doing until morning.” gaeul, more than ready to please you all day and night long, places a wet kiss on your collarbone before sliding her hand in between your legs. she was well on her way down your core until her phone blares loudly—someone was calling her. she ignores the sound, opting to kiss down your neck while her fingers start ghosting over your clit. and just then, you turned your head and got a glimpse of the caller id on the gaeul’s screen. but gaeul sees it first and she swipes her phone away with a dark chuckle.

“w-who is it…?” you asked quietly, not wanting to alert whoever was on the other end. gaeul’s smile grows wider as she puts the caller on speaker. your heart drops to your stomach as soon as you hear the other person’s voice.

a man. your man. your fucking boyfriend!

“are you there, kim?”

sheer panic courses within you. you tried grabbing gaeul’s hand, but she moves away, pressing a single finger against your lip. and then her mouth moves, but she doesn’t make a sound. trust me, she says silently. you kept still, trusting your best friend to not do anything stupid. of course she wouldn’t put you in any danger just to have fun, but you did worry that she would set your boyfriend off enough for him to do something to her. your heart beats loudly in your chest and goosebumps appear all over your skin. you were terrified beyond comprehension, but gaeul’s soft caresses and reassuring eyes comfort you, even just a little bit.

“what do you want?” gaeul asked, annoyed that he just had to interrupt the two of you. her hand once again travels downwards your body until she reaches your cunt. she traces your lips before inserting the smallest length of her two fingers, making you bite back a moan.

“where’s (y/n)? why isn’t she answering her phone?”

gaeul grins and plunges her fingers deep inside you, she couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh as she watched you choke out a moan. you immediately covered your mouth, pitifully glaring at your best friend but not being completely mad at her. her fingers felt too good inside you—staying perfectly still just to get you to get used to the feeling until she starts moving, slow and steady as if she herself was savoring the feeling of your cunt clench around her digits.

“what was that? is that her? are you fucking my girlfriend?!”

gaeul cackles, “you wouldn’t know what (y/n) sounds like when being fucked even if you’re the one fucking her.” she increases her pace, even nodding towards you to get you to relax and just keep trusting her because she could feel your fear. it made her angry. no one should claim to be your partner if they made you feel so afraid of them. you shouldn’t have to beg for them for their time and love either. if gaeul had known that this was what everything from back then would lead up to, then she would’ve intervened when you and your boyfriend were still just acquaintances. but there was no point in dwelling on that because she has the opportunity to make this all right.

and the correct ending to all of this was her freeing you from him, him ending up all alone, and the two of you figuring out what to do with each other.

“you bitch! i swear to god if that’s (y/n)—”

“—i’m not fucking my best friend, shithead. you should start worrying more about the fact that she’s refusing to call your lacking ass back.” gaeul watches you intently as you slowly lose most of yourself to her. moving your hips accordingly, meeting her little thrusts with eagerness that only got gaeul herself drenched. you tugged on gaeul’s top, silently asking her to get off the call already and just fuck you. and that you didn’t have to ask her twice, of course. while your boyfriend kept yelling at her, gaeul ends the call before blissfully dropping her phone to the ground.

you don’t know what came over you, but all of a sudden you wanted to see your best friend under you. tugging her down harder, catching her lips with yours in a searing kiss… feeling sick satisfaction in you when she stiffened at your sudden surge of passion, and using her shock to flip your positions over. gaeul pulls her fingers out, putting them on your hips instead and trying to keep up with the way you kissed her feverishly.

“you’re cute…” gaeul whispers, thoroughly entertained by you. ugh, those eyes. that nose, her perfect moles, her smile, that mouth… fuck. you have to feel her lips on your pussy again but this time… you wanted to be in control. you smile at your best friend as you swipe your thumb across her lips before getting in position.

“holy shit, (y/n)—”

“—shut up, man.” you cut her off with your face so warm you think you might explode. she didn’t look like she was turned off by the idea. in fact, gaeul places her hands on your thighs, looking more excited than she has ever been this entire time. “t-tell me if i’m hurting you… or anything.” you said. gaeul merely nods, eyes focused on your core. you were going to say a few more words, maybe tell her that you haven’t sat on anyone’s face in a while so you might be bad at this but gaeul couldn’t wait another second. she pulls you down, and the sound that escapes your lips when her nose bumps against your clit was simply criminal.

“ffuck…! oh, g-god…!” with one hand tightly gripping the headboard and the other holding onto a random pillow, you start riding gaeul’s face. and again, she was moaning. as if a better flavor has never graced her tongue until she got to taste you. gosh, the way you threw your head back and let every lewd sound fill the air as you rode her got gaeul clenching, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of you either. she squeezed your thighs, almost as if she was encouraging you to go faster and just use her.

“mmhgn… so good… more, please..” letting go of the pillow and the headboard, you put your hands on gaeul’s head. you ride her faster, focused on pleasing yourself and chasing another orgasm while gaeul does her work with her tongue. it was getting harder and harder to hold herself back from touching her own pussy; she was too drenched and you were simply too delicious. at this rate, she might just cum untouched! the idea of it was humiliating almost, but gaeul figured that if she made you cum hard enough then you wouldn’t even realize what had happened to her. but then again… why would she go through all that trouble?

with one hand, gaeul reaches down and unzips her jeans, sliding further down and massaging her clit through her panties. of course, you don’t see this. you don’t even hear gaeul over the sound of your whimpering and moaning—all you wanted was to use her mouth to get yourself off. you managed to open your eyes slightly, however, and looked down at gaeul. her eyes were shut off, eyebrows furrowed deeply as she diligently ate out and fingered herself at the same time.

you heart swells as you allow yourself to etch every single facial feature of hers in your mind. you didn’t think you’d find a more fitting place for your best friend. it turns out she looked good underneath you, too! when you got distracted by admiring gaeul’s face, you felt a sting on your ass. you gasped loudly, and although it caught you off guard, you liked it. you moved your hips enthusiastically as gaeul squeezed your ass, now glaring at you to intimidate you to keep going. and it works! well, it’s not like you were going to stop just like that.

“p-pretty… you belong right here…” you said, gripping her hair tighter. gaeul moans at your words and she feels herself only clenching tighter around her own fingers. she didn’t expect to get so turned on by merely fucking you and hearing you talk to her in such a different way than usual. she pushes her tongue inside your cunt, making you scream in pleasure. gaeul’s ears ring at the sound of your voice—she was sure now that you wouldn’t dare go back to that pathetic boyfriend of yours.

you were hers now. and she has always been yours.

“gaeul… babe, i’m cumming—god…!” with one last thrust on your best friend’s face, you came. moaning blissfully in the air as gaeul allowed you to ride your orgasm out, and while she laps up your cum as best as she could, she hits a satisfying climax which grants you the perfect chance to hear a cute squeak from her. gaeul removes her hand from her panties and holds you down on her face, not entirely satisfied to let you go even though she can see that you can barely keep yourself sitting. that wasn’t going to be a problem anymore though as gaeul once again flipped your positions so you would be sitting on the bed and she would still be in between your legs.

“mmh… stop, i’m tired… please.” you shake your head weakly, gently tapping gaeul’s hand. fortunately enough, your best friend respected your wishes and stopped, opting to scoop you up in her arms instead and hug you. you laughed at how much of a mess you made on your best friend’s face, wiping all of it clean with your hands before giving her a quick kiss. gaeul doesn’t forget to get rid of her pants before staying completely still in bed with you, staring at nothing but your pretty face for minutes on end.

you think you fell asleep a couple of times, and you ended up always opening your eyes to gaeul smiling dumbly at you like a lovesick puppy. if you had known gaeul allowed herself to see you in such a different light, then you wouldn’t have wasted time trying to fall in love with a boy who did nothing good for you. but no matter, you were going to leave him, and finally, you and your best friend can work towards a more fulfilling relationship for the two of you.

“i always knew it’d be you in the end.” gaeul whispers as she leaves the tiniest and sweetest kisses on your knuckles.

the tiniest bits of fear settled in the pit of your stomach—you didn’t want your boyfriend to find out about this at all. you wanted to protect gaeul and dump his ass with as much as peace as you can manage, but you know he was going to bring her up somehow. at the end of the day, the blame should be put on you since you were the one who allowed gaeul to make those advances towards you anyway… but you knew all too well that that wouldn’t stop your boyfriend from coming up with an excuse to try and confront your best friend.

but every time you dwelled on those thoughts, gaeul somehow notices it and keeps your eyes on her. she knew she would be able to pull your attention to something else and that she does rather effortlessly. and you knew that you would be safe, as long as you were with her.

you laugh at her words, “i’m glad that you didn’t fuck me just because i’m hot and you hate my boyfriend.” you joked, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

“no, stupid,” gaeul pulls you closer by your waist, kissing your nose. “i love you.”

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winterwump · 6 days ago

Text

Lookism Boys & How They Flirt When They Actually Like You - Part 2

Summary: Disaster boy behavior but make it endearing, Part 2 Electric Boogaloo 🤪 Here’s Part 1

Author’s Notes: I already had a part 2 in mind so it’s nice that I got comments for more. After work yesterday night I immediately started on this part so I hope y’all enjoy. It’s still not NSFW

Word Count: 697

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Eli

Flirting Style: Smooth, attentive, and giving

Gives you the quiet eye contact and sweet half-smile that melts panties

Lowkey flexes how good he is with kids (“Yenna made you a drawing… I helped her, but don’t tell her I said that”)

Will say “you’re beautiful” once, then act like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing because

His love language is offering you food and asking how your day was with full attention and active listening.

Protective but not overbearing. Will bodyblock a falling shelf and act like it’s just another Tuesday.

Bonus: If you touch his arm while laughing? Play with his hair? Be a good presence in Yenna’s life? Game over. He’s yours.

Gun

Flirting Style: Intense eye contact and threats that sound like proposals

“I don’t need a partner. I need someone who can keep up.” (Translation: I want you.)

Doesn’t smile, but you know when he’s into you because he starts looking at you like you’re prey, and HE IS STARVING.

Gifts you things that don’t feel romantic… until you realize no one else gets them. Like a new phone. Or a whole ass penthouse (to act grown in).

“You need discipline” - he’ll say after fixing your form at the gym, his hands lingering longer than necessary.

Bonus: He purposely loses at video games he’s previously beaten. Not because he can’t win, but because your grin when you win is more satisfying than victory.

Goo

Flirting Style: Chaos and catcalling, but make it charming

Will call you every nickname in the book. “Sugar tits,” “baby shark,”or “wifey” - he’s def testing which one makes you react.

Pulls pranks just to hear you laugh… or scream. Either works for him.

Gets jealous easily but pretends it’s a joke (“Oh, he looked at you? I’ll murder him, Y/N. kidding! Unless…”)

If he’s quiet for longer than 10 seconds around you, it means he’s either in love or planning something stupid. Or both.

Bonus: He’ll flirt with everyone to throw you off. But only you get the soft, sleepy Goo voice at 3AM.

James Lee / Diego Kang

Flirting Style: Elegant, detached… until you touch him.

Doesn’t flirt traditionally. He just shows up, stares at you from across the room, and somehow leaves you breathless. (Not too far from canon lol)

Compliments feel like confessions: “You’re a distraction. And I hate distractions. But I keep looking at you.”

Will not initiate physical touch, but if you do? He’s not letting go for anything.

Dangerously polite. Opens doors, holds your coat, corrects your form at the private gym he booked for just the two of you. You’ll think he’s just being nice until he says something like - “I dreamt about you...again”

Bonus: One kiss and he starts spiraling privately. He’ll still act cool. He’s not lol

Ryuhei Kuroda

Flirting Style: Bully-to-lover with unhinged fixation energy

Constantly bothers you. Flicks your hair. Steals your pen. Won’t stop poking your buttons.

“Dumbass. You’re too cute when you’re mad.”

Treats you like a game until the moment someone else flirts with you, then it’s not a game anymore.

You get under his skin in ways he hates. And craves. He’d rather eat nails than admit he’s blushing.

Bonus: He’ll fake-disgusted moan if you touch him - “Ew, you’re touching me? Are we dating now or something?” (he hopes yes)

Hudson

Flirting Style: Gentle loyalty with hints of angst

He watches you with sharp eyes but speaks softly. He doesn’t talk much but when he does, it’s only to you. He also never brings up his street life because he thinks it’ll ruin how you see him (it won’t lol)

“Need anything?” - sounds sooo casual, but it means he’s already halfway to solving your problems before you finish answering.

The kind to memorize your favorite snacks, the exact way you like your tea, your allergies. Acts like it’s no big deal. (He gives your snack choices +100 points even if he doesn’t like them)

Protective as hell. If you so much as stub your toe, he’s ready to declare war on gravity.

Bonus: When he finally touches you, it’s hesitant and reverent—like you’re sacred. His ears might go red.

This was super fun to write! I wanted to add Sinu but I couldn’t think of what to say idk. Requests are open so have at it. BYE!!!

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im-sleepdeprived · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself.

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable.

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target.

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him.

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further.

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay.

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you.

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store.

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment.

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right.

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not.

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order.

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore.

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.”

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready.

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out.

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand.

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off.

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good.

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor.

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in.

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned.

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain.

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look.

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom.

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone.

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks.

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him.

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him.

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled.

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know.

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

“Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly.

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked.

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order.

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster.

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again.

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused.

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you.

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted.

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner.

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it.

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards.

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset.

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated.

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward.

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together.

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked.

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down.

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air.

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away.

You were not having a good day.

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside.

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel.

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes.

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was.

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed.

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here.

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it.

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry.

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes.

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes.

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends.

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there.

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you.

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really.

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit.

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back.

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still.

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe.

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you.

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet.

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in.

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ.

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day.

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier.

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed.

This was gonna be a long night.

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt.

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching.

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers.

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice.

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another.

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again.

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries.

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down.

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed.

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it.

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose.

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth.

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it.

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand.

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him.

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly.

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand.

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it.

“Yeah,” you nodded at him.

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care.

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately.

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth.

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop.

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit.

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time.

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself.

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice.

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands.

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back.

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams.

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first.

Or tried to, at least.

“We should-” kiss.

“You-” kiss.

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other.

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently.

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement.

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known.

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side.

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips.

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly.

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you.

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door.

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait.

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil.

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you.

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you.

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you.

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin.

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift.

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world.

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it.

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away.

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again.

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled.

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today.

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work.

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help.

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie.

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place.

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered.

It's Freddy.

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name.

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it.

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it.

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing.

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now.

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless.

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room.

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed.

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him.

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text.

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking.

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth.

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side.

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries.

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod.

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side.

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand.

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more.

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again.

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit.

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one.

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long.

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit.

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all.

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him.

He returned it and you went back to work.

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question.

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again.

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly.

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again.

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you.

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag.

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them.

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower.

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand.

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick).

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were.

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you.

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work.

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake.

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him.

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you.

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips.

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him.

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him.

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you.

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up.

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were.

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look.

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.”

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story.

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants.

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him.

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him.

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him.

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight.

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach.

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

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