ice-sculptures · 2 years ago
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i used to think i was an enemies to lovers person but i've come to realize that i'm actually a best friends to lovers person
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oceantornadoo · 8 months ago
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bad day (simon riley x reader, best friends to lovers)
honestly, you should have seen it coming. staying in a safe house with four men who have never ending stomachs? but today, it was the last straw.
“you ate my last cookie?”
soap’s face dropped, jaw open. your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears forming in your eyes. you never showed this much vulnerability in front of the team, and he was flabbergasted. he shot a look at gaz, who was equally as confused. “‘m sorry, bonnie, i didnae ken-“ you pushed your hands on the table, shoving your chair back and out. “it’s ok. gonna take a nap.” you were wiping your eyes furiously, feeling unstable. first you got your period four days early (asking price to add pads to the shopping list was something you never wanted to experience again), then you couldn’t find your heating pad, and now your cookies were out? maybe it was the hormones, but you were done.
“oof.” you had ran into a thick wall. scratch that, the wall was moving. your vision was blurred by tears you refused to shed that you didn’t even realize it was your closest friend ghost. “dove?” you hiccuped. why did he always have to be so nice to you? gruff and mean-sounding to everyone else, but an avid listener and sweet talker when it came to you. “jus’ trying to get to my room, didn’t see you. sorry l.t..” you tried to maneuver around him, but unfortunately a 6’4 machine of a man did not move easily.
“why you cryin’, baby?” shit, simon did not mean to call you that. he did not want to have this conversation right now, especially when you looked like you were about to break down. you were always so strong, having to work ten times harder as a woman in the military, and he was always careful to not undermine you or your struggles. unfortunately, that landed him firmly in the friendzone for the past year, unable to confess his feelings without breaking your trust. he maneuvered you to the closest room, which happened to be his. he sat down on the bed, intending to sit you down next to him, but instead you still stood, walking in between his parted legs.
“‘m sorry, just on my period and everything hurts and it’s all hitting at once.” your eyes were red, avoiding his. he could see you were in pain, and as someone who had endured enemy torture and the hardest forms of training, his heart never hurt as much as it did now. he reached a gloved hand towards your face, brushing away your tears. his other hand came to your lower belly, rubbing circles over your clothes. “shhh, ‘s okay. you wanna sit down?” you shook your head in disagreement. you felt like a child, but you were never allowed to be weak outside of your own room. for some reason today, you let simon riley see you weak.
you walked around his body and laid on top of his covers, curling into a fetal position. he let you get comfy, finding a way to lay down that lessened your cramps. finally, you were done moving. “si?” you never called him that unless you absolutely needed him. he got up and locked the door, not wanting to disturb your peace. “yeah, baby?” might as well use it now, you hadn’t complained. if anything your face softened when he said it, and simon riley would die a thousand deaths just to see a moment of relief on your face. “will you lay with me?”
he eagerly stripped out of his gear, climbing on top of his bed to lay down with you. he placed a hand on your arm, letting you choose where you wanted him. you dragged his hand under your sweatshirt, using it like a heating pad for your cramps. you let out a soft moan of pleasure and he answered it with a low growl, pulling you into him by the stomach. his thumb caressed your bare skin with small circles, memorizing every dip and valley. he strived to commit the moment to memory, not knowing if you’d ever be this vulnerable again. “feel better, dove?” you nodded, finally succumbing to sleep that had evaded you the past night. he smiled under his mask, placing a small kiss to the back of your head.
finally you were at peace, and all because of him.
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pressureplus · 2 months ago
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Ourmmm can I request a headcanon of nicknames Sebastion and the reader would give each other? Only if ur not busy of course 🙏🏾
This one's really cute, absolutely! nobody has any need to be shy here! ❤️
We're here for the fish content.
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💖Sebastian Solace Nickname Headcannons💖
Warnings: N/A
◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟
If You're Enemies:
• He's mean to most people but he's AWFUL to you
• Half of the things he uses to refer to you are curse words
• Bastard, Dumbass, Dickhead, ect... He can't even be bothered a good portion of the time, not with you
• And then there's days where he's feeling EXTRA
• "You look like your mother dropped you into a plinko machine."
• "Do you always act like you crawled out of the dredges of 4Chan?"
• "Oh, there's my favorite little insect!"
• The second he finds out you have mommy issues, he calls you motherless. You're missing your left eye, hand, leg, or ear? He'll call you Righty. Deformities and Mutations alike, he's petty and likes to take cheap shots
• Chance to call you by your name: 0%
If You're Acquaintances:
• You're probably a buyer, so Patron, Customer, Unfortunate Guest, and Expendable are all on the table
• If you work with him religiously, he might call you something special like 'Traitor' or 'Survivor'
• Customer Service says "try make sale", so he's most often short but sweet. Most of his mean commentary comes out when you're not in the shop
• "Oh, now, There's just the person I wanted to see! Welcome back."
• Doesn't talk to you much, so there isn't a ton of things he really calls you, you're towing a pretty neutral line
• Chance to call you by your name: 60%
If You're Friends:
• Actually genuinely wants you around, so now you get actual, meaningful interactions with this man other than buisness!
• He calls you Stupid and he calls you Clumsy, even occasionally calling you Reckless, Dummy, or Sucker
• If you're a little goblin, he calls you Crawler and Vermin
• And then he turns around and calls you Bestie, Favorite, and even Treat
• "Well if it isn't the Star of the Show!"
• Tends to lean towards positive interactions, as having someone he can truly call a friend to him makes him feel a little better about living in a place like this
• Chance to call you by your name: 40%
If You're Lovers:
• Oh God what have you done? How did you even get this far?
• He's SMOTHERING as a lover, and this absolutely extends to the way he refers to you
• Before, when you were Idiot, Crawler, or Treat? Now you're his little Idiot, Crawler or Treat
• "Is that my little star I see over there?"
• "Ah, there you are, my treasure, I was wondering where you'd gone off to."
• "There's my sweet little light, what are you doing?"
• "Are you doing well, my love? You aren't hurt?"
• "If it isn't my darling little diver."
• Likes that he's bigger than you not to emphasize that you're tiny and sweet to him
• Still hits you with something mean every now and then, probably poking fun at you in some way, most likely as an inside joke or a nickname from wherever your relationship started
• (RIP if y'all started as enemies, he's still going to be a bitch to you on his Extra days, it's a funny habit now... Though I guess now it's playful so you win some you lose some, right?)
• I'm sure you wouldn't have it any other way, you know the sassy fish you decided to keep very well by now
• Chance to call you by your name: 5%
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nsharks · 9 months ago
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bleeding blue | apocalypse au
part eighteen —other parts
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pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.
Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.
Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"
Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.
The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.
"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."
"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 
"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.
"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.
His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."
The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.
When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.
Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.
"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."
You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"
"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."
He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."
Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.
He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.
His expression shifts. "You should have said something."
"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."
"Still."
"Still what?"
He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."
"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"
"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."
You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."
Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."
He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."
"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 
He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."
With a groan, she trudges away. 
The sparring continues.
Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.
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"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."
Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 
"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."
The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 
"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 
"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."
"Went out where?"
Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."
Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"
"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 
Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."
The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."
"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 
This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"
"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."
You glance up. "Had?"
"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"
"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."
Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."
For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."
Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.
"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.
You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."
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Music.
It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.
Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.
You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.
The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.
When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.
You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 
It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.
The edges of the door disappear.
A sickening silence replaces your screams.
And then—
"Twix."
You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 
When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.
"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."
When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.
"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 
"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.
Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing."
You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."
"I'm aware."
Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 
"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 
Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.
Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 
You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.
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"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."
Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.
"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 
"Right. Something about a box, huh?"
"Can we just forget about it, please?"
"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."
"I washed it the best I could."
The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."
As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."
"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."
"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 
"It's important to understand your ally."
"Oh. Is that what we are?"
His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."
"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."
"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 
"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."
"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."
"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."
His brows lift. "Fair enough."
A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."
Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 
"You aren't focused today," he accuses.
"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 
"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."
He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.
"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"
"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."
His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."
You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."
"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."
Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."
"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"
"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 
"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."
He swings.
A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 
And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.
Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 
"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.
"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."
"So you admit it, then. I got you down."
"I allowed it."
"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."
His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."
Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."
He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"
You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"
"Pretty much."
By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin. 
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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago
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Chapter 9: Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader "Petals."
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy
Word Count: 6.7K
Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual jokes, sexual tension, Nightmare, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Drowning, Mention of Vomiting, SUPER GROSS SUPERPOWER, Reader is really oblivious, and I mean REALLY oblivious. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.
A/N: This chapter is just really fluffy and I didn't want to keep it to myself, because it makes me so happy. Well, after the first part at least.
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Rain glazed all the sharp edges of the world outside the car, smearing the drops against the windows with a heavy hand. The humid air breathed and iced the glass, but did not disrupt the droplets that raced quickly by, catching and sparkling in the sporadic streetlights along the twisting road.
Your mother was singing softly along to "Nights In White Satin", the haunting melody building with every note, your father's deep baritone weaving with hers to make a wonderful melody in the silence of the night. The smell of rain seeped through the ancient air conditioning, the heady scent of wet earth and clean water filling the cab of your family's car.
 You smile to yourself in the backseat, sleepy and content, tracing a single finger against the smudged glass to watch each raindrop race against the fogged glass. You could still taste the chocolate ice cream on the tip of your tongue from the cone your parents have bought you on the way home, your hands and cheeks sticky with the remains. The leather seats of your family car are worn in and soft beneath you from years of family trips all over the United States. There was still a loose marble rolling around back and forth with every gentle rock of the car as it moved smoothly over the wet roads, a comfort when you were a baby and you couldn't sleep and your parents drove around the block to send you into the sweet abyss.
The sharp plunk of rain against the windshield is heavy, but your father reaches to turn up the song on the radio, flicking his eyes to smile at your mother one final time. And as he glances back up he shouts something.
You can't hear what it is, only that when you look out the windshield you see a brilliant flash of white light coming straight for the car and feel the car jerk to the right as your father yanks on the wheel. There's an awful sound of concrete against metal, a high pitched screech that you can't forget followed by the almost inhuman scream of terror that comes from your mother's mouth, as the car breaks through the concrete side of the bridge and goes off the road.
There's an awful moment of weightlessness and when the car hits the water everything goes black.
You jolt upwards out of bed, screaming at the top of your lungs, chest heaving and gasping for air as the memory of water filling your lungs floors your senses. You shudder involuntarily, rocking back and forth as you try to shake off the memory of your parent's death.
No one really knew what happened that night, what the bright light was that you saw or where it came from. The detective said that it had to be lightning, but it hadn't looked like lightning to you. Your parents had drowned inside, but you survived. When the police arrived on the scene of the crash they found you on the bank of the river with the branches of the trees forming a protective cage around you. The back windshield of the car had been completely destroyed, blown inward when the trees along the bank had reached in to pull you out.
You always thought it was funny that somewhere deep down your powers took over, you weren’t  sure if it was when you blacked out or if you somehow forgot what happened in your parent's final moments, but all you knew was that you were alive because you called out for help and the trees answered.
A part of you still felt guilty. It had been your fault that you were out. There was a music recital at school, they'd come to support you, Darren had stayed home too busy doing homework to care. He was taking courses at the local community college, too involved in his own life to pay any attention to yours, except when he needed you. You weren't sure why the trees hadn't saved them too, why you were the only survivor.
You reach for your bedside table, scrambling in the darkness to find the inhaler that usually helps, before finally putting it to your lips and taking in a long puff.  It helps for a moment. Your heart was still beating fast, a cold sweat making your sleep shirt stick to your back, as another involuntary shudder works through your body, the sound of your mother's scream ringing in your ears.
You press your face into your knees trying to calm your breathing when your bedroom door snaps in half. Pieces of the door shoot through the air like shrapnel as Ben appears in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants holding one of the lamps from your living room.
"Ben what the fuck?" You scream, heart already feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest.
"What happened? What's going on? Why did you scream?" He shouts back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for invisible intruders.
"Get out of my room!" You shout.
"Not until you tell me what's going on." Ben's eyes fall on you once more and you watch the tension in his shoulders drop an inch. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." You lie taking in a deep breath, hoping that you can calm down your heart beat and that he's not paying attention to that.
He was.
"No, you’re not."
"Yes I am." You didn’t feel like doing this with him, didn’t feel like telling him exactly why you'd just woken up screaming or deal with him teasing you.
It had been a few days since the party and you had been trying your best to make things as normal between the two of you as you could, especially after you'd yelled at him. It had been more awkward the day after, not because of what you said to him, but because of what he yelled at you after the supe got away. He hadn't come back to the apartment until after you'd gone to bed and when you woke up on Sunday morning, Ben had gotten you coffee again when he went out to get a newspaper.
You figured that was his way of apologizing for yelling at you. That and he had insisted on walking to "Please Don't Die" with you on Monday and Tuesday morning, as if he thought that you were incapable of doing it yourself and then showed up when you got out of work at 5 to walk you back home. You didn't know how he figured out what time you got off of work, only that when he showed up to get you on Monday, he glared at Jake who was debating with you about which of Rory Gilmore's love interests was the best.
Jake had watched a few episodes with his younger sister when she visited him a few weeks ago to tour some of the colleges in New York, and she'd gotten him hooked. Annie and you had watched Gilmore Girls forever ago, but you'd started watching a few episodes now that it was fall and that meant you were being reminded of how much you obsessed over the show when you were younger.
Ben had stood there watching the two of you, noticing how close Jake was standing to you and how Jake seemed to smile even wider and how Jake spoke animatedly to you over the display of cactus all the while frowning and glaring daggers in the back of Jake's head.
You'd be lying if you said that you weren't reconsidering dating Jake. Ben had made it clear what he wanted and despite how much you were attracted to him, you knew that he didn't want to be what you wanted, and you didn't want to force Ben into something or try to turn him into something he wasn't. So you were trying to think about what it would be like dating Jake. He definitely had the kind of qualities you were looking for, he was one for relationships, he had the same sense of humor you did, he liked plants almost as much as you, he was kind and compassionate, and he had a warm smile.
The problem was you couldn't imagine what it would be like to date him and for some reason the thought of dating Jake didn't bring you as much joy as it would have a few weeks ago, and you had no idea why that was.
You also didn't know why Ben came to pick you up or forced himself to walk with you to work, especially if he hated Jake so much and hated being around Jake, but Ben did, and then bought you a cup of pineapple iced tea from your favorite shop around the corner from your apartment on the way home even though you insisted on paying for yourself. He thought that pineapple iced tea sounded disgusting, but because you liked proving him wrong, you'd let him have a sip and he'd grudgingly agreed that it wasn't "that bad," but then took another sip of it when you put it down on the kitchen counter for a second to pet Bean when he thought you weren't looking.
Honestly you didn't understand why he was so eager to walk with you to work or why he wanted to walk you back to the apartment. Not when Ben seemed to fill his life and all his time endless dates with the women of New York City, something that you noticed he hadn't done in the past three days since the party. You always figured he had better things to do than walk with you, and yet he had making somewhat pleasant conversation, well, pleasant for Ben which was not the same as pleasant for other people. But it wasn't terrible. He did occasionally tease you because you couldn't walk past a wilting plant without perking it up, but that was to be expected.
"No, you're not." Ben put the lamp down on the floor by your door. It didn’t have it's shade on it anymore and you figured that Ben had ripped it from the living room table when he heard you scream, throwing the shade to the floor when he kicked down your bedroom door.
The same door that was lying in pieces on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.
How am I going to explain that to the super?
"Yes-" You gasp for air and shove the inhaler in your mouth again to take another puff and this time it takes. "I am." You finish, swiping your free hand over your face to rid yourself of the tears, but for some reason they won't stop. "Please, Ben just go-" Your voice breaks for a moment and you bury your face into your knees again.
You really wanted him to go, didn't want to talk to him about this, didn't feel like putting up with his teasing or with his disgusting jokes, and didn't want him to make fun of you for using an inhaler, the same one you'd had prescribed by your doctor when he told you that your nightmares were causing panic attacks. You didn’t have to use it all the time, just when you had the dreams.
You feel the end of your bed dip and you glance up from your knees at Ben. He's sitting there, not quite looking at you, instead he's petting Bean where he was guarding over you as you slept.
"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but I don't want to leave you when you're like this Petals." He says it more to the cat than to you, barely audible. Bean was leaning into Ben's hand as if Ben being in your bedroom, sitting on your bed was normal.
You suddenly feel like you’ve been struck by lightning. What he said was so honest so caring so completely unlike the Ben you knew that all you could do was stare at him. If anything the shock of what he said seemed to help you regulate your breathing and calm down from the images you had just seen in your nightmare.
Ben doesn’t say anything, just continues to rub Bean under his chin, sitting on the end of your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world and as if he hasn’t said anything at all.
You stare at him for longer than you should, tracing the dips of his broad shoulders, the gentle freckles that graces his skin, and muscles as the taper down his back. You’d seen him shirtless before, but every time you’re unprepared for how good he looks.
Right now he looks, different. He looks softer.
You’re not sure if it’s because of the yellowed light from your bedside table lamp or if it’s because he’s petting Bean, but there's something about him that feels more open, as if he genuinely cares, and it makes you want to talk to him. You sit there for another few minutes calming your breathing, still holding on to your knees, but you prop your chin on your knee so you can look at him.
Why won't he leave? Why does he care so much that he wants to stay here?
Bean stands and saunters up the bed to press his head into your shin as if he's checking up on you. "Hey buddy." You whisper hoarsely, rubbing him behind his ears.
Ben turns his body, folding one of his legs under him and the other hangs off your bed so that his bare foot is sitting on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. He's watching you with an unreadable expression, eyes following the trail of your hand on Bean's back, but Ben does not break the silence.
"I have nightmares sometimes." You whisper. Bean's thick gray fur was falling through your fingertips in a comforting way, his luminous amber colored eyes looking up at you. "But I'm okay."
Ben still doesn't say anything.
The high pitched ring of the metal of the car on concrete makes you wince and he doesn't miss it. You watch his hand twitch as if he wants to touch you, but instead he lays it on the bed between the two of you, sinking into the soft comforter.
"I've never heard you scream like that before." Ben murmurs under his breath. "I thought that-"
You glance up at him, eyes wide.
He runs a hand through his hair nervously, as if he's uncomfortable continuing the conversation. "I thought that the supe was in here with you."
"The electric guy?"
Ben nods once.
"No I don't think he's in here. Unless he's hiding under the bed or something." You smile weakly at the joke, but you can still feel the jolt of the car hitting the water and the sharp snap of the seatbelt cutting into your chest. This time you successfully fight the shudder.
Ben doesn't smile. "The nightmares aren't about him are they? Or when I-" He stops mid sentence eyes flicking away from you, ashamed.
You understood what he was asking. Ben and you, like any modern day meet cute, had met mid-fight, the night that Butcher took him to Vought to take down Homelander. Back then you hadn't been working for Butcher, you'd showed up with Annie, and when Ben advanced on her you'd shoved Annie out of the way from his outstretched hands.
You hadn't been fast enough to escape yourself and he had hauled you up into the air by your throat, his chest glowing a dangerous orange spreading up through his skin until it turned his eyes a molten gold. Your hands had held on to his wrists so tight that you felt like your skin was burning and you were desperately trying to think of a way out of this. But just as you thought he was going to explode, his eyes had locked on yours and you watched something move through them that wasn’t rage. Ben had thrown you across the room and gone after Butcher instead.
"Is that why you didn't want me to move in?" Ben's gaze is on you, something deep buried in his eyes that looks a lot like regret. "Because you're afraid of me? Because I hurt you?”
“Ben, no. I’m not afraid of you.” You touch his hand where it rests on the bed gently. He had hurt you. The bruising around your neck for the few weeks that followed was ugly and had to be covered up with turtlenecks and foundation to avoid people on the street asking you if you needed help.
But it hurt you more to know that he thought that you were afraid of him and that he worried about that. Because you weren’t afraid of Ben. Yes he lost his temper and would yell very loudly and always felt the need to scream his opinion to the world, but you didn’t think that he was a bad guy despite what he had done. If you had been afraid of him then you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment, let alone live with your cat.
He looks relieved when you say it. “Then what are they about?”
“I-“ You swallow, before dropping your gaze back to your knees. You retract your hand, but Ben turns his over, palm up and gently holds yours, not quite squeezing it, just laying beneath yours.
What in the actual fuck is happening?
You glance down at where he’s holding your hand, the warmth from his body comforting like the first day of summer, seeping through your body as it does to take away the chill the nightmare left behind. It seemed a little awkward for him, as if he wasn't sure what to do now that your hand was laying on top of his. He wasn't even entwining your fingertips together, but your fingers just barely curved over the thick muscle at the base of his thumb. His hand was bigger than yours, rough and worn in just the right places.
“It’s about my parents.” The words feel like cotton in your mouth. “The night they died.”
"Oh."
You bite the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure that you wanted to talk to him about this. You'd never wanted to talk to anyone about it. The only person you'd ever spoken about it with outside of your family was Annie. But he was here, and he was looking at you differently, and he was actually holding your hand, sort of, and he was acting so different than any time you'd spent together.
"I was twelve. It was raining and we were coming home from a music recital." You couldn't remember what it was you sang, just remember the people coming up to congratulate you and the large bundle of gardenias that your parents had bought you. "My dad was driving and they were singing in the front seat together."
You felt the tears begin to build behind your eyes, throat closing. You can't really look up at him now, all you do is stare at where his hand sits under yours. " We were crossing over a bridge and there was this brilliant flash of light, my dad swerved and the car went off the road."
Ben's hand finally curls around yours. "You were in the car?" His voice is lower now, emotion lacing his words. 
You nod once. "In the backseat." You whisper. "I can't really remember what happened after we hit the water, all I know is that the trees saved me."
"What?"
"I don't know if I somehow called to them as I was drowning, but they broke through the back windshield and pulled me out of the car, but my parents-" Your voice breaks and you don't try to finish the sentence.
Why am I telling him this? He doesn't care. All he wants is-
"I'm sorry." Ben murmurs, interrupting your chain of thought, sounding sincere.
You shrug. "I'm sorry I woke you up."
Ben raises his free hand to tilt your chin up to face him, and you quickly get lost in the greenish glow that draws you in each time he looks at you. "Don't be sorry for that y/n. I'd rather be wrong and you be okay, than sleep through you screaming like that." Ben swallows. "I didn't like it." You watch the ends of his lips twitch for a second and he smiles. "And we both know how much I like to hear women scream my name.”
Despite the conversation you'd have previously, you snort and smile faintly. "Have you always been like this? Or is it a recent development?"
Ben shrugs, thumb rubbing just barely over your cheekbone. "I like to think of myself as charming."
"Of course you do."
"You don't think I'm charming Petals?"
"Nope."
"Still a bad liar." He laughs releasing your jaw to gently touch the scrunched skin between your eyebrows that gave away your lie.
"I don't really think you're that great at lying either." You roll your eyes, swatting away his hand. "At least I can pretend to like people."
"I can pretend to like people-"
"Oh really? Then what about Jake."
At the mention of Jake's name, Ben frowns.
"See!" You smile wide. "I don't understand why you don't like him."
"He's annoying. No one is that happy Petals. He’s probably been drinking the Koolaid for too long and is trying to get you to join a cult. The pussy is practically part golden retriever." Ben rolls his eyes, but then notices you yawn. "I should go." He stands, letting go of your hand as he does. "You need your beauty sleep."
You fight the disappointment that blooms in your chest as he lets go and the immediate loss that comes when he lets go of you scares you. You're afraid of how you seem to be so attached to him, to someone who has told you countless times he doesn't want a relationship, doesn't believe that you need a strong emotional connection with someone else, and someone who said that the only thing he wanted from a woman was to fuck them.  That last part stung a bit. You remember when he said it to you, when you were looking over the map at the other apartment last week.
But why would he say something like that and act like this with me? Why did he come in here to save me from the supe?
"I think you could use some beauty sleep too Gramps. Without it, you look your age. Can't hide all those wrinkles under make-up." You half-smile when Ben sighs, before you pull your hands into your lap and  cross your legs beneath you. "But, thanks for-well- making sure that no one was murdering me."
"It's what roommates are for." Ben pauses in the doorway before he leaves, the light from the hallway reflecting off the strong muscles of his upper back. His body sways, considering if he should say what he's about to. "I -uh- I get them too." He whispers it.
"What?"
"Nightmares." You see the tension in his shoulders, the word muttered almost like a curse, as if he doesn't really want to admit that.
Your body freezes. "About the lab?"
He looks down and you take that as a yes.
You could only imagine what that was like for him, to be trapped in another country, thinking every day that someone he thought he loved would come find him, but then never did. Again the idea of what Countess did to him, burns hot in your chest. It broke you to think that Ben spent all that time wishing and hoping that she would come for him. You would have. You would have fought tooth and nail to find the man you loved, even if it meant you getting trapped in the process. Not trying wasn't an option in your mind.
Honestly, it was difficult not to come up behind him and hug him, to hold him close and let him know that it was okay to break, that it was okay for him to admit those things with you, and that it didn't make you see him as less than a man. But of course that seemed more like a relationship thing than a friendship thing, not to mention you thought if you tried to do that, Ben would probably somehow get you in the same position you were three days ago when he pinned you against the car with his warm body pressed against you in all the right places and his beard tickling against the sensitive skin of your neck. And that would only send the two of you reeling back to square one, and you thought that in the past three days things seemed to be better between the two of you, more casual and more friendly.
You didn't want to ruin that when you'd practically embarrassed yourself at the party by yelling at Ben outside. So you stay in your bed, your legs still underneath your comforter, your heart no longer pounding in your chest, and your breathing even.
"Well," You say slowly. "If you have one, you know where to find me."
He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes a little wider than usual and you think that he almost looks surprised. Ben nods once and vanishes down the dark hallway going back out to your living room.
You lie back in your bed, placing your inhaler on your bedside before you do, eyes focused on the ceiling and trying not to think about how good it felt to finally talk like two normal people with Ben and trying not to think about how he let you hold on to his hand.
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You drag yourself through the front door of your apartment, exhausted, sweaty, and feeling like you'd swum through a dumpster that had been sitting in the sun for a week. You knew for a fact that you smelled, you didn't need super senses for that. The look of the people that lined the sidewalks of New York while you squished down the sidewalk and up into your apartment building was enough of a clue. Everyone had given you a wide berth and you didn’t blame them. MM even rolled down the window of his car when he drove you back. And he’d made you change your clothes into a set of gym shorts and a t-shirt that reached your knees and proudly proclaimed “I love you daddy” on it.
Yeah. It was that kind of day.
MM also made you sit with a plastic bag over your head to avoid smearing the remnants of the supe that was matted in your hair onto his seats.
When you woke up to answer your phone this morning, that was blasting the UK's national anthem aka. Butcher's ringtone, you knew that your day was going to suck. He had proclaimed over the phone loudly, because Mike had already started to screech Beyonce's "Love On Top,” that he needed you to deal with a supe. You thought that he was going to send you after the electric supe, but no, he and MM had caught a whiff of a supe that was robbing banks with his ability to liquify and turn his body into an tomato colored gelatinous mass.
I know, lovely right?
But of course, Butcher had decided that you were the one for the job and so he sent MM and you, while Ben was assigned to something else on the other side of town. The mission had gone wrong in the worst way, when the supe decided that the only way to fight you was to try and drown you in his liquified flesh, bone, and sinew.
When you'd finally scattered his body in the Hudson, you'd vomited for ten minutes, trying to expel as much of the supe as you could, but you still felt disgusting. MM had tried to be supportive, but the sight of you vomiting sent him hurtling to the nearest trashcan while his own stomach heaved. Not to mention  Butcher had chewed out the both of you good for technically "killing the supe."
But you'd rather the supe died than have to go through that ordeal all over again.
You'd tried to get as much of the orangey-red goo off of your body as possible, but it stained your clothes, so you had to walk through New York city looking like a giant bucket of paint was dropped on you and feeling sticky.
You turn around and lean your forehead against the front door with a loud sigh, trying to catch your bearings before you attempt to make it to the bathroom. You were happy that Mike hadn’t come out of his apartment. You didn’t want to have to explain to him why you looked like you’d taken a bath in tomato soup. Every few minutes you'd get a whiff of yourself and feel the urge to throw up all over again, living in the moment of the supe trying to shove his liquified body down your throat.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben asks from the charcoal couch, a blunt perched between his lips.
The living room had already started to look like his bedroom back at the other apartment, pieces of his dirty clothing were spread over your hardwood floors, old beer bottles were sitting on your coffee table, and there was a collection of half-smoked blunts in a large ceramic pot that you were letting Ben use as an ashtray. The room was still yours though. The plants on the walls and in pots around the space had not been harmed by Ben's habitation of your apartment. You wondered if that was because Ben actually was trying to respect your rules or if he was afraid you would throw him out.
I'm going to buy him a hamper. The last thing I want is to step on his dirty underwear on my way into the kitchen.
"The next time Butcher calls, tell him I died." You groan moving into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
He turns his head to stare at you. "Is that paint?"
"Nope." You shudder taking a sip from the water bottle, swishing it around your mouth to wash out the taste.
"Then what is it?"
"It's the supe. He was disgusting." You shudder and take another sip of water. It was helping a little bit, but you eat a handful of raspberries to try and get rid of the aftertaste. "I can still taste him."
Ben smirks. "You can still taste him? What part of him did you put in your mouth?"
"Don't be disgusting." You groan. "His power was liquification, okay, he could liquify his entire body-"
"Did you swallow?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"This is why we don't talk." You narrow your eyes at Ben. "He liquified himself and tried to drown me by shoving himself down my throat."
"Drown you?" Ben sits up straighter. "Are you okay?" You watch something shift through his gaze that looks a lot like worry.
Why is he worried?
"I'm fine." You hold up a hand and watch him relax and take a hit from the blunt. "But worst superpower ever."
"I don't know, kinda sounds like a fun way to get to know someone-"
"He was an idiot. He thought that whatever he lost would replenish."
"Wait what?"
"Whatever he 'drowned' me with didn't reform on his body. So he shoved himself down my esophagus and then he couldn't figure out why he was missing a hand, didn't think about stomach acid. Idiot." You roll your eyes. "But we couldn't contain him and the only thing that I could think of was to dump him in the Hudson. He wasn't strong enough to keep himself together in the current of the bay, it’s gonna take him centuries to piece himself back together." You shake your head. "What have you been doing? I thought you had a hot Tinder date or whatever."
He'd mentioned it this morning when you saw him briefly and grabbed a granola bar on the way out of the apartment. You hadn't spoke much since last night or really had time to talk about what happened, if anything did happen. All he did was let you hold his hand and -well- kick down your mother fucking door.
You weren't looking forward to sleeping without a door, it was the only thing that separated Ben and you, the only thing that gave you a little privacy. You figured that you could just hang one of the crocheted blankets over the doorway, but you were exhausted.
Ben shrugs, letting out a lungful of smoke. "Thought I'd just relax tonight. Didn't feel like going out."
"You didn't feel like going out? Mr. Casual-?" You begin to say, eyes sweeping through the apartment and looking down the dark hallway, stopping on your bedroom doorway.
Instead of the broken mess it was this morning, a new door has replaced it. It's a beautiful dark red wood that matches the floors that run through your apartment, different than the white one that had been there previously.
"Mr. Casual?" Ben asks while raising an eyebrow, clearly confused.
You were going to call him 'Mr. Casual Sex' but you couldn't finish the thought.  "Did you fix my door?"
"Huh?"
"My door." You point down the hallway, eyes shifting back to Ben, who looks suddenly uncomfortable. "The one you broke in half."
"Yeah- uh- I know how much you like your privacy." Ben grunts looking back at the flat screen tv. There was a baseball game on, but the T.V was on mute, the blue light flickering around the small room.
You suddenly have the overwhelming urge to cry. You figured that it was everything from today crashing down on you, the frustration you had with the supe, the smell, and now Ben was actually doing something nice for you.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He still doesn’t look at you and you wonder if he's embarrassed that you pointed it out.
“Well I think I’m going to try to scrub whatever the hell this is off of me.” You say as you begin to walk down the dark hallway and Ben continues to watch the game.
“Wait Petals I’ve got something important to ask you.”
You look up at him expectantly.
“How much do you love your daddy?” His smile slips into a suggestive smirk. “Would you be willing to do anything  to keep him happy?”
“Shut up Gramps.” You flip him off and squish down the hallway to the bathroom.
When you get out of the shower you're missing several layers of skin. You'd scrubbed and scrubbed until you felt red and raw, but it was better than feeling the sticky remains of the supe all over your body. The clothes you wore were ruined and there was no saving them, but at least now you felt better.
You walk back out into the kitchen wearing a soft t-shirt and sweatpants. Ben was still sitting on the couch, but the blunt was gone. You hadn’t noticed before that his dark hair was wet, as if he had taken a shower before you got to the apartment, the smell of his shampoo was strong.
"There's pizza in the fridge." Ben glances over the back of the couch. "Much better Petals, orange is not your color. But I will say I miss the t-shirt.”
"I'm just happy that it didn't permanently stain my skin." You make your way to the fridge to pull out a slice of pizza, eating it slowly. "And very happy I didn't wear my favorite pair of jeans. I'm going to have to burn my clothes I think."
"I'm just happy you smell better." He wrinkles his nose. "Before you smelled like unwashed gym clothes and a fucking yeast infection."
"Thank you for that lovely comparison."
"You're welcome Petals." Ben presses his lips together. "Did you want to-" He pauses. "Watch a movie or something?"
"Oh, um-" You glance down the hallway. You really wanted to curl up with your newest romance novel under your covers and relax, possibly with a cup of calming blueberry tea.
Ben shakes his head. "Just fucking forget it-" He almost seemed angry with himself for suggesting something like that.
"Ben no. I do want to watch a movie with you, I just-" Your eyes flick to the t.v watching one of the baseball players hits a home run. "I kinda wanted to relax with some tea and read. I just got a new book and I haven't been able to start it yet. Annie and I are reading the same one and on Friday we're gonna have book club and I really need to decompress from everything that happened today." You say it gently, trying to let him understand that you wouldn't be opposed to the idea of watching something with him.
"Oh." Ben sits there for a moment considering what you said. "Well, do you want to sit out here? I know you don't exactly-" He clears  his throat. "Have a place to sit in your bedroom."
If Ben wasn’t living with you, you would be reading on the couch. Sitting in your living room surrounded by all of you plants always helped you relax. You hadn’t been able to do that since Ben moved in, not to mention you didn't want to encroach on his space.
“I mean if you’re watching T.V I don’t want to disturb you or anything-“ As soon as you say it, Ben hits the off button on the remote.
“I didn’t get to read the paper this morning and I’ve been trying to find the time all day.” He says, pulling the folded newspaper out from where it was folded and pushed up against the arm of the couch on his right side.
“Oh. Well. Um-“ You didn’t see anything wrong with sitting out here and reading with Ben. “Okay. I’ll just grab my book then.”
“Okay.” Ben breezes, before he glances at the left side of the couch where you would be sitting. The couch was in its upright position, which means it was more couch than bed, but Ben had stacked his blankets and pillows on the other side. “I’ll move my stuff.”
“Okay.” You say again because you weren’t really sure what to say.
You go back and grab the book from your bedside table, but stop just short of the door.
This is weird.
You think to yourself, holding the book tightly by its spine. You weren’t sure what was happening only that Ben and you were going to sit together on the couch in your living room quietly with no tv. And weirder still it was him that suggested you two do it.
He turned off the tv. He asked me to sit with him and suggested something non-sexual. You pause shifting from foot to foot. Because again Ben was confusing you. He was acting like the person you'd occasionally see when it was just the two of you, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want him to do this, to pretend to be someone you wanted just to get into your pants. It was like whiplash. Not to mention you didn't want Ben to force himself to change just for you.
Maybe… Maybe I can just go out there and pretend that this is normal and that he doesn’t just use women for sex like he told me. I will not overthink this. I will sit and read just like I planned.
You come out of your bedroom armed with your favorite crocheted granny-square blanket and the new book. Ben had cleared the left side of the sofa for you as he said he would and was now sitting with his newspaper spread out in front of him, one leg crossed over the other.
“Do you want some tea?” You ask him. You were just being polite, you knew that he would probably say no.
“Pineapple?” He actually kind of perked up as if he would have some if you made it.
“No it’s blueberry.”
Ben shakes his head. “Why do you like so many fruit teas?”
“Because they’re good and they enrich my life.” You snort before placing the book and the blanket on the couch next to Ben and go through the motions of making the tea. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“You’d be right. But could you pour me a glass of scotch?”
“Sure.”
When you’re finally hunkered down with your book and blanket, legs bent at the knee between the two of you, the book propped up on them, facing Ben with the right side of your head laying against the back of the couch, you feel yourself begin to relax. Bean is sleeping in a ball between the two of you. His soft breathing and the sound of pages being turned fills your apartment. The subtle thrum of the plants in the room soaks into your bones and you feel yourself begin to slip into the soft prose and for the first time in a long time you feel at peace. 
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A/N: Annnnnddddd we're just gonna keep the Sky High References coming. Maybe the next supe they meet will glow… or turn into a guinea pig? 😅 Is it wrong that it's kinda making me want to do a Superhero High School AU with the Boys characters? That would be so crazy! I already have several other series fic ideas for Soldier Boy, but that idea is definitely going on the list to be considered.
As always thank you so much for reading and all the love and support! If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know! 😊
Taglist:
@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard
@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb
@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40
@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse
@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles
@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger
@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog
@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy
@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn
@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78
@spxideyver
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echoes-of-hee · 27 days ago
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Pairing ; lee heeseung x fem reader
Genre ; enemies to lovers (one sided), fluff , angst , romance
m.list
SYNOPSIS ; Growing up, Y/N was never the type to settle-down with boys. She once declared, "I don't need an XY chromosome to take care of me, when they can't even take care of themselves." You may wonder why she despised boys so much, Well it's simple really: it was because they're boys. She had always labelled them as liars, gaslighters, perverts, hideous creatures- you name it all.
One day, she stumbled upon Lee Heeseung, the uni's heartthrob, known for his nonchalant personality. The two had never spoken to each other before, but the encounter only confirmed what Y/N had believed all along.
WARNING(S) ; Mild language, emotional themes.
STATUS ; Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Wc ; 5k+ (the next part will be longer, i promise)
Taglist : @univershoon @lovesangyeon @heeswif3y @soobieboo @girlwholovekpop @heartheejake @lakoya @rayofsunshineeee @lexawoah13 @sngleehee @mheretoreadff @soobs-things @honeyybbuubblleess
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You were running on fumes. Weeks of barely squeezing in three hours of sleep each night had left you teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Graduation was around the corner, and your days were swallowed up by endless assignments, presentations, club activities, and that student council role you regretted joining. Somehow, you were balancing it all, but the price? Your beloved sleep. At this point, you questioned whether it was all even worth it. The workload was relentless, and it was starting to feel like a losing battle.
It was 7 a.m., and as usual, you were on university far too early. You preferred it that way, enjoying the stillness of the morning as the sky shifted through shades of pink and gold. These were the rare moments that felt like they belonged to you alone.
Standing in front of the vending machine, you fumbled for a cup of coffee, desperate for anything to keep you going. The machine clanked, and you grabbed the cup, sipping the lukewarm liquid as it slid down your throat. "Ahh, that hits the spot," you murmured to yourself, savoring the brief moment of comfort. You started walking towards your department building, soaking in the calm before the storm of the day.
But your peace was short-lived.
Without warning, someone barreled into you, sending your coffee flying and drenching your blouse in the process.
"What the—!" you exclaimed, frustration boiling over.
“Oh shit—sorry! I didn’t see you!”
Your gaze shot up, ready to unleash all your pent-up fury—until you saw who it was.
Lee Heeseung.
Of all people.
The last person you wanted to deal with at this hour.
Heeseung stood there, eyes wide, clearly just as stunned as you. He froze, staring at the mess of coffee now soaking through your clothes.
"Are you kidding me?" you snapped, futilely trying to wipe at the stain. It was no use. The damage was done.
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck in clear discomfort, his voice stumbling out in a rush. "I—I didn’t mean to... I’ve got a hoodie in my locker. You can borrow it. And I’ll buy you a new blouse or something."
You let out a long, exasperated sigh, your annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. "Forget about buying me a new one. Just get me another coffee and that hoodie. I need to cover this disaster."
Heeseung’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile as his eyes darted to your stained blouse. "Right. Coffee and the hoodie. I’ll be back."
Without waiting for a response, he jogged off, leaving you standing there in your coffee-soaked clothes. You ran a hand through your hair and muttered under your breath, "Great. Just great. Let’s hope this stain comes out."
You stood there a while before deciding to sit on a nearby bench and trying to comprehend the bizarre turn of events that had unfolded in front of you just moments ago. The university then buzzed with the sound of students bustling about, exchanging laughs and whispers, their chatter weaving through the crisp morning air. As you awaited Heeseung's return with your borrowed hoodie, you felt a mixture of annoyance and curiosity brewing within you.
When he finally emerged from the crowd, he was holding a navy blue hoodie, slightly crumpled but undeniably his. He looked a little flustered, perhaps from having to navigate through the throng of students. “Here,” he said, extending the hoodie towards you, his expression a blend of determination and bashfulness.
You took it, eyeing the fabric critically. “This better not smell like sweat,” you muttered, slipping the hoodie over your head. To your surprise, it was warm and surprisingly soft against your skin, enveloping you in an unfamiliar sense of comfort.
“It’s clean, I promise,” he replied, his voice almost sheepish. You caught a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, and for a moment, your annoyance began to fade.
“Uh-huh,” you said, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, even as you felt a flutter of something—maybe embarrassment or curiosity—stir within you.
Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly at a loss for what to say next. The silence stretched awkwardly between you. “Do you have class?” you finally asked, breaking the tension.
“Yeah, but I can walk with you if you want,” he offered, a hint of eagerness in his voice.
You frowned, your initial annoyance bubbling back to the surface. “No thanks. I can manage.” You tried to sound indifferent, but deep down, a part of you was intrigued by the idea of him walking beside you.
“Alright then. See you around?” he asked, his expression shifting to one of mild disappointment.
“Not if I can help it,” you shot back, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Heeseung gave you a small, incredulous grin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Why did you always have to be so harsh?
With a casual wave, he turned and walked away, the distant chatter of other students fading as you watched him go. As you sat there, the hoodie felt strangely warm against your skin, and a rush of conflicting emotions surged within you. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of such thoughts.
You pushed open the door to the lecture hall and took your usual seat at the back, where you could half-listen and half-zone out. Yunjin, your closest friend, was already there, her vibrant personality filling the space around her as she tapped away on her phone, laughter erupting from her lips as she scrolled through something.
“Hey Y/N— Wait, what’s with the hoodie?” Yunjin called out, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “I’ve never seen you wear that before.”
“Just a little mishap this morning,” you replied, waving her off dismissively. “Some idiot spilled coffee all over me.”
“What! Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
“I’m fine. Just annoyed. Can’t wait for graduation to be over,” you grumbled, leaning back in your chair. The classroom buzzed with chatter as other students filed in, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the awkward encounter with Heeseung.
Yunjin tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Whose hoodie is that, really? It looks like something a boy would wear.”
“It’s just a loaner,” you insisted, crossing your arms defensively.
Yujin studied you for a moment, her expression shifting to one of mischief. “Hmm.. but seriously, who did you borrow it from?”
“I told you, it’s no one’s. Just a loaner!” The irritation crept into your voice, and you could feel your defenses going up.
“Woah okay! I get it,” she said with a laugh. “You know, you should try to control your anger issues a bit. People might think you're the type of person that can't control her anger, especially boys. they won't approach you,”
“Be for real, you know i don't give a single fuck about them ,” you scoffed. “Boys are literally overrated.” You emphasized the last word, as if it was a curse.
“Not all boys are bad, you know,” she replied, her tone teasing yet earnest.
“Yeah, tell that to my last situationship,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.
“Okay, fair point,” she admitted, grinning.
“Look, let’s just focus on the lecture, alright? We can talk about boys later,” you said, shifting your attention to the front.
As the professor walked in and began to speak, you did your best to concentrate, but a small part of your mind kept drifting back to this morning’s encounter with Heeseung. You shook your head, trying to push those thoughts away and focus on class.
One day, as you sat in the library, surrounded by your notes, you sensed someone nearby. Glancing up, you spotted Heeseung a few feet away, browsing the same shelf. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly steeled yourself, determined not to show any sign of it.
“Hey,” he greeted, glancing over at you with that familiar smile that seemed to light up the room.
“Can I help you with something?” you replied harshly, eyes fixed on your notes.
“Just looking for a book,” he said, raising an eyebrow, amusement evident in his expression.
You folded your arms and watched as he reached for a volume on the top shelf. “Don't you think you need a ladder for that?”
“Nope,” He chuckled, clearly unfazed as he turned around to face you, casually holding a book in his hand.
"You know what Y/n, you should try being nice for once,"
“Nice? And let you think you can charm your way into my good graces? Not happening,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your words.
“Fair enough,” he replied, leaning casually against the shelf, his gaze focused on you. “You’re definitely not like the others, are you?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, caught off guard.
“Most girls would be flattered to chat with me,” he said, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Not really my thing,” you asserted, taking a step back, determined not to let him get under your skin.
Heeseung tilted his head, intrigued. “I can see that. You’re a tough one, but I’m up for the challenge.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach. “Good luck with that. No thanks.”
“Why not? You seem like you could use a friend,” he suggested, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
“I said no thanks,” you repeated, feeling irritation creeping back in.
He shrugged, clearly entertained by your attitude. “Alright then, just keep it in mind. I’ll be around.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts racing. Why did he have to be so annoyingly charming.
The following week unfolded like a monotonous cycle of lectures, study sessions, and the occasional coffee run. You had successfully buried your mind in textbooks, trying to forget about Heeseung and the fleeting connection you had felt. However, Whispers about you and Heeseung circulated like wildfire among your classmates. You overheard snippets of conversations that made your cheeks heat with annoyance.
“Did you see Y/N and Heeseung together the other day?” a girl asked, giggling with her friends.
“Yeah, I heard they were chatting after class! They totally have a thing!” another chimed in.
You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, "they seriously don't have anything to do," you murmured under your breath, a wave of annoyance washing over you. You walked away trying to ignore the whispers swirled around you.
A few moments later, you found yourself in the courtyard, attempting to focus on your book while the distant hum of conversations filled the air.
But even there, you couldn’t escape it.
“Did you hear? Y/N’s been seen with Heeseung,” someone murmured from a nearby bench.
“Yeah, I saw them talking last week. I didn’t know they were close,” another voice added, their words irritatingly loud despite their attempt to sound secretive.
"That's it." You clenched your jaw, gripping the edges of your book until your knuckles turned white. The rumor mill was working overtime, and it was frustrating how something so trivial could ignite such a firestorm of gossip.
Just as you were about to leave, your phone buzzed with a message from yunjin.
YunjinMySexyBfs: “Y/N Meet me in the cafeteria now! You've got some explaining to do 😏”
You sighed in frustration, contemplating your options. You didn’t want to go and face more questions about Heeseung, but you knew you would face her eventually. Reluctantly, you made your way across campus, trying to ignore the stares and whispers that seemed to follow you everywhere.
When you arrived at the cafeteria, Yunjin waved you over to her usual table, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for ages!” she exclaimed, pulling out a chair for you.
“I’m not in the mood, Yujin,” you said, sitting down with a huff.
“So... I've heard you and Heese—”
“Yunjin, I swear, stop talking about him. I'm getting damn tired, do you know how every fucking person would come up to me and asked me the same thing? and now you? God, give me a fucking break.”
Yunjin blinked, taken aback by your outburst, but she quickly recovered. "S-sorry, I didn't know you would feel that way. I just thought you might want to share.."
“It's okay." you said, exhaling sharply as you ran a hand through your hair. “We've only talked for a couple of times and people are making it a big deal. He's just a normal human being.”
Yunjin leaned in, her expression softening. “Yeah, I get it. But maybe people are just curious. Heeseung is kind of a big deal around here.”
“Big deal or not, it’s exhausting. I just want to be known for my own achievements, not who I’m seen talking to,” you admitted, frustration lacing your voice.
Yunjin nodded, finally dropping the subject. “Alright, I won’t bring it up again. So, how’s your math class going? I heard the professor is tough.”
You sighed, grateful for the change in topic. “It’s challenging, but I've got it. Just trying to keep my grades up before finals hit.”
“I see, well If you need any help, you know I’m always here,” she offered, her tone shifting to a more supportive one.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you said, feeling a bit lighter. “I might take you up on that, especially when we start tackling those annoying integrals.”
“Ugh, integrals,” Yunjin groaned dramatically. “I still don’t understand why they even exist. But I’ll help you with them if you help me with that economics project we have.”
“Deal,” you replied, feeling more at ease as you dug into your lunch. The conversation shifted away from Heeseung, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe.
It had been about two weeks since the hoodie incident, and despite your best efforts to avoid Heeseung, it seemed fate had other plans.
You were rushing through the hallway, your bag slung haphazardly over your shoulder, your mind occupied with thoughts of an upcoming exam. You were too distracted to notice the figure walking toward you until it was too late.
“Fuc—” you stumbled, colliding with someone solid.
“Watch it!” you snapped, looking up to find none other than Heeseung, his hands instinctively on your shoulders to steady you.
“Well, hello to you too,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
You jerked back slightly, surprised as you shrugged off his hands. “Do you always have to be in my way?” you asked, annoyed both by the situation and by the way your heart weirdly skipped a beat when you realized it was him.
Heeseung grinned, unfazed by your hostility. “Maybe it’s you who’s always in my way.”
“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, stepping to the side to avoid him. “I’ve got places to be.”
“Let me guess—nowhere important?” he quipped, falling into step beside you.
You shot him a look. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Nope. It’s one of my many charms,” he replied with a wink, which only served to irritate you further.
"And here I thought you were known for your nonchalant personality. Where'd that go?" you rolled your eyes, quickening your pace in the hopes that he’d get the hint and leave you alone. But Heeseung kept up easily, matching your stride without missing a beat.
“Well, not when I'm with you,” he said, his tone light and playful.
“So, where are you headed?” he asked, keeping the conversation going.
“Class,” you replied curtly, hoping the one-word answer would end the conversation.
But Heeseung wasn’t deterred. “Which class?”
“None of your business.”
He chuckled. “Alright, alright. No need to be so defensive.”
You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not being defensive. I just don’t see why you care.”
“Maybe I’m just curious,” he said with a shrug, his expression calm and nonchalant, as if your irritation only made him more amused.
“Well, curiosity killed the cat,” you muttered under your breath, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder.
“Good thing I’m not a cat then,” Heeseung replied smoothly, his smirk returning as he glanced down at you.
You glared at him, wishing you could wipe that smirk off his face. “Why are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like... this!” You gestured vaguely in his direction, exasperation in your voice.
Heeseung laughed, a sound that was far too relaxed for your liking. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
You huffed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Never mind. I don’t have time for this.”
Just as you were about to storm off, Heeseung’s hand gently caught your arm, halting you in your tracks. You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his expression.
“Hey, relax,” he said softly, his voice lacking the usual teasing edge. “I’m just messing with you.”
You frowned, unsure how to respond. The intensity in his eyes threw you off balance, making you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected.
Before you could gather your thoughts, Heeseung let go of your arm, his easygoing smile returning. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your mind racing with questions you didn’t have answers to.
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A few days later, Yeonjun announced that he was throwing a party to celebrate the end of midterms, and the whole campus buzzed with excitement. You weren’t particularly keen on attending, but Yunjin had practically dragged you into the conversation.
“It’ll be fun! Just one night to blow off some steam!” she insisted, practically bouncing on her toes. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll have some fun with Heeseung there.”
You groaned at the mention of his name, rolling your eyes. “I’d rather not.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill! Come on, you’ll regret it if you miss out,” Yunjin urged, eyes full of excitement.
Reluctantly, you agreed to go, if only to avoid disappointing her. As the night approached, you threw on a casual but stylish outfit—an oversized black shirt and ripped jeans, something comfortable yet fitting for the party atmosphere.
When you arrived, the house was already packed. Music blared through the speakers, and people filled every corner of the room. Despite your earlier reluctance, the energy of the place began to seep into you. Yunjin grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the center of the living room, where people were scattered, talking in small groups or lounging on couches.
“See? Isn’t this great?” Yunjin yelled over the music, her grin wide as she waved to a few friends.
You gave a small nod, though your thoughts were elsewhere. You scanned the room briefly, half hoping you’d spot Heeseung but also dreading the thought.
After a while, you found yourself at the makeshift bar, grabbing a drink. The noise and laughter of the party became background static as you let yourself unwind. But then you saw him.
Heeseung stood across the room, laughing with his friends—some familiar faces from the uni. He looked completely at ease, and for a second, you felt a pang of envy. How was it so easy for him to blend into the crowd, while you felt out of place?
But then, your heart sank as you saw who was standing next to him: Beomgyu. The sight of your ex—or rather, your ex situationship—made your stomach twist. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and all the memories you’d pushed aside came rushing back.
Before you could turn away, Beomgyu’s eyes locked onto yours. He smirked and made his way over, that infuriating swagger still present. “Well, if it isn’t Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have.”
You tried to brush off Beomgyu’s presence, hoping he would just lose interest and walk away, but of course, that wasn’t how it worked with him. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret. “You know, you’ve been on my mind lately.”
Your grip tightened on your drink. “Beomgyu, don’t start.”
“What? I’m just saying, we had some good times, didn’t we?” He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief that used to get under your skin.
You opened your mouth to reply, something sharp ready on the tip of your tongue, but before you could get a word out, a voice interrupted.
“Is he bothering you?”
You turned and there was Heeseung, standing right behind you. His expression was unreadable, but the subtle tension in his posture was enough to make Beomgyu raise an eyebrow.
Beomgyu chuckled, stepping back just slightly, though not enough to show any real sign of backing down. “Relax, we’re just talking. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”
You didn’t even look at him. “I don’t want to talk to you, Beomgyu.”
The smirk on his face faltered for just a second before he shrugged, eyes glancing between you and Heeseung. “Well, if that’s how it is…”
“It is,” Heeseung cut in, his tone colder than you’d ever heard before.
Beomgyu’s smile twisted, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he gave you one last look before walking away, blending into the crowd like he hadn’t just ruined your mood.
You exhaled, realizing how tense you’d been holding yourself the entire time. Heeseung stood next to you, his presence steady and calm in a way that eased some of the nerves that Beomgyu had set off.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now, concern evident in his eyes.
You nodded quickly, though you could feel the residual frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “Yeah, it’s just… that whole thing was messy.”
“Ex?” Heeseung asked, though there wasn’t any judgment in his tone.
You sighed. “I mean, not ex, ex… more like an ex situationship. You know the type.”
Heeseung’s lips twitched into a slight smile. “Yeah, I get it. Those are always the worst.”
You glanced at him, surprised by how easy he made it seem to talk about something you usually tried to avoid. “Thanks for stepping in back there. You didn’t have to.”
He shrugged, leaning against the railing casually. “I know, but I wanted to. He seemed like a jerk.”
“He is a jerk,” you muttered, taking a sip of your drink, feeling a bit lighter now that Beomgyu was out of sight.
Heeseung nodded in agreement but didn’t push the topic further. Instead, there was a moment of silence between you two, the noise of the party still buzzing in the background but feeling more distant now. You glanced at him, wondering why he had bothered stepping in at all.
“So, you really don’t mind getting involved in other people’s messes, huh?” you teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.
Heeseung chuckled, his gaze shifting toward you. “I wouldn’t call it getting involved. I just don’t like seeing people I know get bothered by guys like him.”
You paused, a bit thrown off by how effortlessly he said “people I know,” as if you weren’t just someone who barely crossed paths with him. There was something about his presence that made it hard to stay guarded, but you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
“Well, I appreciate it,” you said after a moment, offering him a small smile. “It’s not exactly how I wanted to spend my night, but I guess it could’ve been worse.”
“Could’ve been better, too,” Heeseung pointed out with a slight grin, his eyes catching yours for a beat longer than expected.
You felt your heart skip for a second, unsure whether it was the alcohol or something else that made the air between you feel just a little different. “I guess you’re right.”
For a while, the two of you stood there in comfortable silence, the distant laughter and music of the party fading into the background. You found yourself feeling more at ease next to him than you’d been the entire night. It was a strange, but welcome shift.
After a while, Heeseung straightened up and glanced toward the crowd again. “Do you want to head back inside, or…?” he asked, leaving the question open-ended.
You thought about it for a second, then shook your head. “No, I’m good right here. I needed some air anyway.”
He smiled, leaning back against the railing with you. “Same. Let’s stay out of the mess for a bit.”
And for the rest of the night, with the stars overhead and the noise of the party at a comfortable distance, you stayed.
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Heading for your usual coffee run, you didn’t expect to bump into Heeseung. Again. But this time, something felt different—you weren’t as annoyed as usual. In fact, when you saw him break away from his group of friends and call out your name, your heart skipped a beat.
“Y/N, hey!” he called, his voice warm as he walked over.
“Hi, Heeseung,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady, even though the sight of him so casually strolling towards you had your pulse racing.
He stepped away from his friends, who were glancing over curiously, but Heeseung didn’t seem to care. His attention was fully on you. “What are you up to?”
“Just getting some coffee,” you replied, holding up your empty cup as proof.
“Really? Mind if I join? We could chat while we’re at it.”
You blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Sure... that sounds good.”
You both started walking towards the campus café. The air between you felt charged, even though neither of you had said much yet. Your mind raced, thinking about how casual Heeseung seemed, while your insides were anything but.
Heeseung’s shoulder brushed against yours as you walked, and for some reason, the slight contact sent a wave of warmth through you. You tried to focus on the path ahead, but his presence was hard to ignore.
“So, how’s everything going?” he asked, his tone laid-back, but there was a softness in his eyes that made it feel like he really wanted to know.
You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, you know... surviving the semester, barely.” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension in your chest.
Heeseung smiled, his gaze lingering on you longer than expected. “I get it. It’s been rough on everyone. But you seem like you’ve got it all together.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “Looks can be deceiving.”
The café came into view, and you could hear the soft hum of the coffee machines inside. As you reached for the door, Heeseung beat you to it, holding it open with a small grin.
“After you,” he said, with that effortless charm of his.
You stepped inside, your heart still fluttering from how close he was. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, momentarily grounding you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this casual coffee run was anything but ordinary.
The two of you stood in line, the silence between you oddly comfortable. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, and each time, it sent a ripple of nerves through your stomach. Heeseung had always been friendly, but this... this felt different.
“What’s your order?” he asked, glancing up at the menu, though his focus quickly returned to you.
“Just a black coffee,” you replied, trying to sound casual.
He raised a brow. “Strong choice.”
“What can I say? I like to keep it simple.”
He smiled, that easygoing expression making your chest tighten just a little more. He turned to the barista, ordering for both of you before you could even protest.
“You didn’t have to—"
“I wanted to,” he cut you off gently, shrugging. “It’s just coffee, right?”
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. Something about the way he said it felt like there was more to this moment than just a shared cup of coffee.
When the drinks were ready, Heeseung handed you yours, his fingers brushing against yours for a split second—just enough to send a jolt through you. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your breath hitched, but the small smirk tugging at his lips told you he probably did.
You both sat down at a small table by the window, the morning light streaming in. Heeseung leaned back in his chair, casually sipping his coffee while his eyes stayed on you.
“So, what’s really going on with you, Y/N?” His voice was softer now, more serious. “You’ve been looking pretty stressed lately.”
You paused, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. It wasn’t often that someone noticed the weight you’d been carrying. You gave a small smile, trying to brush it off. “It’s just university. You know how it is.”
Heeseung didn’t seem convinced. “I do, but... I don’t know. You seem like you’re always trying to do everything on your own.”
His words hit a little too close to home, and you looked down at your coffee cup, your fingers tracing the rim. “Maybe,” you murmured, unsure of how to respond.
Before you could say more, Heeseung leaned forward slightly, his voice low but steady. “You don’t have to, you know. You can lean on people sometimes. Like me.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. You glanced up at him, and his gaze was steady, sincere. There was something in his eyes—something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he meant every word.
You swallowed, your thoughts tangling in the silence that followed. “Why me, though?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you want to help?”
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “Why not?” he said simply, as if the answer was obvious. “You’re easy to talk to. And... I don’t know. I just feel like you shouldn’t have to go through everything alone.”
The warmth of his words sank into you, filling the quiet space between you two. It wasn’t often someone offered that kind of support, especially without asking for something in return. You weren’t used to it, and it made you feel vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t expected.
“I guess I’m just not used to that,” you admitted, stirring your coffee for no reason other than to avoid looking directly at him. “It’s easier to rely on myself, you know?”
Heeseung nodded, as if he understood more than he was letting on. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to all the time.”
His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to his words, as though he’d thought about this before. You caught his gaze again, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world outside the café faded away. It was just the two of you, sitting there in this small, quiet bubble of understanding.
“You don’t strike me as someone who takes advice easily,” he teased lightly, breaking the intensity with a small smile.
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “That obvious, huh?”
“A little.” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table. “But maybe... it’s not about taking advice. Maybe it’s just about knowing someone’s there, even when you don’t ask for it.”
His words settled over you like a warm blanket, comforting but unfamiliar. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been carrying on your own until someone offered to share the weight. Heeseung wasn’t just talking to fill the silence; he genuinely cared, and that scared you more than you were willing to admit.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” you said, offering him a small smile.
Heeseung smiled back, his eyes softening. “Good. I’m not going anywhere.”
The two of you fell into an easy conversation after that—about classes, mutual friends, and anything else that came to mind. The heaviness from earlier slowly lifted, and you found yourself laughing at his jokes, feeling lighter than you had in a while.
As you finished your coffee, you glanced outside, realizing how much time had passed. The café was now filled with the soft murmur of students and professors, everyone lost in their own world. It was almost comforting, like the world had resumed its normal pace while you’d been in this bubble with Heeseung.
“We should probably head back,” you said, standing up and grabbing your empty cup. “Before the day runs away from us.”
Heeseung nodded, standing up as well. “Yeah, you’re right. But... this was nice.”
You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “It was,” you agreed.
As you both made your way out of the café, walking side by side once again, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted. The air between you was still charged, but now it felt less tense and more... comfortable, like maybe this connection between you was something you didn’t need to run from after all.
Before you parted ways, Heeseung turned to you, his smile soft but genuine. “Let’s do this again sometime. Maybe without the stress of the semester hanging over us.”
You grinned, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’d like that.”
With one last shared glance, you both headed off in different directions, but something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves walking side by side.
...
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despacito-uwu16 · 3 months ago
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The Climax
Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader
Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining
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“Now I see you out here on your own, and you been. Sippin' on the Hennessy, like you don't remember me. Girl, we both know, don't pretend. That we ain't got history” - Tension by Jack & Jack
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Ken waved at you as you pull up in his driveway. As soon as you opened the trunk, Kenji immediately took your bags.
“I could’ve done it myself”. You said.
“I wanted to be a gentleman”. Ken mockingly bows.
“Whatever”. You sighed as you follow him into his home.
You look around his spacious house. He has everything. A nice kitchen, a huge living room, a view of the ocean. Not gonna lie, you were pretty impressed.
“Were you always this spoiled”? You turn to Ken.
“Being an only child has his perks”. He says as he walks up to you with a cup of coffee. “Consider it an olive branch”. He extend the mug to you.
“Thank you”. You take the mug from him.
“Now, before we begin the two month long interview, I want to make two things clear”. Kenji begins. “One, you’re allowed to ask me anything, but I get to choose what to answer”.
“Then what’s the point of me asking you questions if you’re just gonna dodge them”.
“Anyways”. He continues,
“The second and most important thing, you’re free to roam around here but you’re not allowed in the basement”. He
“What’s in the basement”? You ask.
“None of your business”. He retorts.
“Alright then”. You put your hands up in defense.
“I look forward to the next two months. You will not be disappointed”. He extends his hand to shake.
“I look forward to this being over”. You smirked as you shake his hand.
~
The first couple of weeks, you were adjusting to your new environment. Despite you trying to be in good graces with him, you still found him annoying.
One time, you were in the living room peer reviewing an article when Ken enters the room with a jump rope. You paid no attention to him as he did his exercise in front of the glass window. But Kenji being the little prick he is, took off his shirt and threw it on the couch, landing on your head. You threw it down on the ground in disgust and looked to see Ken doing little tricks with his jump rope. All while being shirtless. He knows his plan is working when you noticed you staring at his reflection through the glass window.
“Like what you see”?
“I’d rather be hit by a baseball again”. You closed your laptop and walked off.
During your first interview with him, he was avoiding your questions and changing the subject left and right.
“You know, you said I get to ask you anything, and yet you’re not answering any of my questions”. You said.
“Remember rule number ? I get to pick and choose what questions to answer. Also, you said to “be honest”. He says while using air quotes.
“Being honest means answering the questions correctly”. You deadpanned.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you what you wanted to hear. Is that how you managed to end an athlete’s career? By manipulating them into telling you their secrets and use it against them”? Ken presses on.
“That’s not how journalism works Ken, I just report what i see and hear. I don’t need to manipulate anyone. If it causes a disruption in an athlete’s career, then so be it”. You cross your arms.
“You’re evil, you know that”? Ken glares at you.
“You’re impossible, you know that”? You retort.
“If me being impossible means seeing how sexy you look riled up, then yeah, I love being impossible“. He says.
You stood up and bend down on the table. His eyes met yours, both of your faces inches away from each other.
“Fuck off”. You sneered, ending the recording. You straightened your back and grabbed your recorder off the table. “I’m so over this”. You roll your eyes.
“Oh okay. Well the door is right behind you. Although a little FIY, if you walk out that door, it’s bye bye journalism career”. He leans back all smug.
You groan. Of course he’s going to bring up the blackmail, and it won’t stop until it’s over. Anger boils inside of you. He’s making this interview and your life a living hell. You really want to slap Ken in the face, but your integrity is keeping you from getting potentially fired.
Ken starts to laugh at you. “If only you could see what I see… you look super red right now. I should piss you off more often”.
The interview ended early and Ken ran off to “take care of business”, while you went back to the guest room, and took out your frustrations on a pillow.
~
When it came to watching Ken’s games, he paid for a private box, isolating you from everyone from the media. Some of your coworkers side eyed you, but all you could do was just sit there. You’d watching giants loose over and over again. From him attempting to break a bat, to his emotional breakdowns at home. Apart of you found this amusing. But another part of you feels a bit of sympathy.
You left the guest room to get a glass of water, when you saw Ken in the kitchen stuffing mochi donuts in his face.
“You know that’s not really healthy”. You commented.
He looks at you and takes another bite out of the donut. He pushes the donut box towards you implying for you to take one, but you declined.
For some reason, you feel bad for him. Sure, he’s annoying and rude, but you noticed that he wasn’t as confident as he was during college. Even during your interviews, he didn’t make any snarky comments and instead gave out short and closed off answers. It made you wonder what going on with him.
The next evening, Ken came home all tired and defeated. As he laid down on the couch, a sweet and tangy aroma caught his attention. He peaks into the kitchen to see you cooking something.
“Whatcha doing?” He asks.
“I’m making dinner”. You said.
“Why”?
“Cause I’d rather not eat a box of donuts”. You gestured to the unopened box of mochi donuts on the kitchen counter
He looks at you confused. You never do anything nice. Like ever.
“Go sit, food’s almost ready”. You gestered to the table as you took the asparagus out of the oven.
Five minutes later, you put down a plate with some teriyaki salmon and oven roasted asparagus, and then placed a bowl of white rice on the side.
“Smells good”. He compliments before taking a bite of his teriyaki salmon. His eyes widened. The flavors were bursting on his tounge, something he hasn’t experienced in weeks.
“Y’know, you didn’t have to do all of this”. Ken says with a mouthful of rice and salmon, making you internally gag.
“I wanted to. Considering how long I’ll be staying here, I’d rather not eat junk food everyday”. You said, taking a bite of the asparagus before continuing. “Also, I felt bad for pushing you the last few weeks”. You admitted.
“It’s not really a big deal, you were just doing your job. I promised you the exclusive, and I didn’t fulfill my end of the bargain. I’m sorry”.
“Wow, an apology from Ken Sato. Can I quote you on that”? You joked.
“Haha, funny”. He rolled his eyes as he finished the last of his rice. “The food’s good. Y’know if you were my personal chef instead of my interviewer, I would’ve probably tolerated you more”.
“Aaaand you ruined it”. You begin to get up out of your seat.
“Gee, didn’t know there was a moment between us”.
While you were collecting the dirty plates, you both felt the ground shake. At first you thought you were just imagining things, but the ground shook again, and the lights were flickering. You try to maintain your balance as the ground repeatedly shook.
“Oh my God, was that an earthquake”? You begin to panic.
Kenji quickly got up from his seat and began to run towards the basement.
“Ken, where are you going”? You yelled.
“I’ll be right back. Stay where you are”. He instructs. The next thing you know, he disappears into the basement. The ceiling began to crack and you immediately took cover underneath the table.
A few seconds later, the shaking stops and the light stops flickering. But Ken was nowhere to be found. The elevator leading to the basement was still open. While you were told to not go into the basement, deep down you wanted to know if he was okay.
Suddenly, you hear a crash and yelling coming from the basement. With no hesitation, you ran into the elevator and made your way down to the basement.
“Ken”? You ran out of the elevator. But before you could start looking for him, you ran into what you thought was a wall. As you stumbled down and into your butt, you hear high pitch laughter.
“Not funny”! You yelled. “Ken Sato, whatever BS you’re pulling right now, you need to cut it”-
You look up at the supposed wall and your jaw drops. Your eyes met the eyes of a 20 foot lizard baby who was happily chirping at you.
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A/N: Part 4 and 5 will be uploaded on Wednesday and Thursday Respectively.
Likes, Comment and Reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be on the tag list, lemme know! :)
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Tag List:
@imconfusedbutok @deadbydad-writes
@introvertthief @rdjsprincess
@boomboom-tanjiro2019 @moyadorogaya
@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @lovingyeet
@ofichan @nina-from-317 @lunaryasha
@kocho-catt @scarasw1f3 @mochminnie
@ritzes28 @aise-30 @ghostatrixx @sorilyae
@marshhbs @badbishsblog
⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺
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astraystayyh · 1 year ago
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Stray kids song series masterlist
The series is finally done! this is my little thank you for hitting 2k followers!!!!! which is absolutely insane and i never thought i could reach that milestone. thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my works and for giving me a safe space to write, it truly means the world to me.
I'll be posting a fic a day starting from tomorrow, and I'm so excited for you all to read them :") thank you smm again, ilyyy all <33
• Myth- beach house. Bang Chan x reader. friends to lovers.
Skimming across the edge of being friends and something more with Chan is a dangerous game. Even more so when you're both sharing the same bed.
"The consequence of what you do to me, help me to name it."
• The only exception- paramore. barista Minho x reader. strangers to lovers. slow burn.
Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.
"Cause none of it was ever worth the risk, but you are the only exception."
• The alternative- lyn lapid. brother's best friend Changbin x reader.
You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.
"Love is a risk. But what's the alternative?"
• Somebody else- the 1975. Hyunjin x reader. exes to lovers. miscommunication.
You and Hyunjin have broken up, guilt and blame simmering between you both. He doesn't care anymore, or so he thought. Then why does it hurt him to see you with someone else?
"Don't want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else."
• Backburner- niki. Han x reader. exes who can't move on.
It's been seven weeks since Han broke up with you. And yet, he's calling you every saturday night, without fault. And even though you try not to, you'll still pick up each time.
"You'd think I'd be a fast learner. But guess I won't ever mind crisping up in your backburner."
• If the world was ending- JP saxe, julia michaels. Felix x reader. estranged childhood best friend to lovers.
Felix has always been there with you, from the moment you've met him when you were 8 years old. Until he suddenly no longer was, and you were left to grapple with the consequences of his absence- and those of his return.
"If the world was ending you'd come over, right?"
• In my dreams - tearliner. Seungmin x reader. enemies to lovers.
Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.
"I'm sorry that I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away."
• You're sexy, I'm sexy- eric nam. Jeongin x reader. friends to lovers.
Jeongin is out with his friends, and you. You're tipsy and sitting on his lap, and he doesn't think he can keep his crush for you at bay anymore.
"it could be simple as loving each other with no strings."
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junrenjun · 4 months ago
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but even after this, you're still everything to me
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choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au
genre: heavy angst
wc: 5.5k
warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats
a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.
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Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 
A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 
Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”
The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”
You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 
The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 
The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 
You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 
Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”
“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”
You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?
You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”
When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 
After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”
It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”
You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”
Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 
A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 
The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.
As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”
Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”
You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.
Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 
The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”
Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”
Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.
Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 
Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 
And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.
“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”
“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.
Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 
“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”
Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”
Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 
The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”
“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.
“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”
This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.
Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 
Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”
Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”
This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”
Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 
Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.
But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 
Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”
Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”
Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 
Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”
The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.
Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”
Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.
Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”
This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?
And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.
While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.
Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”
“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”
Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”
Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?
Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”
Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.
The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”
Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”
Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 
“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”
He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”
“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”
Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”
Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”
Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”
The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”
It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 
All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”
They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 
“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.
Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 
“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 
“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”
Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”
Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”
“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.
He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”
Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.
You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.
Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 
“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 
“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”
A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”
Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 
Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”
Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 
“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 
You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 
You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”
Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.
When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”
Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.
“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 
Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.
You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”
Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”
“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”
You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.
After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 
“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.
“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 
You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”
The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.
The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”
Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”
You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”
After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.
The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.
“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 
“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.
It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 
Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”
“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”
He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.
Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 
You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”
He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 
“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 
“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 
“That doesn’t make it okay!”
“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”
You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”
He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”
“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 
“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 
Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 
The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 
“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.
Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”
He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.
You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.
“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”
“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 
“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”
You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”
“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”
You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”
“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 
You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”
It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.
Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 
You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 
He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.
“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 
216 notes · View notes
cheolsblackgf · 6 months ago
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office encounters [l.jh]
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⇒ woozi x reader
⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)
⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy
⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing
⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요
“You look pretty today.”
Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.
This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.
“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?
Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.
“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!
You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.
The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.
The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.
“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.
He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.
“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.
He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.
New to the list: you look pretty today.
You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?
“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”
The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.
Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.
“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”
“D’you need help?”
You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”
It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.
Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”
You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.
Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?
The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.
You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.
By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.
You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.
“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.
“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”
You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.
You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.
You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.
Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.
Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.
He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.
You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.
Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.
On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.
“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.
“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.
Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”
With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”
“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.
Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.
Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.
At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.
In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.
The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.
Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”
For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.
Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.
Extra smiley. Hm.
At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”
“Why?”
“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”
“So you’re saying I’m special?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.
As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.
The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.
“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.
[the end]
SIKEEEEE
BONUS
You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.
As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.
His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”
“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.
He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”
He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”
“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.
A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”
You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”
“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.
The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.
[the end (real)]
masterlist
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rougepancake · 2 years ago
Note
hiii! It’s me again! I loved how you wrote my Sabito request 💗 do you think you can write a sanemi x afab fem? maybe a stuck in a closet together trope? Thank you❤️
HAPPILY, GLADLY, YES YES
F U
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Ft. Sanemi Shinazugawa
Warnings: You get stuck in a closet 😘, Afab!Reader, enemies to lovers??, hate sex, oral (m!receiving), degradation, college au!, Sanemi goes feral. Porn with plot (sorry guys-). Minors and ageless blogs dni!
Summary: You and Sanemi get into an argument in the gymnasium on campus, in which you shove him into the storage closet and he pulls you in with him. Too bad when the door closed it was locked, and you were trapped.
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“Oh for fucks sake! Why do you always have to bother me, hm?!?” You glared, crossing your arm’s defensively as Sanemi walked towards you slowly.
“Me? Bothering you? I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around, bitch.” He spat, jabbing his finger into your shoulder as you backed away from him.
“Really?? The best insult you have is bitch?!” You laughed, smiling sinisterly. “I’ve been called better by worse. You’re gonna have to up your game, rat.”
His eye visibly twitched as he stood, his fist curling by his side as he stared you down. “What did you just say?” His tone was threatening, but it wasn’t anything new to you, so you challenged him.
“I said you’re a rat! I mean just look at that hair! Those scars! Ugh! Get out of here man!” You pointed towards the door with your thumb, placing your other hand on your hip.
Without warning, he lunged at you, attempting to hit you only to miss. Quickly, you moved out of the way and kneed him in the stomach, causing an audible ‘oof’ to slip past his lips. He grabbed your ankle while he was down and took you down too, a shout of surprise escaping you.
“You’re a dick!” You panted, barely dodging another punch thrown by Sanemi. You must’ve really struck a nerve this time, but then again, an eye for an eye.
Following that rule, you threw a punch of your own, hitting him right on the cheek and sending him backwards. The sound of your fist on his face echoed throughout the gym, along with your labored breathing mixing with his. Slowly, you rose to your feet, getting prepared to throw another one just in case.
But Sanemi just sat on the floor in silence, his jaw hanging open and his hand on his cheek. It must’ve been one hell of a punch if it left the guy speechless.
Just like you, got up slowly, rage shining in his eyes. He took his time walking over to you, the tension between you growing.
He stood before you, his hand still on his cheek as he scoffed. “And you said I’m the dick?”
“I’m not the one that lunged at a helpless young woman.” You smirked, mocking him. He took another step towards you, forcing you to take one back. He was close, too close, and you didn’t like it.
“You’re far from helpless.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “But you aren’t far from being the biggest bitch on the campus.”
“I know, it’s so sad. But that title is yours, I’m afraid.” You chuckled, getting in his face with a shit eating grin. “I’m sorry you’re nothing more than a pussy, Shinazugawa.” You poked his chest gently, enraging him further.
He shoved you against the wall, knocking the air out of you entirely. You coughed, putting your arms up in defense. Frantically, you looked around and saw that the storage closet’s door was open slightly, a perfect spot for you to trap him. Then you’d be free for today.
Mustering up as much strength as possible, you pushed him away and straight into the closet, a smile of relief gracing your lips. As you turned around to quickly close the door behind you, his hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back as the door trapped both of you in there.
“Fuck! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, trying to get the locked door to budge, only to fail. Sanemi didn’t respond to you, instead he sat on the floor in absolute silence, his eyes staring at you intensely.
“Hey, quit your staring.” You slid down to the floor in defeat, returning Sanemi’s intense glare.
“You’re such a fucking bitch.” He mumbled, slowly crawling over to you. “It’s so hot.” He smirked deviously, watching your reaction closely. Thankfully, it was dark, so he couldn’t see your red face, but he could still tell you were embarrassed.
“Oh what’s wrong Y/N? The cat got your tongue?” He crawled between your legs, his body warm against yours.
“W-What the hell’s gotten into you?!” You blushed, doing your best to keep up your tough guy act. With a deep chuckle, Sanemi wrapped his hand around your throat, his eyes glinting sadistically in the dark.
You grabbed his arm, a slightly pained look on your face as you took short and heavy breaths. “You f-fucking a- ah~! H-hey!” You moaned out quietly, Sanemi’s rough hand groping your breast harshly as he choked you.
He was watching you intently once again, not saying a word as you squirmed helplessly under him. He was enjoying the sight and it pissed you off.
“You’re always teasing me.” He growled, his grip on your neck tightening. “You’re so damn annoying.” Sanemi let go of you and stomped over to the other end of the room, his boner shining in all its glory from across the room.
“W-Wha-“ You panted, rubbing your throat gently as you stared at him with confusion. A gentle cough passed through your lips as you caught your breath. “So would you like some help with that or like do you want me to turn around or something??” Your tone was sarcastic, but you were dead serious.
Sanemi may have been a pain in the ass but he was still incredibly attractive. Especially in a situation like this.
You saw his shadow look up at you with surprise, causing a sinister smirk to grow across your lips. “Well? Yes or no, tough guy.” You whispered, crawling towards him slowly as you spoke.
You felt him tense up slightly as you placed your hands atop his thighs. “Well… since you offered…” He smirked, placing his hand on your head as you undid his belt. He shivered at the rush of cold air, his cock twitching slightly.
You began to palm him slowly, putting just enough pressure to make him squirm. Sanemi threw his head back as he let out a breathless and shaky moan, his hips bucking upon contact. He pushed your head down, staring at you through squinted eyes and hoping you’d get the hint.
Yeah you took that hint and ran with it.
You licked your lips as you pulled down his boxers, watching as his cock sprang free from its confines. He didn’t even give you time to get a feel for him, instead he just shoved your head down and began fucking your throat like there was no tomorrow.
He watched as you gagged and did your best to keep up with him with a smirk, that look on your face was one he had been dying to see for weeks now.
“G-God y/n~ ugh~” Sanemi’s eyes practically rolled back into his head when you began to massage his balls, all while maintaining eye contact with him.
His hips bucked forward without warning, eliciting a moan from you that sent shivers down his spine and caused his cock to twitch. He was close, and he wanted you to taste him. All of him. He wanted to watch you swallow every last drop of his seed so badly it only made him harder.
He bent down and grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks as he held his cock over your face. His head rolled back as he pumped himself, a loud groan passing through his lips as he came all over your face.
You licked off as much as you could from your lips as he got down on his knees to see you better.
Without any warning, he pushed you onto the floor harshly, nearly ripping your pants off your legs. He had your hands pinned above your head with just one hand, using the other one to quickly prepare you for him.
He muttered things about how wet you were as he aligned himself with your hole, growling obscenities in your ear.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy you, slut.”
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petertingle-yipyip · 2 months ago
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STRANGER (ii) - KAZ BREKKER
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tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit // previously // next // i hope i didn’t miss anyone for tags! //
Pairing: kaz x davina rollins (enemies to lovers)
Word Count: 6,271
Summary: Nothing is simple in Ketterdam. Davina learns a hard lesson when trying to expand her snakes. Bloodied with a bruised ego, she think she finds help in an unlikely ally, only to have to run. Again.
The next few months were uneventful. You continued your usual pattern of withdrawals and reconnaissance. You watched Kaz and the Dregs, even visited Nina Zenik a few more times to make a better acquaintance with her. You had no plans for her specifically in your overall schemes, but having her vote of confidence may prove useful for your potential alliance. Plus, it didn’t hurt to befriend a Heartrender.
But she always asked the same thing. “Your boss hasn’t claimed her little ring yet, has she?”
And your answer was always the same. “No. It’s not the right time, I suppose.”
And it wasn’t. Your gang, while managing decently filled coffers, was minuscule. You were a small, yet arguably skilled group. And it wasn’t just Kaz Brekker you had to convince. Even though he was the harder of the two to persuade, you’d need enough of a footing to convince Per Haskell. Unless a time came when Kaz took full control, he was technically Haskell’s lieutenant, and the old bastard could veto any deal you made with Dirtyhands.
“We need to start venturing out.” You told your lieutenant. You were seated in your office, spinning the tip of your blade against your desk. You had done it so much you had worn a little divot in the wood. “We need to start doing jobs or running cons.”
“Word is there’s a gambling hall near the Crow Club that’s struggling.” Melli offered up eagerly. “It’s a solid location.”
“Then why is it struggling?”
“Advertisement?”
“Melli.” You let your blade fall to the wood top and stared your lieutenant in the eyes.
“I think the Dreg presence keeps them from really capitalizing.” She answered, tugging at her sleeve.
“And you think adding snake presence will do anything towards pacifying Brekker and his Crows? They don’t trust me or any of us, and if Brekker finds out who I really am, he’ll burn down any business attached to us. Whether or not that is before he drags me, kicking and screaming and bleeding, to my father’s feet, I couldn’t tell you.”
“He won’t.” She tried but you simply raised a brow. “You’re careful, Davina. If he hasn’t figured it out by now, after he took you captive, he won’t find out unless you let
him.”
You tapped your finger against your desk in thought. You stared at your discarded knife and wondered if it was worth the risk, especially after your last encounter with him. The hits to your ribs had broken two and left your lungs bruised. Getting them healed was a pain and if you thought hard enough, you could still feel that pain in your chest.
Out the corner of your eye, you saw Melli fidgeting with her sleeve again and you redirected focus to her idea, though you made a mental note to talk to her about that tell. If you left Melli to run the hall, it could maintain your anonymity while also bringing in funds outside of your father’s unintentional donations. It could also be an opportunity to get in good with Haskell.
“Go see what the owner might sell for…” You waved her off, trying to ignore her giddy smile. “If it’s not an arm and a leg or my eternal soul, I will consider it.”
“Yes!” She celebrated.
“But.” You said firmly and her giddy movements halted. “It’ll be your passion project, meaning you will be responsible for any and all failures or success, and you’ll be compensated accordingly from the profits. And if we take it, I intend to use it as a foot in the door with the Dregs.”
At that, her mouth fell open.
“I can offer Haskell a small percentage of our profit to allow us to operate within his boundaries.”
“That’ll make us look weak!”
“We’ll look approachable.” You countered.
“We don’t need Dreg approval.”
“We’ll need Haskell’s good graces if we want to get Kaz.”
“We don’t want Brekker. You do.”
“You’re right.” You nodded. “And while I respect your opinion as my lieutenant, I’m not debating this with you. Dime Lions won’t hesitate if they get a chance to wipe us out, neither will the Razor Gulls. Especially if either of them figure me out. You want the gambling hall?” You made a platform with your fingers as your elbows came to your desk. You rested your chin on said platform. “You have my terms, Melli.”
She opened her mouth, likely to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded with a heavy, defeated sigh and stomped out the door. You dropped back into your chair and rubbed your tired eyes.
If you had known how tiring it was to run a gang, plot revenge, and seek alliance from your father’s sworn enemy, you may have thought twice.
You decided you wanted something stronger than the poor quality coffee Melli kept warm in the main room. You tossed your cloak over your shoulders, fastened it at the base of your throat, and slipped out your window. You slid down the peak of the roof from the building practically leaning against yours and caught yourself on the usual broken guardrail at the edge. It hung off into a sliver of an alleyway and the small space became a small altar to Sankta Alina.
You were always careful not to disturb it when you made your landing. Once, you even drew your own sun on the wall around it.
You pulled your hood up and blended into the streets. You were lucky to set up business in a building that was near the edge of the Barrel. It was out of your father’s reach and that was what was most important. But in the nights you needed the comfort of bustling nightlife and drinks, you wished you had found something a few blocks closer.
At the end of the night, you were safe when you slept. You were warm every night. You were fed, not always well but you and your snakes never went without necessities. It was all you could ask for to start with, yet did nothing to quell the need for more.
You didn’t end up at any clubs or bars. Instead, you ended up walking the canals until you reached the one spot that you hated, yet always found a way back to. There was a small space where you could see Reaper’s Barge. It was far enough that you couldn’t make out any specific bodies, if there were any, and you couldn’t smell the rot or decomposition. It was just the salty tang the ocean always left in the air and the ever present mist hovering. You used to wonder if the Council of Tides had put that mist there, but you came to be thankful for it. It seemed to keep the worst of the dread away.
“When they said the monsters were in the shadows, it was supposed to be a story.” You threw over your shoulder after you felt the stare at your back. “You weren’t supposed to take it literally.”
“There’s enough truth in every story. Besides, I am the nightmare.” He answered. 
“So I’ve heard…” You nodded. “Some say you’ve got bones for hands, the flesh rotted away by all your misdeeds. Others that you don’t have hands at all but are just cursed with phantom fingers. I’ve also heard you have claws, so which story has your truth?”
“All of them. Or none of them. You can pick, really.”
You were surprised to find he seemed relatively docile and it made you wonder how long it would take for you to say something that provoked him. And part of you wanted to try.
He came and stood by your side.
“Are you here to slice me open again?” You joked and turned your head. He stared ahead and you stuck your arm out, exposing your bare forearm. “Go on then.”
He glanced down then and pushed your arm away with a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. Then his eyes found your face, tracing the length of scar from his cane. It burned with the memory and you almost felt the stream of blood down your face again.
“I think it adds a certain charm. Don’t you?” You tried another joke and he shook his head, looking away. You frowned to yourself and looked back to the water. “Why are you lurking in the shadows anyway?”
“Midnight stroll.” He answered calmly.
“With a leg like that? I don’t think so.” You scoffed. “Is it even midnight?”
As if on cue, the bells began to ring.
“Oh, Saints.” You muttered.
“Let that be a lesson.” He commented and you turned towards him. “I’m almost never wrong.”
“Almost? So it is possible.”
“Nothing is impossible.” He shrugged. “Improbable, yes, but not impossible.”
“The Wraith told me pride would be my downfall, yet here you stand.”
“As I’ve mentioned, Dear, I’ve already died.”
You nodded slightly and looked back to the water nearer the Barge. When you went there, your thoughts always strayed to Jordie. You wondered how long he had been in the water, if there was anything left of him. You wondered if Kaz had been in the water or did someone have to pry him off his brother’s body, screaming for the only family he had? You always shuddered at the thoughts.
“How is Davina?” Kaz asked suddenly.
Your eyes moved, head staying forward. You saw he was leaning his elbows on the railing. His leather clad hands were fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt beneath his coat, and the moonlight bounced off the silver crow-topped cane at his side.
“She worries.” You confessed. You had missed Kaz so dearly, so you were taking the small opportunity he had given you to just talk. “She’s not sure we’ll have enough to offer when she needs to make the deal. That’s part of why she doesn’t come out often.”
“Why she sends you, Melli?”
Your comfort was yanked away at his words and your hand began to creep towards the blade inside your collar. You were a fool to think there was anything other than malice in his intent. “What?”
“Yes.” He turned towards you and you took an instinctive step back. “You see, after our last run-in, I looked into the little clutch she’s built. Fortunately for her, not many know her roster, but her lieutenant’s name has a few whispers.”
You felt a swell of panic. If Melli’s name was known, how long did you have until yours was tied to your face? Was the gambling hall a ruse to lure Melli, thinking you would show, for capture? What would happen to Melli?
“I am not Melli.” You said firmly, maintaining eye contact even though you wanted to bolt to the gambling hall.
“Are you telling me-“ He lifted that cursed cane and you pulled the blade from the sheath. “-that my sources are wrong?”
“Not quite.” Another step back. “There is a snake named Melli and Davina trusts her, but I am not Melli.”
“Then who are you?”
“You're Kaz Brekker, aren’t you? Figure it out.”
In a swift movement, the blunt end of his cane slid under the fabric of your cloak, where the clasps met, and he pulled you forward. You stumbled slightly and his free hand grabbed your face, leather-clad fingers digging into your cheeks. You could’ve sworn you had felt the sharpness of the fabled talons he hid, but you knew it was your imagination.
Kaz was human. You knew that, but he was also dangerous.
“If you value your hand, I suggest you let go.” You threatened but with his grip your words were mumbled.
He just raised a brow and pushed you to step back. Your empty hand grabbed his forearm desperately as he bent you backwards over the railing. You felt yourself lifting off the ground, toes of your boots scraping the ground and you scrabbled for purchase.
You could feel the dull end of the cane pressing on the underside of your chin. You gripped his arm tighter and you saw a change in expression. His jaw tensed, the grip on your face faltered, his entire body seemed to go rigged. In that hesitation, you acted.
You found the upside down crow’s head and slammed your foot down on the beak. You felt it slide away before it clattered to the ground. You slashed your knife in a careless move, seeing it skate along the front of his hip. He winced slightly but you let go of his arm, holding to the railing instead. You put the knife’s handle between your teeth and braced the other hand against his chest.
You shoved as hard as you could and he stumbled back. You tumbled over the railing, slamming your side into it as it spun your arm in your socket. You glanced down and the darkness made the water seem hauntingly endless. You turned back to climb up and you saw the silver arc. You yelped and had to switch hands in a hurry, the impact of the crow’s head vibrating through the railing. You thought to yell at him for trying to break your fingers but he swung the cane again. In a panic, you simply let go and fell into the waters.
You were dripping wet when you got home. Your cloak was sticking to your chest, hood heavy against your forehead. Your knife was lost to the waters and your teeth were chattering, loose hairs sticking to your face.
“Send Melli to my office when she returns.” You told one of the snakes in the common room as you stomped away, leaving squishing sounds and wet footprints in your wake.
Almost immediately after you slammed the door, a light knock sounded before it opened. You turned and saw Melli.
“You’re unharmed?” You asked. You were worried but your voice was level. The cold waters had seeped the heat of your anger and worry away.
“Yes.” She nodded and you could see her trying to hide the smile. “The owner’s willing to sell, but he isn’t the majority owner. He says that’s why it doesn’t seem as profitable lately. Once ownership changed, he stopped advertising or putting in much effort other than paying the bills and bringing in enough for his family!”
“Fine. How much does he want?”
“5,000.”
You blew out a sigh and unclasped your cloak, draping the fabric over your desk with a wet thump. “I supposed it’s fair if he doesn’t own it all. What can you put in?”
“What?” Her smile fell.
“You wanted it. You’ll run in. You need to put in. I’ll cover some and the snakes’ coffers will do the rest. So what can you put in?”
“Um.” She tugged her sleeve and you glared at the nervous movement of her hand. “Maybe… 1200?”
“Good. I can give 1800, and then the other two wi-“
“If you put in more than me, doesn’t that undermine what I put in?”
“First.” You held up a hand. “Don’t cut me off, Melli. I’ve had a horrid night, if you couldn’t tell, so I’m in no mood.”
She closed her mouth tightly and nodded.
“Second, it’s not about you or me putting in more. It’s about lessening the strain on our gang’s funds. We’ll meet tomorrow night with him. Now, who’s the majority owner?”
“You won’t like it.” She sighed.
“Who, Haskell? Because I swear if I have to deal with Brekker again so soon.”
“You saw Dirtyhands?” She quirked a brow. “I suppose that explains why you look like a wet cat.”
“Yes, and he is continuing the infuriating habit of making my life difficult. He nearly broke my fingers before throwing me into the canals. And he thinks I’m you.”
“What?” She laughed.
“He found out your name as my lieutenant and he thinks my hooded charade is you, which means you need to be more careful for a while with your name. Understood?”
“Of course.” She began fiddling with her sleeve. “Do you still want an alliance?”
“I want to watch my father suffer.” You said plainly, leaning your palms flat against your desk. “I want to take from him the same he took from me as a child, and if it takes wooing Kaz Brekker - who wants the same thing, mind you - into some sort of partnership, so be it. Now for Gods’ sakes, Melli, quit picking at your cursed sleeve and be a lieutenant! Who’s the majority owner?”
Her hands folded behind her back and she righted her posture. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin.
“Pekka Rollins.”
“Truly?” You smiled and she nodded. “Well, maybe this is a good idea after all.”
The next night, you dressed for the first public appearance of Davina Rollins since her disappearance. You left your hair loose and left your cloak. Instead, you wore a fitted vest, similar to a corset but with thicker straps and less restriction of your breathing. It was another Grisha made item but this one had been far cheaper than your cloak. You had gotten it from a Fabrikator at port who had deserted the Second Army so she was willing to give it away for practically nothing. It had several knife sheaths and was damn near impenetrable.
You wore it over a dark blue long sleeved button up, tucked neatly into your pants, with two knives tucked into their homes. You wore your usual boots and added a pair of black leather gloves. The accessory made you think of Kaz and you found yourself wondering why he had added the gloves. Was it simply for mystery or something more?
You shook the thought away and reached for the last thing you needed. A dark piece of fabric that you had cut and sewn into a makeshift mask. It would cover the lower half of your face and loop over your ears before you pinned it into your hair. The hooded cloak could hide most of what you did, but you needed a statement with a true appearance.
Well, as true as you could risk.
Your deal with the man was easy enough. Paperwork for the sale would be submitted in the morning and you had him send word to your father that he was selling and the new owner wouldn’t pay him anything. You also had him add that you would be at his doorstep at midnight. Melli tried to talk you out of it, but your own spite drove you to it.
“You should meet in neutral territory. Is that what that square is for?” She reasoned and gestured towards the area most deals between gangs were made.
“I don’t know enough about the way it works there.” You shook your head. “Besides, it’s too open. Stadwatch can be bought, people can turn. I won’t risk it.”
“It’s riskier doing this!”
“Well, I’m sure dear old Dad will be too shocked to try to kill me.”
“Davina.”
“Go home, Melli. You know your tasks if I don’t return.”
“Abandon the revenge against Rollins. Forget allying with the Dregs. Make our own name.” She listed with a nod to punctuate each command. “I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to. The deal is the deal.”
You were ushered into your father’s office quickly. Two large Dime Lions stood post and your father kept seated at his desk. You crossed your arms and your fingers grazed the handle of the blades. You were glad to know they were easy to reach.
“What business?” He finally spoke.
Hearing his voice sent a chill through you. He sounded the same, yet completely foreign. He had no warmth towards you, no yearning or longing. He wasn’t your father. Just the Barrel Boss, head of the Dime Lions, Pekka Rollins.
“Is that how you speak to your daughter?” You tried and raised a brow. “The power you claim to have has made you cruel.”
“Am I to believe you’re Davina?” He laughed. “My daughter wouldn’t hide. She’d face me as she is.”
“I wouldn’t hide?” You cocked your head. “Papa, I’ve been hiding for years. Who do you think has been building the snakes that have been making neat little dens all across your precious Ketterdam?”
You thought about taunting with the account, but if you lost those funds, your gang might drown unless the gambling hall proves fruitful.
“Snakes.” He spat. “Vile little creatures.”
“Maybe we’re more alike than I wanted to believe.”
A Dime Lion kicked at the back of your knee and you fell. Your father came around his desk and knelt in front of you, jerking your head towards him by your chin.
He stared into your eyes, scanned your face, looked at your hair. He was looking for some resemblance and you hadn’t realized how much you had changed until then. Yes, you had changed your hair, but also the set of your shoulders had changed. You didn’t cower from eye contact. Your voice matured. You held your head higher. Your round, childish cheeks had sharpened.
Even under your mask, after staring enough, he recognized you.
“I thought you were dead, Davi.” He said softly. “Where were you?”
“I tumbled with the Reaper.” You smiled beneath your mask. “I knew my time was coming when I left. I could either die at twelve or at ninety three. You’d be surprised how many thought I was so pretty, they bought a room.”
His mouth opened for a response but you spoke again.
“Yes, my tongue’s grown quite sharp with spite in my time away. I sold off my pride, figured it was easier to focus on that price you put on my head. Ego never pays so I found men who would.”
“You went into the Pleasure Houses?” He sounded disgusted.
“There was no one I wouldn’t fight to get what I wanted. Can’t you see? Worthless parents make stupid kids. Your conscience never compromised, not even when it killed the only two friends I had growing up. Looks like the apple didn’t stray very far.”
“You aren’t my daughter.” He shook his head. 
“I am Davina Rollins.” You said firmly. A hard right hook that you didn’t expect hit your jaw.
“I am the only daughter of Pekka Rollins.” A left hook that made your head jerk.
“I am the leader of the snakes.” You saw the next hit coming so you leaned away. “And I will not cower from you.”
You could taste the blood in your mouth while you got back to your feet. You made a show of dusting off your pants before you ran your tongue over your bloodied teeth. You turned your head, pulled your mask down, and spat on the floor, scanning the room to see it was still the two thugs at the door before replacing your cover.
Them plus your father. You might be able to do it. You had two blades but no pistol. Disarming one of the three was a possibility.
“That how you greet your children now?” You commented and adjusted your shirt sleeves. “I feel bad for the boy.”
“Do not speak of my son!” He shouted. “You abandoned your family!”
“Maybe.” You nodded. “And I miss my mother dearly, but that was all I left behind in that house.”
“Watch how you speak to me, Daughter. You may bear my name but you gave up your place here.”
“No, you never intended a place for me here. I was part of your schemes, always, but your empire was never going to be mine… You think I didn’t hear your whispered conversations with Mama? Maybe that’s part of why I decided to build my own. Not why I left, of course, but I’m sure we’ll get to that.”
“Why are you here?” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“I came to face you.” You explained, putting your arms out to either side dramatically. “As I am, of course. I’m taking possession of that neat little gambling hall a few blocks from the Crow Club.”
“That pisspot?” He laughed. “It brings in pocket change, Davi.”
“First, stop calling me that. You have no right.” You said firmly and you saw one of the men make a move toward you. Your head snapped in their direction. “If you like the bones of your leg intact, do not kick me again.”
He hesitated but stepped back so you faced your father.
“Second, if it’s so poorly, you should be glad I’m taking it off your hands.”
“I keep it as a thorn in Per Haskell’s side.” He explained, waving his hand through the air. “A reminder that I am everywhere.”
“Save me your dramatics, please.” You rolled your eyes. “The paperwork will be submitted and you, dear Dad, will not be involved in my new project.”
“Why do you want it so bad?”
“Profit.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what it’s all about in Ketterdam? In Ghezen’s name and such.”
A faint explosion sounded from outside and you wondered what gang was riled up now.
“That place won’t feed your snakes.” He shook his head.
“I didn’t come for advice.”
“And yet clearly you need it, Little One. How about this? You bring your snakes and come here. We will welcome them with open arms and I can teach you how to truly become what you wish.”
“No.” You said flatly. “My snakes are mine and mine alone. I’d rather die than ever consider your help.”
“You’re a child.” He laughed, the condescension heavy in his words. “You won’t best me.”
A shadow passed by the office window and you could’ve sworn you had seen a glint of silver.
“Like calls to like. I’m sure I’ll make allies.” You answered.
You heard a pistol draw behind you.
“Tell your man to stand down.” You warned and your hand inched towards your blade.
A second pistol.
“You should’ve called to meet in neutral territory, Davi.” He sighed, then signaled to the men behind you. “It was nice to see you, one last time.”
You felt the hand on your arm and you reacted. You freed your knife and slashed, cutting a deep line across the man’s face. You whirled and saw the pistol raising. You gasped and dropped to the floor, the bullet landing somewhere in the wall. You reached forward and grabbed the man’s pant leg, yanking it towards you till he fell to his back and the gun fell away.
You sprung for it but the heavy foot of the other pinned your hand down. You cried out and you felt the squish of your flesh against the ground. Your other hand guided your knife along the back of his ankle, slicing through the tendon, and the man’s leg gave out. You rolled away and clutched your hand to your chest.
With heavy breaths, you jumped up and held firmly to your knife, the other hand still pulsing from the pain.
Another explosion, this one close enough to rock the building. You glanced towards the window but you saw your father pointing a gun at you.
“Oh Saints.” You complained, missing the safety of your cloak. “All this trouble just to kill me, Papa?”
“It’s not personal, Davi.” He almost looked regretful.
“Feels personal.”
You threw the knife in your hand before he fired. The blade buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder and it made his arm jerk, his shot going off course and he fell into his chair. The bullet burrowed into your own shoulder - of course it managed to miss the protection - and you couldn’t help but cry out. The force of the bullet made your arm jerk back and you stumbled towards the wall behind you. You slammed your hand against the wound as the pain shot down your arm.
You took in the scene ahead of you and quickly plotted a way out. There was only one Dime Lion standing, still armed. The fallen one had dropped his gun, as did your father. You could see he was torn between helping your father and going after you. You, however, needed to get out. You figured the gunshots would’ve called more Lions on the other side of the door, and the office was too high for you to take the window, so you needed a pistol of your own. You took a deep breath, clenched your jaw, and dove for the closest gun.
As soon as your wounded shoulder hit the ground, you winced sharply but refused to let it stop you. You held the pistol tightly, ignoring the way it felt slick in your bloodied hand, and dared a glance at your father. His Dime Lion had decided to help him instead of pursue you so you ran.
You burst through the door and found a surprisingly empty hallway. You didn’t hesitate, barreling down and taking the stairs two at a time. Every step sent a jolt through your arm and you cursed your father’s name each time. When you made it to the ground floor, that’s where you found the rest of his gang.
They were shooting at something in the streets but a few saw you come into the room. They pointed and opened their mouths, but your bullets came faster than their voices. You shot at their chests, bullets piercing lungs and hearts, before you ditched the gun and climbed through a nearby window. It took you into an alley and you crept along the building till you reached the street.
Habitually, you reached for your hood but found nothing. You sighed and ran a hand over your face, smearing the still wet blood along with the sweat on your forehead. The cold feeling of the leather was a stark contrast to your burning skin and the searing pain, so different you flinched away from it, but it also reminded you of Kaz. You groaned slightly and wiped your sleeve across your eyes instead.
You shook the thought and peered out into the streets. Your meeting had gone completely array and with the fire fight and explosions in the street, you needed a new way home. You took a few steps out and looked deeper into the night, trying to figure out what they were shooting at. You saw nothing, not even return fire. Curious, you dared another couple steps.
“Hey!” Someone yelled. “It’s Davina!”
“Get her!”
“Don’t kill her! The boss wants her alive!”
No he doesn’t.
You turned and ran. The pumping of your arms caused more blood to seep from your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pain. You looked over your shoulder just once and saw three of the Dime Lions in pursuit. They were smaller than the build your father usually employed, but you assumed it made them better for chases like the one you were currently involved in.
You knew you couldn’t go straight home. You’d lead them right to your snakes. There was a smaller place closer, a safe house that you had commandeered from the Razor Gulls before you had your current building. It wasn’t much but it was safe enough, with what you’d need to clean and bandage your shoulder.
You made a mental note to put out word you were looking to employ a Healer.
As you were running, a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you into an alley. You screamed but their other hand covered your mouth as you were pinned to the wall. Their body was pressed lightly against yours, your back flat against the wall, while they watched the streets instead of looking at you.
Your eyes were wide until you recognized who it was.
Kaz.
You sighed deeply in a strange sense of relief. Kaz was in no way your ally but at least he was familiar and unlikely to kill you in the alley. You two stayed huddled in the alley until the Lions ran by, shouting about which direction you went.
When you could no longer hear their footfalls, he backed away.
“You’re bleeding.” He said with a frown.
“I’m aware.” You said through heavy breaths. “Hurts like hell too, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
You rolled your eyes slightly. “Why are you here, anyways?”
“Are you really questioning me when I just saved you?”
“Yes, because you don’t just appear when someone needs saving, Kaz.”
“I heard you were meeting with your father. I wanted to see if it was true.” He said with a small shrug, as if you should’ve known.
“And do you believe it?” You asked.
He stared at you in study for a minute. His eyes seemed to take the same path your father’s did. Your eyes, your nose, your face shape, your hairline. He looked you up and down before the ghost of a smile graced his lips and he gave you a small nod.
“Hello, Davina.” He finally answered and you smiled behind your mask.
“Hello, Kaz.” You replied, relief plain in your voice. “It’s good to finally talk.”
“We should get you to a Healer.” His tone changed and you saw a shift in his body language as well. Tension, control, like elastic ready to snap. Your brows furrowed and suddenly felt no relief in his sudden appearance.
And he hadn’t answered what he was doing there.
“No.” You said carefully. “I don’t want to go to Nina Zenik.”
“I didn’t say Zenik.”
“You didn’t have to. Why are you here?”
“I’ll explain later, but you won’t hear any of it if you decide
to bleed out in an alley.” He snapped.
“You’ll explain now.” You pulled your blade. You knew he was right. You were still losing blood, though it had slowed. You were tired, light-headed, growing weary with every step. Your bulleted arm was growing heavy, more useless with every pump of blood that left. But you would die fighting the Bastard of the Barrel if that’s what it took. “Or you can bleed out with me.”
“Dammit, Davina.” He sighed. Another figure appeared at the entrance to the alley and you whirled on them quickly.
You grabbed their shirtfront and slammed them against the wall. His hands went up in surrender as your blade threatened his throat.
“Woah!” He said quickly. “You wouldn’t slit my throat if I’m unarmed, would you?”
It took you a second but you recognized him.
“You’re Jesper Fahey. You’re never unarmed.” You countered.
At that, he grinned widely. “True, but you can see my hands, Love.” His eyes darted to your shoulder. “And I think you’ve already taken one bullet tonight.”
You shoved off him and glared back to Kaz.
“Oh, Saints. Kaz!” Jesper complained. “You shot her?”
“I did no such thing.” He said plainly. “The idiot got herself shot somewhere else.”
“A parting gift from my father.” You spat. “If you were just here to verify I was alive, why bring your sharpshooter?”
“If you think I’m daft enough to plot against the Dime Lions alone, then you’re a fool.” Kaz countered and you didn’t miss the hint of condescension.
It made you think the figure from before wasn’t just shadows. “No, I suppose that’s my job, as you do so like to point out.”  You looked to the rooftops.
“The Wraith here too?” You asked.
“She’s good.” Jesper praised. “Maybe we shouldn’t-“
“Shut up.” Kaz muttered. “Davina, Dear, we really should go.”
“What were the explosions?”
“Wylan’s handiwork.” Jesper said proudly. “Nothing dangerous, moreso just sound and some bright lights.”
“It shook my father’s building.” You deadpanned.
“Well.” He grinned again, his face alight with the thrill of a fight. “Maybe a little dangerous.”
“This wasn’t curiosity.” You turned on Kaz, his expression as unreadable as ever but he gave up the charade. “This was a heist. You wanted to kidnap me. Was my lieutenant not enough? Breaking her ribs, throwing her into the canals, that wasn’t enough?”
“You think me a fool?”
“You don’t want to know what I think you are.”
“Your lieutenant is a girl named Melli. She was visiting a small gambling hall last night and, funny enough, she didn’t wear that little cloak. And her hair was a different color, different cut, and her face was rounder than the hooded one. So, either you have multiple lieutenants or the girl you send out is someone else. Which is it, Dear?”
He knew something. You could see it in his eyes, even in the minimal light. You could hear it in his voice. He knew more than he was claiming, and he wanted to goad you into a confession.
“I’m going home.” You said firmly, though you could feel your hand with your blade trembling. “I’m hurt. I’m tired. I’m pissed off and in no mood to fight with you, Brekker.”
“No, we’re due for quite the chat.”
You sighed and tucked your blade away. You looked to Jesper, who was a bit uncertain of what to do next.
“Sorry about this.” You muttered.
His brows furrowed and as he opened his mouth to speak, you punched him in the throat. He coughed and grabbed his throat, so you grabbed his forearms and shoved him at Kaz. Both men fell in a heap so you took off running towards your little safe house.
You’d clean your wound, pry out the bullet, sleep off the worst of the pain. In the morning, you’d meet with your unnamed Healer before you returned home and planned what the hell you were going to do next.
105 notes · View notes
forever-rogue · 1 year ago
Note
Hi!!! I was wondering if u could do a henderson!reader x steve harrington imagine where it’s enemies to lovers and also one bed? Where they use to be childhood bestfriends but then steve ditched her for the popular crowd and they took the kids on a vacation or something and had to share a bed? It’s angsty but also fluffy fluff fluff where they admit they’re in love with eachother!!
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AN | Ooh, but this got real soft and made me feel things 🥺
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2k
Masterlist | Steve, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“You’re joking,” you looked at your younger brother in desperation, wanting him to come out and say that he hadn’t mean it. But he just grinned that smug little grin you wanted to wipe off his exuberant little face, “you’re joking, right?”
“Nope.”
“Dustin!” you groaned in frustration as Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, “why…this doesn’t make any sense!”
“Sure it does,” he shrugged his shoulders, fully aware of what he was doing, “the rest of us are already all paired up in cabins and that just leaves the two of you. So…you’ll have to share this cabin.”
“Why can’t I share with Robin?” you flailed your arms and hit Steve in the chest, “or Nance?”
“They’re bunking together.”
“Surely they can take a third person-”
“They’re bunking together,” he repeated and you understood the implication. Damn them. You pinched your brow and shook your head.
“What about Eddie?” you offered, “why can’t I stay with Eddie?”
“I’m staying with Eddie-”
“Be a good brother and trade!”
“No can do,” he ducked out of your reach and tossed the cabin keys to Steve, “sorry! Be a good sister and make do! It’s only a week.”
“You’re the worst!” you called at his retreating back, “you’re adopted!”
“You’re the adopted one!” all you could hear was his laughter as he disappeared into the distance. You turned around and found Steve watching you intently.
“Don’t even start Harrington,” you grabbed the keys and unlocked the door before unceremoniously kicking the door open. As soon as you stepped inside of the old cabin, a sound of despair escaped your lips. No way. There was no way.
“Well,” Steve trudged in after you, tossing both of your bags onto the floor, “looks like there’s only one bed, princess.”
“Fuck me.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“I am not sharing a bed with you,” you vehemently shook your head as you took a step further from him. He rolled his eyes again before flopping onto the bed and letting out a long sigh of relief, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You don’t even have a sleeping bag.”
“I’ll use a blanket.”
"We could share the bed. We've done it before-"
"We were stupid kids. I'll take the floor."
“It’s hardwood and it’ll be cold.”
“I’ll deal with it!” you snapped at him and he sat up, “don’t act like you suddenly care.”
A flash of hurt crossed his features for a moment before he snapped back into reality, “fine - you take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No.”
“Don’t be so stubborn,” he got off the bed and closed the small distance between your bodies. You were ready to make a smark retort but he was too fast, “take the bed and I will take the floor. Now stop arguing, princess, and deal with it.”
“I hate you,” you sat on the bed cross-legged as you sighed in sheer exasperation.
“The feeling’s mutual,” his back was to you so you couldn’t see his face. You wondered what his expression was because there appeared to be no venom to his tone. 
This was going to be a long week.
-─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
It turned out you were right…it was a very long couple of days. You were so busy trying to avoid Steve at all costs that it became less about having fun and camping with your friends and more about your little vendetta. And honestly? It was tiring. But you were too stubborn to admit you could have possibly been wrong. At least when it came to him.
And you thought you didn't have a heart anymore, but it turns out that it was still there. Even if just a little bit. 
It happened midway through the week, after a rainy day that had turned into a cold night. 
"Harrington," you didn't bother to turn on the light, knowing full well he was still awake. He didn't say anything, so you sighed lightly, "get up here."
"What?"
"Don't make this weird," you were already having second thoughts but it was too late now, "get in the bed…but stay on the other side. It's too cold and I don't want to hear you complaining about your sore back tomorrow."
"Are you-"
"Don't make me change my mind," you shuffled around when you heard him getting up and made it so your back was towards him, "just get in the bed and sleep."
He climbed into the bed on the opposite side, taking up just enough room to be acceptable but still leaving a divide. Your backs were to each other and you could hear his breathing slowly start to even out. Before either of you could fall asleep he spoke up again.
"I don't hate you, you know," his admission was so quiet you weren't even sure it was meant for you to hear. You swallowed thickly, trying to decide if you should respond, "I know you're awake."
"What do you want me to say?" You squeezed your eyes shut as you burrowed your face into the pillow, "that I don't hate you? That I forgive you? Because that would be a lie."
"Maybe if I knew why you suddenly decided to hate me, I could have apologized-"
"Don't act like you don't know!" You were blinking back tears fighting the urge to roll over and glare at him.
"I'm not acting," he sat up and ran a hand through his messy hair, only giving you a cursory little glance, "what did I do? Why have you hated me for the last five years?"
"Are you serious?” this time you did roll around and glared at him, huffing heavily. He gave a no duh kind of look and you narrowed your eyes at him, “we were best friends. You said we would always be best friends…forever. But then one day you just left me behind and never looked back. I couldn’t even manage to get you alone to talk or anything. You were always with your new popular friends.”
“Oh,” he mused thoughtfully, a deep frown tugging down the corners of his mouth, “that’s what…all this time?”
“Steve,” you sighed lightly but the fact that you actually used his first name for a change was not lost on him, “your friends were assholes. They were rude to me - everyone except their little clique. It seemed like as soon as you started hanging out with them no one else mattered. You didn’t even try and defend me when they picked on me.”
“They were rude to you?” every word from your mouth made his heart break a little more. If he could go back now, he’d do everything differently. He’d been so lost and alone during those years, it was just recently that he started feeling like himself again. 
“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “but that doesn’t matter now, does it? I guess it just…I thought we’d always be friends, like we’d always said. But it seemed so easy for you to just forget about me.”
“Because whenever you weren’t around your little friends were assholes to me,” you huffed in frustration, “at least when you were around they ignored me. That was better than the alternative.”
“I never forgot about you,” he whispered. But really, it was just too little too late, “I thought…you hated me. At first, I kept trying to get you to hang out with us, but you never even looked at me.”
A heavy silence fell over the two of you for a while, so thick you could have it easily cut through it with even the dullest of knives.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, breaking the silence and causing you to startle.
“It doesn’t matter,” you closed your eyes and tried to make yourself comfortable again, hoping to be able to get some sleep, “what’s done is done. Let’s just get some sleep.”
From the tattered silence next to you, you could tell there was more that he wanted to say. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to listen. You wanted to keep hating him - it was easier than admitting that deep down you were still in love with him.
Yeah. That realization hurt.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
The next couple of days passed in relative peace, which came as a shocker to everyone. They all regarded the two of you cautiously, like they were worried that somehow they would cause everything to break. Meanwhile you and Steve decided to ignore it and pretend that nothing was wrong or different.  It was easier than finishing the conversation that lingered between you. 
It was the night before you were all set to leave that something changed again. You were packing up your things, more or less pretending that Steve didn’t exist when you heard him sit on the bed with a sigh. 
“Can we talk?” you turned around and looked at him in surprise. Your instinct was to argue with him, but instead you offered him a curt nod and sat down next to him. You could see him swallow thickly, “listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Truly. For everything that’s happened and…and not sticking to our promise.”
“Okay,” you nodded, and while part of you wanted to continue to stay mad, but you were also tired of the fight, “thank you.”
“I never stopped…” his voice dropped off and you raised an eyebrow gently nudging his leg with yours so he would go on. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. But then he dropped the biggest shocker of all, “I never stopped loving you.”
“Oh,” you recoiled in surprise and he grimaced. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest in surprise, “oh. Well, I-I guess deep down I still love you too. We spent most of our lives together so…”
“Not like that,” he shook his head and angled his body towards yours, “not like that.”
“Like…oh.”
“Yeah,” his pretty face was flushed pink as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, unsure of exactly what you wanted to say, “I’m sorry…I probably shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to make things worse, but also kind of just needed to get that out there..”
“Steve…” you closed your eyes, wondering how you could possibly convey what you were feeling with words. There were a lot of things going around all at once, “are you sorry for the feelings or telling me?”
“Telling you,” he almost choked on the words and you nodded in understanding, “I can finish packing and then see if I can crash with Eddie and Dustin.”
You reached for his hand and stopped him from walking away, gently shaking your head. He looked confused but you stood up and took a step closer to him, “don’t go.”
“Sweetheart-”
“I’m not going to pretend that this solves everything,” you whispered, “we still have a lot of fighting to do, and fighting with people you love is worth it, fighting for the right thing.”
“Oh,” this time it was his turn to be dumbfounded, “what do you-”
You took his face in your hands and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing both of you. When you pulled back, the two of you exchanged small, shy smiles. 
“I never stopped either,” you promised, “just so you know.”
“Yeah?” his pretty face lit up and you couldn’t help but mirror the enthusiasm back to him. 
“Yeah,” you were positive you’d never been more sure, “but we’ll still talk about it right? I don’t want to just sweep everything under the rug.”
“We will,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “we’ll fight and figure it all out.”
“Perfect.”
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hyukaphobicsworld · 6 months ago
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In red we trust
⚠️WARNING⚠️
This will not be like my other drabbles. This book is for mature audiences only. Please know this book is only for imagination and is not based on true or wanting events. Thank you
Second warning(s): Deadpool!felix x Harley Quinn!afab reader, enemies to lovers, controlling, murder, blood, fear kink, oral sex (female receiving), Felix hitting it from the back, Felix is really a bit perverted, samurai/killer Felix, slight misogyny in the beginning (Felix learns his lesson), cheating, masturbation (no cumming), humiliation kink, Dacryphilia, leaving marks on each other, grinding, cussing, and weapons, strong ass pull out gang!!!! (TELL ME IF I MISS ANYTHING!!)
Note: Guys, I have no idea what I’m yapping about. I really don’t know a thing about Harley Quinn nor Deadpool (I know more about Harley Quinn than Deadpool) They most likely won’t act exactly like the character nor be even
He runs around and swing his trusty swords through all of them. One by one, they all fall down with nothing but scars as the last piece of evidence. None of this is a joke to him, none of this is funny to him. He takes this serious. He gets people behind him, in front of him, and beside him.
The leader, boss, can only stand there confused. He sees all of his men be taken down by one dude in red. A man who is incredibly powerful. But not physically like Felix. Felix believes that that is all that matters. The physical power and what you can do with it. Not the controlling power.
The leader sits there in shock when there is no man left of his. He’s scared and is only left to think, “Who is the foe in all black and red, two swords on his back and an intimidating mask down his face? And how the hell is he so good at fighting?” Felix starts walking towards the leader and the leader backs up until his back was pressed against the cold wall behind him
“Who are you?!” The leader aggressively asked. “State yourself?!”
Felix slowly pulled off his mask and smirked at the shocked man’s face. “The names Deadpool.” He said in deep, alarming, and intimidating voice. Nothing scared the leader more. “Is that yo-“ were his last words before Felix quickly brought out the gun and shot him. Leaving nothing but dead people on the ground for evidence. He rolled his eyes and put his mask right back on. He starts whistling while walking out into the hall. He trips over one of the bodies and stumbles. “Woah! Excuse you!” He throws his arms up in the air. He was talking to the person he brutally murdered with his swords, actions as if they were still alive and they did that on purpose. Felix walked down to the dead man and kneeled. “So you really aren’t even going to excuse yourself? Jeez, people these days.” He rolled his eyes while chuckling to himself. “I’m sorry, Deadpool!” Felix said, making the dead person’s lip move in sync to his voice.
“Yo!” You scream from across the hall. Felix looks back and tilts his head in confusion. You looked like nothing but a shadowy figure to him. He snickered to himself when his vision got cleared and saw it was nothing but a woman with a metal baseball bat in her hands. He got up and wiped his hands. “Who are you? I don’t want you ending up like…” He pointed at all the dead people all over the floor and shrugged his shoulders. “Plus,” he started, putting his hands behind his back and standing from on his heels and back on his toes. “I don’t like to fight women. Why do that when we both know who will win this fight?”
You snickered. Of course, you’re a woman and he’s a man which obviously means he’s better and has to go easy on you. What a pathetic view on women. You pointed your bat at him and closed on of your eyes. “Seems like you got all the work here done. So all I need you top do is step aside, toots!” You smiled and wiggled your head back and forth, causing your pigtails to move. Felix stops moving and stands still. “No can do, pink. You see, I have this whole-“ He started but you couldn’t stand his blabbering. You ran towards him with your bat swinging up.
“Well damn, couldn’t let me finish?” He asked, sarcastically. He pulled out his blade and ran up to you too. When he got close enough, he swung and missed. You jumped from the left wall to the right wall and landed your whole body weight on his shoulders. He moved around and placed his hands on your thighs while grunting. “You look eatable from the view right here.” He tried to joke. You rolled your eyes and picked the pistol out your pocket and spined it around your finger before shooting him in the neck. He fell to the ground and so did you.
Felix holds his neck, trying to stop the blood from coming out. You clicked your tongue at him and found some type of wire with on the ground. He’s going to die anyways. What’s the point in tying him up? “Well,” you begin, wiping off your hands, “It was nice to meet you, Mr…” You paused, trying to catch his name. But all that came out of his mouth was gurgling sounds. You chuckled and walked off with your bat on your shoulders and your arms wrapping around it.
You walk into the room where the leader and all of his men were murdered. You whistled. He did all of this? Couldn’t have done it alone. You could. But, with the way you easily defeated him, no way he did it by himself. You laughed and took the little paper you had in the back of your shorts and punched in the numbers to the code. But it didn’t work. The hell? You could have sworn these were the numbers the man told you last week? Even after you killed all of his colleagues right in front of him, he still lied. “Well played chubby desk dude, well played.” You said to yourself. Before you even got to punch in the numbers again, you heard light foot step and you immediately swinged you back to see.. that dude in the red again?
How? You just shot him, but no time to stop and think! He’s already coming at you with a sword. “Didn’t think I would just let you do that to me so easily, did you pink?” He snickered and you kicked his leg, but he didn’t budge, still trying to cut your waist. You managed to jump over his blade and kick his face while you were up in the air. His body stood still but his face trembled a bit, causing you to get a good look at his neck. What the hell? You don’t even see the bullet wound! It’s like you just didn’t shoot him with a gun! When you landed back on the ground, you dropped your bat. You did a backbend into a flip behind you to get your bat back. “Oh, you’re flexible! I like that, pink!” You knocked one of his blades out his hand with the bat. “How the hell did you not die?!” You asked, still trying to hit him. He laughed and grabbed his blade back. “Because I’m a ghosssttt!” He said, trying to intimidate the voice of a ghost. Jesus he was annoying.
You growled and ran to hit him with your bat but he got you before you could get him. He sliced you thigh which cause you to lose balance, but still have you up in the air. Though you were landing right for him, he catches you. He look at you for a second too long. Staring at you and yur body down before he threw you against the wall harshly. You groaned and got back up. “Still not tired, pink?” He asked. “Never, red!” You ran and he went up, so you went down. You slid across the floor and kicked his calf. He fell straight to the ground while you got your bat back. You quickly got up before him and swung the bat across his face, making him lie right back down. “Now stay down, red!” You yelled at him. You put in the numbers again and it did open this time. You smiled, this is what pudding wanted! But when you opened it, there was nothing but a sticky note with “haha” written in a dark red. It was him! You look and he wasn’t on the ground anymore, he was on the widow, about to jump. He looked back to you and smirked. “The names Deadpool, pink!” He laughed and jumped out the window. And although this was a high building, none of his bones broke when he reached the concrete. Who the hell is he? And why is he so invincible yet sexy?
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Another day of unexpected catastrophes. Mr. J is going to be upset when you tell him one dude dressed in red and black from head to toe, heavy handed, deep voiced, small waist, sexy, swift moevment fighter snatched the information he needed right from your hands. What will you say then? That you were too distracted by trying to keep your legs tied together from the warmth that you could feel going on in your core? Or the fact you only stayed for longer than you needed to because you were trying to see what he looked like without the mask? If he sounded that sexy, he had to have been sexier without the mask.
No Harley! You have Pudding! You have joker! Sure, he’s leaving you alone very often but expects you to do the above and beyond for him. I mean you had to go through all that work and get can’t even get you a can of pineapples from the store without complaining! Ugh! But he is still your boyfriend! So if you even thought about red while simultaneously sneaking your hand down your underwear, fingering yourself because of the way he grabbed you and threw you, you are a disgusting monster. But here you are, doing exactly what you didn’t want to do. Disgusting monster.
You touch yourself to only the thought of him as your lips opened agape and let out tiny whimpers. You could feel the tense tension when you first saw him. Though you can’t tell his facial expressions (because of the whole mask thing) you wanted him anyways. His voice so deep and sexy. Calling you pink and his sarcastic and funny remarks. God, he was so annoyingly sexy. Your fingers went faster when you remember the grip on he had on you. Forgetting the moments he hurt you and replacing them with the pleasurable moments is something you just learned to develop with Joker. You were already gripping your bedsheets and then you remember his words, “Oh, you’re flexible! I like that, pink.” sends you through the roof, almost getting you to cum.
“Honey! I’m home!” Were all the words you needed to hear to throw you off your game. Great. Your not even horny anymore
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This time, you have a new location. Joker wasn’t so happy when he found out you were not able to get the first one. He mumbled off something with the words of “have to do everything by myself again.” Which was infuriating to you because he never did any work. But, nevertheless, that’s your pudding and you love him. Now, time to get information again. The riddler won’t stop himself in the act and it is anything for your pudding, am I right?
This time, you come prepared in case of any distractions. You got greanades, baseball bat, pistol, snare trap, and you personal favorite, Jack in the box! (A distraction tool.) You are unstoppable. Not another man in your mind, no one in your way, you feel greatly confident. Who wouldn’t when your you?
You get into your car and tap on your speaker that connects you to Joker. “I’m on my way pudding. I’ma make you proud,” You said while smiling. “You better.” He said back. You turn it off and get ready to drive down the location you panned to stop at.
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You made it there. But this time, it was full of people. Yes! Finally, you get to get some credit into doing something. They all started charging at you like a bunch of humans chasing a rat. Can you really blame them? A girl with crazy clown makeup, two pigtails, and a baseball bat comes in when it specifically said “NO WEAPONS!!”. But, you still kick there ass. Your bat swings across their heads and they all get taken out.
Your gymnastic skills coming in handy from time to time. That’s when more started to come. But it seems like they were running away then actually running towards you. You ignored it and kicked every single one of their asses. Throwing your bat all around. Getting people from the bathrooms, meeting rooms and even elevators. In which you use to get upstairs. You’re left with nothing but blood all over your body. You use the elevator to get upstairs as you whistled. And then, you saw him again. The dude from yesterday.
Red. He was there again. His facial expressions were visible through the mask and it upset you. Because you could really see when he resisted his eyebrow up. Stupid motherfucker. Why is he even here? He took your stuff yesterday and now he is here for a round two? You growled. “Hey! You gotta be fucking kidding me.” You yelled at him and he threw his arms up. “How are you not dead? You feel off a seven foot high building!”
“Nice to see you too, pink.” He laughed and took out his swords. “But this time, I really need you to go away.” He squints his eyes and talking a little louder so his voice isn’t muffled behind that stupid mask. Stupid fucking mask. What does he look like without it? Seriously, he better be drop-dead ugly so you don’t feel bad when you kill him. “If anything, you were in my w-“ you were about to finish your sentence till he threw a tiny knife out his pocket and threw it straight at you until you caught it. “Well that was just rude.” You rolled your eyes and threw the pocket knife at the wall.
You took out your bat and started dashing at him again just like yesterday. He came toward you as well as both came in a baseball to sword competition. It was insane. He was just like you. He looked so brittle and fragile. That was only because he was so skinny. But he was just as strong, coordinated and unpredictable as you. Both use humor, both really good with weapons but there is something about, and that is that he will not die. You can’t brush it off. He is almost as invincible as you.
“Harley!” You heard coming from your earpiece. When you tried to reach for it, Felix kicked your bat out of you hand and your ear piece out your ear. “Damn it!” You said and Felix pushed you to the ground. He won this time. Felix put his foot on your back and grabbed your pigtails, pulling them back. “Okay, pink. Let me ask you this, w-“ Before he talks you spit on his mask. He stood for a bit then wiped the spit off. When he did, he wiped it off with two fingers. He made you open your mouth and put his two fingers in your mouth back where your spit belonged. He chuckled as he watched you be defeated by him, yet you still let him torture you. You are literally choking on his fingers with your spit clogged down your mouth yet this is the hottest thing that ever happened to you.
“Harley! Harley, babe! You still there?” Joker called out. The ear pierce played out loud now that it wasn’t in your ear anymore. Felix chuckled darkly and took his fingers out of your mouth. He looked over at you and raised a brow. “That’s you name, isn’t it pink? Or, I’m sorry, Harley.” You could only glare at him, not wanting to say a word back out of humiliation and shame. “Pretty, thing.” He said, caressing your cheek.
“He said babe, didn’t he? That’s your boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?” He asked, deepening his voice with every question asked. And again, you could only glare at him, but he knew what your glare meant. “He is, isn’t he? And here I was wishing you were single.” With his foot still on your back, he smashed the ear piece. The only way for you to communicate or even go back to Joker.
You were upset, that was hot at first, but now, this is just unessecary. You set your palms on the floor and used your arms to lift you up. You kicked him off your back and made him fall to the ground. You walked on your hands to be your bat back and when you did, you stood back on your feet. Felix got up and started stretching. “You are so flexible, Harley. You don’t know how much that turns me on.” He chuckled. He brought out his other sword and he smirked. He started whistling but you noticed his legs were opened widely. If you squeezed yourself small enough, you could kick his ass. So you did. You slide across the floor and went between his legs, then used your bat to hit his dick.
When he fell on his knees, holding his crotch, you were about to leave to find the information you originally came for, but you couldn’t. Not without knowing one question at least. What does he look like? You needed to get your information quickly and find some type of way to get to Joker but your curiosity got the best of you. You slowly walked up to him and laid him over on his back. Before he could even protest, you got on his lap.
“Shut up!” You yelled at him and he growled. But he did as you said, he stayed shut. His hands were free, he could stop you anytime if he wanted to. He could throw you, punch you, hell he could make you choke on his fingers again, but he didn’t. He didn’t move a damn muscle. You quickly reached for his mask and snatched it off his face. Jesus he was so fucking hot.
He had pink lips and a well defined jawline. It was sharp and noticeable. This he had pink plump lips that were covered in sweat, but he licked it off with his lips. His nose was round but pointy at the same time. And his hair blonde with the tips dyed red. Red was a real good nickname for him. He grunted in defeat, just like you were but this time he did do something with his hands. His hands landed straight on your waist. Your reactiveness called and lied his hands down on his wrists before giving him a look, almost for consent. He pushed your hips back a bit further to the point where you were on his hard dick. He was excessively hard to the point where you gasped as you felt his dick.
He rolled his hips and moaned at the cause of any friction on his dumb cock. But he was hot when he threw his head back, showing more of his Adams apple. “Oh yeah, pink. Just like that” He said in his dep voice, This time, you heard his original accent. You knew it was wrong. You were in love with Joker but god you were horny. And Joker wasn’t giving you this type of satisfaction in bed.
He unzipped his pants and let his cock spring out of his pants. You gulped at his length. Not even Joker got this hard in the bed. “If you want to.” He whispered to you and you cleared your throat. Well, this is an obvious answer. No.
“Yes.” You said, grabbing his cock and start licking the tip. What are you doing? Of course you should stop but his sweet moans make you want to keep going. He’s like a bitch in heat who hasn’t been fucked yet. You started taking his full length down your throat and he groaned, holding your head still as he started to fuck your mouth. “Oh fuck. Stay just like that Harl.” He said, there goes a new nickname. His sexy deep voice mixed with Australian accent keeps sending vibrations in a place you don’t want to talk about.
Felix lets out his last grunt before coming all in your mouth. Nothing but long, white sperm dripping from your mouth. You looked up at him and he looked back up at you. Both of your eyes landed on each others lips and you got pulled into a heated make out session. Both of your tongues attacking one another’s. You both moaned into the kiss as you saw his cock getting harder. He started to make his way down your your neck and left marks all over your neck as you moaned. “Red, re-“ He cut you off and put a hand on your mouth. “Felix. I’m Felix.” He actually said his name. He might be getting too comfortable.
“So short. Wanted’ to rip them off since I first saw you.” He confesses, referring to your shorts. His voice went deeper and deeper the more he complimented you. They were some booty shorts that you wore for gymnastics. Leather and black just how you liked it. His hands snuck down to your shorts and rubbed the his hands down the silk.
With at least two swift movements, he was right on top of you. “So pretty, Harl.” He said again and slowly started to aggressively pull your tiny shorts down. Then, your pink laced panties. “Oh god” he growled and leaned his face towards your cunt. He took one quick swipe with his tongue on your cunt and your back arched up. He was so pussy-whipped for a girl that he just known yesterday. Good thing you are too.
He kept licking you up and down, eating you until there was no oxygen left in your lungs. Your gripped on his hair, pulling his face down harder. “Oh shit. Felix!” You moaned out which encouraged him to eat you more. He swirls his tongue just the way you loved, making you buck your hips against his plump lips and wet tongue.
Your legs started to close up on his head, letting him know you were almost close. But he kept moving your legs, not allowing them to close up on his head. “Stay still, bitch.” He growled. He was just so nice and giving you all these compliments, but now you’re the bitch? Great. And although you should be kicking him off you, you moaned louder. “I’m gonna cum, please!” You begged, not even know what you were begging for. It’s like you were having a stroke. Just spilling words out. He rubs your thighs and fingered you while sucking your clit.
She rolled her eyes back and came all over his fingers. You panted on the floor, catching your breath after the impassioned moment. He got up and sucked his two fingers with your cum slowly, and you watched him. You watched him lick your cum clean off his fingers. “Fuck..” You blurt out as your body collapses on the floor.
You just cheated on your boyfriend with a dude who you were trying to murder to get out your way yesterday. What the actual fuck are you doing. You pulled up your shorts to which Felix was confused to. “Hey, I’m not do-“ before he could finish, you kicked him in his face and booked it, running straight to the file room. And you have to admit, it is impressive how well Felix can take out so many men with two swords and maybe a gun. Because all of your work downstairs, was an easy blow. But it’s just like yesterday when you walked into the file room. Nothing but dead men with sword wounds on their back, head or for some odd reason, their pelvis. Questionable, but it gets the job done.
“Shit, shit, shit!” You cuss to yourself. Felix broke your ear piece and now you have no idea what to do when you get to the file room. You don’t know if you were supposed to unlock some secret code or anything. Fuck. “God, what the fuck do I do?” You cursed at yourself.
“How about not kick me when I give you the chance to cum next time?” You heard a familiar voice from behind you. No, of course it’s not Joker. You wish. It’s Felix. You turn around and back up slowly as he approaches you. “I was being nice to you, pink. I thought you were a sweet girl. Why are you so mean to me?” You kept walking back till your back hit the cold wall that made your back arch.
“I have a boyfriend.” You stated. “You knew that because you asked me, and I responded.” “Didn’t seem like you did a few minutes ago.” God he was so cocky, you wanted to punch him. You wanted to punch him for being right. Because, to be logical, you just sucked a dudes dick and then let him eat you out, knowing damn well you have a boyfriend. “Yeah, that’s the problem, Felix! I have a boyfriend!” “You have a boyfriend but you’re confused on why I’m doing better than him, right?” Yeah, that it. You punching him for being right, starting now.
You threw a straight punch, aiming for his face but he caught it just in time. He turned around and bent you over the table, leaving your arms behind your back. “Am. I. Right?” He asked, emphasizing each word. As much as you tried to squirm out of his touch, it was no use. “Yes..” you were confused on how a dude who was trying to kill you yesterday is better at fucking you with his tongue than the man you have been dating for 6 years now.
He sneaks his hand down the curve of your ass, then down your cunt that was soaking. “May I?” He asked, insisting that he was asking for your consent to fuck you. He was a cold blooded samurai, but he wasn’t a rapist. Good to know. “Yes.” You said, clearly. So clear, in fact, he raced to pull down your shorts again and take out his cock. “I’ll pull out, I promise.” His voice was so sincere considering what he just did to you. He leaned down and kissed your soft neck, distracting you from the face he was slipping his cock inside you right now.
You moaned when you felt it inside you. It was hard enough to take on your mouth, but it’s ten time harder to take him inside you. You gripped his arm and he griped your hips tighter. He slowly let you adjust to his size. “You got it. You can take it.” He reassured you as you whimpered and whined.
As soon as you fully adjusted to his size. He moved at a faster rhythm. His hips were so well coordinated with his thrusts, making it soft but pleasurable. But it didn’t seem like Felix could go that far with slow sex, because he immediately went faster. Not wasting any time and fucking you into the desk. You moaned loudly since you just got used to his size and he’s already fucking you like a dog in heat. You scraped the desk and moaned. “Oh shit, fuck.” You moaned. He grabbed both of your pigtails and pulled them back, causing your fucked out expression to show.
Felix laughs. “Oh, Harl. You’re so pretty.” He looked at you cry and wiped the tears all over your face. “Look so pretty when you cry.” He leans down and sucks your neck again as he hits your g-spot as well. It was like being overstimulated over and over again. You screamed at how good he was fucking you. He grabbed your tits, hair, face, he was touching you all over. “You’re so pretty, pink.” He said against your neck. “I’d choke you if you didn’t have a choker on right now.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious, but the pleasure didn’t want to make you find out.
“I’m gonna cum!” You moaned and he started groaning loudly. “Me too. Fuck, cum with me.” He said, pinning your hand on the desk. It only took a few more thrusts before you both came. And just like he promised, Felix pulled out just in time, cumming all over your back. “Holy shit, that was awesome.” Felix said, before you even got to get a word out, you heard someone in the halls. “Harley! Harley! Pudding!” Shit! Joker was here! “Damn it.” Your cursed and immediately pulled your shorts back up as Felix put his cock away. “I have an idea. Let me see your thingy.” Felix said and took your pocket knife and started to cut all around his body. “What the hell are you doing?! Doesn’t that hurt?!” You asked him, he wasn’t even hissing or groaning at the pain.
“Like hell. I need to cut you.” “Wait wha-“ before you could protest, he was cutting your legs, arm and even your cheek. It definitely made it look believable that you guys were fighting than fucking. “Okay, now you need to look dead.” You to,d him and he shrugged his shoulders. “Easy.” He takes the pocket knife and stabs his neck, just like how you did the first time. “Felix!” You whispered to him, trying to make sure Joker couldn’t hear you. “Lix! Dumbass! Why would you do that! I said fake!” You dropped to your knees as he dropped to the floor. “It wasn’t obvious from the first time you met me, doll? I’m mortal! I don’t die. I’ll see you soon, pink. I’ll see you soon. Now get off the floor and stop showing compassion for me or else your boyfriend will know we did something.” He managed to gurgle out and you laughed. Always found how to be funny in the wrong times.
Felix eyes closed and you got up. When you walked out into the hallway, you saw him, you saw Joker.
“Jeongin!” You ran to him and hugged him, acting like you didn’t just let another man fuck you. Jeongin held you back, picking you off the floor and spinning you around. He looked at all your fake ass scars and runs his finger through the cut on your cheek. “Your okay, right Harley?” Oh yeah, you were more than okay. You were fucked out of your mind. But you just nodded. “I’m alright pudding!”
“I’m sorry I made you do this alone. You made sure everyone was gone?” He asked you, always making sure you did all the work. “The job is done.” You told him, smiling. “Let’s get going then.” He pecked your lips and you pecked his back. He held your hand as you walked with your pudding.
In the car, you felt something weird on the back of your thigh. You look to see what it was and it was a note. “Call me, pink. ***(***)****” Seriously. How did he even manage to do that? “Jeongin, I love you.”
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Crazy plot twist that Jeongin was actually joker 🤪🤪. I’m like sooooooo smartt to do thattttt. Anyways, tell me if I should make another one. This actually took way longer, so I hope it’s worth the wait! Good night, morning, or afternoon! (It’s 12 am for me rn)
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sc0tters · 1 year ago
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Different Type of Workout | Nolan Moyle
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summary: you get tasked with helping Nolan release some anger, but things take a turn and it’s released in ways that Coach Naurato probably didn’t intend.
request: yes/no
warnings: mature themes, p in v, sex in semi public place, oral (male receiving!)
word count: 2.4k
authors note: honestly I’ve been waiting to write for Nolan since this account as been created, and with us reaching 400 followers it felt right to write for him. Also what better way to start Super Smut Thursdays than with a bit of enemies to lovers (or should I say fuckers).
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He had always been a pain in your ass.
Way back in freshman year when you joined the team as an assistant trainer he seemed to have it out for you. If there was a snarky comment he made it, if there was a chance to make your day turn miserable he did it, any chance he had to remind you of how much he disliked you he took it.
As a result the two of you were often paired up for things then, but coach Nauratos efforts never succeeded yet that didn’t mean he stopped trying.
Nolan had gone through a string of games where he was letting his aggression get the best of him thus allowing the ingenious idea of getting you in the boxing ring in the gym with him.
The boy wasn’t impressed with the idea as he kept on repeating the fact that he “doesn’t hit women,” which honestly surprised you. Everyone thought that he’d be jumping at the opportunity to get in a ring with you.
Even when you held the punching gloves up you could still see how hesitant he was “you’re not gonna hurt me,” you reminded him as you motioned to the two targets that he was meant to aim at.
It was the way he rolled his eyes that made you laugh “how do you know that I don’t want to hurt you?” Nolan mentally cursed himself the second the question left his lips because of how it made you smile “because you don’t have it in you.” You explained as deep down you knew you were perfectly capable in the ring if Nolan did indeed decide to get cocky.
He sent you his unimpressed look as he threw the first punch “c’mon captain,” you motioned to him to use a bit more power. What you didn’t realise was the way his shorts began to grow tight at what you called him.
No Nolan didn’t have a captain kink but the way it rolled off of your tongue seriously made him wonder if he’s missed out on a lost opportunity.
When he didn’t throw another punch you grew irritated “Jesus Christ Nolan!” You scoffed as you took the gloves off to replace them with actual boxing gloves.
His eyes went wide “what are you doing?” He asked as he watched you walk back over with the gloves under your arm.
You sent him a glare “trying to figure out what you need me to do in order for you to actually punch me!” Your raised voice took him a step back as he grew even more surprised “I’m not gonna punch you.” His mom had taught him better. You began to wish that he would stop trying to act like the good guy for a moment and just listen to you “do I need to punch you then?” You blurted out as your crossed your arms.
Nolan scoffed as he began to take his gloves off “this is stupid,” he announced as he shook his head and turned around to make his way out from the ring.
Luckily for you there was a trick your dad had taught you in the ring as a child, you hadn’t done it in years but you couldn’t think about that as you had to act quickly.
It was a sigh of relief moment when the ankle kick worked and you brought him to the ground. Nolan rolled over onto his back as he sent you a glare “what the fuck was that for?” He asked as you hovered over him.
The grin on your lips was obvious “just reminding you who is in charge here,” you explained as you held your hand out to help him up.
But what you didn’t expect was that he’d take your hand and pull you down onto him.
With a bit of surprise you looked down from his eyes to his lips causing him to smirk “is little y/n enjoying this?” He cooed as his thumb drew circles over your legging covered thighs. Nolan had to admit that he’s been beneath worse views before.
Just like always he had to ruin the moment “was gonna suggest a different kind of workout to get rid of that anger but clearly you’re not interested.” Your voice was serious and as you got up the boy realised that he had screwed up.
It took him seconds to pull you back as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. The yelp of surprise that left your lips let him swipe his tongue over your lower lip and occasionally into your mouth. The boy groaned as you began to grind your ass over his shorts “didn’t think you’d be this desperate,” Nolan tsked his tongue as he pulled away from you “I know what I want,” you shot back as your lips formed a pout when you batted your eyelashes at him.
Nolan swore he was dreaming at the sight of you “take it then,” he wasn’t a sub by any means but he was honestly feeling really turned on still by the fact that you had got him to the floor.
You contemplated remaining on the line of professionalism but as you got up and offered your hand to the boy you realised that he wanted this just as much as you did.
And that’s how you two make your way to the girls locker room “I’m not going in there,” Nolan shook his head as he watched you wrap your hand around the door handle. You pursed your lips into a thin line “got any better ideas?” You shot back as the girls didn’t have practice right now so it would have meant that the locker room would be empty.
The boys eyes trailed to his own locker room “practice ends in fifteen minutes,” you warned looking down at your watch.
Your comment made Nolan laugh “I could make you come in five,” he pointed out with a smirk as you squeezed his hand telling him to lead the way.
You had been in the locker room plenty of times before but you had never seen it this quiet “I’m not fucking you in your locker!” You scoffed as you watched him dig through his duffel bag.
Nolan let out a laugh as he looked at you “just grabbing a condom princess,” the nickname made you roll your eyes as you made your way to the stalls “in here,” you motioned as you held the door open for the team captain.
He smirked as you reached behind him to lock the door “don’t want an audience?” The boy teased as he ran his fingers along the collar of your shirt.
The boys ability to get under your skin was uncanny as you let him stay there “just didn’t think you’d want your teammates to see how poorly you fuck a girl.” You pursed your lips into a thin line as there was an amused gleam in your eyes.
You were enjoying this.
A dry laugh left the boys lips as it bounced off of the walls “that mouth is going to get you in so much trouble.” Nolan warned as his thumb ran over your lower lip.
It should have been scary how easily you kept your cool “maybe it’s about time you did something about it then,” you shot back as you ran your fingers through his hair making sure that you tugged on the ends of it.
He actually smiled as he got an idea “on your knees,” Nolan tapped your shoulder as you lowered yourself onto the floor.
Watching him untie the strings on his shorts made your mouth water as it gave you a view of his bulge “now let’s see what that mouth of yours can actually do,” he proposed as he hooked his fingers in the waist band of his boxers as he pulled them down letting them fall to his ankles.
You looked up at him with a nod as you kissed the tip of his cock “don’t tease me now princess,” he warned when he saw you try to kitten lick his length.
If you weren’t horny or on the bathroom floor you would have laughed at his request, but instead you decided to listen letting your tongue swirl around his cock. His hand locked itself around your hair that was held up by your hair tie.
The groans that fell from his lips made you clench your thighs “keep sucking me so good,” Nolan pleaded as he let his head fall back.
You wrapped your hands around his thighs letting yourself push forward as you gagged around his cock. The muffled noise of you gargling as it hit the back of your throat echoed off of the walls of the empty locker room.
Just as Nolan began to feel himself let go the door to the locker room opened “how come Nolan gets to work with her,” Ethan complained as he walked in with someone else.
The mystery person laughed “that’s just because you think she’s hot,” Mark pointed out as he slapped the younger boys shoulder.
Nolan’s hand tensed around your hair as he felt like he was going to let out a moan. The look he sent you was full of warning like he was trying to tell you to behave.
Unfortunately for him that wasn’t what you had in mind as you sloshed your tongue from side to side eliciting a groan from the older boy “you hear that?” Mark asked as they were about to leave.
You slowly moved your mouth as you let the boy just thrust his cock again. It was clear that Nolan was holding in a moan “you’re probably just hearing things,” Ethan shrugged before he let the door shut behind him.
Before you could smile Nolan pulled you back onto your feet “you think that was funny?” He cocked his head as he watched you run your thumb over your lip “been told I can be hilarious,” you confessed as you leaned forward to kiss him but quickly turned your lips into a pout when he leaned backwards.
Nolan let out a laugh “maybe I just need to fuck a bit of sense into you.” He pointed out as he fiddled with the end of your shirt.
You nodded “hope that wasn’t another empty threat,” you shot back as your tongue darted between your lips.
It seemed like a switch was hit in his mind “get that off,” he mumbled as he motioned to your leggings “Nol-” your voice was soft as you were taken aback by the forcefulness of his voice.
The boy placed his hand next to you “take it off before I rip those,” Nolan warned as you listened to him “you rip these and I’ll kill you,” you shot back as you revealed your blue lacy thong.
Nolan groaned as he watched you pull your shirt off too “something tells me you knew you were gonna get fucked today.” He smirked as he leaned down to kiss your collar bone.
You smiled as you giggled “thought I would have already been fucked by now,” you confessed “seven minutes captain.” You added as you looked at your watch.
His hands went back to his cock so that he could roll the condom over it “only need five,” Nolan mumbled as he ran his cock against your clit before he pushed it into your core “god,” you groaned as you dug your nails into his arm as you readjusted to his size.
It made him laugh “just me princess,” he picked your legs up as they wrapped around his waist.
You almost screamed at the new angle that he was hitting you at “fuck you,” you let your eyes turn to a squint as you sent him a glare.
Your back continued to hit against the wall as the hockey player smiled “that’s what you’re doing,” his joke drew a scoff from your lips.
His hand trailed in between the two of you as he pulled your bra down “want to hear you scream,” he murmured as he began to nip at your neck.
Moans echoed through the the room as it was mixed with the sound of skin slapping together “Nol,” you pleaded as you groaned “keep fucking me,” you begged as you felt his hand move down to your clit.
The sensations made you shut your eyes “who’s making you feel this good?” Nolan asked as he mumbled into the shell of your ear sending chills down your spine.
It made you feel light headed “you,” you whispered as causing the boy to click his tongue “who?” He was clearly wanted you to say it louder.
As you remained silent as you couldn’t form a coherent sentence “I asked you a question princess,” Nolan reminded you as he began to slow down.
Your eyes snapped opened “don’t stop fucking me now captain.” His title rolled off of your tongue like honey as you sent him a content smile as his thrusts began to pick up in speed again.
You didn’t know if it was the new angle that you were experiencing or the pace and the sensations of his thumb on your clit but you were quickly approaching your high “I’m gonna come,” you announced letting the word squeak out of your mouth.
Nolan smiled as he shook his head “hold it,” he knew that he was just behind you but he needed a bit more.
Moans were practically acting like music as you clenched around him “I can’t,” you didn’t think you would last another second.
The boy hooked his one hand under your chin as he kissed you “let go.” The moment he gave you the green light you came almost that instant with the hockey player quick on your tail as the boys own orgasm was spurred on as you clenched around him multiple times in a short burst of time as your core began to throb.
Your breath was shaky as your head fell onto his shoulder “wow,” you huffed causing the boy to laugh.
Before Nolan could respond though the door to the locker room swung open “I wonder if Nolan is winning?” Luca asked as he walked in with the other freshmen “definitely winning princess.” Nolan whispered as he kissed your earlobe.
Definitely winning.
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hellolovers13 · 5 months ago
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💟I Hope We Never Change💟
Harry/Louis | E | 13k | genderfluid harry, angst, canon compliant, gender dysphoria
“I just wanted to try how it feels.” “The clothes?” Niall asked .Harry nodded. “Is that, that's too weird right, I shouldn't-” “Hey, stop it. I told you already, it's not weird. It's just how you feel. That's okay. You can try whatever you want, okay. And you can always, always talk to me. Remember that.” or Harry is confused about everything, so is Louis. At least they have Niall.
🌱Plant New Seeds🌱
Harry/Louis | T | 2k | meet cute
L: i think i might have a watering ghost. There’s water on that plant and it sure wasn’t me Z: 👻💦 either that or you’re just sleepwalking. Best guess is still the magical plant thing. Lemme know if you find your princess 😘 or Someone was desperately trying to keep Louis' poor houseplant alive.
💞Up on the Roof with a School Girl Crush💞
Harry/Louis | M | 4k | meet cute
Harry was just trying to get some work done and have a quiet night in. He did not expect to become host to a drunken Louis, who had overestimated his Halloween costume's ability to fly.
🚑haunted🚑
Harry/Louis | M | 1k | TW: miscarriage, stillbirth
Before 24 weeks it's considered a miscarriage, not a stillbirth. No matter that he had to go through labour. No matter that he was holding his child in his arms.
🍼fragile line🍼 (second part to haunted)
Harry/Louis | M | 2k | TW: talk of abortion and suicide, mention of previous miscarriage, stillbirth
Now, five different fonts told him the same thing. Pregnant.
🌃Chicago🌃
Harry/Louis | G | 3.5k | getting back together, momrry
They hadn't seen each other in four years, why was Louis still writing songs about Harry? Larry take on the song Chicago
🛏️London🛏️ (second part to Chicago) Harry/Louis | M | 2k | fluff, kid fic, momrry
A lazy morning in bed. Finally home.
👶Glasgow👶 (third part to Chicago) Harry/Louis | T | 2k | fluff, kid fic, momrry
Louis' first moments with his newborn daughter.
🎄Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You)🎄
Harry/Louis | E | 20k | meet cute, christmas fic, genderfluid harry
Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad. But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?
👄Slow Hands👄
Harry/Niall Harry/Louis | E | 3k | smut, dom louis, sub harry, genderfluid harry
“Wait. So when you say you’re genderfluid, that means sometimes you’re a girl, right?” “Uh, yeah.” “So when I asked what you’d do if you were a girl and you said ‘Niall’. Does that apply now?”
📞Love In Conversation 📞
Harry/Louis | T | 5k | meet cute, baking fails
King Arthur Baking Hotline. Your bread fell flat. Your cookies crumbled. Who do you turn to? The King Arthur Baker's Hotline. or Louis has a severe baking breakdown. Thankfully, he gets help from baking-hotline operator Harry.
❄️love drunk, waiting on a miracle ❄️
Harry/Louis | T | 15.6k | coffeshop au, christmas fic
Harry has a bit of a crush on a customer. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual. These are their first 24 days together.
🍆Pretty Miscalculations🍆 (part one of the Mess Me Up Series)
Harry/Louis | E | 5.2k | dom louis, sub harry, sex toys, nipple play, aftercare
After rudely interrupting Louis’ Christmas shopping, Louis offers Harry a choice and an opportunity to try out his new purchases.
🌶️Hits Different🌶️ (part two of the Mess Me Up Series)
Harry/Louis | E | 4.8k | dom louis, sub harry, spanking, daddy kink
After their one night together Louis had not expected Harry back for more. Turns out he was wrong.
🍼known it all this time (of tiktoks and baby making)🍼
Harry/Louis | E | 1.7k | smut, pregnancy kink, momrry
If Harry doesn't stop sending Louis those videos, who knows what's gonna happen.
👑The Pros and Cons of Breathing👑
Harry/Louis | E | 82k | A/B/O, arranged marriage, historical fantasy, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, trauma
Harry wiped the tears from his cheeks. No. He’d not been raised to give up. He’d find a way to survive this. He might be an omega, but he’d never been weak and he wouldn’t start now. His gaze fell to Louis, who was already asleep, chest rising and falling evenly. Harry would become the perfect omega for him. No matter the disgust he might feel in doing so. It was his duty, after all. or Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday. It's to be expected, given his station. So his betrothal to Prince Louis comes as no surprise. While he's nervous about leaving his home, and the life and people he knows, he's still hopeful for a good match and a happy marriage. But when Louis avoids him at all costs, and is downright cruel to him at times, it leaves Harry trying to make sense of his new life alone. Can he find happiness - and a home - even in a broken marriage?
🌷Something Secret🌷 (TPACOB - Companion)
Niall/Zayn | E | 3.5k | A/B/O, fluff, falling in love
Eternity starts with a pink rose.
👰Wed’n Walk (Or, We Went to Amsterdam Together)👰
Harry/Louis | E | 11.4k | friends to lovers, fake married au
When Harry had first started planning his honeymoon to Amsterdam, he had not envisioned ending up there with his best friend. Or getting fake-married to him for 24 hours.
🪴Unplant🪴
Harry/Louis | M | 4k | strangers to lovers, trans harry
Please do not disturb my plant She needs 2 hours of sunlight a day and I live in a sunless flat I’ll be back to collect her soon Thank you and stay well. or Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.
🏆Brit's AU (The Kissing Game)🏆
Harry/Louis, Niall/Lewis Capaldi | E | | 1,5k | crack, one direction reunion, kissing
Lewis' quest to reunite One Direction via kiss
😟play pretend😟
Harry/Louis | T | 1k | gender dysphoria, depression, implied self harm, trans harry
just a bad day for him for her
🩷His and Hers🩵
Harry/Louis | T | 1.8k | trans Harry, canon compliant, fluff, tiny bit of angst
It's just a blanket, it shouldn't make Harry freak out like this
🌇Together We're the Greatest🌇
Harry/Louis | E | 4.6k | dystopia, getting back together, blood and injury, angst, soulmates, misunderstandings, hand jobs, hurt/comfort
“How the fuck does this always happen to you?” Louis huffed, pulling Harry's limp body into the half fallen apart car he'd borrowed for this. Well, he didn't intend to give it back, really, but insurance covered theft, did it not? And this thing was basically held together with duct tape and good faith, so really, the former owners should thank him for taking it off their hands. - It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last.
🏳️‍⚧️Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t)🏳️‍⚧️
Harry/Louis | E | 13.6k | trans harry, famous/non-famous au, fangirl harry, angst, falling in love
Falling in love with Louis is easy enough. Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not. But she's not the only one making assumptions.
💗Til the Afterglow💗
Louis/Niall/Harry | E | 8.1k | A/B/O, heats, falling in love, smut
When Harry goes into heat in a random hotel room a thousand miles from home, there's more than one Alpha offering his help. Harry can't possibly be asked to choose.
☕I'll Get You Through☕
Harry/Louis | G | 1.1k | pining, domestic
Louis will always pick up when Harry calls. Always.
Ω we don't fight fair Ω
Harry/Louis | E | 2k | A/B/O, smut, non-traditional A/B/O dynamics
“What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.
👗Secret Moments👗 (First Part of the She Series)
Harry | G | 1.7k | trans harry, gender things, gender euphoria
Harry's first dress.
🫂The Truth In Me🫂 (Second Part of the She Series)
Harry & Zayn | G | 1.1k | trans harry, coming out, harry & zayn friendship
Harry is ready to come out to her best friend.
💄Hold On Tighter💄 (Third Part of the She Series)
Harry | G | 1.4k | trans harry, coming out, angst & feels
Harry finally has the house to herself again. Or so she thought.
📿Take the Moment and Taste It📿
Harry/Louis | E | 4.6k | strangers to lovers, smut, cheeky harry, meet cute
“You made him a bracelet?” “Yeah. It’s a whole thing, people make these friendship bracelets and trade them at the shows. I got a bunch from fans while I was there, but I wanted to give Harry one, with my number on it.” “Your number as in 28, your squad number, or your phone number?” Louis smirked. “You know which one.” or Louis didn't get the chance to give Harry his bracelet in person, but Harry isn't one to leave fate alone.
🧹Disenchanted Series🧹
Harry/Louis | E | 25.2k | witch!harry, strangers to lovers, Magic AU, slow burn
Witch Harry is just trying to live his life. Then there's Louis.
The Potion
If Harry were a calm and collected person, he would simply take the scroll back now and leave. Sadly, his mama had blessed him with lots of wonderful things, his soft curls, his biting green eyes, his magic affinity, but he had not inherited any of her patience. So instead, he got right up in Hedgehog’s face, thrilling at the fact he had to bend down just the tiniest bit to look into his eyes. Such a shame, too. This guy had pretty blue eyes and if he wasn't drenched in the stench of The Hunters™, he might've even made a decent fuck, but that was neither here nor there now. or Harry is a witch minding his own business, Louis is a nuisance.
The Escape
Harry is still minding his own business, Louis is still annoying. Well, fine. Maybe he is the tiniest bit helpful, too.
The Healer
Harry is trying to- Louis is- He's going to make it. Harry will make sure of that.
The Curse
Time for Harry to confront his past. Or not?
The Heart
True love isn't something that was ever going to be in the cards for Harry. It finds him anyway.
🧛If You Leave me🧛
Niall/Zayn | E | 5k | Vampire AU, Exes to Lovers, angst, smut, overthinking
Niall spends too much time in his own head, almost breaking his (and Zayn's) heart in the process.
💌Lonely Cards Club💌
Harry/Louis | T | 25.8k | Advent fluff, strangers?/exes?/friends? to lovers
Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌 An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.
🫂It's okay, 'cause you're not alone🫂
Niall/Zayn | T | 1k | panic attacks, canon compliant, hurt/comfort
Niall focussed on Zayn’s steady heartbeat, tried to use it to ground himself. thump, thump, thump One, two, three. He was safe. Always safe in Zayn’s arms.
💚Dreaming of a Green Christmas💚
Harry/Louis | E | 4.2k | Size Queen Louis, sex toys, Harry in panties
Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.
✒️What's in a Name✒️
Harry/Louis | T | 2.6k | Soulmate AU, Trans Harry, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers
Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed. But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.
🧟‍♂️Hope🧟‍♂️
Louis, Harry | T | 2k | Major Character Death, Zombie AU, fatherhood
A father's desperate journey against time.
🚪On Love's Doorstep🚪
Harry/Louis | T | 1.6k | Fluff, Harry in a dress
Harry Styles: a day in the life ☑ Stuck in a dress ☑ Abandoned by his best friend ☑ Date with hot neighbour All in all, not the worst day ever
🍯we could be enough🍯
Harry/Louis | M | 5k | Trans Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, nesting, fluff
“You know I am flirting with you, right?” Louis freezes mid-bite. Just manages not to choke on his steak. Harry laughs a bit too loudly, almost like he’s nervous. “Yeah, should’ve known you weren’t the observant kind. You think I get this dressed up for a random dinner with a mate on a Tuesday night?” or Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is. Then he meets Harry.
🌟Stars over Amsterdam🌟
Harry/Louis | T | 4.7k | Exes to Lovers, Harry in a dress, idiots in love, Eras Tour
Louis remembers how stressed they were, trying to get tickets at all. The waiting for the email with the code, which only Louis got, the actual On-sale. How Harry stood behind him, peeling at his nails nervously. Trying not to distract Louis. But it had all gone smoothly and he had gotten the tickets within just a few minutes. Harry had jumped around Louis’s chair in excitement like a bouncing ball. Already starting to plan their outfits. A gold fringe dress for Harry, Fearless was his favourite album, after all, and a matching shirt he had found online for Louis. So people could tell right away they were an item. That was their plan. Before it all went to shit. or Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.
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