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#a good bickering dynamic . shaking their hands
5ftboy · 10 months
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CHRIS PINE and JUSTICE SMITH in the Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves Blooper Reel
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skzdarlings · 1 year
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07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin
masterlist.
sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -
pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.
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It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 
After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 
You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 
You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.
There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    
“My life is a joke,” you say. 
“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”
He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 
“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 
You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   
“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     
“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”
“Funny.”
“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”
“I know that.”
“And you’re the other cow.”
“I got it, Seungmin.”
“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   
This fucking guy.  
Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 
You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 
Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 
You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 
You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 
Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 
Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 
Minho dangled the keys in your face.  
“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”
You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 
Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 
You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.
“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”
He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 
“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”
He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.
“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”
“You sound curious.” 
You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 
“Oh, you are curious,” you say.
“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”
“Proudly.”
“Wow.”
You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 
“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”
“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 
His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 
“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”
“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 
“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 
“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”
“Why not? It’s not real.”
“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”
“You can?”  He pokes it.    
“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     
“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 
“I did very well for myself, thanks.”
He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 
“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 
“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 
“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 
You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  
Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.
“I have an idea,” you say. 
“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”
“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 
“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”
“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”
“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”
You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 
“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   
“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”
“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”
“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.
“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.
“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”
“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 
“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”
“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 
You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.
“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”
“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 
“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”
“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”
“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    
“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”
“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 
“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 
You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 
“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 
“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 
“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”
He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 
“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.
“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”
“That was different.”
“How?”  
“Because you suck,” he says. 
He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 
You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 
You lift an eyebrow. 
“Shut up,” he says.
“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.
“I can hear your ugly face.”
“That’s a you problem.”
He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  
Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  
Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.
It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 
“What the hell was that?” he asks. 
You let go of his hips immediately. 
“Nothing,” you say.
He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 
“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 
“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 
“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 
“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 
“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 
You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  
His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.
You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”
“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 
“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”
“I’m normally quiet.”
“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  
“Why don’t you moan?” 
“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 
He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 
“Well?” you say.  
He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 
Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.
It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 
He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.
Ah, you think.  Fuck. 
You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 
You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 
“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.
He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 
“So are you,” he says.
“Mine’s not real,” you say.  
“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 
“You know what I mean, smartass.”  
“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 
That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 
“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 
He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 
Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 
You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 
He balks at it. 
“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 
Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 
“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”
“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 
“Not really the making love type,” you say. 
“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 
Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 
For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 
“Jesus fucking—” you start.
He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 
“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”
“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”
“Got it.” 
Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 
“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 
It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.
“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 
Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.
“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 
He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 
“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 
Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 
“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 
He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 
“How do I know you’re not lying?” 
You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 
“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 
Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 
“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 
You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 
“Slippers first,” he says.  
He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 
“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 
“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 
You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 
“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 
Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 
He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 
He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 
“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 
“S-surprised?” he asks. 
“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 
He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 
His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 
“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”
“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 
He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 
You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  
Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 
Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 
You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 
Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  
You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 
“I won,” he says.
“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.
“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Oh my god.” 
Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 
You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.
Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 
Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 
You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 
“Told you,” you say. 
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Don’t be a sore loser.”
He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 
Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 
“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 
“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”
You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 
2K notes · View notes
justabigassnerd · 1 year
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Overprotective Aviators
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Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader, slight Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader at end
Word count - 3,873
Warnings - creepy teen boys staring, swearing, overprotective Mav & co
Summary - when your dad and his team catch sight of a group of teen boys staring at you from across the beach they shift into overprotective mode
Sequel - 'The Talk'
A/N - hey y'all it's ya girl back with another request! I had a lot of fun writing this fic. I always enjoy writing the dynamics of the '86 characters (even though I may not be the best at it). Anyways I won't ramble. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!
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“y/n/n, come on! We don’t want to be late you know what they get like!” Maverick calls through the house, pulling his aviators out of his jacket pocket and sticking them on his face. It takes you but a minute to come down the stairs putting your own sunglasses on as you pick up the bag of things you were going to be bringing with you to the beach.
“I’m here, cool your jets dad.” You laugh as you walk past your dad as he rolls his eyes, grabs his keys and follows behind you. The two of you walk to the beach, chatting amongst each other until you reach the beach.
“Who did you say was coming again?” You ask as you scour the beach for your dads’ teammates.
“Goose, Ice, Slider, Wolfman, Hollywood, and their families of course.” Maverick replies as he looks around for his friends, a grin crossing his face when he catches a glimpse of his RIO waving madly in their direction. Maverick points Goose out to you, and you make your way over to him. Goose is quick to drag you into a hug, ruffling the top of your head as you groan and swat at his hand jokingly.
“You’d think you hadn’t seen me in years, Uncle Goose.” You laugh as you’re finally released from the hug.
“Forgive me for missing my niece after I went away for a week.” Goose says, a mocking sarcastic tone to his voice as he places a hand on his heart.
“I missed you too. But just between us, I think dad missed you most. He seemed pretty lost without you.” You say quietly, eliciting a laugh from Goose as he throws his head back. Goose had gone away for a week with Bradley and Carole to visit Carole’s parents and Maverick had moped around without his partner in crime.
“I better go say hi.” Goose says with a grin, patting your shoulder before crossing to Maverick, allowing Carole to sweep you up into a hug.
“Hello, sweet girl! How have you been?” Carole asks sweetly as she hugs you. When she pulls away, her hands remain on your upper arms as she smiles at you.
“I’ve been good Auntie Carole. It’s summer so there’s not been much to do, especially when the Bradshaws are out of town.” You shrug with a soft smile. Carole nods with a smile of her own as she releases you, allowing Bradley to greet you.
“Hey y/n/n.” Bradley greets, waving slightly as your jaw drops in mock offense before tugging him into a hug.
“Don’t you tell me you’re that after a week away you’re too grown up to hug your best friend?” You ask teasingly as you hug him tight.
“Never.” Bradley replies, wrapping his arms around you and reciprocating the hug. Bradley’s hugs always felt safe, his height meant you were perfectly cocooned in his embrace, and it felt like nothing could hurt you.
“Let’s get this party started!”
“Slider, it’s not a party.” You and Bradley break apart at the familiar sound of Iceman and Slider’s friendly bickering. You turn to see the two men approaching your dad and Goose with their wives following behind. Slider had recently married his long-term girlfriend Jessica whereas Iceman had been married to his wife Sarah for a couple of years and was expecting their first child. You went over to greet them happily, hugging each person with a smile as you greeted them.
“Wolfman and Hollywood aren’t here yet?” Slider asks as he glances over at Goose and Maverick who shake their heads with a laugh.
“Those two are never on time.” Your dad laughs as he thinks about how Wolfman and Hollywood would always turn up late to any meet up the team organised. Those of you who had just arrived began to set up the stuff you’d bought. You laid out a towel while your dad set up his beach chair. As you plunge the sun umbrella into the sand to cast a shadow over your dad’s beach seat, you hear the familiar voices of Wolfman and Hollywood as they approach with their wives in tow. Hollywood had his young daughter in his arms while Wolfman was chasing after his rambunctious twin boys. You greeted the aviators and their wives before returning to Carole to help her and Bradley set up some more beach chairs alongside where you’d set up stuff for you and your dad. Once everyone had set up their beach things, you pulled your shirt and shorts off, leaving you in a bikini as you kicked your flip-flops off. You wanted to get some tanning time in, and you figured you’d go for a swim at some point as well. You sit on your towel, at first reading your book while the adults chat amongst each other. The wives took to gossiping amongst each other, wanting to know the ins and outs of what was happening around town while the men talked about how things were going at work. Iceman talked about how he was put forward for an early promotion and was working as hard as possible to get it. You tried to focus on your book, but it became a near impossible task when Bradley sprawled himself across half across your towel, half across his own as he grinned up at you with that lopsided grin you loved so much.
“Can I help you, Bradshaw?” You ask teasingly as you glanced over the top of your book, seeing his large smile which made you smile too.
“We’re at the beach. You don’t need to be reading.” Bradley insists, reaching up to take the book out of your hands, making sure to put the bookmark in for you before tucking the book back in your bag.
“What if I like reading on the beach?” You quip, raising an eyebrow at Bradley who shrugs shamelessly.
“Well, I must be doing an awful job at being an entertaining friend. C’mon, let’s do something fun! I think dad bought a football.” Bradley says, grabbing you by the hands and pulling you to your feet. Once you’re on your feet, Bradley digs around in the bag his parents had bought before triumphantly pulling the football out and holding it above his head.
“Are the old timers joining in?” You ask teasingly as you glance at your dad and his friends.
“Old timers?”
“You’ve got some sass, Mitchell.”
“You asked for it, kid.” Your words sparked mock outrage within the group of aviators as their wives laughed at their shock. All the aviators scrambled to their feet, Wolfman snatching the football out of Bradley’s hands before moving to a clearer area of the beach so you could toss the ball to each other. The group of you pass the ball to each other, laughing as the women call out to their husbands in an attempt to distract them.
After five minutes of playing catch, Slider looks over to where you were laughing and exchanging a high five with Bradley when he caught sight of a group of teenage boys a little way down the beach staring at you, clearly admiring the sight of you in a bikini. Clenching his jaw, Slider gestured for his teammates to join him.
“Sorry kids, the old timers need five minutes.” Slider laughs as the rest of the team approaches him while you and Bradley roll your eyes, content to toss the ball back and forth between yourselves for a bit.
“What’s up?” Hollywood asked, folding his arms across his chest as he approaches Slider, all of them wondering why they were called over.
“There’s a group of boys eyeing up mini Mitchell. They’re just staring right now but I thought we should keep an eye out.” Slider says lowly, just in case either you or Bradley overheard what was being said. When Slider noticed all of their eyes widening, he quickly shushed them before the outbursts could begin. Goose was quick to grab Maverick before he stormed across the beach to give them a piece of his mind.
“Why are teen boys so gross?” Maverick grumbles, quickly locating the group of boys and hating the way they were staring at his little girl.
“Mav, you were exactly the same when you were that age. To some extent, you still act like that.” Goose says, raising an eyebrow and chuckling when Maverick glares over at him.
“Goose, not the time.” Maverick hisses over at his best friend who simply lets go of him and holds his hands up in defeat.
“Alright, we’ll keep an eye out. Just don’t tell her what’s going on. We don’t need to freak her out.” Iceman says, cool and calm as ever but everyone could hear the tension in his tone. He hated when guys would shamelessly stare at women and make them uncomfortable. And he knew that Sarah was pregnant with his daughter, and he hated the thought that she’d be born into a world where men acted like that. The team of aviators share a knowing nod with each other before breaking apart and returning to the game. They play catch with you and Bradley for a little longer until Wolfman’s twin sons decided to start clamouring for ice cream, which causes Hollywood’s daughter to beg for ice cream too. Eventually, the whole team buckled and decided to go and get ice cream. You and Bradley elected to stay with all the beach stuff to ensure nothing was stolen. You kept a vigilant eye on everyone’s belongings while Bradley laid on his back, a pair of Goose’s aviators on his face as he soaked up the sun. Before too long had passed, you heard the familiar voices of your dad and his team as they approached. Wolfman’s twins immediately came rushing over to you and Bradley, proudly showing off their ice creams while Hollywood’s daughter was more content to stick by her mum’s side, shyly offering the two of you a wave that you both returned.
“Isn’t it crazy that it used to just be us two kids? And now Hollywood and Wolfman have kids, and Ice is expecting his first. We’re the oldest kids here now.” You say, glancing over at Bradley who props himself up on his elbows.
“Technically speaking, I’m the oldest.” Bradley says with a smirk before you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall flat on his back.
“Only by a year.” You say, laughing as he reaches out to flick your arm.
“That’s a whole year of life experience I have that you don’t.” Bradley teases, sitting up properly.
“Oh, I forgot. Being fifteen makes you a pro at life.” You say, rolling your eyes as you laugh. As you and Bradley talk, Hollywood decides he’s had enough of the boys staring at you from afar, so he enacts his plan to try and get you to change. He pretends to trip and drops his ice cream all down your front.
“I’m so sorry, kid. Do you have some clothes to change into?” He asks sheepishly as the rest of the team laughs at his mishap.
“Don’t worry. I’ll just go for a swim. That’ll help wash it off. C’mon Bradley.” You say dismissively to Hollywood before grabbing Bradley’s hand and starting off towards the sea.
“Well, that didn’t work.” Hollywood mutters, dropping down into his beach chair and watching as the teen boys were watching you drag Bradley down to the sea. Seeing you and Bradley going towards the sea, Wolfman’s twins started saying that they wanted to go in the sea too.
“Alright boys, I’ll take you down there.” Wolfman says, gaining cheers from his kids. As Wolfman’s wife gets the boys ready, smearing them with suncream the second they took their shirts off leaving them just in swim trunks, Wolfman turns to Maverick and asks for your spare towel, an idea formulating in his head to get the teen boys to stop their hopeless staring. Wolfman then got up from his seat, slinging your towel over his shoulder as he leads his kids down to the sea, laughing to himself as they barrelled in, both immediately being knocked over by a wave. He shot a glance over at the teen boys and he noticed they were now pulling their shirts off and heading into the sea. He noticed how they didn’t make a move to come any closer, maybe the presence of the aviators and Bradley was enough to keep them at bay but not quite enough to stop their stares. Wolfman moves his attention back to his kids and smiles as you and Bradley let them hop on your back letting them splash sea water at each other, laughing as you and Bradley get caught in the crossfire. When the boys tire of the sea, they wade back to the shore and approach their dad.
“Dad, I’m hungry.”
“Dad, I’m starving.” Both boys complain the second they reach Wolfman who rolls their eyes, it had been not even fifteen minutes since they finished their ice creams.
“Let’s go to your mum, I’m sure she packed something for you.” Wolfman urges, guiding his boys back towards his wife so they could dry off with a towel and get something to eat. When Wolfman turned his head to see you and Bradley exiting the sea, he came barrelling over to you, wrapping you up in the towel as you laugh at Wolfman’s sudden appearance.
“Uncle Wolf, no offence but what?” You manage to say through laughter as you’re swaddled in the towel.
“Don’t need you getting cold.” Wolfman says as he takes a step back, happy with his handiwork.
“And you don’t care if I get cold?” Bradley asks, a raised eyebrow as he laughs.
“Just teaching Mitchell junior how a man should treat her. As her uncle it’s important she knows how she should be treated. Take notes Bradshaw junior.” Wolfman says before heading back up to his wife.
“Does he know that your parents are the literal definition of romance? Any girl would be lucky to have you, Bradley.” You grin as you unravel yourself from the towel cocoon that Wolfman had trapped you in. Bradley watched as you walked further up the beach towards your dad with a slight blush on his cheeks. He had been harbouring a crush on you for a while now and he was still working on the courage to ask you out. As Bradley glances around the beach, he notices the group of boys staring and narrows his eyes. He didn’t know who they were but their unashamed staring and jostling of each other made them public enemy number one in his eyes. He chased after you and went to join you again when Wolfman’s twins came darting over to him, now full of food and energy and demanding he plays fighter pilots with them. Bradley looked over at you, seeing you sat on your towel with Hollywood’s daughter in your lap, sunglasses atop your head as you read her the book, she’d brought with her before turning back to Wolfman’s twins and agreeing to play with them. When you finish reading the story to Hollywood’s daughter, you noticed that she was starting to get sleepy and you figured it was time for her nap.
“I got her.” Hollywood says softly as he lifts his daughter from your lap, smiling softly at the feeling of her winding her arms around his neck and snuggling closer. You glanced over at Bradley who was currently pinned down by two hyper boys as you chuckled lightly to yourself but not caring to get involved. As you move to grab your book, Goose, who had been returning from a nearby shop after Carole realised she’d forgotten a water bottle, chose to accidentally trip over Maverick’s beach umbrella. The pole missed hitting you, and the umbrella shielded you from the stares of the teenage boys who groaned and exchanged looks with each other at not being able to see you anymore. Using the opportunity they had, Iceman and Slider glared over at the boys, hoping their joint cold stare would be enough to get them to back off.
“I’m so sorry y/n. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Goose says quickly and apologetically while you wave him off with a laugh, shifting to be sat on your knees so you could get the umbrella upright again.
“All good, Uncle Goose. No harm done.” You grin up at your uncle who ruffles your hair with a smile before moving to sit with Carole. He looks over to where the boys were and they were still looking, not as much as before but still obvious enough to anyone.
“How have these idiots not got the hint yet?” Goose mutters to himself, being overheard by Carole who chuckles and grabs his hand.
“They’re teenage boys, Nick. Boys do stupid things like stare at pretty girls. Our Bradley’s been doing it all day as well.” Carole says, gesturing lightly with her head towards their son who had just been freed from the clutches of Wolfman’s twins and he was immediately looking over at you with a grin.
“We love Bradley. We want Bradley to admit his painfully obvious feelings. It’s different when it’s a bunch of teen boys we don’t know staring from across a beach.” Goose grumbles as he looks from his son to the boys across the beach.
“Aren’t you cold?” Your dad's voice pulls you out of the focus you had on your book, making you raise an eyebrow at him.
“What?” You ask, shocked that question had left your dad’s mouth at how hot it was outside.
“I was asking if you were cold, it’s a little chilly, don’t you think?” Maverick then says, grabbing his jacket and holding it out towards you with an expectant look.
“Dad, respectfully, it’s summer in San Diego and you’re asking me to put a jacket on?” You ask, wondering what on earth got into your dad for him to be acting this way.
“I’m just looking out for my daughter. Don’t need you catching a cold or anything.” Maverick replies, returning his jacket to the bag and leaning back in his beach chair. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to your book as Maverick muttered under his breath about how annoying those boys were, all unheard to you. Once again, you were torn away from your book by Bradley snatching the book out of your hand, putting the bookmark in and closing it once more.
“I’m letting the team down again. Come on let’s do more beach shit.”
“Bradley Bradshaw!” Bradley was cut off by Carole who was glaring daggers at him for his choice of language.
“Sorry, mum.” Bradley apologises with a sheepish tone, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck as he shrunk further under his mother’s gaze.
“Look at what you men have done to my sweet Bradley.” Carole tuts as the aviator's exchange looks with each other.
“It’s what happens to military brats, unfortunately. y/n’s just as bad.” Maverick shrugs unapologetically, looking over at Carole with his signature flashy smile.
“Let’s escape this conversation.” You whisper to Bradley, getting up and walking away from the conversation with Bradley hot on your heels. Bradley glanced over in the direction of the boys and when he saw them jostling each other and laughing as they stared at you, he instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. He felt a sense of triumph when he looked across the beach and saw the boys finally leaving, all glaring at Bradley who simply gave them a shit-eating grin.
“Is this your idea of beach shit?” You ask, a raised eyebrow at Bradley’s actions as you hoped he didn’t notice your now flushed cheeks. Bradley remained silent, his brain short-circuiting at the way he was holding you. He could handle a hug, holding your hand would cause a slight blush but having you tucked into your side was causing him to stop functioning. He thought about how he had asked his dad for advice on how to ask you out and the only help Goose provided was saying to just ask, that the worst that could happen was you saying no.
“Hey, y/n. Can I ask you something?” Bradley asks, releasing you from his embrace and turning to face you.
“Of course.” You say, a gentle smile gracing your face as he takes your hand carefully.
“Do you think… I could take you out on a date sometime? Maybe that old diner along the beach?” Bradley asks an unusual shyness sneaking into his voice as he looks down at your hand where your fingers interlaced with his.
“I’m free after school on Friday.” You say, your smile widening slightly as Bradley looks up at you. His smile grew ten times larger when he locked eyes with you from behind his sunglasses. He lifted his free hand to set his aviators on top of his head so he could make proper eye contact with you.
“I think I can arrange something.” He says teasingly, making you laugh before he tugged you into a hug.
“Seven o’clock at the diner sound good?” He asks as he squeezes you slightly.
“Sounds like a plan Bradshaw.” You agree.
Further up on the beach, Goose had been watching the entire interaction from afar. He didn’t know what words had been said but he knew that from the shy smiles on your faces that Bradley had said something of significance regarding his feelings.
“Honey, look, I think our boy finally did it.” Goose says excitedly to Carole, drawing her attention to you and her son.
“Oh, look at them. It’s about time.” She gushes, grabbing Goose’s hand as her smile grows.
“Hey, Mav. Looks like we’ve got a wedding to plan.” Goose says over to his best friend, getting Maverick to look at where you and Bradley were now heading down to swim in the sea again.
“Absolutely not.” Maverick says, cringing at the thought of his daughter marrying anyone.
“Maverick, you know better than anyone that our Bradley is perfect for your daughter. She lights up around him. They’ll get married, mark my words.” Carole says, making Maverick shake his head with a chuckle before focusing his attention back on you and Bradley, where you and his best friend’s son were in the sea. He’d never admit it to anyone, maybe to Goose if he was drunk enough, but he knew Bradley was the guy for you. He saw the way you looked at each other and it was exactly the kind of pure love Goose and Carole had. He wanted nothing but for his daughter to have someone who could keep her safe when Maverick couldn’t, and Bradley seemed to step into that role without a hitch.
“I’m making a bet. Fifty bucks says we have a Bradshaw-Mitchell wedding in our future.”
Maverick couldn’t even begin to argue with that and so silently prepared himself to be giving Goose fifty dollars in the future.
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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 11 months
Text
Ghost x City Girl Reader
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No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. And then, tonight happens…
NSFW 18+ Eventual Smut, Porn with Plot, Romance, Drama, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Mentions of Alcohol, Slight Slow Burn, Hatemance, Jealousy, Bickering, Teasing, Flirting, Reader is a mean girl, Ghost is an asshole, but the chemistry's there, Slowly gets steamier as it goes, slight hints of Reader x Gaz, 'cause why not
Word Count: 4.2k
Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Masterlist
A/N: Finally finished this (was super nervous to post this for some reason)! This was inspired after binge-watching a shit ton of Bad Girl's Club on Tubi. I just know Ghost and a City Girl wouldn't get along at first, but I love dynamics that look like they wouldn't work. Part two is where the smut is, but I like build-up and stuff, so I turned a one-shot smut piece into a two-parter. I hope you enjoy ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)
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"Ayy~" You rest your hands on your knees in a joyous fashion, readying yourself to start shaking your ass. "Let's get it bitch!"
Music blared on the club speakers, the crowd growing hyped as the sounds of Pink Panties from Baby Keem serenaded the drunken patrons all looking to have a good night.
That third daiquiri had caught up to you, your mind buzzing and your heart racing. The swell of the crowd dancing around you puts you in a euphoric trance. All you can comprehend is the warmth in the air, the taste of alcohol behind your teeth, and the way the beat makes your skin vibrate as you dance.
Your face expresses every bit of the drunken euphoria you were feeling, letting it bring your hands seductively down your body, pulling in any who dare come, if they're brave enough.
You and the rest of 141 came just at the perfect time; the club was just starting to get busy but it hadn't yet grown too packed. Chatter and laughter picked up and the music got better the more you drank. The vibe was just right…
…Almost.
Across from the dance floor, at the corner of the bar where he'd been standing all night, Ghost watches you dance, unamused, with dark eyes leering at you from afar.
He observes the way your hips sway to the music like it were his own, private video. All night he's been watching you, his gaze lingering just a little longer each time; though, it hadn't been any less unwelcoming.
If he watched any longer he might just excuse himself, so that he may relieve the tension that's built between you. Deep down he knew you knew that too. It's thus created a notable, stormy cloud over his head all night, one you undoubtedly took joy in seeing.
Your eyes play with him across the sea of dancing heads between you, taunting him, teasing him, and letting him know just how much better than him you thought you were. The same eyes he's grown accustomed to for a long time now.
Codename: Spice. He couldn't think of a more fitting name for such a hot-headed woman, seeing as "Bitch" wasn't acceptable. You joined the team maybe a year or so ago. Much too long for Ghost to have counted.
When Laswell initially brought you in, the entire Task Force was in an UPROAR. You'd been a well-decorated soldier, to say the least, however, what merits and awards you held almost paled in comparison to the rap sheet of complaints and discrepancies you possessed.
Fighting. Disobedience. Disorderly Conduct. Fraternization. Etcetera. Etcetera.
And as if that weren't enough, you were a complete and utter bitch as well. Especially to Ghost, who you've singled out in particular. If defending your country was your day job, then being the thorn in Ghost's side had become your newest evening hobby.
Any chance you had, you were picking on the man. Your comments teetered back and forth between being harsh and petty, and once you knew he didn't like you, you just doubled down on the behavior. And it didn't matter what approach the man took to this; he could ignore you, or he could get loud, but nothing deterred you.
It wasn't often that someone got under Ghost's skin; he always did model himself on control and discipline. With all the horrible people he's managed to meet in his lifetime (and not even being in his mid 30's yet either), naturally, it would take a lot to truly irritate the man. And by no means were you the worse person he's ever interacted with before either.
But you've always been more akin to that of a tick; any time you got a chance to get under his skin, you dug in, and you dug deep.
Ghost would applaud you for how intensive you were with your pettiness. Nearly as cold, ruthless, and calculated with that as you were with your enemies on the field. God forbid someone actually steps up to you, less they suffer a broken nose or a black eye. You were Queen B and you wanted everyone to know it.
Ghost, however, was less than interested in feeding into your silly little ego.
Even now, your eyes haven't left Ghost's since you started dancing again, time moving at a snail's pace in your gazes. Knowing that the sight of you pisses him off.
Right then, as you danced, some poor woman made an attempt at courting him as he sat alone, brooding to himself. You never were one to diss a girl's taste, you guess. Not out loud, at least.
This woman, wearing her ill-fitted skirt and tacky make-up, had been getting sloppy drunk with her friends in a corner for the last hour, eyeing Ghost from across the bar just as long. At some point, she thought it'd be a wise time to swoop in and make her move.
Ghost notices this because he's now felt a stranger's hand touch his arm. Had he not looked first to see who it was, he would have been seconds away from instinctually sending his elbow back to flex their hand from him, which would have definitely connected with the woman's face.
The woman practically jolts once she sees she's startled him, however, she attempts to cover it with a laugh. "Hi," she greets.
"Can I help you?" Ghost asks, though he couldn't sound any less interested.
"I was just over there with my friends and-"
"You should get back to them."
A state of shock whiplashes on her face before she huffs and stomps back over to her friends. Ghost didn't even watch as she left; he had more pressing matters to attend to.
You smirk at Ghost, seeing this from where you dance. The man makes it so easy to push his buttons, just look at him. He doesn't even look like he wants to be here tonight, more dressed like he was about to rob a bank than go out drinking with his mates.
Frankly, you're shocked he even showed up. Clubs seemed like the last place you'd catch him, and you were right. However, Gaz and Soap giving the lieutenant a hard time as of late finally pushed him into coming out with everyone. And of course, it had to be on the night you got to choose the spot too. You'd been sick of dive bars and small get-togethers, however, so you chose a club in a heartbeat, naysayers be damned.
"Hey Kyle~" You wave for Gaz, catching his eye in the crowd. He and Soap had both been drinking just as much as you since arriving, getting dragged off by every single woman within a five-foot radius of them.
You lost Soap fifteen minutes ago, and here Gaz was now, having been able to finally rid himself of his unwanted groupies. Good thing too; you need someone to dance on, and you wanted to give your lieutenant a show.
Gaz has already grooved his way over to you the second your eyes invited him over. Lord knows he's wanted a piece since you arrived, though you saved the real promiscuity for men outside your workplace; less messy that way. You'll gladly have them chase you though.
Once in reach, you bring your arms to his shoulders and wrap them loosely around his neck, smelling the Gin and Tonic on his breath and the citrus scent of his cologne, though it's since been mixed with an array of other colognes and perfumes. His hands find your sides, settling into your hips, with drunken smiles growing between you the more comfortable you grew.
What were once innocent brushes of the legs and hip twirling, soon devolves into something a little less PG. Before long you've both found your rhythm, swaying your hips along to the music and moving together as one unit.
You whip your body around, grinding your ass against Gaz, pressing yourself back roughly against him. You make sure he can hear you laugh at him after you've heard the little gasp he let out too. However, you can play with more than one person at a time, and the Sergeant hadn't been the only one you were playing with at the moment.
The whole time, you've kept your eyes locked on the lieutenant's from across the floor, a devilish smile forming. Had Soap not bumped into Ghost suddenly, who's to say how long Ghost would have spent watching you, his bourbon held sternly in his gloved hand.
"Ghost!" Soap bellows out, cheeks a rosy pink from his drink, and lips painted in a large grin. The man had certainly been attempting to give you a run for your money in terms of enjoying himself tonight. The smeared lipstick stains near the base of his neck only said as much. Both men and women tonight had been swooning over his accent and muscles since he stepped foot in the building. Ghost had already written the man off for the night altogether.
"Still standin' 'ere all by yer lonesome, L.T.?"
"Been the best seat in the house," Ghost says dryly.
Soap follows Ghost's gaze, until he's found you on the dance floor with your eyes closed and your head cocked back, Gaz's head buried in the crook of your neck. Immediately, he knows what's going on, having seen this before.
"Tsk. Tsk. What a she-devil," Soap shakes his head. "Poor lad."
"Should know better by now," Ghost comments. "Girls like that love bein' teases."
Oh, Soap knows already; he learned that the hard way the last time you all went out drinking and you sent him home with the deepest set of blue balls he's ever felt in his life. "Aye," he sighs.
"I've no idea what you lot see in 'er," Ghost says.
"Eh, she's not so bad once you get to know her," Soap shrugs. "You two are a lot more alike than you think."
"I doubt that," Ghost turned back around at the bar, settling in his seat and placing his drink back on the counter. Soap had been ready to join him, however, some tiny woman that's been attached to his hip all night returned (who also conveniently wore the same shade of lipstick as what was smeared on his neck), pulling his attention away. Before long, the lieutenant was alone once more.
You two are a lot more alike than you think.
Now that's a joke. Ghost can't imagine you've gone through even half of what he's been through. Still, it wasn't like you two have ever actually sat down and talked to one another before. It seems nigh impossible to.
Though it wasn't for a lack of trying on your end.
The presence of another human at Ghost's side brings his eyes drearily over, until they've begrudgingly fallen onto you. It seems you grew bored of dancing, and now decided to take your teasing to the source itself.
"Enjoy the show?" you ask him teasingly, knowing you'll most likely not receive a reply, which you don't. Ghost doesn't even fully face you, keeping his eyes pointed ahead of himself at the bar. He hadn't been looking to talk, and it's not like his reply would change anything you had to say. You did invite yourself over.
"You know, Manchester," You lean against the bar, looking up at the man, just close enough to hear him over the club music and smell the cologne and cigarette smoke on him. "Instead of starin' like a creep, why don't you actually take that stick out your ass and come dance."
Now you're just taking the piss. Ghost finally gives you a look, though he wishes he hadn't. Up close, he's seeing this skimpy little, lowcut tight dress you've got on, with your fishnet stockings and heels. The black choker around your neck was simple, and just begging for someone to tug it off you, and the lipgloss you wore looked like it tasted sweet on your tongue.
Years of training and experience are everything it takes to keep his eyes from dropping any lower than your collarbone. Just in his peripherals, Ghost can see how bouncy and voluptuous they sat in your dress.
You got this cocky look on your face now. "I'll dance with you."
Ghost scoffs. "Not a chance."
"Aw, I get it," you say sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to embarrass myself out there either."
"This place can only handle so much of that with you already out there."
This conversation felt as old as time between you two. If it wasn't you being catty and mean, then it was Ghost being aloof and guarded. While you knew he had been implying your little performance on the dance floor earlier, you were as quick with your tongue as your lieutenant.
And you can't lie, you'd been itching for some good banter all night. You'll take it from anyone, even from the likes of Ghost.
"Please," you laugh. "As if your big ass could actually move out there. I bet you can't even do the two-step."
"I'm sure you'd wanna know," Ghost says.
You reach over, and by your own boundless curiosity, take his drink, inviting yourself to a sip. The bourbon burns your throat as you swallow, your nose scrunching. You smile as you see Ghost's gaze razor focus on your lips pressing to the cool glass of his drink, taking a small sip and letting your tongue chase its remnants over your bottom lip. It's just the way he does so, so unabashedly, that you can't help but giggle at.
"I already know everything I need to, honey."
Ghost turns his body to fully face you now, his massive height over you only now becoming apparent by the shadow it casts. It's intimidated most of the women at the club tonight, whenever Ghost wouldn't just do it himself. No such thing went on with you, however.
He's been sitting here by himself all night, and as much as he could list a plethora of others he'd prefer to be standing here with at the moment, he had you. If you'd use him for your own uncaring amusement, then he'll do the same, since you want to bring that side out of him so badly.
"And what's that?" he asks.
"That you're boring as fuck and have a stick up your ass," you say bluntly. Of course, Ghost didn't expect any less from you. You do this sober, just with less pep to your speech, unlike now. "Though I'm sure you're already aware of that."
"How original," Ghost says dryly. "It take you long to think that one up?"
"I only tell it like I see it."
"Wha' then," Ghost's gaze turns stone cold, doing all it can not to give you a way in. "Gaz wasn't enough? Now you've come to make yourself easy pickin's for the next sorry lad lookin' for an easy lay?"
"Ooo, feisty." You lean in now, resting your hand on the bar counter so you could prop yourself up, giving yourself what little height you can against your unmoving opponent.
"I wouldn't fuck you if you paid me," you say.
"I wouldn't fuck you for charity."
"I wouldn't fuck you if my life depended on it," you shoot back. "As if you could even handle me, Manchester."
"What's there to handle?" he taunts. "You're nothin' but talk. You bark like a bitch and puff your chest, but it's all show. Just a way to make yourself feel big. No surprise you make yourself the local slag; any lad with some sense surely wouldn't bother."
Oh, that comment strikes a nerve; you feel your eyebrow twitch and your blood begin to simmer the second he closes his stupid, British mouth.
"Who're you callin' a bitch and a slag?" You step up now like there's a problem now. "How about you come back with some new material when you can actually talk to me without that little safety blanket on your face, Manchester. It's easy to talk shit when you've got something to hide behind. And you call me unoriginal."
You take his drink and pour it out on the counter now, watching it spill over the surface and drip onto the floor. When you meet his gaze again, if looks could kill, you'd both be dead. You just wasted a good cup of fucking bourbon.
"Do somethin' about it," you taunt him.
He steps forward, and for a small second, you think the man might actually do something. However, it had merely been an intimidation tactic, a warning. He stops just a few inches shy of you, keeping his strong arms crossed over his chest.
Ghost would love to, oh, believe him. It's taking all of him not to say something really foul to you and truly ruin the whole night for everyone. And you don't stop at the drink either.
You step even closer now, keeping your head cocked back and your eyes on him. You're close enough now to feel the body heat bouncing off from him, vibrating the more irritated he grew.
"Do something," you say again. "You just gonna let some slag pour your drink out like that?"
You raise your hand up as though you're about to smack him, and that's what finally gets him to move. Ghost catches your tiny wrist in his hand, his grip tight as he holds you there.
"What the fuck-" You grimace at first, your fight-or-flight instincts telling you to try and tug your hand out of his grip and use your other to sock him straight. However, something differently entirely occurs in you suddenly.
You take a moment to really feel his hand on your wrist, how the slightest adjustment of his thumb made a chill trickle up your arm, and that he was the closest he's ever stood next to you outside of work. The man might irritate you, and he was an asshole, but Goddamn did he have an inviting pair of hands and some magnetic eyes on him. Eyes that seemed just as curious to outline all the makings of your figure.
You kind of liked it.
He must like it too, judging from how he hasn't made any attempts at letting go. But there had been a million different things running through his mind right now, all of which made him question himself.
He thought about all the ways he could overpower you right now; you gab on like you're big, and there were so many times he's just wanted to remind you of your size. Small enough to be bound and at his mercy if he so pleased. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but the thought sounded intriguing.
Your arm settles in his strong grip, your eyelids lowering as you look his masked face up and down, trying to observe his dark eyes in the dim lights. They look to you, trying to guess your next move, though even you couldn't be sure.
You take your other hand and you place it on his chest, just to see if you can. All this time you've known him, you've never actually done so before. You feel your fingers rest against him, and even beneath the fabric of his hoodie, you feel his heart racing.
The club music finally dies down, preparing to switch to its next song. With maybe just a few inches of space between you, it feels as though it's only the two of you in this entire room at this moment.
But just then, you're interrupted. Soap wasn't too far away and must have started picking up on the vibe's shifting, because he couldn't cut between the two of you fast enough.
"Alright," he steps between you two, a drunken smile still on his face. "That'll do you two."
His presence does little to take your eyes off each other, merely looking through the Sergeant, still trying to see if either one of you would say something else. As expected, it's you who does first.
"We were just about to dance," you look over at Ghost with a playful smile. "Isn't that right, Manchester?"
Ghost looks down at you. He almost wants to say no. However, he found himself curious suddenly to see where you might take things. He hadn't felt quite done with you yet, himself.
"That's right."
Soap looks flabbergasted by this. "Yer gonna dance, L.T.?"
"We'll try not to make too much of a scene," you tease.
You take hold of Ghost's hand, feeling his grip tense in your grasp, as you pulled him out onto the dance floor. Woman by Doja Cat just started and you were ready to rock this man's world.
Even with everything going on around, heads turn as you both pass by, noticing the tall, masked figure making his way onto the dance floor with this overly enthusiastic party girl who looks nothing like his type.
You find a spot just on the edge of the crowd, where the lights were low and your team could not see you. Once there, you watch Ghost stand awkwardly, waiting for you to start moving first. It's not like you needed him to do much anyway.
You ease into your dance, beginning with light footwork and hip twirling, letting the music guide its rhythm through your legs. Ghost did an odd shuffle to start, not doing much beyond moving his feet. Once he grew more comfortable, however, you learned that he could in fact do the two-step... If you sucked all the atmosphere out of it at least.
The music picks up, and you bring your hands up to his muscular shoulders, gently resting them there similarly to how you did with Gaz earlier. Only unlike the Sergeant, Ghost seemed reluctant to fully give in to your charms. He wouldn't even bring himself to touch you, just letting you use him like a pole.
You bring your head in close, shouting over the music so that he can hear you, "You're an asshole, you know."
Ghost rolls his eyes. "You're a bitch."
Growing impatient, you boldly take his hands and place them on your hips for him, feeling your skin tingle as his fingers settle against your hipbones. The hesitancy subsides once you start guiding him along with you slowly, easing him into the high tempo of the music.
"And proud of it."
You turn around and press yourself to the lieutenant, feeling your ass brush against his jeans and the grunt that leaves his chest. All he's left with now is the smell of the shampoo you'd used in your hair and the shape of your bottom against his groin. You tell him, "I'm not here to impress you."
He leans in, until you've felt his masked lips brush against the shell of your ear. His voice all but rumbles through you, "And I'm not here to entertain you."
"Aren't you?" You bend over, bringing your hands to your ankles and seductively sliding them back up your legs, and making sure each time you made your ass shake that he could feel it even through his jeans. You'd give anything to see his face right now. "Say what you want," you tease. "I don't give a fuck."
This time he doesn't shy away from letting his hands slide alongside you, stopping just at your waist so that you can still move yourself freely against him. "Yeah, you do," he all but says in a seductive growl. "Why else are we here now?"
You tilt your head back and look up to find Ghost's eyes leering down at you, half-lidded. You watch him slowly start to lose himself, his mind chasing after that brief feeling of arousal you shot through him each time you pressed yourself to him.
"I don't know," you take hold of Ghost's hands again, only this time when you rest them back at your hips, you keep your hands there, holding them. "But it takes two to dance, Manchester."
"Let's dance then."
Once the words subsided, and the club music drowned out any and everything else on the dance floor, the only thing that could be felt was the ecstasy of Ghost's body pressed so close to yours. His large hands explore your small form smoothly, letting you slide your own hands up his arms, feeling his warmth of him. He molds into your movements easily, eyes never leaving yours, with battered breaths shared between you.
Your hands stretch above your head as your bottom hugs your black little dress tightly. The fabric stretches each time you drop your ass to give it another spin, lights bouncing off you both in a mesh of glittery purples and dark blues.
Every time they do you've felt you've seen a new side of Ghost. A side of him that felt hungry for something no good for him. Though he would be in good company; there wasn't a good man left in him to spare if you kept on him like you have been all night, both in body and tongue.
Had the song not come to an end, who's to say what parts of him you would have ground on next, or what parts of your body his hands would find themselves rhythmically groping.
You turn to the lieutenant, out of breath as he is. Of course, you had been moving your body much more than he. You suppose he can save that energy for later.
"You've got any smokes on you?" you ask him, though you both know where questions like that'll get you.
"Left 'em in my car."
"Why don't you give me one?"
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Part Two
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jamie-leah · 27 days
Text
Lifeline Pt 4
Bucky x Reader
Series
Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.
Word Count: 1,570
Warnings: Descriptions of domestic Violence, Self doubt, Angst
A/N: I wasn't expecting this scene to turn out so angsty but the characters run the show, I just type letters. Enjoy!
<-Previous Part Next Part ->
Masterlist of Masterlists
You look up the length of the Tower building, the cold air stealing your breath. You’re not sure if this is a good idea anymore. You agreed to the meal in the book shop because Bucky was so cute asking and the smile afterwards was worth it. And you also wanted to see the family he has now.  
But actually standing outside the Tower? Moments away from meeting the people that Bucky live with, that he considers friends and family? Coupled with the fact that you and Bucky clearly have something special? It’s enough to make you want to run away.  
Bucky gives your hand a squeeze, pulling you gently into the building. He nods to the receptionist but doesn’t break his stride to the elevators. Pushing a button, Bucky glances to you with a warm smile, “you have nothing to worry about.”  
You laugh, “is it that obvious?” 
Bucky shrugs, “I mean, I would be nervous meeting a bunch of superheroes who are just as likely to hug you as they are to run background checks on you and grill you over dinner.”  
“Wait, they’ve run a background check on me?” 
Bucky squeezes your hand again, “I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past some of them, like Nat and Tony but it’s fine.”  
“Have you ever...?” 
Even though you trailed off, Bucky understands what you’re asking, “no, I haven’t looked you up or asked anyone to. I figured I would get to know you the old-fashioned way.”  
His comments make you smile, but your anxiety quickly steals that away from you, “it’s not the fact that they’re superheroes.”  
Bucky frowns, “no? Then why are you so nervous?”  
You roll your eyes playfully, “Mr. Clueless.” 
You both chuckle as you continue, “because, they’re your friends, family. People that you’ve gone to hell and back with. They’re probably the most important people in your life.”  
The elevator dings when Bucky says, “you’re important to me too.”  
Bucky pulls you through the doors as a smile spreads across your face. You repeat his words in your mind as you get closer and closer to the voices down the hall. It helps to ease the racing in your chest.  
“Steve, have you ever seen Bucky like this with anyone?”, you hear a female voice ask.  
A man chuckles, “not like this, no.”  
“If she had any sense she would run in the other direction.”  
“Sam!”  
“I was kidding mostly. He’s so grumpy all the time, I don’t know how she has any fun around him.”  
“Maybe she’s just as grumpy.”  
“Natasha!”  
“Kidding!” 
“Can we please just have a nice dinner with no bickering or arguing? Just this one time?”  
Bucky steps into the room, your footsteps slightly behind, “I don’t think Sam or Nat can keep their big mouths shut long enough.”  
All heads swivel to Bucky and you. Fighting the urge to fidget, you lift your gaze to meet theirs. Steve is the first to jump into action. He sticks his hand out to you, and you take it with a gentle shake, “it’s nice to finally meet you. Bucky has talked a lot about you.”  
A small smile fights to the surface, “he has? Sounds like Bucky is the one with the big mouth.”  
The silence only lasts a moment. A booming laugh falls from Bucky’s lips, head tipped back, eyes closed. The rest look shocked before joining Bucky in various rounds of laughter.  
“Okay, definitely not grumpy.” Sam concludes.  
Natasha smirks, “keep this one, Barnes. I like her.”  
Bucky looks down to you, murmuring, “I plan to.”  
And just like that you fit right into the dynamic like a glove. Steve loads the table up with different Chinese dishes. Sam puts the plates out, while Natasha sets up the cutlery. Bucky shows you to your seat and takes the one on your left, explaining why the others can’t make it tonight.  
Once everyone takes their seats, the table descends into chaos as they all scramble to fill their plates with all their favourites. They fight over the portions and sharing the rice. They laugh when Sam spills sauce down his top, or when Steve eats something spicy. They chat about their days and things that need doing in their world all while joking and bickering.  
And you watch it all with affection but slight envy. They include you, of course. They get your opinions on things they can’t agree on or ask questions to get to know you. You love every second of it and you envy how you missed out on this growing up. The easy nature of loving people. And being loved by them in return. Trusting them enough to know you and not destroy you.  
When the food is mostly gone and the talking dies down, Natasha studies you holding a glass of wine to her chest. She asks, “so, how long are you planning on sticking around?” 
Lips parted in surprise; you don’t answer right away.  
Steve says her name in a warning tone and if looks could kill Bucky would have killed Natasha on the spot.  
Through all this she continues to stare at you, waiting.  
You clear your throat, “how much do you know?”  
“Enough.”  
Bucky leans forward, “Natasha, don’t.”  
She levels her gaze on him, “how much do you know, Barnes? Do you know she’s married? Still? Do you know how she’s bounced around the country, not staying anywhere longer than two months?”  
You notice the surprise on Sam and Steve’s face. Good to know they didn’t all go snooping.  
Bucky shoots up from his chair, glaring at Natasha. Natasha puts her wine down and stands slowly. They look about ready to rip into each other.  
“Do you know why?”, you ask.  
“I saw the hospital records.”  
In the corner of your eye, you can see Sam and Steve making the obvious connections. But you continue to look at Natasha, “so you understand?”  
She sighs, “to a point. Look, I like you, I do. And it’s nice to see Bucky happy for a change. But if you take off, then it’s us that have to put the pieces back together.”  
You get it. You really do. But you feel a fire spread out from your chest and into your limbs. Anger, like you’ve never felt before comes crashing to the surface like a stormy sea. Anger that no one is considering what any of this means for you. Anger that Bucky has all these people looking out for him and you have no one. You were a good wife. You were a good person and yet you’ve ended up with no one. And this only proves that point.  
You shake your head, “none of you get it. If I stay after he finds me then I’m dead. None of you know him like I do. You can look up his history and see where he was born, who his parents are, his friends. See his military background and all the connections he’s made since. But you don’t know what his hatred looks like. You don’t know what his fist feels like when it connects with your jaw. You don’t know just how cold the floor is when you’ve been curled there for hours after he’s kicked you over and over, telling you to be better, to do better...If I stay, you’re asking me to give up.”  
You stand from the table and make your way to the exit. Bucky tries to reach you as you pass him, but you dodge his grip. Pausing before leaving the room, you add, ���and he always finds me.”  
You don’t look back as you make your way to the elevator. You wonder why the world looks so blurry and unsteady when you feel the familiar trail of wetness roll down your cheek. You’re not cut out for this. For family life. Not anymore. It’s too hard, too terrifying. You’re not strong like them, you can’t stand and fight and no one can save you. They’ll only get hurt, either by Andrew or you when you leave.  
Bucky calls your name, running down the hall to catch up to you before you get on the elevator. He spins you to face him, “she shouldn’t have said that-” 
You hold your hand up, the fight leaving your body all at once, “I respect her for wanting to protect her family. Maybe I would do the same in her position, especially when it comes to you. I just need some space.”  
You step on the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. Bucky holds the doors open, “I’ll give you the space. I’d give you anything you want if you asked. I’m heading out on a mission early morning, we just had the call, but...I get it. I really get it. How hard it is to let people in when all you’ve had is yourself. But you’re not alone anymore. At least, you don’t have to be.” 
He steps back, “don’t let him take anymore from you.”  
The elevator doors close. The image of Bucky looking sad and lost burned in your brain is one you can’t help comparing to the last time you looked at him when the elevator doors closed at your building. And you can’t help wondering if he would be better off without you. Either way, you know it’ll haunt your dreams tonight.  
Tag List: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg @bellabarnes1378 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
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mamaestapa · 8 months
Note
Wait yes dad Joe with teenagers!!! I loved that dynamic. What if there’s one with like you helping your kids get ready to go to a school dance or like the kids high school football game?
All Grown Up|| Joe Burrow x reader
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•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader
•summary: You and Joe help your teenage daughters get ready for some of their first school events
•warnings: sisters arguing lol and fluff
"Which dress?" You asked, skimming through your 12 year old daughter Ivy's closet. "The pink one," she replied, growing annoyed. "I can't find it. I was going to wear it to the dance tonight." She frowned as she too looked through her closet.
"I'm not seeing it," you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as to why you couldn't find the dress. Then it hit you. "Wait..."
You pulled your hands out of the hung up clothes, crossing your arms over your chest and giving your 12 year old a pointed look. "Are you talking about Josie's Homecoming dress from last year?"
"Yeah?"
"Absolutely not," you said, shaking your head. Ivy groaned, "Come on mom, it's so cute!"
"Yeah, for a high school Homecoming. Not your first middle school dance, Ivy."
"But mom-."
"No buts," you said cutting her off, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you spoke, "You are not wearing a tight, lace, hot pink and sequin dress to your sixth grade dance." The young girl just rolled her eyes, clearly unhappy with your response.
"Plus," you continued, "you know your dad wouldn't let you leave the house in that."
It's true. Joe would have a fit if he saw his 12 year old daughter wearing the dress his 16 year old daughter wore for her Sophomore Homecoming dance. You and Joe always make sure to let your kids express their styles in any way that they want. You both think it's important for them to express themselves and be confident in who they are, and how they dress. However, sometimes you do interfere, but only with instances like this one.
"Fine," Ivy sighed, "I'll wear the red one instead."
"Good choice." you said, smiling warmly at your daughter. You pulled the red dress out of her closet handing it to her. Her eyes scanned over the dress, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she looked away from the dress and up at you. "I guess this one is better. Thanks mama."
You nodded and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her gently. You pulled away from her and rubbed her back as you spoke, "I gotta check on your sisters. Go get ready, sweetie."
You left your daughters room, eyes widening as you could hear arguing coming from downstairs.
“You had them last!”
“I did not!”
“Yes you did!”
“Hey, hey!” your husband said, trying to stop the girls arguing, “Josie, they’re probably just in the wash. I’m sure Hazel didn’t touch your shorts.”
“They’re not shorts, dad.”
You chuckled softly in amusement as you walked into the room. Joe’s shoulders shrugged with a sigh, “Shorts, spandex, same thing.” he said, talking with his hands. You walked further into the room to see what the big deal was.
“What is going on in here.”
“Hazel has my cheer spandex-.” “Josie is accusing me of stealing-.” the two teenagers said at the same time before you cut them off. “Okay before you accuse your sister,” you said, looking at your oldest, “did you check the washing machine?”
“That’s what I said…” Joe mumbled under his breath to you, making a small smile pull at your lips. Josie sighed and said, “Not yet.”
“Then why are you accusing me?” your fifteen year old daughter asked, rolling her eyes at her older sister. The two started bickering back and forth, making both you and Joe sigh as you left the room. Their bickering stopped when you came back into the room holding Josie’s black cheer spanks.
“Hanging up in the laundry room.” You said, holding them out for her to grab. Josie smiled softly and walked up to you, grabbing the black spandex from your hands. “Thanks mom.” You nodded, smiling softly at your daughter, your smile only widening when Josie apologized to Hazel.
“Now, both of you finish getting ready. We’re leaving in twenty minutes to drop your sister off at her dance.” Joe said, coming up to stand next to you. The girls left the room and went upstairs to finish getting ready, leaving you and Joe in the living room by yourselves.
Joe stood behind you and snaked his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. You hummed and leaned into his touch. “Can you believe Josie is cheering at her first Varsity game tonight, and Hazel is going to her first high school football game?”
Joe shook his head, squeezing you gently, “No, I can’t. And Ivy going to her first middle school dance…”
You frowned slightly at the thought of all your kids growing up. It feels like just yesterday you brought Josie home from the hospital, but that was almost 17 years ago.
“Our babies are growing up Joe.” You said, voice somber as you situated yourself in Joe’s arms so that you could look up at him. He nodded, frowning slightly, “They are. At least we still have Jace.”
“But he’s growing up so fast, too. He’s already in fifth grade.” Joe nodded, “I know, but at least we’ve still got a year of elementary left with him.” You sighed softly at your husbands words, “I guess you’re right.”
Your four kids entered the living room at the same time, Jace following behind his older sisters as he ran into the living room and jumping into yours and Joe’s embrace. You laughed at your sons actions, pulling him in front of you and wrapping your arms around him. “Hi mama.” He said as he leaned into your arms.
“Hi baby,” you said softly. A wide grin was on your face as you looked at your daughters standing in front of you.
Josie was in her cheer uniform, Hazel was wearing her boyfriends practice jersey, and Ivy was dolled up for her school dance. Each of your girls dressed beautifully for different occasions.
“You three look so beautiful.” You said with a smile. Joe nodding beside you in agreement, “My girls.” He said proudly, smiling at his daughters, “You ready to go?”
The girls nodded, and with that the six of you piled into your SUV, and headed off to take your kids to their first school dance and first high school Varsity football game. Your babies were all grown up, but you and Joe couldn’t be more proud of them.
hi loves!
happy friday and happy game dey!🧡🖤
first blurb of many for dad joe blurb night!!
you guys have sent such great ideas, and i had so much fun writing them. i’ve got about 7 blurbs written already, and i’m hoping to finish a couple more later tonight.
i hope you enjoyed this one! dad joe with teenagers is an interesting concept, and it’s super fun to write lol.
more coming soon!🤍
tags: @erinmartin1987 @klips118 @burrowstyles5 @caroline1019
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albaedough · 1 year
Text
Woven Secrets Part Two
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Happy Kinktober~
GENSHIN IMPACT Character x Fem!Reader Smut Stories
Word Count: 3.2k
Characters: Il Dottore and Scaramouch, featuring Pantalone and Childe
Pairings: Doctor!Il Dottore x AbyssPrincess!Reader x VirginPrince!Scaramouche
Warnings: ⚠️ MDNI 18+ ONLY ⚠️ Medical setting, virginity loss(Scaramouche), power play, dom/sub dynamics, oral(giving and receiving), anal, established poly relationships, double penetration, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dacryphilia, ass slapping
Taglist: @stygianoir @silverwritesthings @genshinparty
Special thanks to Silver for bouncing ideas back and forth with me!
Click below for more~
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Il Dottore & Scaramouche
Waking up, you felt familiar warmth pressed against both sides and rubbing your eyes groggily; you're met with the kind faces of Pantalone and Childe, who nuzzle you affectionately, "Good morning Princess~!" Childe muses, kissing your cheek. And blushing, you adjust, turning to the two men, but not without sudden discomfort.
"Ouch!" you cry out, making a pained face, suddenly remembering what had transpired the night before, "Dadddyyyy, Master…my body hurts," you whine to the two concerned young men.
"Oh goodness me. Were we too rough with you yesterday? Perhaps we should take you to Zandik," Pantalone says with a frown on his face, pulling you close to him and kissing the top of your forehead. 
Flinching at the thought of going to see Dottore, you shiver. Dottore was not a kind man by any means, and he always wanted to inspect you further, much to your dismay. Yet, deep down, he always made you feel good. He was always wanting more while you were begging for more. Shaking off the thought, you gulp, "Do I have to?" you ask innocently, batting your lovely lashes at the two who were now tugging you to and from each other, showering you with kisses.
"You must," Pantalone says, stroking the top of your head lovingly.
"For once, I agree with you, 9th," Childe chimes in, his fingers trailing at the hem of your night dress. 
Feeling discouraged, you sigh, "Okay…I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I am quite pained, especially after," you trail off, casting your gaze downwards shyly, "N-nevermind that!" you say quickly, waving your hands in front of your face, your face turning a rosy hue.
"Never mind, what, Princess~?" Childe tests, kissing your fingertips playfully.
Feeling your face growing warmer, you cover your cheeks up, hiding your embarrassed expression, "Please don't tease me~," you plead playfully, looking at Pantalone for help, but he merely chuckles.
"Now, now, you two," Pantalone starts, "We need to help Princess get ready," he explains, pulling the two of you apart, and giving Childe a harsh glare.
Helping you out of bed gently, the two of them help guide you to the wardrobe, sitting you down. While Childe brushes through your delicate hair, Pantalone goes through the closet, pondering what to dress you in. Taking a moment, he pulls out a modest light blue dress with cream-colored lace accents, "This shall do. It's easy to move in, and the fabric is lightweight, perfect for recovery, isn't that right, Princess~?"  Pantalone teases.
Blushing furiously, you shoot a cute glare his way, "Daddy!" you pout, and you hear a chuckle behind you, "Not you too, Master! Hmph," you huff, folding your arms across your chest. 
And finally, after a short while, you're dressed, your hair adorned with two cute braids, and admiring yourself in the mirror, you hug the both of them, "Thank you, Daddy, Master~! I feel pretty as always," you giggle happily, clasping your hands together.
"As you always should, Princess," they both chime in, kissing the top of your head affectionately, "Now shall we be off?" Pantalone asks, and you nod. 
—-----------
The walk to Dottore's office is long and arduous, so Childe and Pantalone take turns carrying you; after much bickering back and forth, you finally stop them, deciding to walk the rest of the way hand in hand so they'd stop fighting over you and finally, you arrive. 
The doors leading into Dottore's office were daunting. Swallowing hard, you turn your heels towards an expecting Pantalone and Childe, giving them a quick kiss on their cheeks, "Will you come and get me later?" you ask, batting your pretty lashes. 
"Anything for you, Princess~," they both coo, hugging you before waving you off. 
Opening the large doors, you step into the office, eyeing your surroundings. Papers and books are strewn about. Random glowing vials which you assumed were potions of sorts, lined the walls giving the room a gentle blue hue. Taking a seat on the lone chair by his desk, you wait patiently until you hear a clatter and shouting in the adjacent room. Getting up from the comfort of your chair, you head toward the muffled sounds, pressing your ear up against the door. 
"Scaramouche. The electro energy in your system is becoming entirely too concentrated. It would be best if you found a way to release this energy before it becomes uncontrollable," a muffled Dottore says with concern. 
"Enough! I was created of electro energy itself. I can control myself," Scaramouche's voice boomed as he shoved a tray of medical supplies to the floor with another loud clatter, "I'm done here," he scoffs, making his way toward the door, opening it only for you to fall into him.
"I—," you start, pushing your hands away from Scaramouche's chest, but he's quick to grab you by the waist, preventing you from falling, "P-Prince, m-my deepest apologies. I couldn't help but overhear—"
"So noisy," Scaramouche says gruffly, shoving you to the side and placing his hands in his pocket, preparing to walk out the door when Dottore chimes up.
"Ah, hello, Princess~ Is there something I can do for you? I do apologize for Scaramouche. You know he tends to get even more foul-tempered whenever you're around. Perhaps it's something I should study more of…." Dottore jests playfully. 
Stopping in his tracks, Scaramouche is about to say something when you interject, "Greetings to you, Doctor. Daddy and Master said it's time for my check-up," you say politely, curtsying toward him. 
"Well, don't just stand there; come on in, Princess~, and Scaramouche? I implore you to stay. Let me show you how to channel your excess energy," Dottore says, a mischievous glint in his crimson eyes, gesturing for the two of you to come closer.
"Come here, Princess~ Let me get a good look at you," he says as you step up onto the examination table and sit down. Dottore, reaching over, gently strokes your cheek causing you to shiver, "My, my... they really did quite the number on you, darling. Tsk tsk, it seems I may have to lecture your caretakers about how to take care of my little test subject properly," he coos, pushing you down onto the table, hoisting up your dress, "Let's start the examination, shall we~?"
Scaramouche scoffs, "Must I really be here for this?" Resting his body up against the doorframe with his arms across his chest as he eyes the two of you intently.
"This is a perfect opportunity for you, Scaramouche. Show us how well you can control yourself," Dottore says, slapping on a pair of medical gloves before he spreads your legs further apart, exposing your raw cunt, and you flinch, expecting his cold and methodical touch.
Feeling all eyes on you, you hide your face from embarrassment, and finally, you feel Dottore's gentle fingertips trail up your thigh, giving your thigh a tight squeeze, "D-Doctor…it hurts a little, p-please, I'm sensitive today," you whine, hoping maybe today he would show mercy. 
"I can't watch this," Scaramouche starts, but Dottore's voice stops him.
"Can't? Or won't~?" Dottore asks, continuing to squeeze your thighs before giving them a rough slap, causing you to cry out, "Surely you must feel something for the Princess," he presses playfully, "Look, you're even lingering when you could have left already~," Dottore chuckles, preparing two of his fingers, "Now come here, and let me show you how it's done," he says, voice dangerously low as he shoves his fingers abruptly up your cunt, immediately finding your sweet spot, causing you to let out a squeal.
"Enough of this!" Scaramouche shouts, striding over to the two of you, grabbing hold of Dottore's wrist, "I—," and noticing your flushed facial expression, his mouth begins salivating and swallowing, "I don't care about this... foolish desire of yours," he continues, feeling his gut twist and wrench over your vulnerable state as his manhood presses eagerly against his pants. 
"Could have fooled me, Mouchie~," Dottore starts, looking Scaramouche up and down, his crimson gaze lingering on the outline of Scaramouche's dick, "You say that but your body is betraying you," he says, removing Scaramouche's grasp as he thrusts his fingers in your wet cunt once more.
"Don't call me that, Doctor," Scaramouche says in disgust, swiping his hand away.
"A-ah—!" you moan softly; the discomfort of his thrusts cause your eyes to water as you glance up toward Scaramouche pathetically, "My P-Prince…please, Doctor is being much too rough," you plead with him, searching his disgusted lavender gaze, but they soften for a brief moment.
Reaching over, Scaramouche brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, "You're being much too noisy, my little Sakura," he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, "Fine, Doctor. I'll prove to you how well I can control myself. Hold down her wrists," he commands, and you gasp, trembling.
"Excellent!" Dottore says, letting out an ominous chuckle and removing his fingers; your slick juices stick to his gloves, "Now, Princess, Darling. You best behave for us~," Dottore coos, taking off his gloves and leaning over to boop your nose affectionately before pinning your wrists above your head, leaving you completely vulnerable, "Why don't you start, slow, Mouchie~? This is your first time, after all, isn't it? Eat her out," Dottore says nonchalantly. 
Plopping himself on the chair between your legs, Scaramouche licks his lips, taking a good look at your tantalizing womanhood. Feeling a crackle of electricity course through his veins in anticipation, he props your legs up over his shoulders, scooting you closer to his mouth and feeling his breath hitch; you hold your own, "L-like this?" he asks nervously, giving your slit a gentle lick and you shudder.
"P-Prince…," you mutter, as Dottore smiles wickedly above you, "Just like that…" you say breathlessly.
Appreciating your taste, his tongue ventures deeper, grazing over your clit and getting hooked on your flavor; Scaramouche lets out a pleasurable groan, his tongue continuously flicking at your clit before he gently bites at it, causing you to whimper. He can't help himself any longer. A small jolt of electro energy shocks you, causing you to tip over the edge, cumming lustrously in his mouth as he eagerly laps it all up, like a rabid dog, pulling you closer to him, now addicted as his cock aches for more. 
"I must say, I'm impressed, Scaramouche. I didn't think you had it in you~!" Dottore muses, noticing how you tremble from pleasure as he grins down at you, his own cock longing for more, "Now, let me show you how it's done," he says, releasing your wrists, making his way toward Scaramouche and pulling him away from your messy cunt.
You cry out as Scaramouche releases his mouth from your clit as it begs for more, "No—p-please don't stop," you beg pitifully, your dainty fingers sliding down towards your slit as you start making circles around your clit, your soft, pathetic moans ringing out.
Smirking, Scaramouche wipes his mouth on his sleeve, "So needy, aren't you? Maybe we can put your mouth to good use…" he says, looking up toward Dottore, who nods at him. Getting up, Scaramouche circles around you, "Be good for me. Get on your hands and knees, now," Scaramouche commands, reaching to remove his throbbing dick from his pants.
Dottore being beside himself with glee, helps you turn around, "Be a good little patient and do as he says, my little test subject~," Dottore coos, spreading your asscheeks apart, admiring the way you're dripping with lust. Positioning himself, his long cock springs out of his pants as he releases his button, "Is my test subject ready?" Dottore asks lovingly, giving your ass a hard smack. 
"J-just give it to me already," you beg, wiggling your ass upward, and Dottore groans at your show, "I…I want to feel both your big cocks in me~," you babble, forgetting about your previous pain.
"Well, you heard her, Mouchie~! Let's give her what she wants, hmm?" Dottore says gleefully, aligning himself with your cunt as he thrusts his cock into you with a glorious groan, your walls squeezing around him.
"I told you not to call me that, Doctor!" Scaramouche seethes as you let out a small squeak, driving Scaramouche to kiss you roughly, his tongue finding your parted lips as you accept him fully and pulling away, "You best stay quiet, little Sakura…otherwise, I may not be able to control myself," he says quietly, positioning his dick towards your mouth as you eagerly grasp it. 
"A-ah—," you moan as Dottore continues his thrusts. 
You start licking around the tip of Scaramouche's dick, lapping up his precum, and he leans his head back in pleasure, hitching in a breath. Entangling his fingers in your hair, he pulls on it, causing you to groan, but he's quick to thrust his dick deep in your mouth, shutting you up, "I said—be. Quiet," Scaramouche growls as he continues his intense thrusts into your mouth. 
Feeling your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your cries are muffled. Dottore is slow with his thrusts, taking in your tight cunt with multiple groans of exhilaration, "You're so tight, Princess~!" he says delightfully as you arch your back, taking him entirely.
Using your tongue, you eagerly lick across Scaramouche's girth as he continues his rhythmic jabs, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, "F-fuck—," Scaramouche groans as you start moving your hips along with Dottore's thrusts. 
Dottore, grinning wildly, grasps your hips, digging his nails into your bare flesh, and slams you onto his lengthy cock, causing you to gag on Scaramouche's dick. Throwing his head back, Dottore starts laughing as he slams you repeatedly onto his cock, "What a brilliant test subject you are, Princess. You're taking us so well~!" he muses, raising his hand to slap your ass once more, leaving behind a bright red handprint. 
Your muffled cries grow louder with each thrust as tears start streaming down your face, unable to keep up with the brutality they show. Scaramouche, taking notice of this, grins wickedly, "Now that's the face I want to see!" he coos, wiping your stream of tears away, "Doing so good for us, our little slut."
Starting to feel bored, Dottore slows his thrusts and spreads your asscheeks apart, "Your other hole is looking so lonely, Princess," he says with a frown, putting a single finger to his lips as he spits on it, "Actually, I have a better idea!" he chuckles, wiping his wet finger on his shirt as he removes his cock from your slick cunt, much to your dismay, "Scaramouche, let's change things up, shall we~?" 
"At your command, Doctor," Scaramouche says with a grunt as he also removes his dick from your mouth. 
Finally being able to breathe correctly, you catch your breath, wondering what else they have in store for you, "H-how do you want me~?" you eagerly ask, wanting nothing more than to feel their cocks inside you once more. 
Dottore sits on the chair behind you, his cock still twitching, "I want you, Princess, to sit in my lap. Now be a good test subject for me and take my cock in your ass, hmm~?" he asks as he strokes his cock for you and you nod.
Sliding off the table, you take off your dress, leaving yourself utterly bare for them and positioning yourself; you spread your cheeks for him and ease yourself on Dottore's cock with a pained squeal, "I-it hurts~!" you manage to say, gritting your teeth. 
While your ass adjusts to the length of Dottore's cock, you spread your legs wide to allow room for Scaramouche, who is now looming over you, aligning his cock with your cunt, "Oh sweet Sakura…," Scaramouche murmurs, kissing you on the top of your head as he slowly pushes in his dick. Feeling Dottore's small thrusts within, Scaramouche groans as his cock hits the back of your walls. Ultimately leaning down, his lips find yours once more in a fiery display of passion, tongues intertwining as you eagerly accept him with small moans into his mouth.
Dottore snakes his hands around your chest and finds your erect nipples with ease; he pulls and twists them teasingly. You can't hold back anymore, "What a promising test subject you are! Taking us both at the same time~" he murmurs in your ear as his thrusts into your ass becomes more ruthless.
Scaramouche once again silences your cries of pleasure, his tongue swirling around your mouth as his fingers make quick work of your clit. Feeling your toes start to curl, your walls start clenching around their dicks, and they both moan simultaneously. Pulling away from the kiss, you cry out, "I'M C-CUMMING~!" you scream, clutching onto Scaramouche's shirt as your cunt sprays all over his dick.
"Oh, f-fuck!" Scaramouche groans, thrusting into you harder to keep up with Dottore, and you squeal louder, "I-I can't hold back anymore, little Sakura," he says breathlessly, and with a final thrust, his hot seed explodes into your messy cunt. 
Dottore grins wide, slamming your hips down, forcing you to take the entire length of his cock, "Take it, my little test subject... Take us," he whispers against your ear as you continue to let out loud moans, "Well done!" Dottore happily says with a groan, your ass tightening around his cock as he struggles to keep up any longer. With a few more thrusts, his dick starts dripping with precum and pulling out; he paints your ass with his cum, "Goodness me~! What a mess." Dottore confesses, eyeing your trembling body, "Tsk tsk, a shame you came first, darling!"
Pulling out his dick, Scaramouche seals his lips with yours once more before pulling away, admiring the way his cum drips out of your cunt as you collapse onto his chest, "Little Sakura is so needy. Doctor, check her out for real this time. I'm sure she's in pain after that," Scaramouche gently says, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, and all you can muster is a whimper in response, your body still shaking.
Nodding in response, Dottore scoops you up carefully, placing you back on the table gently, "How are you feeling, Princess?" he asks inquisitively, pressing his lips to your forehead lovingly. 
Not being able to hold back your tears, they bubble over, "I'm so sore, D-Doctor!" you whine, shifting yourself to find a comfortable position, "Can you help me? I promise I'll be good... It hurts!" you plead pitifully.
"Tsk, tsk, Princess. You've forgotten; you've already been so good!" Dottore praises, and Scaramouche nods in response, agreeing with him, "Here, little one, take this, and you should be good as new~," he explains, taking out a vial of glowing blue liquid and handing it to you.
Taking it in your hand, you uncork the vial, and with a quick swig, you down it, and your whole body starts to tingle. After a few moments, you feel rejuvenated and reinvigorated, "Wow!" your eyes grow wide as they sparkle happily, "I feel good as new~! Thank you, Doctor~!" you muse cheerfully, giving both Dottore and Scaramouche a kiss on the cheek.
"Now, you should be getting dressed, little Sakura. Pantalone and Childe will be coming shortly, and I'm sure you don't want to anger them, now, do you?" Scaramouche instructs, handing you your dress. 
Quickly getting dressed, you twirl around for them adorably, feeling much better, and with a teasing glance, you say, "I could almost go for a round two~!"
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yakuzacanons · 20 days
Note
ok ok ok ok ok ok hear me out.... fem civillian reader stuck in a love PENTAGON with kiryu, daigo, majima, akiyama and saejima (am I crazy? Not at all) and hear me out! They all seem to get along as a group as they keep finding excuses to stay with her, they also do bicker alot with eachothers or try to steal her away for some time (none of them admit their crush to her tho), only ganging up when someone's bothering her. For some reason, Kiryu always manages to steal the show from his friends. (Oh my God I'm so sorry this is getting out of hand)
PLEASE this is so funny to me, I have been sitting on this ask for MONTHS now thinking about it. I am so sorry it took me so long but I finally have the goods, so here ya go!
First of all, the boys generally always do get along. This group dynamic is always fun to hangout with. Of course, YOU know who they are and their professions, etc. It was kind of scary at first; chances are, it was Akiyama that introduced you to the gang, as he's the only civillian there anyways.
Even though Akiyama was the one who started all this, you're pretty much equally close to all of them, the exception maybe being Daigo as he's the quietest and works the most. Chances are you just don't see him as regularly as the others.
You see Majima and Saejima the most and usually at the same time since the two tend to travel as a pair. They also bicker and tease each other (and you) the most. They're really into picking you up and carrying you around (Saejima IS better at this, by the way).
Kiryu and Daigo are more a mixed bag; sometimes you see them alone and sometimes they show up as a group since they work together. Both are always very kind and gentle around you but Daigo is the most noticeably shy at first. However, ironically he's the one that opens up the most around you as time goes on.
Akiyama is the first to notice that the other boys seem to like you as more than friends. He NEVER mentions this to you directly but he does love to stir the pot and ask you what you think of the other guys. He sometimes teases the guys as well, but only when you're not around. Mostly because he's fully aware he's had a crush on you for a while now and he can't blow his cover... but he also totally wants to sniff out how you're feeling or how they're feeling.
Kiryu is the hardest one to detect, man's stoic as hell. Honestly, he'll be the last one to realize he has a crush on you. Most of the time he's like "What? This is just how I am..." only to fully realize much much later that he is in fact only this way with you specifically and therefore you're really special to him.
Majima's the most likely to get physical with you but not in a sexual or uncomfortable way. He's a hugger for sure, which only makes Saejima and Daigo jealous in particular. Leans his head on your shoulder a lot too. Generally speaking, he's good at getting into close proximity with you.
Majima and Saejima compete the most. Very much "anything you can do, I can do better" deal which is hilarious for you and Akiyama to watch especially. There's been a couple times where the two of them bit off more than they can chew in a drinking challenge or something like that.
Akiyama teases them about it often, which only makes the three of them bicker more. Bickering just makes Daigo kind of shake his head or he'll try to make them make peace with each other which only makes them bicker with him, and so it goes on and on to your amusement.
Leave it to Kiryu to, whether he knows it or not, use these moments to get closer to you. He'll kind of just sigh and say something like "Ah, they're at it again, aren't they..." and joke about it with you. It isn't until the other four are done having their little tussle that they realize you'd spent the whole time just talking to Kiryu instead.
No one gets upset about it, although Majima might make some comment about Kiryu hogging your attention. It's always a little strange seeing some of the top brass of the Tojo Clan making a fuss over you; after all, you don't think you're all THAT special. Problem is, you are, very much so, to all five of them!
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rebornologist · 2 months
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Hi, Jyunie! I hope you're feeling well!
First of all, I really wanted to thank you for sharing your writings, they always make my day better. 💜
For my request, I'd like to see your take on this scenario: reader being Dino's S/o and Squalo's best friend.
Do you think they would get along fine, or bicker a lot? I kinda think Squalo is super protective, even though he pretends to not care a lot, so I can picture him threatening Dino right when the relationship started. On the other side, I think Dino would definitely try his best to become friends (in his head, they are since school years, but Squ denies it) with Squalo to make his S/o happy.
Anyways, thanks so much for keeping your requests open!
Also, you don't have to reply if it makes you uncomfortable in any way. Your health is the most important.
Hello Emyyy my lovee! Thank you for sliding this into my inbox, I love them both so much and this is such a fun dynamic. I penned this a bit late into the night, and honestly need to finish my reread of the series as a refresher of all the characters traits and interpersonal interactions in canon.. but I hope you enjoy :) All my love xox
♡ Dino as your S/O & Squalo as your best friend ✧
༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ♡ ₊˳⁺ ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚
Dino and Squalo are fascinating to me because they differ greatly in what they pride themselves in and where their loyalties lie, not to mention their contrasting temperaments. They’re a tortoiseshell cat and labrador retriever duo if I’ve ever seen one.
I see them as people that just keep finding each other in life, despite not intending to become close to one another, it kind of just happens. There’s a bond there, even if it’s just mutual respect and knowing that they can rely on the other (even if they would never want to do that).
I’d like to imagine that Reader would have known Squalo prior to the ring conflict, being a close friend of his, and not knowing Dino well/at all until Squalo got his ass handed to him and he reconnected with Dino in the hospital. They may not understand the Cavallone head’s intentions with saving Squalo, but it meant the world to them that they got to see their best friend in one piece. They could have gotten to know Dino better by running into him during their hospital visits. The relationship that ensued definitely developed outside of any interactions with Squalo involved, because they would have gotten their asses handed to them if either of them went to him for tips on how to woo the other.
Squalo’s invested in his friend’s wellness and success but is not the type to pry or think too much about their personal life—he has a lot going on with his work already, and if there was anything pressing, they would share without him asking. And that they do, earning them the most memorable shocked and wide-eyed look from the swordsman.
✧ ୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ♡ ₊˳⁺ ୨୧ ✧
“WITH WHO?! That Cavallone loser? You’re fucking with me.” He gives you an incredulous side eye when you finally mention that the date you’re leaving for is with Dino. You stand your ground, giving him a flat smile and a quick shake of the head.
“Nope, not joking.”
He holds his temples with his gloved hand for a moment, and you see his head dip as he sighs quietly in resignation.
“For fuck’s sake,” he turns to raise an eyebrow at you, his face twisted as if he just smelled something bad. “...why?”
✧ ୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ♡ ₊˳⁺ ୨୧ ✧
He asks out of curiosity, and would tell you “that’s enough” the second you start actually gushing about Dino. He’s smart enough to understand what your intentions may be with the Cavallone boss, but.. he still.. needs a moment to process the idea of anyone actually being worth your time and affections. He has a lot of pride in himself and by extension, the people he associates with. He respects Dino enough and can come to terms with the fact that in any case of you not being able to handle yourself, you’ll at least be in good hands. He realizes that now he’s doomed to meet Dino again for lunch or something, now that he’s your s/o. He pretends to mind it more than he actually does, he’s just not good at expressing himself.
While Squalo is processing this, Dino is, in fact, right outside ready to pick you up with his luxury car and a giant bouquet of flowers waiting for you.
Dino doesn’t see any issue with you being Squalo’s bestie and is actually... so happy that Squalo is the reason that he got to meet you again! He’s definitely the warmer one in any of their exchanges, but any tension between them is more about their differing loyalties than anything else, so they can at least both agree that you are an excellent individual.
Their bickering is minor, especially as time goes on and they grow used to the dynamic. In Squalo’s eyes, he doesn’t have to become Dino’s bestie just because he’s dating his best friend, and Dino is as amicable as ever. He cares just enough about not stepping on toes in the sense that he minds the PDA (he does this in general, but especially if he feels like it might be bothering someone in their presence).
Through you, Dino begins to learn more about Squalo. He’s the shit brickhouse and Reader is the one that gushes to their s/o about how much they love their best friend. Personally, I think that best friends are soulmates, so I can only imagine how much Reader has to share with Dino, and of course, he eats it all up. He loves learning more about Squalo on a level that only a personal friend would know, and not just what he knows about him as a swordsman and professional assassin. He also shares as much as you'd want to hear about his time in school and what "memories" he has from the alternate future. It's really amusing to see the differences in how the two describe the same events.
At some point Dino becomes involved in little things like your close friends' birthdays, Christmas cards, etc. Squalo thinks it’s totally extra and uncalled for, but Dino insists that it’s because they’re basically pals?!? Friends by proxy?! Nothing wrong with Squ being on the DinoY/N holiday postcard mailing list <3
Sometimes Squalo makes comments about how the two of y’all should “take it somewhere else”. Dino laughs it off and teases that Squ will most definitely be Reader's man of honour at the wedding, and Reader can decide to either shut down Dino in embarrassment or agree enthusiastically to torture their bestie further. All in good fun :’)
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this was so cute to think about I love grumpy sunshine sm help
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malka-lisitsa · 4 months
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What are your favorite ships for Katherine on this blog? It can be any kind! Tell me all of them!!
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OH MY GOD ID LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS???
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FR SO MANY PEOPLE ARE SO IMPORTANT TO KATHERINE?
Lets shake it up and start with platonic relationships first-
Katherine and Sarah (@unbearablyindifferent )
This was a rather slow burn friendship that started off as enemies, and over time they just grew to understand each other and it became a very important friendship to Katherine because it was her first real success story of redemption. Which was very important because it can be extremely discouraging to try your hardest and only have people care about your sins. Sarah was the first person to teach Katherine that she could be forgiven and she does deserve to be cared about.
Katherine and Elena ( @elenaes )
This one is really slow burning also and still in progress but when they aren't bickering, Elena is starting to see Katherine as a person and less of an enemy and hopefully they get to a place where they can be friends. It will take a lot of work on both ends, but I really hope they get there.
Katherine and Nadia ( @touchedbydestiny )
Good god the amount of shit these two have waded through is IMMENSE. Love and hate, vulnerability and drawing blood. Watching these two figure each other out and themselves on the way has been as rewarding as it has been heart breaking and I love every minute of it. The funny and the highly emotional.
Katherine and Lizzy ( @baby-royalty )
There are no words to describe how important this relationship is to and for Katherine. Lizzy is a lot of things to her, a beacon of hope, a reminder of her failures, her one true unconditional love- its a very complex relationship that I love.
Katherine and Caroline ( @multi-royalty )
This one is relatively new but this little verse where human Katherine and Caroline are room mates in college makes me happy. Katherine is relearning how to rely on people because she has no other choice, and Caroline is a wonderful person to be facilitating that, she's such a caring and good person over all even with her spicy moments.
There's definitely potential there relationships
Katherine and Alice ( @ravenskeeper )
This is such a fun dynamic, they're both survivors heavily guarded, but dying to feel something- and when their guards slip and that witty banter turns to vulnerability you can definitely feel the air thicken between them.
Katherine and Billy ( @hargrove )
This one is in it's very early stages but it definitely has some heavy potential to accidentally turn into more than Katherine intends it to. They are weirdly perfect for each other in their verse's context and I can't wait to see how this develops.
The actual romantic relationships
Aside from the obvious Steferine and Kathlijah ships bc absolutely those are ones i LOVE- I'll list a handful of special ones that stick out especially hard.
Katherine and Michael ( @langdhon )
As I've stated a few times this was a transactional relationship to start and somehow they went from you scratch my back I'll scratch yours, to actually really caring about one another on levels no one (including them im sure) expected to be on.
Katherine and Stefan ( @ripper-royalty )
The red string verse is such a good slow burn reunite verse that I adore with my whole heart. It's how s5 Should have gone tbh fuk plec fr. I write with a lot of Stefans and I adore each one and what they bring to the table, but the red string verse is just a deeply poetic verse that I will love forever. Steferine deserved to be end game.
Katherine and April ( @unsettledspirits )
Now this ship is my all time favourite for a lot of reasons. One of them being that it was just so highly unexpected. Katherine is very picky about ships- like super fucking picky idk why shes like that but she is. AND YET- Along comes this annoying little lemming that would let a vampire feed off her for a klondike bar, who has essentially no real use to Katherine and nothing to exploit.... but some how she stole Katherine's heart in a way that I can not explain to you. Katherine says she owns April, but April has always had Katherine in the palm of her hand she just has never noticed it. ( Katherine hopes she doesnt actually ever notice it either...)
April has Katherine genuinely trying to take care of her, protect her, and she can even get Katherine to apologize in her own way. There is so much that this girl gets from Katherine that even Stefan doesnt and I will never know why. It was never planned. It was never an idea in the making, it wasn't and then it was and it was SO POWERFULLY and SO SUDDENLY that it became the most important ship to me, because April gets a Katherine that no one else does. A very special Katherine. And Katherine deserves April. Because where other's would walk away, where others would throw her sins back in her face, April will hold her through the painful biting, the razer sharp claws of fear and anger, and April will meet Katherine's aggression with a gentle touch of reassurance. No one understands Katherine so accidentally perfect like April does. And literally- for zero reason.
Aprine is by far my favourite ship for Katherine because it wasn't born from canon, it wasnt born from planning or plotting, it wasn't a transactional relationship that evolved- it was pure and sudden and the first of it's kind for Katherine, and I can assure you it has both of our hearts forever.
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eliasiis · 1 year
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SINCE REQUESTS ARE OPEN ragbros with Lee Kaeya please-
oh my god this was so fun to write. first of all i am SO ler for kaeya like it's crazy. secondly. writing ragbros is so fun their dynamic if they were friends again is so fun to think about i love to read like... different interpretations of ragbros friendships but i stand by a mutual friendship of teasy bickering ok its just. chefs kiss mwah
reunited
ragbros <333
word count: 1.4k
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It hasn't been too long since Kaeya and Diluc... Reunited, for lack of a better word.
It's a very tentative sort of reunited- The kind where they're both afraid to say something that'll set the other off, or maybe they'll say something they don't mean and it'll shatter everything.
But that hasn't happened yet. They're careful around each other. They're cautious, walking on eggshells that if they think about it rationally, aren't really there.
But it's nice to... Get along again. If Kaeya sees Diluc in Mondstadt he has the privilege to actually have a conversation with him rather than pretend he never saw him at all.
Now, though, Kaeya leisurely strolls into Angel's Share. After hours, of course.
Diluc barely glances at the door before he speaks. "We're closed... Oh, it's you." If Kaeya weren't paying attention, he wouldn't have noticed the small upwards quirk of Diluc's lips. He makes himself comfortable on the stool near the bar, right across from his brother.
Kaeya does his usual smirk, leaning his elbows on the bar with his hands clasped beneath his chin. "If you're closed, you should lock your doors, don't you think?" He asks.
Rolling his eyes, Diluc crosses his arms. "Forgive me for that. What'll it be?" He asks, casually setting his hands down on the bar. It really wouldn't usually mean anything, but Diluc acting so casual even with Kaeya's presence around makes Kaeya so much happier than it should.
"Mmm.... Surprise me," He says, lazily tapping a finger on the cold, wood surface.
"What makes you believe I won't just give you grape juice?" Diluc teases, yet turns around and starts making one of those unbelievably delightful concoctions of his. God, they're good.
"You wouldn't do that to your poor brother, would you?" Kaeya says, starting with his damn puppy eyes- Diluc wasn't even planning to actually give him grape juice, but he averts his eyes anyway. Those eyes could make the most stone-hearted man crumble.
He presents Kaeya with a drink. It's pretty, that's for sure. Two colors layer over each-other, a peachy orange at the top and a nice, light pink at the bottom.
"Well, what is it?" He asks, swirling the drink around a bit. The colors mix a bit more. It's almost... entrancing.
"You said to surprise you. Try it yourself," Diluc says. He matches Kaeya's tapping on the bar, but his seems a bit more impatient, like he's waiting for Kaeya to try it. He knows his drinks are good, but he also knows that he knows Kaeya's preferences and this is a little... Different. On the topic of walking on eggshells, even this feels like one of them. Like making a drink he doesn't like could be...
(He doesn't use the word betrayal anymore. Not when it comes to Kaeya.)
"Mmm! Oh, Diluc, your skills never fail to amaze me." Kaeya takes leisurely sips of his drink, leaning forward on the counter. The comment is genuine, but his tone is playfully teasing.
"Is that so? I seem to remember you talking with Rosaria the other day... Hmm... About how you just can't stand a certain drink I make." Diluc remarks, making the most unamused expression he can muster- Which is to say, he still looks pretty amused.
Kaeya gasps, as if in offense. "Have you been eavesdropping on me? For shame, 'Luc. I should've known you'd do something like that." He shakes his head in disapproval. Diluc comes around the bar to sit on the stool beside his brother.
"You're always sitting right in front of me. Was I supposed to tune you out?" He asks, punctuating his remark with a gentle poke to Kaeya's side, just thinking it'd be a casual sort of contact- Something to shorten the distance between them just a little more, but he's surprised when Kaeya squeaks and bats his hand away, trying to cover it up with a cough.
"Kaeya... You're still ticklish?" He can't help but ask, letting his small smirk grow into a sort of fond smile mixed with something more teasing.
"I- Well, it's- Are you?" Kaeya's attempt to turn the attention off of himself is a total failure, and to save it he tries to retaliate with a poke to Diluc's side instead. This fails as well, when Diluc catches Kaeya's wrist in his hand before he can make it.
"Answer the question, Kaeya."
"...No, I don't think I will."
"Well, I can just find out myself then." Before Kaeya can make any attempt to run away or deflect, Diluc already has two hands squeezing at his sides, thumbs massaging into his skin over the thin material of his shirt.
"W-Wait! Nohohoho fahahahair! 'Luc, You bahahastard!" Kaeya squeals, covering his smile with one gloved hand and desperately pushing at Diluc's shoulder with the other.
"Are you in any position to be insulting me, Kaeya? For shame." He mimics Kaeya's earlier words right back to him, climbing up to scribble his fingers under his arms, to which Kaeya reacts with a high-pitched squeal and howling cackles. He slams his arms down as tight as he possibly can, still squirming about. "You'll fall off the stool if you do that," Diluc comments, still chuckling.
When Kaeya looks Diluc in the eye, he detects such a soft fondness that he has to look away. His squirming becomes significantly less because he wants to get away and more because he can't help it. "Oh, shuhut uhuhup! Nohoho, Luc, Not thehehere-!! AACK-!!"
He feels the lightest poke to his hips and Kaeya screeches. The only thing he can think to do is retaliate. He knows somewhere Diluc used to be incredibly ticklish and can only hope that he still is.
Grabbing at Diluc's ribs, Kaeya gasps with relief and curls up in his seat when Diluc flinches away.
"...I'll make you regret that, Kaeya."
Kaeya jumps out of his seat, holding his hands up in front of him as if that'll save him.
"Waitwaitwaitwait- 'Luc, H-Hold on, you don't want to do this!"
"Is that a threat?"
"I- What?!"
"Lost your wit, Kaeya?"
Diluc inches closer with a dangerous look in his eyes. If Kaeya's good at anything, it's running. He darts up the stairs with a silly, unrepressable grin on his face. His legs feel like jelly and he's almost bursting with a giddy energy as he hears Diluc's quick footsteps following him.
Before he can turn the corner, Diluc's dashed in front of him and he's just run straight into his brother, causing a domino effect. They both fall straight to the floor.
Kaeya can't help it, he rolls onto his side and doubles over laughing, because how can they still be so childishly stupid?
He cracks his eye open to look at Diluc, and he notices that they're both laughing. Diluc's covering his eyes with one hand, and his laugh is still so bouncy and happy, just as it was when they were kids. Only, now it has a more mature, rich sound to it. Kaeya rolls onto his back again, panting.
"We're not done here," Diluc says. He has an evil smile on his face and Kaeya does try to get up to run away again but his legs are jelly and he just flops back downward.
Diluc grabs his hips and starts clawing and Kaeya can't even think. The ticklish feeling is both delightfully silly and unbearably intense and he cannot believe this is happening right now. "N-No! Fuhuhuck! Oh, Archons, EEK-!! Dihihiluc! Stahahap, I can't! I cahahan't!!"
"Wow. You're usually a lot more cocky than that. Apologize." Diluc massages his fingers into Kaeya's hip-bones and he involuntary bucks, smacking at Diluc's hands to no avail.
"For Whaahahahat?!? I dihihidn't-!" Before he can finish his sentence, Diluc moves his one hand to scribble under his arms while the other stays at his hips and he just gives in, shrieking and bucking and trying to escape the hands of his evil brother. "I'M SORRY! I'm sohohohorry!" He apologizes without even knowing what he's apologizing for, but before he can even react, Diluc's hands have stilled and he's already standing.
Panting like an idiot on the floor, Kaeya glares at Diluc. As much as he can with that grin still plastered to his face, anyway. "Why? Explain what your goal was just now."
Diluc mockingly hums, as if really thinking about it. "I felt like it. You were apologizing for insulting my drink, by the way."
"Hmph. Well, maybe you should've taken my advice."
"Maybe you should watch your mouth before we go through all that again."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"I definitely would."
Kaeya rolls his eyes, playfully punching Diluc's arm and flinching when he receives an evil glare in return.
He missed this.
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basketprutas · 9 months
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WHAT IF? ✧*。
Somewhere down the road, we actually worked out?
Characters: Diluc & reader (no gender-specific terms were used)
Genre: lovers to exes so angst, tiny comfort if you squint. NOT set in an alternate universe.
Notes: First post, wow :0 Let me know what you think by sending something to my inbox!
Listen to this for maximum angst (Laufey - Promise) (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)
I recently started writing again; click here to learn more about me ^-^
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"Then I guess I don't love you anymore." 
Those words hurt. No, they stung. Diluc looked away, closing his eyes as he shook his head.
“So now what? Are we through? That’s it?” You ask, infuriated.
Your dynamic with DIluc has changed over the past few months. From playful bickering to clear, pure annoyance with one another. This fight wasn’t like the other fights you two would have. It was like everything changed so quickly, even though the both of you loved each other for years now.
But why can’t you move past this fight like the others?
“I guess we are.” He finally says.
Confused and mad, you turn around. “Okay then.” You breathe out, voice shaking. It hurt to let him go like this. Mad at one another, showing little to no care. You didn’t want to cry. Not at this point. So you left. 
He watched you walk away.
He let you walk away.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The first few months after the breakup was manageable. You quickly disposed of everything that was related to him in your room. You would cry, but it was for drunken nights with the tone-deaf bard, drinking your sorrows away just to be better the next day.
Everything reminded him of you. Things you used to buy for one another, things only the both of you would understand.
But in the month of finally letting go of one another him, you never saw Diluc in the middle of Mondstadt. When you would visit angels share, he was never there. When you had to pass by the winery, he wasn’t there.
Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t see him.
But in the time you did see him again, was when you realized, it was right for him to let you walk away.
Because at that moment, eyes meeting and bodies freezing in place, is when you realize you really don’t love him anymore. At least, not in the way you used to.
You walk up to him and wave your hand. Diluc remained still.
“Hey.” You say, smiling. “It’s been a while.” “It has.” Was all he could reply. His shoulders were tense, eyes blinking at a rapid pace. “How have you been?”
“All good. I’m actually preparing for a trip. I’m traveling to Inazuma and might not come back for a while…” You admit.
His eye widen.
“You’re leaving?”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The first few months of the breakup were horrible. He couldn’t accept it. You were gone, and he let it happen. 
He didn’t mean what he said. Did he? His head hurt. He doesn’t know what day it is, but all he knows is that it’s another day without you by his side.
Would all of this be different if he asked you to stay? To come back to him, to take back everything he said?
But in the heat of the moment, he knew he told the truth.
The past few months before the breakup were nothing but horrible fights. 
‘You’re ridiculous.’ he said. ‘And what, overreacting? You could’ve died out there, Diluc!’ You cried out. He sighed. ‘You know what I have to do for my job.’ ‘I know. But it doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.’
Memories like that played back in his mind, making him realize all you did was care for him.  His heart hurt at the thought of it. In one way or another, you did everything to show him you cared, and he only realized it too late.
His nights were sleepless but filled with silent sobs.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
“Yeah. Inazuma looked like a good place to go. I'll definitely miss everyone here.” You say, smiling.
You were smiling when he remained in pain. You were okay, and he wasn’t. The thought crushed Diluc. You, happy without him?
“Stay safe, then.” He replies, trying to gain back his composure. “I will.” 
“And Diluc,” You say before walking past him,
“Thank you. For everything. I wish you nothing but the best.”
You walked away this time on your own accord,
Leaving him back where you left him.
Or more like where he left you, this time in your place.
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addtl.
He wrote you a letter. He couldn't take it. Even after a year, he didn't like the underlying emotions he felt after leaving everything unresolved.
You didn't respond.
He wanted to go to you; he needed to.
But with an unanswered letter just sitting on your table, left to collect nothing but dust,
He knew he couldn't.
END.
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Notes:
So... how was it? I wrote this in a daze honestly I would write longer ones but I know if I did I wouldn't finish it so here's (to me at least) a short one.
Inbox is always open for suggestions and comments.
-Clara
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ETERNAL FLAME
-
Kate and Anthony were arguing, probably about something silly, but Kate doesn't even remember how it started. She only saw how her husband was getting more and more frustrated with her with every second that passed by. To be honest, that was kind of her goal for the evening anyway. 
She liked getting Anthony so worked up he didn't even care who saw it, because at the end of the day it was the bickering that always led up to the most amazing nights, with Charlotte as their latest perfect little example.
Tonight was actually the first night they went out together after her birth.
And it was a good night. Kate had felt excitement running through her veins from the first moment she saw her husband walking down the stairs with his gorgeous navy blue jacket on, and the butterflies in her stomach hadn't left her.
It didn't help how he kept looking at her during the evening. Every time he took a sip from his drink, his tongue stuck out a little too obscene. He made sure she was the only one who saw, but it was undoubtedly deliberate, meant to tease her and make her cave. 
Kate soon had seen her husband felt the same, and after that all was allowed. She tried to ignore how he bit his lower lip and made sure he always saw her neck, she wiggled her hips a little too obvious, sucked on her finger a few seconds too long, all with the knowledge he couldn’t stop staring at her, because he never did. Her Anthony was always looking at her.
That was the game they secretly, only conforming with their eyes, decided to play; who will give in to their desires first.
Although it was very clear there would be no losers at the end of the night, Kate didn't want to. A loss would be just as satisfying as a victory. It was just the principle of the thing.
So besides the obvious teasing, they had started arguing. Theve bickered about Hyacinth's dress, about the flowers in the garden, about Miles' new tutor, about the dinner they had that evening. It didn't stop, even when they were dancing, so close it was impossible to tell where he began and she ended, they argued about who got to lead.
It had led them here, in the gardens, panting heavily, undressing each other with their eyes.  Anthony practically dragged her out of the carriage, took her hand in his a little too roughly for any other night, but right now Kate didn't mind, because he led them to the gazebo. The gazebo where their life had started. The dynamics hadn’t changed; she was as furious with him now as she was then. The major difference was Kate, at this moment, after years of being married to her husband, it was forever, and no matter how they vexed each other; they would always end up together, probably naked. 
So when her husband finally snapped, ready to give in first, she waited a few seconds to take in her victory before she kissed him with such passion, she felt her husband's knees shake.
When she felt his lips on hers, his tongue entering her mouth, his hands on her butt and in her hair, it tasted sweet; victory always did.
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cha-melodius · 6 months
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OMG I remembered I have another ask for you: I can’t seem to find The Man from Uncle to watch in the UK, which is a shame bc I want to read your fics about it and also Henry Cavill gets me all 🫠 ever since he wore a henley on Superman. So, here’s my question: tell me a little bit about it? A little backstory on Napollya (iirc from your posts 😂) so that maybe I can just enjoy the fics? Pretty please? x
Back in action for asks! *cracks knuckles*
I would love to give you some backstory! (Also, if any of my TMFU folks are reading this and know where to stream it in the UK, please chime in!)
The good news is that for a lot of my AUs you probably don't need a huge amount of the background to appreciate the dynamic. It's a pretty classic enemies to friends to lovers setup, with the added bonus that (in the movie) they are actually true enemies rather than just people who dislike each other haha. I am going to put the rest of this behind a cut—no major spoilers for the movie, but it's gonna get long lol. So if anyone else also wants a character rundown + some important stuff about their dynamic so they can dive into some of my other fics, here's your primer!
Ok, so character rundown:
Napoleon Solo: aka "Cowboy," aka "The CIA's finest", formerly a top tier art thief who no one could catch, until he finally tripped up and got arrested. The CIA plucked him out of prison to work for them, and his handler still treats him like criminal dirt. Enjoys fancy cooking, classic yet fashionable suits, is utterly charming, a massive flirt, supposed to be the 'womanizer' but consistently shows a refreshing respect for women (especially given the James Bond comparison).
Illya Kuryakin: aka "Peril", aka "The youngest person to join the KGB", a giant (6'5"), inhumanly strong, super hostile and gruff exterior, surprisingly bad liar, polite king to little old ladies, actually softer than a marshmallow on the inside. His father was a Soviet official who got thrown in the gulag when he was a kid for embezzlement, forcing his mother into a kind of prostitution to survive. Probably resulting from that trauma, he suffers from dissociative episodes when he gets extremely upset in which he does things like trashes hotel rooms (his hands shake when he feels one coming on). Manipulated by his handler with threats of being sent to the gulag like his father. Favors turtlenecks and simple outfits, also a fashion snob. Extremely attached to his father's watch, which he wears.
Gaby Teller: aka "Chop Shop Girl", East German auto mechanic who's father was a nuclear scientist pulled out of Germany by the Americans during the war, leaving her behind as a kid. No-nonsense, prefers slacks when dressing herself, sometimes plays mother to our bickering boys. Possible alcohol problems.
Alexander Waverly: British Naval Intelligence, ultimately organizing the operation, a bit of an asshole but in a charming way, keeps together the team at the end as UNCLE (independent spy organization).
Victoria Vinciguerra: The evil mastermind. Napoleon sleeps with her at one point to save the operation, later she drugs him and leaves him to be tortured. Very tall, very fashionable.
Also other minor character you may come across in AUs: Oleg (Illya's KGB handler), Sanders (Napoleon's CIA handler), Alexander Vinciguerra (Victoria's husband), Rudi Teller (Gaby's Nazi uncle).
The main thrust of the movie is that Napoleon and Illya are both sent to East Berlin to try to extract Gaby for their own purposes, only to learn that they will actually be force to work as a team to take down the bad guys. They actively try to kill each other in not just their first but also second meeting. There's a scene where they argue over fashion while buying Gaby a new wardrobe that is *chef's kiss*. Extreme levels of banter and snark in every interaction. BUT, as these things go, they gain a grudging respect for each other. Napoleon saves Illya's life, Illya saves Napoleon's life. They work together as a team exceptionally well. By the end, they are trading extremely fond insults. There are moments of self-sacrificial plays to save a teammate you're not even supposed to like, gift giving, betraying your principles/agency for the other person. There is a canonical will-they-won't they between Illya and Gaby during the movie (one of the reasons another major ship in this fandom is an ot3 between them), but nothing actually happens.
I think that basically sums up their dynamic and gives you the backstory you'd need for the AUs especially. For the post-canon ones it's a little tricker since I'd rather not give away the main twist of the movie, BUT a lot of them are kind of "in the future working as a team already" setup that don't really reference movie events, so you'd honestly probably be fine there too.
All right, that's a lot of text lol. I hope it helps, and I hope you enjoy the fics if you decide to dive in!
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dazedsy · 6 months
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GUESS WHOS BACKKK actually ngl yuyeon gotta be my fav ship but im so interested in shuqi. they would be cute in any dynamic bc of how alike + loud they both are right?? yuqi would deffo top though
SO TRUE liiekkrkkf theyre so silly funny cute i totally see them bickering all the damn time. even sex. IM SORRY okay i swear ill shut up but likkeee shuhua who's sooo into annoying yuqi and does everything just to make her mad, cuz she loves how yuqi gets all harsh when shes being punished 🤭🤭🤭
no cause when shu is so fucked out already and yuqi, the annoying shit she always is, always finds a way to mock and tease her pointing out how shu got fucked so dumb—her drool on her lips, her hands gripping the sheets, her legs shaking as they're wrapped around yuqi—already she cant do anything but whine and tear up at her words 😫😫😫😫😫😫 good god topqi has my heart
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splenderai · 2 years
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a gentle rain pitter patters against the windows of darius' spare room as he and alador attempt to clean out the space. they'd recently decided, along with the children, that there was more than enough room at the blight manor for darius and hunter to move in and have their own private spaces, so they have spent the better half of the day sorting through darius' (many) possessions with some good natured bickering mixed in.
they stumble upon a shallow box filled with darius' old hexside yearbooks. alador flashes a grin at darius, and, before the latter has a chance to protest, pulls out the top book and yanks it open to a random page. darius, ever dramatic, heaves a sigh and concedes that he supposes they can take a break and have a little stroll down memory lane.
they spend what must be an hour or two leafing through the pages, pointing out pictures that evoked memories both good and bad and laughing at all the inside jokes and cheesy signatures scribbled by their classmates on the last few pages. the years seem to melt away with each minute, and it almost feels like they're teenagers again, laughing easy without a care in the world.
as they make their way through the book from their junior year, there's an ear-marked page that alador stops on, his finger tracing along the surface as he passes from one photo to the next. at the center of the page, he notices one picture within the collage that he's never seen before: it's a candid shot of him and darius slow dancing at that year's grom. he still vividly remembers the day darius had asked him out to the dance and then laughing like a jackass when alador's entire face lit up a fierce shade of red. alador looks up from the page at the man sitting next to him, who rolls his eyes, but there's an unmistakable fond smile tugging at his lips.
"bet you it was raine who snapped that one," darius says simply, reaching over to turn the page. a calloused hand catches his before he can do so. darius glances at alador as the latter sets aside the yearbook and moves to stand up, pulling gently on darius' hand to get him to rise as well.
alador leans in close to darius and casually drapes his arms over darius' shoulders, a crooked smile on his lips. "do you remember the song they were playing then?"
darius snorts, shaking his head in disbelief before gently knocking their foreheads together. "of course i do, idiot," he murmurs, placing his hands on alador's hips before he begins to hum the tune they'd danced to decades ago.
they sway in the middle of the room just like that, chuckling as they try not to bump into any of the boxes sprawled out on the floor around them. they're not youngsters anymore, darius thinks idly as he traces the soft wrinkles and lines around alador's eyes with his own. they've lived enough years to fill a whole lot more of those books with memories, a few shared but most separate. hopefully that dynamic will shift the opposite way now as they build a future together.
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