#she's my 'if i loved you less i might be able to talk about you more' character

[rowanraven08]

So I just need to fucking rant about my boys being stuck in the ‘puters. CAUSE MAN DO I HAVE THOUGHTS. Have probably said some of this before, but not all.

So I’m thoroughly convinced that they’ve been properly coded in, Sergey Ushanka style, and also based off that statement, there’s no doubt in my mind that it hurts for them. I know this is a different universe, but unless computer folks are a common thing here, why would the plot give them anything less than more trauma? But I’m actually kinda concerned about how they’ll be once/if they get out?? Like aside from the trauma of it even, Tessa Winters said you can’t code people in the way people really are, and I’m kinda worried that through the whole thing that they might be different, or have lost a little bit of themself, the way that if you put something through google translate to many times it comes out all messed up, mostly with the same meaning, but words have still changed.

Other than that even, how the hell is Jon gonna cope/currently coping with not being omniscient?? I imagine going from knowing almost everything to having to seek out the information yourself again would be a huge hurdle. Even if now he has the equivalent of what Elias could do, seeing out of any eye, but instead just seeing out of any camera, that would be so disorienting. Never mind the fact they’re in an alternate universe.

The whole thing just makes me so sad, they can’t communicate clearly, are clearly trying tooth and nail to help and to get the OIAR gang to understand, stuck in this nonexistence that is probably excruciating, and no one except probably Colin and Celia even knows they exist. (I’m operating under the assumption Celia knows what’s up, she’s a smart girl she knows this isn’t a coincidence) But Colin clearly fucking hates them, Sam is only just starting to realize the computers are listening, and Celia doesn’t actually seem to be trying to help them, the only thing we know about her research is that she was looking into alternate universes and time travel sort of stuff, and that now she’s looking into alchemy. My boys are SCREAMING to be heard and no one will listen.

Like what will they even do? Worst case scenario, they’re stuck like that forever. Best case scenario, they get out, and somehow manage to get home (unlikely in my opinion) only to be met with a world still rebuilding, where everyone hates them. Last scene in TMA? Literally Melanie, Georgie, and Basira talking about how it’s better off they can’t find Jon, and they’re right,

“I mean, I just don’t think people would exactly be understanding. You remember what happened when they found Simon Fairchild?”

“And he’s not just some powerless left-behind avatar, you know? We’re talking about ‘The Archivist’.”

People would absolutely kill Jon if he came back, and they knew who he was, and I think being able to fly under the radar isn’t an option seeing as he literally haunted people’s dreams for a while. Who’s to say he could even stay alive in a world without the fears? Death might finally catch up to him, the exhaustion, everything. I don’t think going back is an option for them.

Maybe for Celia, if it’s even possible. But I think at this point she’d be happier in Protocol universe than Archives. She couldn’t even remember her original name in late s5, and didn’t remember Martin, she seemed to have lost at least a good portion of her memory if not all. If that didn’t come back after the apocalypse, she has more actual connection to Protocol, the cult being her only real connection to Archives. Maybe she’s trying to get back just because of principle, she’s not considering if that’s really what she wants because it’s the clear next step. But I don’t think she’d be able to leave Jack behind. I don’t even think she really is his proper mother, I’m guessing she somehow took other Celia’s (Lynne’s) identity, and just took over caring for Jack. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him.

I really do hope Jon and Martin get out of the computer, it’ll be so hard for them to deal with everything, but maybe if they stayed in Protocol they could still build a life together.

Some other random stuff:

So I went through, and found (I think) all the times we hear the jmj. error.

Ep 3 we get an error, which actually starts working when Colin threatens it, and it starts up with a statement from our buddy Norris, and I actually find it kinda amusing to imagine Martin being scared into reading the statement by the frustrated IT guy.

We also get an error in ep 5, after Gwen asks about the German IT guy before Colin. Which a.) why is she asking about him, b.) if I’m right about the errors being an attempt at communication, why do they think the guy’s important? C.) I had thought before that the German bit of code could be Jonah or something since he may have known German? But pretty sure that was too speculative, it makes more sense for it to have just been the German IT guy. D.) he’s mentioned as having a bunch of tattoos, which so far has not meant good things.

Ep 17 which I talked about in a different post, where the error lasted long enough for Gwen and Alice to nearly talk about stuff, only starting up again once they end that bit of the conversation without actually talking about it

And then ofc in 19 when Alice won’t listen to Sam about the computers listening.

I don’t think I missed any, but I might have? So if anyone notices one I missed lemme know please

Also only just realized a few days ago that jmj. isn’t an ACTUAL error, I know Colin says ep 3 it doesn’t mean anything, but I had actually taken that as Colin just being frustrated, and hadn’t read into. Jmj doesn’t even fucking exist, my guess is that it stands for Jon Martin Jonah?

Also what’s everyone’s thoughts on Teddy? Because that man is getting kinda suspicious. Why does he keep showing up? He works into this somehow. Also why doesn’t he actually want to talk to Alice? She’s high energy and not very serious, but it sounds like the guy properly ghosted her, keeps lying about how they’ll hang out more, or how he’ll text her back, could just be him being a bit of a dick, or maybe she did something to kinda deserve it, but it’s could be he’s trying to keep her at a distance to keep her safe? Especially if he is already wrapped up in this crap.

[dylanconrique]

lucy's shaky breath after she admits to tim that she's worried he won't be able to handle her working undercover. 🥺🥺

[cauterisen]

you know how some people or characters get described as not having a thought behind their eyes? kimiko is the opposite. there's too many thoughts behind those eyes. how is there so much???

[musicalchaos07]

I need all 3 of u that are invested to know I've spent the rest of the day thinking about that Jancy Emma AU and how I would formulate it

[booksapphic]

YOU GET IT!! My biggest issue with a lot of Fratt fics is they either write Karen out, underplay her role, or make her the villain. I love Kastle, but in a Fratt context it's so easy for them to just be friends who adore eachother or even exes who stayed close and are fond of eachother just in a more platonic way now. Karen is so important to both Matt and Frank and she adds a lot of fun potential to Fratts dynamic, stop throwing her in the trash!!

OH 100% YES

(under the cut bc this got long i have so many thoughts about them)

And yes, I understand some fic concepts don't lend to her inclusion which is completely fine but, and luckily i haven't seen any that make her the villain but it's so insane to me bc in my mind, when I think about post-canon how are Matt and Frank actually going to start working together? how do they end up in each other's orbits again? It's Karen. It's all Karen, it has to be Karen. Even if Frank's back in the city he'd probably stay out of Hell's Kitchen as much as possible, and it's not like Matt would seek him out if he's in another part of the city. They'd never reach out for help on their own bc they're way to proud for that, each of them. But Karen? Karen would get them both to her apartment and basically strongarm them into working together and Frank would give her anything she wants because he always does and Matt would probably try to protest but eventually give in bc they're trying to be friends again, and Matt's trying he is, and he knows Karen just wants to help. Meanwhile, Karen orchestrated this whole thing bc two of the most important people in her life exist on the same tiny island and they both do something deadly every single day and she just wants them to live so goddamit she's going to strongarm them into working together. She'll pull a compromise to kill only in self-defense out of Frank and a nod out of Matt and any time she finds something in her PI work and/or reporting work (bc in my mind she stays a freelancer) that she guesses they're gonna get involved in she tags them in on it until they exchange their numbers and she doesn't have to play middleman (yes i have already written this scene for an upcoming fic how could you tell).

Also re: Kastle as exes--I like equally as well the amiable exes and the decided-to-stay-friends route. I think of Luulapants' Fratt fic A Crateful of Grenades in which Karen makes the decision to be only friends with both of them and I like that a lot for several reasons. Primarily, it's important to me that Karen has the agency in relationships with either of them, considering they've both had previous love interests be fridged. I don't think Matt would pursue her again based on how their relationship ended in s2, and I don't think Frank would pursue so much as make it clear he loves her and leave it on her to make the decision. (For the record, I do think Karen would be the one to eventually break it off, bc I don't think Frank would give her any information regarding his work outside of what's reported in the news. Even if he's credited with killings that he didn't do, I don't think he'd tell Karen nor do I think he would answer her questions about them. The complete honesty that's so important to her, that drive for truth--I think it'd spell their downfall in the same way it spelled matt and karen's.) There's deliciousness to be had in the resulting dynamic either way. If kastle dates for a time and then eventually breaks up, while they're dating I can see that adding such an interesting dynamic to Frank and Matt's friendship--they are tentative allies but this is possibly someone who will be around in their life permanently, depending on how kastle's relationship goes. Them mentioning her ("tell Karen goodnight for me" "let Karen know i'm going to be late tomorrow bc of my injuries" "Karen mentioned your client whose story isn't adding up. We're going after him tonight, yeah?" etc.) and to some degree bonding over her, giving the other person a chance bc they trust her so much is so important to me. Once kastle breaks up and Matt begins to catch feelings for Frank it turns into "i should not date my best friend's ex." and then "i need to make sure Karen doesn't mind me dating her ex." If they're just friends then from both Matt and Frank's perspective she's the one I could see them talking about their feelings (would they? no, or only in an incredibly roundabout way. but if they were going to, that's who they'd go to.) Either way, too, we get Foggy being like "pls get another friend/date someone else. someone who's not a mass murderer. I know he's hot, but god, is it really worth it?" (they answer, yes he really is, you don't get it, but-- Both Karen and Matt look a little red-faced and hazy-eyed and Foggy's like that's not what I meant dear lord pls don't share that information with me ever again). This, again, opens up for the TOP TIER DYNAMIC of Karen, Matt, and Frank each being one of the most important people in the others' lives and Foggy is horrifyingly along for the ride. Frank doesn't really understand why Matt and Karen are so committed to Foggy, but that could be bc Foggy just glares at him anytime they're in the same space.

FINALLY with your last point, another part of the fratt dynamic i would love to see karen explored more is that she is just as insane as both of them. she is just as likely to commit crimes, she just doesn't have the training they do. i would LOVE to see her getting herself involved in more investigative reporting that leads to her calling Matt and Frank as back-up, or as her being the person who gives them a lot of leads--Frank will break up drug deals, and Matt will punch muggers, and Karen will be dropping all the information necessary for them to take down rampant corruption in the NYC mayor's office right into their laps like "i have a job for you" and they'll look at her with stars in her eyes. (Matt: "... how did you get some of this information?" karen: "i broke into the mayor's house during her lunch break and also made some minor threats to her wife." Frank: "WHAT?" "... on second thought don't worry about it :)") Neither frank nor matt would ever tag her in intentionally, but if they let something slip about something they're working on and it catches her interest? now they're the ones along for the ride.

(ALSO i've talked about how i can't actually imagine fratt getting married but if they have a wedding, Karen's their maid of honor. which one-? yes.)

ANYWAY i have to go to bed but thank you for letting me rant about them i love them so much goddamn

[luveline]

How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart. 

“I’m not scared.” 

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.” 

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park. 

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door. 

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door. 

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?” 

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone. 

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby. 

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight. 

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?” 

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.” 

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.” 

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell. 

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?” 

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips. 

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.” 

“Hi,” Noah says quietly. 

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.” 

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder. 

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask. 

“No… buppy.” 

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.” 

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.” 

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk. 

“He doesn’t have formula?” 

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.” 

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him). 

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?” 

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.” 

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces. 

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist. 

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.) 

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee. 

Steve snorts. “Thank you.” 

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand. 

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is. 

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?” 

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.” 

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.” 

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh. 

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu. 

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says. 

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?” 

“I’ll learn.” 

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?” 

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely. 

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it. 

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any. 

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!” 

“What, babe?” 

“My hand!” 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own. 

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.” 

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.” 

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning. 

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers. 

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.” 

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh. 

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?” 

“No,” Noah says cheekily. 

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask. 

Steve nods. 

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask. 

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones. 

“Like me,” he says, grinning. 

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!” 

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead. 

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that. 

[xurory]

"ME OR THEM?"

would they would sacrifice the world to save you?

pairings. blade, jingliu, gepard ; xiao, scara/wanderer x gn!reader

BLADE would. if it's you, then he'll sacrifice and leave everything behind all for the sake of you. but there's a feeling within him that tells him to sacrifice himself instead. letting everyone live on but at the same time, he still gets to save you. though, if we're talking just you against the world, then he wouldn't hesitate to let the world burn and watch every single being set ablaze with you beside him. you've practically became the remedy for his immortality. and a life without you felt like a curse just by thinking about it. "it's okay, blade." you say as your lover turns to you with a puzzled expression. "what is?" "to choose everyone else over me." he flicks your forehead harshly, making you frown. he was picking you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

JINGLIU would. no traces of hesitation found. her devotion towards you was infinite, and she wasn't about to betray her promise to you. she would choose you over and over again in this lifetime into the next and each one after that. because as long as she had you there with her, she didn't need the presence of anybody else. "you have no idea how much of a hold you have on me." she mutters, voice no louder than a whisper. caressing your under eyes, admiring how peaceful you looked as you slept soundly on her lap.

GEPARD wouldn't. his heart ached at the thought of losing you. he wanted to choose you, be there when you wake up. but as the captain of the silvermane guards who swore to maintain the peace of belobog until the day of his very last breath, he knew he wasn't in the right position to embrace the feeling of you in his arms and watch as the world breaks. "don't cry. please." you plead, wiping the tears that streamed down his cheeks with you thumbs. "i understand. okay?" you keep on saying that, but you had no idea how much he hated himself at that moment. he was basically on his knees begging for your forgiveness even though you already did so. it took everything in him to refrain himself from letting his deepest desires get the best of him.

XIAO wouldn't. you knew, he knew, you both expected his exact answer. and you tried your best to perceive how hard this was for him the same way it was difficult for you. much like blade, if he had the choice to give himself up instead, he would've done it. securing both the safety of his beloved and teyvat itself. his body molding into yours, refusing to let go. refusing to accept that this will be the last time he'd ever be able to hold you again this close. he sobs on your shoulder, staining your clothing. "shhh.. my love, you did the right thing. and i forgive you. i always will." the softness of your voice brought out his side of vulnerability that he will never allow anyone to ever see again other than you.

SCARAMOUCHE would. is that even a question? he was all prepared to leave this one heck of a world behind and be with you for eternity. he couldn't care any less of what he might be considered as. because in the end, he had you. his everlasting love that he shared with you was the one thing that kept him going. "isn't this exaggeration? could've just finished me off.." you whispered, toying with your fingers. your sentence threw him off. "and there i thought you've stopped being so stupid." you gave him a cheeky smile. an expression of yours he was ready to kill for.

likes & reblogs from you kisses from me :3 🍓

[nervoussagittarius]

a vlog that’s pretty much just y/n’s day in the life

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: your boyfriend and his brothers film a day of their life, including their time with you. request

warning: fluffy, slightly suggestive (if you look hard enough), language

“wake up sleep heads,” nick said focusing the camera on yours and chris’s sleeping frames. “we’re filming our lives today and you guys need to get up.”

a slight groan could be heard from your boyfriend, but you made no efforts to acknowledge it. you were to focused on the deep sleep you were attempting to fall back into. “what nick?” chris’s voice had sleep prominent in it. his words made you more alert than before.

you picked your head up slightly but quickly threw it back down, loudly sighing at the light nick pointed at the two of you. you head came in contact with chris’s arm, slightly scaring him. “nick what the fuck are you doing kid. can’t you see she’s trying to sleep.” chris was less concerned about his own comfort then yours. he turned his body into you, blocking you from the light.

“can you two just get up and start yapping so this video is entertaining?”

“yea nick, just get the fuck out”

with nick leaving the room, chris started getting out of bed as well. becoming more coherent, you looked over at chris as he was picking both of your guys clothes off the floor from last night. “chris, get back in bed with me” you said to him giving him a slight smirk. he smiled at you before launching himself back in the bed.

the boys had a couple meetings that morning, so they picked up the camera again as you all were shopping for ingredients for dinner. since you volunteered to make them food it was the boys job to figure out everything you needed.

nick walked behind you, chris, and matt so he could film what the three of you were doing. matt pushed the cart as chris kept his death grip on your hand, pulling you with him and pointing out every interesting thing he saw. “look at the flowers, baby. do you want flowers? i’m gonna buy you flowers. what kind do you want?” chris dropped your hand walking away from you as he looked intently at the flowers trying to choose the prettiest ones. “you don’t need to buy me flowers” you had to raise your voice a little so he could hear you, but in response all you got was a little hand wave brushing your comment off.

nick turned the camera on you. “your boyfriend is like a child. he doesn’t listen.” you gave his a shrug and a laugh. “i think i have to have a talk with mary lou to see what went wrong with that one” you said pointing at chris, who was now walking back over to you three with two different bouquets of flowers.

“you referring to your amazing boyfriend, who’s buying you flowers might i add, as ‘that one’ is crazy.” chris found his place at your side. he handed you the flowers and pulled a piece of lint off of the fresh love hoodie of his that you were wearing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. also, i said you didn’t have to buy me flowers.” “exactly that why i’m buying you two.” he said kissing your forehead nodding in matt’s direction for you to start walking.

poor matt had been done most of the grocery shopping himself. none of you were paying enough attention to him, so when you got home to make dinner the ingredients were definitely a suprise. luckily you ended up with chicken and pasta so the rest came easily.

chris came up to you with the camera as you were cooking. “what are you making chef?” before you even got the chance to open your mouth and respond another comment was being made by chris. “vlog, look at how pretty my girlfriend is. she’s actually perfection” he put the camera on the counter so it was facing both of you. he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the stove so you were in frame. “give them a spin ma. wearing my brand and everything”

you faked annoyance as you spun beside chris. not being able to keep a straight face for long you broke into laughter. when you returned to facing him he pulled you into a hug. he released your shoulders so he could hold your face him his hands. with your arms still around his waist, you leaned up to give him a small kiss.

matt came over to you guys, looked at you in disgust, and grabbed the camera off the counter. “sorry for you had to see that. chef matt is taking over because our original chef has become distracted.” matt tried to take your spot at the stove, but you weren’t going to allow it. “matt do not touch that you’re going to ruin it.” the bickering went on between you two for a while before realizing you could just work together.

that night, after eating and cleaning up the dishes, top golf was suggested by none other then chris sturniolo. his love for the activity was one that you’d never understand, but you went nonetheless.

a few rounds went by before you inevitably realized you’d never win against those three so you took over vlogging for them instead. the camera pointed at nick as he took his swing. “ohhh well that was definitely something.” you said from behind the camera. nick was far enough away that he couldn’t hear your comment, but you’d definitely get shit for it while he edited. the two boys to you left of a kick out of it though.

matt and chris broke out into laughter catching the attention of nick. “what are you two fuckers laughing about? try to do better.” he said, giving them attitude. you held back your laugh as nick sat to the right of you.

for entertainment purposes (and also to annoy him) you started narrating everything matt did. “and… matt sturniolo picks up his golf club. he waves it in front of the sensor. he gets his golf ball. he gets ready to hit. is it going to be good ladies, gentleman, and nonbinaries? we’ll see. and he hits, and it’s…… not as good as nicks shot.” matt side eyes you as chris starts laughing uncontrollably. he falls into your side sending you and the camera to the right into nick.

nick takes the camera from you since your posture has been infiltrated by chris’s body. chris is still laughing when matt gets back to the seats, so like any brother would, matt slaps him upside the head. chris groans as he pokes your shoulder. you’re conversation with nick gets cut off when you look over at him. “matt hit me” chris says with a childish tone. “okay and what do you want me to do about it babe? i’m not your mother. hit him back. i don’t fucking know” you say with a laugh.

the game quickly comes to an end with matt coming out in first place. the four of you decide to call it a night. and start walking back to the van.

when you guys finally got to the car nick started to outrow the video. “alright guys that’s it for this weeks vlog thank you so much for watching” he turned the camera towards the front of the car as you leaned over chris’s shoulder.

“chris can you please play 34+35 remix for nick and i.”

“no y/n” “absolutely not”

and with that the video concluded.

an: i didn’t have much motivation to write the past couple of days but i hope y’all enjoy this 🤍

[ellemj]

I Hate You

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @kateversca1011: "y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure"

Summary: After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, one bed trope, unprotected sex, hate sex, dirty talking, praise, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 9.3k

A/N: I fucking LOVED this prompt yet I feel like my (4th) attempt at it is as horseshit as the other attempts. This may get another attempt one day. Thank you @kateversca1011 for the wonderful prompt inspo, I hope this entertains you at least a little bit.

            You have the worst luck in the world. In fact, your luck is so bad that you might even be able to call it a curse. It was one of those unfortunate things that started early in your life and has carried on throughout the years, affecting seemingly everything that you do. You thought it came to a head when your hometown was obliterated twelve years ago, when your parents were killed as they lay asleep in their bed across the house that you grew up in. You thought that was the pinnacle of your misfortune. Then, you thought that maybe it was two days after that, when you were sure you were being rescued from the rubble you laid under, only to be taken away by soldiers with unmatchable strength and brutality and stripped of not only your rights, but your dignity. You were held captive for so long that you stopped attributing your dark times to bad luck and started to think this was how life was supposed to be. By the time they started experimenting on you, you didn’t even feel bad for yourself anymore. You simply accepted it as the next era of your life that you had no control over.

            “Okay, we’re all done.” Shuri’s voice rings out through the speaker in the MRI machine. The flat surface that you’ve been lying on for the past forty-five minutes begins to slide out of the narrow tube it held you in, slowly exposing the rest of the room to your view. You take a deep breath in, stretching your arms out in front of you and wiggling your legs a little. Your lower half always falls asleep when you have these scans done.

            Shuri watches you intently through the glass of the MRI observation window. She watches as the nurse helps you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the tabletop. She watches as you run a hand through your hair and offer the nurse a kind smile before moving to stand on the floor. She watches as your eyes narrow in the slightest and a look of surprise crosses your face. She knows what you just did. She knows that the moment the nurse was in your personal space, you had no control over the unusual chemistry of your brain. You invaded the nurse’s mind and picked up on the fact that she’s afraid of you.   

            “She’s not ready to go free yet, is she?” Fury asks tersely. He entered the observation room so silently that Shuri didn’t even notice him until he spoke. As the nurse leads you out of the MRI room and begins taking you back to the main area of the medical bay, Shuri turns in her chair to face Fury.

            “She doesn’t have enough control over her abilities yet. I think she’s still psychologically stable, the program you put her through did its job, but there’s no guarantee that she’ll simply go out into the world and behave.” Shuri chooses her words carefully. She doesn’t think that you’re a threat in your current state, but should you ever desire to be, you could easily become one. Your powers rival those of Wanda Maximoff’s, except even less is known about the extent of yours thus far. You’re the equivalent of the Winter Soldier without anyone having used his activation words yet, a ticking time bomb.

            That’s what leads to Shuri and Fury both addressing you in the medical bay moments later. You sit on an exam table picking at a loose thread in your frayed jeans as they approach you, trying your hardest not to read into their thoughts, their feelings. You’d like to experience what it’s like to be surprised by what comes out of someone’s mouth for once.

            “That was your last fMRI for a while.” Shuri says happily, her smile looking truly genuine. You smile back, but continue picking at the thread, not wanting to make any prolonged eye contact. Eye contact always seems to make it easier to read people, and easier for your own thoughts and emotions to spill over into their consciousness if you’re not careful.

            “I’m guessing there isn’t all good news though, right? Since you’re both here this time.” You ask knowingly, your gaze darting between the two who stand before you. Shuri gives Fury a sideways glance, as if she’s waiting for him to take the lead. His eye narrows at you, his forehead scrunching up above his eyepatch as he studies you.

            “We can’t let you go out and live your life just yet. There are too many unknowns right now. I’m going to be putting you up in the Avengers tower.”

            “But—” Fury holds up his hand to silence you, as if you’re a backtalking teenager.

            “It’s not permanent. This is just until we can help you gain more control over your abilities. We can reassess after. When you’re finished here, I’ll have someone waiting outside to take you over to the other side of the compound and show you around.” Fury’s gone before his words have even fully sunk in.

            “He’s a straight-to-the-point kind of guy, isn’t he? No bullshit with him.” You say quietly, shaking your head as you come to terms with everything he’s just said. You’ve been staying in what you can only call a high-end holding cell at the nearby SHIELD base since the day you appeared on their radar and they brought you in, very much against your will. Another bout of bad luck, you’d told yourself, as you were restrained with some sort of technologically advanced handcuffs and later forcibly put through multiple rigorous evaluations. After the evaluations came the decompression and psychological rehabilitation that they had originally designed to be used for victims of capture and torture, agents who were in too deep and didn’t have backup when the worst happened. After that, you started undergoing medical testing, constant scans and blood draws, on a weekly basis. Shuri was brought in because no one else could figure you out.

            “It’s the eye patch, he has to be short and gruff with people to fit the look.” Shuri jokes. She stands closer to you than most people would, within arms’ reach. You offer a light laugh and she considers it a small victory. “I think you’ll find that living in the tower, around other people with unique abilities, might actually help you. You’ll get a really nice room too, probably nicer than just about anywhere else you’d find in the city.”

            “A nice room that I never get to leave.” You point out. Shuri’s gaze softens and she looks you over. Most people wouldn’t look at you and see a bomb that hasn’t yet been detonated. Hell, you could probably weaponize that fact if you wanted to, the fact that you look normal, innocent even.

            “You can leave your room, but I think it’s best if you don’t get too close with anyone, physically or emotionally. Give yourself some time to learn boundaries when it comes to your abilities first.” Shuri advises. She notices the way you take in her entire appearance as she speaks, but you avoid looking into her eyes. You’re trying to give her mind the privacy it deserves. You’re making an effort to stay out of her thoughts, and to keep from projecting your own onto her. She thinks that you’ll get the hang of the control thing soon enough, and Fury will either free you to go about your new life or he’ll make an attempt to recruit you as an asset. Only time will tell which direction you’ll go, but she finds herself hoping that this won’t be the last she sees of you.

---

            Bucky’s heard about the girl who reads minds, the girl who can make others feel her pain, the girl who could take away someone’s mental anguish with just one shared look. He’s heard enough about that girl that he formed his own mental image of her. He pictures her as an evil cartoon witch, with long, dark fingernails that curl up at the ends and a characteristic black and purple outfit, maybe even flying around on a broom. When he heard that this cartoon witch would be moving into the empty room across the hall from his, he imagined cardboard boxes filled with crystal balls, spiders, and cobwebs being dropped off before the girl’s arrival.

            Bucky didn’t think for a second that you’d show up so quietly and uneventfully, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. He didn’t think you’d show up with nothing more than a small, government-issued duffel bag and a profound avoidance of eye contact. And he sure as hell didn’t think that you’d end up being so goddamn pretty. As you stood in the lobby of the tower with Maria Hill and two other SHIELD agents, Bucky was just getting back from a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. He saw you as you stood there with your duffel bag and blank stare aimed at a wall. He saw you as you made sure to board the elevator last, letting everyone else enter before you and then staying a few steps behind on your way in. You saw him as the doors began to slide shut. You caught one little glimpse of the man, dressed in dark jeans and a dark Henley tee. Unreasonably attractive. That was your first impression of him, as the doors closed and he disappeared from your sight.  

            An hour later, you’re sitting alone in your new room, carefully folding and putting away the few pieces of clothing you brought with you. Your wardrobe consists of a couple of pairs of jeans, a sweatshirt or two, and the same pair of sneakers you always wear. Or at least that’s what it consisted of until today. When you arrived to the room and finally had the chance to shut Maria and the other agents out and settle yourself in, you quickly realized that Tony Stark, or more his wife Pepper, had taken it upon their shoulders to have your closet filled with a wide range of pants, shorts, dresses, workout attire, and far too many shoes for someone with only two feet. You thought it was a mistake at first, that maybe you’d been given the wrong key to the wrong room. Until you saw a white envelope sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It contained the only note you’d ever received from anyone, detailing how all of the items in the closet now belong to you, and were picked out by Pepper upon Tony’s request. As you stand in the closet now, running your fingers along the various fabrics and colors hanging in front of you, it feels as though every birthday that you missed out on celebrating after your parents’ deaths and your own capture are being celebrated in this moment.

---

            Bucky sits in one of the briefing rooms with Sam and Torres, only half-listening to whatever they’re droning on about as he traces the golden crevices of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger. He doesn’t chime in at all as the topic shifts from one of last week’s missions, to a piece of intel Torres intercepted yesterday, to the mission that could potentially be coming up at the end of this week. It isn’t until Torres brings up the girl that just moved in upstairs that Bucky’s flesh hand falters and his eyes flit up to take in the image that’s holographically displayed over the table in the center of the room.

            “I gathered as much information on her as I could.” Torres says, as he begins flipping through a few different files on the display. He stops on one titled First Event. When he opens the electronic file, Bucky’s heart drops instantly at the words his brain sorts through and picks out. Terrorist attack. Intentional target. Orphaned. HYDRA. He swallows hard when the picture of your childhood home, completely reduced to smoking ash and rubble, appears before him. Another picture shows a small girl, seemingly around age eleven or twelve, covered in soot and dirt, with her hands bound in front of her as she’s being lifted and placed in the back of a truck. “She was taken by HYDRA operatives when she was 12. It was an operation with the sole aim of taking twenty children, disguising the entire thing as a brutal terrorist attack. The missing children were all presumed dead in the attacks, which was what HYDRA wanted. There was never an investigation for any of them.” A few pictures show a grimy prison-like holding cell, an operating room with different pieces of technology and equipment that definitely aren’t standard in normal medical facilities, and a few brain scans. “All of the twenty children underwent testing and experimentation. Some died within a couple of weeks, some within a couple of months. She was the only one to survive to be rescued. She lived in this underground HYDRA facility for at least ten years that we know of.”

            “Ten years?” Sam asks incredulously, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “How did she end up on SHIELD’s radar?” Torres pauses his biography of the worst years of your life and opens up a different file on the display, one titled Second Event.

            “Skipping the details of how she was rescued in the first place, she doesn’t have much control over her abilities. She tried to lay low, that much was obvious, but SHIELD has a program to seek people like her out, to keep an eye on them.” Torres explains. Bucky’s eyes are glued to an image of the girl he saw in the elevator only an hour ago. You’re at an outdoor farmer’s market, with a ballcap pulled low over your forehead and your gaze cast downward as you browse a fruit stand. The image is eerily similar to a moment of his own life that he remembers, buying plums at a Romanian market when he was trying to go unnoticed and live a quiet life on his own.

            “So, she made a misstep somewhere along the way, becomes property of SHIELD, and then Fury sends her here.” Sam recaps, looking to Torres to make sure he’s got it all right.

            “Pretty much, yeah. He doesn’t think it’s safe to let her be out in the real world on her own yet.”

            “Not safe for her? Or not safe for everyone else?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. Bucky turns his attention to Torres this time as well, curious about the answer.

            “Both.”

            A few more details are shared around the table as Torres flips back and forth between all of the available information that he has on you. Bucky, however, is deep in thought. He watches as new and old images flit back and forth on the screen, his mind digesting everything and piecing you together. You’re pretty, that’s for damn certain. You’re pretty and he can tell from your past, from your known abilities, that you’re likely good as hell at manipulating people. He imagines with your looks alone that you could get just about anyone to do just about anything for you. With your looks and your abilities? You could do more damage than most. You’re dangerous. Dangerous and unpredictable. And now you live across the hall from him.

            Those two words repeat in Bucky’s head as he takes the stairs up to the main living floor later that same day. Dangerous and unpredictable. There are a few more words floating around in his head but he’s actively ignoring those. So goddamn pretty.

            You really are pretty. You wouldn’t necessarily think so yourself, as you stand in front of the full-length mirror in your room, crossing your arms over your chest. FRIDAY’s voice rang out through a speaker somewhere in your room just a few minutes earlier, letting you know that dinner would be at six. Of course, FRIDAY didn’t offer you a dress code or even a very solid answer when you asked her what one should wear to such a dinner. The last time you had dinner with anyone, you were twelve and you were wearing a sparkly pink Barbie shirt. Though you could double check your closet for a shirt like that now, you have a feeling you won’t find one in your size. So, you remain in your distressed jeans and oversized gray SHIELD sweatshirt.

            “Do you think she’ll show up?” Torres asks, mainly directing his question to Sam more than anyone else. Sam shrugs as he continues stirring the spaghetti sauce he’s been cooking on the stovetop.

            “If she’s hungry she will.” He responds. Truthfully, he has no idea if you’ll come out of your room or not. If you don’t, he’ll take a bowl of food to your room at the very least, but he’d prefer it if you came out and interacted with everyone so he could at least get a feel for you. It was obvious by the way Bucky sat so narrow-eyed and steely in the briefing room earlier that he doesn’t like you, that he doesn’t trust you being in the tower. Sam hasn’t yet jumped to such a conclusion.

            “What do we do if she does? If she shows up?” Torres almost sounds nervous. Sam chuckles before propping his wooden spoon on the edge of the saucepan and moving to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

            “We eat dinner.”

---

            You don’t look like a scared, vulnerable twelve-year-old girl, and you most definitely don’t look like someone who has the power to manipulate thoughts or feelings. As you sit at the table, twirling spaghetti noodles around your fork, you’re trying your best to ignore the eyes on you. You feel a bit relieved that it’s not the entire group staring, no, it’s just that one unreasonably attractive man with the black and gold prosthetic arm. He stares. He stares as if it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Honestly, maybe it really is the only thing he knows how to do, because he sure as hell hasn’t participated in any of the table small talk this evening.

            “So, you were just laying low before SHIELD found you?” Torres asks kindly, tearing apart a piece of garlic bread with his hands as he peers over at you. He’s seated immediately to your right and has been the most inquisitive thus far.

            “Yeah, clearly I wasn’t very good at that though.” You respond lightheartedly, earning you a few small laughs around the table. You lift your fork to your mouth and take a small bite of pasta. It’s heavenly honestly. It’s so much better than the measly three meals that you’ve taught yourself how to cook.

            “How do you feel about ending up here?” Torres is a curious one, you’re quickly learning.

            “I’m not over the moon about it but the food is better than what I was cooking for myself so, it’s not all bad.”

            As you answer questions and do your best to avoid making too much eye contact with anyone, to avoid reading into anyone’s thoughts or dropping your own thoughts into anyone else’s mind, Bucky stares. He watches you intently. You’re effortlessly charming, answering everyone’s questions with a shy smile and kind voice. He’s sure it’s a façade.

            Bucky’s cold stare and the fact that you happily pretend like you don’t feel his gaze on you is the reason why Sam, at the end of dinner, stands up and assigns the two of you to clean-up duty. If Bucky’s gone ahead and jumped to a conclusion about you based on a few flimsy pieces of intel and some grainy pictures, then Sam will give him the opportunity to confirm his suspicions with half an hour of alone time with you. Either he’ll come out of clean-up duty realizing he was wrong about you or he’ll come out of it with an earful for Sam.

            Fifteen minutes after everyone’s finished eating and gone their separate ways for the evening, you find yourself wiping down the dinner table with a wet cloth. Bucky is watching you from the open concept kitchen, where he stands in dim lighting, scrubbing dishes at the sink.

            “I can feel you staring.” You say evenly. Though your back is to him, you know his eyes are following your every move. He sets a soapy bowl down in the empty side of the sink and gets to work on another, still watching as you lean over the table and scrub over the wooden surface. He says nothing. Daring a glance over your shoulder at him, you catch sight of his blue eyes, cold and calculating as they stare right back at you. That’s the moment you feel it, a wall around him, around his mind. As you look into his eyes, you can’t get even the slightest reading on his feelings, on his thoughts. His mind is impenetrable.

            You quickly look away and continue wiping down the surface of the table. What the hell was that? You’ve never been around anyone you couldn’t read before. Bucky sets another soapy dish into the right side of the sink and lets his gaze fall away from you for a moment. Did you look into his thoughts? Did you see what most people see when they look at him? A monster, an uncontrollable killer? He’s patiently waiting for you to flee, to run and lock yourself in your room after analyzing whatever you just saw in his mind. However, different thought is crossing your mind. You want to try again, to get closer to him and get a better sense of the wall you felt around him. You push a couple of chairs into their rightful places beneath the table and then look over at Bucky again as he works on the dishes. His blue eyes meet yours once more and there it is again, that wall. Before you lose your boldness, you begin walking toward the kitchen, your feet carrying you closer and closer until you’re only a foot away from Bucky’s right side. He acts uninterested and his focus remains on a dirty dish and a sponge in his hands. Your eyes dart down to the sink and you notice the clean, soapy dishes in the side closest to you. Before you realize what you’re doing, your left arm is brushing against his right arm as you start rinsing the dishes beneath a steady stream of hot water. Bucky tenses next to you the moment the sleeve of your sweatshirt brushes over the skin of his bicep.

            “Are you scared of me?” You ask softly, keeping your eyes down on the suds that are running off of the bowl in your hand. You watch as they swirl around in the bottom of the sink before disappearing down the drain. Bucky scoffs and a low chuckle slips past his lips.

            “Scared isn’t the word I’d use.” He says coldly, passing you another dish to rinse.

            “Then why do you stare at me like that?” You question, matching his cold tone.

            “Like what?”

            “Like you think I’m going to try to get in your head.”

            “Haven’t you done that already?” Another dish is passed over to you. The hot water is turning your hands pink, and the frustrating interaction with such an unreasonably attractive ass is turning your cheeks the same color.

            “If I had, you would’ve known.” You point out, turning your head to look up at the side of his face. He doesn’t turn to meet your gaze at first, so you study his features. There’s a light stubble peppered along his lower face, over his jawline and chin. He looks young but something about him gives off more of an old soul vibe.

            “You don’t have enough control over your abilities to be able to read someone without them knowing?” His tone has shifted from a cold one to a condescending one.

            “I do, but I don’t care to put in any effort to hide it when I’m reading someone who already knows I can do it. I wouldn’t put in that kind of effort for you.” You retort. You’re unsure where exactly the animosity came from, but you feel it. It’s palpable in the air, the way the two of you already dislike each other. Bucky’s glad you’re returning the sentiment honestly. It’ll make it so much easier to ignore the fact that you’re fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous and pure poison.

---

            The update Fury left his house at four in the morning for wasn’t at all the update he was expecting. When his assistant called and told him that there was a new development with the girl he put up in the tower, the girl that HYDRA had experimented on and practically raised with the goal of having her become weapon of mass psychological destruction, he expected to hear that you’d done something apprehensible. Maybe you’d turned the other occupants of the tower against each other and caused a modern-day civil war, maybe you’d figured out a way to level the tower entirely, he had no idea. It wasn’t until five minutes ago when he finally slid into his office chair and viewed the new intel that he felt a bit of relief, and yet a new kind of stress. HYDRA wants you back.

---

            No one stays in the tower on the weekends. Sam heads off to see family, Wanda and Vision jet away for weekend stays seemingly anywhere but here, and even Torres has plans. You assume Bucky is gone too, considering you haven’t heard anyone else around since you last saw Sam leaving at sunset.

As you sit comfortably on the couch in the living area, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, you feel almost at home for once. You’re flipping through the various movie options on Netflix when you hear the elevator ding and the doors begin sliding open. You freeze with your thumb hovering over the remote in your hand as your eyes slowly drift to the left. Bucky Barnes. Of course he doesn’t have any weekend plans. Why would he? The man is practically insufferable anytime he opens his mouth. He shoots you an uninterested look as he steps into the living area and starts pulling his leather jacket off.

Fuck. He’s the one freezing in place when his gaze floats down to your lap and he notices the skin of your thighs. He tosses his leather jacket onto the opposite side of the couch and narrows his eyes at you before moving toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.

“You don’t have pants?” He asks, his disdain for you evident in his tone.

“I was held in captivity for over a decade, what are pants?” He hates when you’re sarcastic.

“Fine, no pants. But you have a TV in your room, don’t you?” He wants you locked away in there where he won’t even have the chance to let his eyes betray the rest of him.

“Are you going to be here all weekend?” You turn your body so you can see him over the back of the couch. You lock eyes with him as he takes a gulp from his water bottle. He notices the way your gaze drifts downward, focusing on his lips for a brief moment before trailing even further down to the tight shirt he’s wearing.

“Yep.” He puts emphasis on the ‘p’ at the end of the small, simple word.

“Do you like movies?” An olive branch, you’re extending an olive branch. If you’re stuck with him as your only company for the next 48 hours, you sure as hell aren’t going to make it easy for him to hate you. Why make yourself any more miserable? In the event that it does that opposite and makes him hate you even more, you’ll still feel like you won.

            Your question caught Bucky off guard. You turn to face the TV once again and he watches as you use the remote to rifle through a category titled Action Movies.  

            “I prefer books.” He says flatly.

            “If you can get over yourself for two hours, you could watch something with me. It’s up to you.”

            You didn’t expect him to go for it, in fact, you don’t even know if you actually wanted him to. At first, you thought he rejected the offer. He scooped his leather jacket up off of the couch, shot you an unreadable sideways glance, and disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him. You’ve just decided on a movie when Bucky reappears, wearing black sweats and stupidly, only his dog tags adorning his chest. When he comes into view, your eyes immediately wander, taking in the entirety of his build. Fuck. How does someone who acts like such an ass end up looking like such a god? Bucky notices the way your gaze settles just above his waistband and he can’t stop the smirk that takes over his features.

            “You don’t have a shirt?” You ask, mimicking his tone from earlier.

            “I was held in captivity for decades, what is a shirt?” He didn’t quite mean to let you in on his past, but there it is. You sit before him stunned, your widened eyes dropping down to look over his vibranium arm with a new understanding. “You really haven’t been in my mind, have you?” You shake your head, still unsure of what to say to him. Bucky solves the issue at hand by taking a few more steps forward and sinking into the couch one cushion away from you. “What are we watching?”

---

            Shit goes sideways really fast in your life. You were only half an hour into the movie when the power suddenly went out and the dim emergency lights in the hallway kicked on. You and Bucky froze and looked at each other with a mix of confusion and anticipation, both of you feeling that something was off. It was less than a second later when Bucky heard the commotion in the elevator shaft and he knew exactly what was coming. He was on top of you in an instant, forcing your back down on the couch before rolling the both of you off and onto the floor. He managed a second roll once you landed on top of him on the hardwood, making sure that when the movement stopped, you were securely underneath him and his body was shielding yours. You watched his face as he seemed to move on autopilot, reaching up to the coffee table and breaking a glass vase with one hand before using the shards of glass to deter the two men rappelling in through the now blown-in elevator doors. It all happened so fast, seeming to begin and end in all under 10 seconds, before Bucky was shoving you down the hallway toward the emergency stairwell.

            He led you down four flights before pulling you through another metal door, into yet another dimly lit hallway. When you were both safely tucked away in a briefing room, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweats and called Sam, setting it on speaker and placing the device on the table in the center of the room. Now you stand still, frozen, unsure of why you feel almost nothing. No fear, no concern, nothing. You simply feel like you have no control over anything and there’s nothing you can do to help or hurt the current situation. When Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the table, lifting you by your hips to sit you on top of it, you don’t resist.

            “Are you okay?” He asks hurriedly, scanning your entire body with his eyes as his hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head from side to side. He’s looking for any sign of injury, but there’s nothing. “Say something.”

            “Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam’s voice rings out from the phone on the table, snapping you out of whatever silent haze you were in.

            “The tower’s been breached, we need to get out of here, now.” Bucky responds tersely. He still holds your face in his hands. You blink a few times, coming back to your senses, before looking up into his eyes. Relief. You see relief soaking into his features as he realizes you’re fine. “You’re okay?” He needs to hear you say it. You nod slowly, his palms brushing over your cheeks as you do.

            “I’m good, I’m okay.” You whisper.

            “Can you get down to the garage?” Sam questions. You can hear the sounds of him typing through the phone, probably sending out an alert to everyone he can.

            “We’ll figure out a way to.” Bucky assures him.

            “I’ll send you an address for a safehouse, you take her there and you stay put. Let me know when you get into a car. Fury says a strike team is already on the way.”

            So much for living in the tower being the way to keep you safe.

---

            You wouldn’t have expected such a broad, muscular guy to be so stealthy. Bucky got the two of you down to the garage and into a car in what you imagine was record-breaking time. It truly would’ve been a feat if he’d managed to get back upstairs and grab you some pants or himself a shirt as well, but you can see how that wasn’t really an option.

            You sit in the passenger seat now, using his phone to text Sam and let him know that you made it out safe and are on the way to the address he sent. It’s quiet in the car for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the tires against the road and a light rain coming down on the windshield as Bucky speeds down a dark highway. You set his phone in a cupholder by the gearshift before placing your hands on your still bare thighs. In this moment, you wish you could read into Bucky’s thoughts. What’s going on in his head? Does he have any idea who those men might’ve been? What they might’ve been there for? You don’t want to come across as conceited or self-centered but you’re pretty damn sure they were there for you, most likely on behalf of HYDRA. Maybe if you could read into his thoughts, he’d have a different suspicion and it would ease your growing anxiety.

            “Is that the first time the tower’s ever been breached?” Your voice comes out too soft, too meek for your own liking. Bucky lets out a deep breath before relaxing in the driver’s seat. He wanted to hear your voice more than he realized.

            “As far as I know, yeah.” He says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. That isn’t quite what you wanted to hear. Maybe something along the lines of oh no, it happened a hundred times before you moved in would’ve made you feel better. Bucky doesn’t like the quiet that takes over the car after he gives you his answer. It feels tense, and not your typical can’t-stand-each-other kind of tense. “There are a million different reasons they could’ve been there.” He knows what you’re thinking, that they were more than likely there for you.

            “You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” Your voice isn’t so soft anymore.

            “You think they were there for you.”

            “It makes the most sense, HYDRA has never really been known to let shit go.”

            “I know.” He says it so emotionlessly but the way the realization settles on your shoulders is anything but. You feel what can only be described as a fist wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. He knows. He knows about HYDRA, he knows how they operate. He knows because he’s been through their shit, probably even more intensely than you.

            “I don’t have any pants.” You mumble, pushing away the heavy topic of the most heinous organization that you know to exist. Bucky chuckles under his breath as he steers the car around a curve. He finds you annoyingly likable for someone he’s intent on hating.

            When you pull up to the safehouse forty-five minutes later, you’re more than relieved to see that though it’s a very small cabin on the outskirts of a national park, there are two bedrooms. After checking in with Sam on the phone, you leave Bucky in the living room while you wander down the short hallway, trying to decide which bedroom you’ll be calling your own tonight.

            “Did you take me off of speaker?” Sam asks Bucky in a hushed tone, praying you’re out of earshot. Bucky sinks into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his vibranium hand.

            “Yeah, what’s up?”

            “She was the target tonight. HYDRA wants her back. They don’t want her dead, they want her back.”

            “And you didn’t want to say this to her?” Bucky asks in a whisper.

            “She probably has PTSD from what they did to her all of those years, there’s no sense in upsetting her if we don’t have to yet. For now, as long as she’s safe with you, we don’t have to tell her.” Sam explains quickly. Bucky can hear the din of an airport coming through the phone speaker. Sam’s trying his best to get back to New York on short notice, which tells Bucky it’s definitely serious.

            “She already has her suspicions.” Bucky points out. He glances over his shoulder and down the hall, just as you’re stepping out of one bedroom and into the next.

            “Just…don’t let her out of your sight. At all.”

            Bucky stays seated on the couch for a few seconds after hanging up the call with Sam. His mind is speed running through the various outcomes of this whole situation. There’s a chance HYDRA already knows about the safehouse and they’re planning to hit it sometime tonight. There’s a chance HYDRA doesn’t know shit about where the two of you are right now and you’re safe at least while you’re here. There’s a chance you get pissed at Bucky and climb out a window in the middle of the night. Fuck. How did he end up being the one here with you?

            You’re rummaging through a dresser in the largest bedroom at the back of the cabin when Bucky taps his knuckles on the already open door and steps in. You’re on your knees, digging through the bottom drawer, with your hair falling forward and obscuring your face from him. His eyes follow every move you make as you tuck the hair behind your ear and glance over at him.

            “Is this where you’re sleeping?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the queen-sized bed. You follow his gaze, taking in the thin blue quilt and sad, flat looking pillows. You nod slowly.

            “Yeah.” You respond, pushing the drawer shut and rising to your feet. You were looking for an extra pair of pants but the dresser only seemed to hold various extra blankets, sheets, and towels. Bucky nods, his eyes drifting back to the bed as if he’s deep in thought. When he tosses his phone onto the bed, you narrow your eyes at him. “I said I’m taking this one.”

            “We both are.” He says defiantly, taking a step further into the room before closing the bedroom door behind him. He fishes the car keys out of his pocket and drops them on top of the dresser before heading for the bed.

            “What the hell does that mean? There are two rooms, two beds. There isn’t a chance in hell we’re sleeping together.” You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head aggressively. You watch him as he starts pulling the covers back on the far side of the bed.

            “You just told me that you think those men were there for you. If you’re right, those guys were able to breach the equivalent of a maximum-security prison on steroids. And you want to sleep alone? In a room with a window?” He questions you as if he doesn’t already know that those men were most definitely there for you. He sees hesitation in your eyes, and he knows he’s got you there. You crave safety, security. You won’t fight him very hard on this and he knows it.

            “I’m not wearing any pants.” As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, you’re aware that you sound like a damn kid. A whiny kid.

            “I’ll give you my pants if you shut up about it already.” Bucky promises. He stands next to the bed, with his hands firmly on his hips, waiting to see what your next move will be.

            “Fine, give me your pants and I’ll suffer through the night.”

            “In this bed?” He gestures toward it with his vibranium hand. You nod. “Say it.”

            “In this bed.” You agree, with every bit of a bad attitude brimming your tone.

            It’s not long after that that you find yourself wearing another man’s baggy sweats as you lay mere inches away from him. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat warming the space beneath the covers, but not so close that there’s a threat of bodily contact.

            Bucky’s wide awake beside you. He’s watching in the darkness as the quilt over your side rises up and then drops down again with every inhale and exhale. He usually has trouble sleeping, but knowing exactly who’s after you and what they’re capable of is giving him even more trouble.

            “Are you still awake?” You whisper almost inaudibly. You’re facing away from Bucky so you didn’t notice the way he’s been staring at your back, watching you breathe.

            “Yeah.” You’re silent for quite a few seconds after his response, but he knows your mind is working overtime. “What?”

            “Nothing, I was just wondering.” Another minute of silence goes by before you roll onto your back and heave a deep sigh. Bucky waits patiently. He counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. F— “If you weren’t there tonight—”

            “Don’t think about that.” He warns. His eyes coast over the side of your face. He can see the worry, the stress playing on your features.

            “But if you weren’t, I would’ve ended right back where I was.” You voice trembles in the slightest, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He notices. Bucky’s fists clench beneath the bedsheets.

            “You don’t even know if it was them, or if they were after you.” You roll over to face him now and he can see the tears gathering in your eyes, glinting in the moonlight from the window.

            “I know.” You say assuredly, without a trace of doubt behind your words. Bucky knows he can’t lie to you, he can’t convince you that you didn’t nearly end up back in HYDRA’s clutches tonight. He can’t lie to you, and he won’t.

            “Do you feel safe right now? Here?” He asks, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it before. You search his face before answering with a small nod. “Focus on that. Don’t work yourself up over what could’ve happened. Just rest tonight and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

            “I’m already worked up, I can’t sleep.”

            “I gave you my pants for you to lie here all night and not sleep?” He asks jokingly. You move your leg under the covers and kick his shin lightly. When you start to pull your leg back to your side of the bed, something stops you.

            “Do you want them back?” You offer. Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of where you’re going with this. It’s as if the playfulness of the moment is erasing the fear and stress in your mind, so you go with it. “I’ll give them back.”

            “So, all of that complaining about not having pants was what? An attempt to get me out of mine?” Bucky teases. He props his head up on one hand over his pillow, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

            “You gave in pretty easily, didn’t you? I think you wanted to take them off.” You retort, nudging his leg with yours again. Bucky licks his bottom lip as he gauges the tension growing between the two of you. Is this what you do to help you fall asleep? To test the waters, he places a hand right above the knee of the leg you keep nudging him with. It’s as if his touch sets off an electric spark, you feel it dancing from your knee all the way up to your chest and then right back down. The feeling settles between your legs.

            “I was doing you a favor.” He rasps, rubbing light circles on your leg with his thumb. “And I was trying to shut you up.” Silence is becoming familiar between the two of you. You look at him for a long moment, mesmerized by the way his thumb is circling against the fabric of the sweats that he gave you. You find yourself staring first into his eyes, and then at his lips. You’d ask yourself what the hell you’re thinking but, let’s be honest: you’re not thinking.

            “Would you do me one more favor?”

            “What’s that?” Bucky asks as his hand inches a bit further up your thigh.

            “Shut me up.”

---

            There are a thousand reasons Bucky can think of to not be doing exactly what he’s doing right now. A thousand reasons to not be sucking on your bottom lip and grinding his erection against your clothed cunt. Maybe even a thousand and one reasons not to be absolutely fucking loving every second of it. But every filthy little moan and whimper that graces his ears only spurs him on. He’s doing you a favor, right?

            “This isn’t really shutting you up.” You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck as he slows the movement of his hips and begins grinding against you at a tortuously useless pace. “Maybe we should try it with the sweats out of the way, see if that shuts you up.”

            “Yeah, that’s an idea.” The words come out breathlessly. You place your hands against Bucky’s shoulders and push him off of you. He returns to his side of the bed, trying to calm himself down as you lay beside him and shimmy out of his sweats. As far as he knows, that’s all you’re taking off. But in a moment of boldness, you decided to speed things up a bit and take your panties off with them. When you glance over and see him lying on his back, with the moonlight highlighting the sweat that glistens over the ridges of his abs, all you can think about is him. Being on him, being under him, you need him. He looks back at you with a daring look and you’re sold, you’re straddling his hips, hovering right over his boxers in an instant.

            Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat when his flesh palm lands against your hip, just beneath the fabric of your t-shirt, and he only feels skin. Where’s the waistband of your panties? You see the surprise on his face as he grips your hips tighter, keeping you from sitting down and fulling straddling him.

            “I thought I said try it with the sweats out of the way.” He tsks playfully. You have no idea how badly he wants to rip his boxers off and plunge his cock so deep inside you that you scream.

            “Oops, I must’ve misheard you.” Your mischievous smile makes his cock harden that last little bit, and he can feel the way his balls begin aching to be emptied. He fucking hates you for making him feel this way.

            “I should’ve known that being a good girl and listening wasn’t going to be your thing.” He says with a shake of his head. You’re about to say something else teasing and sarcastic when Bucky’s fingers dig into your hips sharply, surely leaving bruises, and he forces you to sit down across the hard shaft of his cock. Your wet cunt instantly soaks the fabric of his boxers and within two seconds, he can feel how wet you really are for him. For him. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you. He has to remind himself repeatedly as you begin circling your hips, because he fears he’s quickly forgetting that fact. You grind down with a little more pressure and he can feel a bead of precum slipping down the head of his cock. A soft groan slips out of him and he starts pushing your t-shirt up higher and higher until he’s pulling it over your head. The pale moonlight is just enough to let him see your bare chest and again, he’s chanting in his head. He hates you. He’s just doing this to make you feel better, to get your mind off of the HYDRA shit so you can sleep tonight. That’s all it is, right? A favor. As you lean down and start kissing and sucking on the skin of his neck, he feels your fingertips slowly dragging his boxers down by the waistband. He hates you.

            At some point, Bucky helped you get his boxers all the way down his legs and he kicked them off and away until they were lost beneath the mess of sheets and blankets atop the bed. When your hand fisted around his cock the first time, he rutted into your hand without meaning to. It was like instinct. You wrapped your fist around him a little tighter and pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss as he thrusted into your hand a second time, letting his precum wet your palm and then using it as lube. You would’ve been satisfied letting him fuck your hand, honestly. You probably could’ve orgasmed just from that experience alone, but you didn’t need him knowing you were that easy for him. That’s what got you to where you are now,

            “I hate you.” You lie straight through your teeth as you drag your cunt back and forth along the length of his cock. Every time the head of it rubs against your clit, Bucky can feel your thighs tremble on either side of him and he’s fighting the urge to bend you over the bed and ruin you.

            “I hate you too.” He lies right back. When you look into each other’s eyes, you both know there isn’t much truth coming from either of your mouths. “Sit on my cock.”

            Never have you ever been one to listen when a man tells you what to do, until this moment, with Bucky Barnes. He watches as you position the head of his cock just right at your entrance. You’d think a man would want to watch as his entire length disappears inside of you, but no. Bucky looks up at your face as soon as the tip notches inside you. He watches with heavy breaths and groans falling from his lips as your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape and your eyes scrunch closed at the way your walls stretch to fit him in.

            “That’s it, don’t stop until you take it all.” Filthy. He’s fucking filthy. And you listen to every word he says, sinking down until you feel his balls pressing firmly against your ass. “Shit.” When he finally tears his eyes away from your face and gets a look at where you’re so deeply connected, he can’t fucking stand it. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. “You have to move.” He groans, slipping his flesh hand further back from your hip to grab your ass.

            “I can’t.” You whimper, leaning forward and bracing your hands on the mattress, on either side of his head.

            “Move or get off of my cock.” You’d almost be offended if you didn’t know that he’s saying that because he’s close to blowing his load in you too early. You can feel the way his balls are tightening against your ass and you know he’s desperate. So, you try. You lift yourself up one single inch, and then slide back down. Then two inches, then back down. You repeat it over and over slowly, building up a rhythm as your own pleasure begins to grow. “Fuck, maybe you’re a good listener after all.”

            “Stop talking.” You moan out, picking up the pace. You’re fully fucking his cock now, your bodies making obscene sounds as skin slaps against skin repeatedly. “I hate you.”

            “Yeah, hate me a little more and see what that gets you.” He taunts, squeezing your ass with both hands and using his grasp there to help guide the up and down movement of your hips. You’re close and truthfully, you don’t even want to tell him.

            The trouble really starts when he moves his flesh hand to your lower stomach and presses his thumb against your clit, offering a delicious friction there as you ride his dick. The increase in pleasure makes it even harder to think straight. You’re not thinking straight in the slightest when you move your hands to his chest, not paying attention to the fact that you have one hand over his heart.

            “I’m close.” You whimper, earning you another squeeze of your ass with his vibranium hand and a bit more pressure against your clit. Your eyes are shut tightly as you focus on the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls and the tip of it nearing your cervix with every snap of your hips.

            When you open your eyes and look down at him, his blue eyes flit up to meet yours and that’s when you realize the mistake you’ve made. He starts rubbing circles against your clit the moment your eyes meet, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes in like a tidal wave, sweeping and relentless. With your hands on Bucky’s bare chest and your eyes locked, you lose the last shred of control you have, the last morsel of control over your abilities slips from your grasp. He feels it. Bucky feels every bit of pleasure that’s coursing through your body, he feels every thought in your mind, he hears your inner voice screaming for him. In the heat of the moment, you pour every sensation that you’re feeling straight into Bucky’s nervous system.

            He can’t even speak as his orgasm hits ten times harder than it ever has before. He knows it’s coming from the eye contact and your hand on his chest, he can feel the uncharacteristic coolness beneath your palm that rests over his heart. It’s why he clamps his own hand over yours on his chest and uses his vibranium arm to wrap around your back and pull you down against him. As Bucky’s cum paints your walls, filling you so full that it starts dripping down his shaft, he can’t stop thrusting up into you. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

            “Bucky, I’m…” You suck in a deep breath as you collapse on his chest, though he keeps your hand anchored over his heart. “I’m full, I can’t…” He shushes you as he continues pushing his cock up into your pussy. He slows but doesn’t stop.

            “Don’t move.” He’s begging. Though his tone doesn’t sound like it, he’s fully aware that that’s what he’s doing. You haven’t fully caught your breath yet, but a soft laugh leaves your lips.

            “Move or get off of my cock.” You repeat his earlier words playfully.

            “I hate you.”

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl

[pia-nor481]

Empty bed Part One

Lando Norris x reader smut 18+

2.7k words

Racing was always hard on Lando, he left exhausted and with extreme back pain from sitting almost parallel to the ground in the Mclaren. Many thought he was happy with P2 most races, but that wasn't the case. Coming third means you beat seventeen other drivers, it was something to be proud about. Coming first means you won, all the effort you put in payed off for 25 points and a trophy with "1" written on the front, it meant you were the best on the grid. But second, it always came with the worst feeling. He would be ecstatic getting out of the car, sitting in the cool down room and spraying champagne on the podium, but once he reached the sofa of the post race interviews, waves of dread and disappointment waved over him. "So what about the car is proving to be so tricky for you?" One of the interviewers asked looking directly at Lando, he couldn't blame the car if Oscar. a rookie, managed to come third in the same car. A car that was made for him. "Nothing, just a ... lack of talent." The pause after was so loud, although if Max and Oscar had their mics up, it would have picked up their laughter. But Lando wasn't joking, he just broke the record for the highest number of points without ever winning a race. It was upsetting sure, but his team mate winning a race before him, even though it was a sprint, hurt him even more. It wasn't Oscar's fault Lando felt so down, he just got used to losing, 

All the drivers decided to go out to a club to celebrate another win for max. Lando loved clubs and raves, the atmosphere was so over whelming that he couldn't really think. The DJ wasn't playing as well as he should have, Lando thought, he dances around the line of confident and cocky very well, it was never a turn off. He left Daniel to go the bar for another drink, once he got his vodka and coke he debated on just staying at the bar, drinking a way his problems just for the night. He didn't have to worry about a race next week so he didn't have to easy. Taking a sip of the barely cold drink almost caused him to cough, this was not the Smirnoff he was used to, there was an artificial after taste to the drink as well. "I think you might have my drink."  The girl next to him said laughing lightly, clearly trying to hold back her tears, not from laughter but from the remaining taste of vodka in her mouth. "I think so. Well, here's your just less than full rum and diet coke." Lando said, offering a playful smile in return, offering the glass to her, she took a sip with a nod, pleased to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. "You can definitely have your glass of paint stripper back." Lando chuckled rather loudly at her comment, it wasn't the first time some one had commented on his choice of drink, but her was the funniest. "You don't sound local, so I'm guessing you don't do this very often." He had to shout over the music, in retrospect he should have listened to Daniel on how to chat girls up, but she was too cute not to try. "If you mean come to clubs and talk to strangers at the bar, no. If you mean steal the drinks of very attractive men, then yes." He could barely hear her, so he had to lean in close. Her perfume was sweet and inviting, it was as if everything she said was the most interesting thing in the world, he was captivated. He was able to take her all in, a beautiful mini skirt, it was blue and iridescent, and it barely covered anything, if an elder saw her they would claim it to be a belt. Her mesh white top didn't aid in covering her any better, it did have long sleeves sure, but you could see her lacy white bra beneath it. She clearly knew how to style herself, she had lovely little white heels on and a lot of highlighter on her cheeks. She was stunning. 

"So what are you doing here ....?" She trailed off, not knowing his name. "Lando." He almost struggled to get out, so concentrated on her. "Celebrating with some friends, What are you actually doing here, other than chatting up men?" he almost laughed out, she joined him. "Looking for some fun." She hid her face behind the glass, allowing him to see the frosty blue eyeshadow on her lids. "Is that so?" He responded in a lower octave, reaching out to touch her waist with his free hand, her back immediately arched at the feeling, he was pleased to see how well she responded to his touch. She necked her drink quickly and grabbed his wrist, going to tug him out of the club. He was shocked with how her demeaner changed, she seemed so shy, but now she wanted him so desperate. Once he caught up, she stopped her by grabbing her hips firmly. "My hotel is definitely closer." Lando said, reaching for his phone. Once they were inside the taxi, he couldn't keep his hands off of her, his tongue was basically down her throat with how much he wanted her. Once of his hands snaked up her back, running his hingers over her vertebrae, her face began to warm at the feeling. 

Lando practically dragged her out of the car towards the door of the hotel. Once the lift doors shut he pushed her against the mirrors, kissing her lips again in desperation, in the process his hands grasped he sides of her face, smudging her make up. She rested her hands on his chest before pushing him back slightly, needing air. Lando however, didn't need a break, his continued his venture of kissing every bit of exposed skin, first her neck, the collar bones, there her chest. It was at this point he could also smell her body wash and lotion, their proximity was giving him good access to her body. She began to pull on his hair slightly as a sign to come back up, she reconnected their lips while he hiked her leg up around his hip, groping her ass unapologetically. The doors opened and they rushed towards his room. They didn't stop kissing until the back of her knees hit the bed, their contact broke for a second as she fell back. This gave Lando a chance to really take her in, and she was perfect. He began to lean over her, running his fingers over her neck and jaw, until he reached her mouth, she toyed with her lips before pushing his fingers between them. She sucked lightly, not breaking eye contact, Lando's breath got caught in his mouth upon the sight, licking his lips as he felt his cock get harder in his black trousers. He slowly pulled his fingers from her lips with a loud pop. She tugged her white top over head with more pace than he thought was possible, he quickly pulled her skirt down and was met with the intricate white lace of her underwear. "Fuck me." Lando rasped out, going to pull his clothes off. "I plan to." She said back, sitting up on her knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for his cock. Lando stepped closer, rubbing the tip over lips, before lightly tapping her cheeks with it, even now he was bit of a tease. She stuck her tongue out while grasping his hip, wanting him to be still while she took his whole cock in her mouth. His head fell back slightly as he groaned feeling the tip hit the back of her throat. "That's it baby, just like that." She bobbed her head over and over, motivated by the noises that slipped his mouth. He pulled off and quickly began to glide her tongue on the underside of his cock, she kissed and kitten licked the head before taking his whole cock again. He was surprised with how eager she was, no other woman was able to take the full thing, they had to use their hands to cover the base, she didn't. Lando let out blissful sigh above her, slipping his hand over her jaw, forcing eye contact. He tightened his grip when she hollowed out her cheeks, the pressure was becoming too much for him. His hips thrusting slowly was a sign of how close he was getting. Lando's hands found the back of her head, pushing it down until her nose met his pelvic bone. He lost himself in the feeling of her mouth, his cock pulsating as he moaned out quietly. Her mouth was quickly filled with his cum. "Swallow for me." She did as she was told, looking up at him when let her tongue lull out. 

Lando groaned as he stood up, walking leisurely towards the bed side table, his hand quickly met the neck of a bottle, a bottle of Ferrari champagne. She leaned back on the bed as he slammed the bottle on table before looking back at her; spraying the bottle above her. Her skin quickly became sticky with the bubbly liquid. This gave Lando an excuse to suck on her skin again, obsessed, he needed to feel her against him. He licked his way down her abdomen, once he met her cunt he sucked her clit rather aggressively, she moaned at he contact, closing her eyes to bask in the feeling. He wasted no time slipping his fingers between her slick lips. He began to scissor slowly, hungry to hear her whines at him stretching her out. He was relentless in licking her clit, switching from slow circles to shaking his head side to side, pushing his tongue down flat and hard got the best reaction from her, so he was persistent; curling fingers every now and then to receive an extra gasp. Her heels began to dig into the mattress as her pelvis began to rise; he would gorge on the sweetness leaking out of her cunt. She was quickly becoming drunk on the feeling of her blooming pleasure; rolling out a song of moans and hums. Her hips began to twitch against his face, the orgasm was a sight to behold, let a lone something too feel as her mind began to melt as he sucked and licked aggressively. She didn't know whether she wanted to pull him closer or pull away. The stimulation was too much and she began to see stars in her new found haze, moaning out curses with a mix of his name. Lando pulled away, flashing his teeth in the process of smirking. 

Once she caught her breath, he leaned closer brining the bottle with him. "Open, baby." he tilted the bottle back, letting the champagne pour into his mouth, but his Adams apple didn't bob. He grabbed her jaw and let the alcohol spill into her mouth, she swallowed quickly, wanting to feel his lips on her, he was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. She was so focused on him that she didn't register being flipped over onto her stomach. Lando pulled her hips up, supporting her weight slightly. She pushed up onto her elbows as he spoke. "You gonna be good? yeah?" he said with a tinge of sass, smacking her ass lightly. She nodded, moaning out as a verbal response. He chuckled before sliding his cock through her lips, she clawed at the now wet sheets, unable to control her self. Lando started slow needing to pace himself slightly, just kissing her got him so worked up, “Fuck.” He strained, becoming more breathless with each thrust. As he continued to press into her, she couldn’t help but clench around him, the way he was hitting all the right spots, touching her skin, groaning in pleasure, made it all that much harder not to cum then and there. His hand made contact with her ass In sequence with the thrusts, the sting was painful and yet it felt euphoric, she groaned into the bedding at the feeling.

Once he pushed in to the hilt, she arched her back further, not being able to contain herself for much longer. Hot breaths filled the air, which was already filled with sex and desire.

Lando’s hand make work up her back before drawing shapes on her shoulders. His hand soo reached her scalp, where he grabbed a fist full of her hair and tugged lightly; ensuring she wouldn’t object before he pulled rather hard, causing her back to reach his chest. He kept her hair in his hand while sucking on her neck, she wanted to feel everything and he made it happen. “Oh, please Lando, please.” She asked, gasping for air after each word.

“Why? Can’t hold it?” He teased, not that he was any better off. She just felt so good and her reactions only heightened the sensation. She whined in response as he thrusted deeper inside of her pulsating cunt. He groaned in her ear before speaking again, “you didn’t answer my question baby.” He was being cocky, but in a way he knew would only turn her on further. “I can, I swear.” Her words were slurring together, making it that much more obvious that she was on the edge of euphoria. She reached around him, grabbing his waist for some support, she could barely hold her head up anymore, the over stimulation setting in quicker than she anticipated.

Lando’s hand slid back down to her clit, aiding in the blissful feeling. Rubbing figure eights over her cunt while thrusting harder made her moan louder in between heavy breaths. He was smirking into her neck, knowing how good he was making her feel. She could feel his teeth against her skin, he was biting down, almost as if to hide his voice, muffling the groans. “That’s it baby, cum for me.” He said, voice dropping an octave for a mere second. She did as she was told, practically spasming in his arms as she let out guttural moans. The feeling of her clenching caused Lando’s cock to twitch. A mix of their cum dripped down her legs and into the bed.

“Good, so good for me. Makin me feel so good baby.” Lando whispered, pulling out. He ran his hands over her body gently, it almost tickled. By the time he got under the covers, she was already asleep; hair tangled, make up smudged and skin dotted in marks that would be hard to cover with the clothes she was wearing, or lack there of. Lando was happy, it was more than the post orgasmic haze, something about her was just right. He didn’t stop touching her, keeping his arms tight around her body to keep her warm, knowing the alcohol would wear off. He felt like he’d accomplished something more than just a win.

When Lando woke up at half past eleven, skin stuck to the bedding he was surprised and confused, until he remembered, partly, what had happened that night. He looked to his side, only to find an empty bed. He shot up, quickly looking around the room for any sign of the night. He walked through the whole “room”, past the tables and sofa, only to be met with silence. Lando walked back to the bed sorrowful, knowing his flight would leave in an hour, so he decided he needed to get ready.

Once he opened the bathroom door he first noticed it was still quite warm, it wouldn’t have been because he’d used it more than 24 hours ago. The condensation on the glass was new. Someone had definitively used his shower. Wrapping a towel around his body as he left, Lando went to his suitcase to pick up some clothes for the flight, he again noticed something was off. One of his hoodies was missing. In an attempt to find it he stumbled upon a pair of white lace underwear across the room. He was please that he didn’t imagine last night, but was disappointed she wasn’t still there. Lando was broken out of his trance when he heard the sound of a notification from his phone.

“Hope you wore a condom xx”-Daniel

Any mistakes let me know.

Part Two

[strangermarvelss]

strange love- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: eddie has a date, with someone who isn’t you. you’re less than thrilled about it

Warnings: ANGST, jealousy, unrequited love, eddie being clueless, cursing, mentions of vomiting, me knowing nothing about D&D (i’m sorry but it deserves a warning), eventual best friends!-to-lovers!

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: alright y’all this is the imagine i had talked about a few days ago and as someone who loves these kinds of fics, i’m quite proud of myself. also i apologize for my lack of knowledge about D&D, eddie would definitely be disappointed, but i had a friend read it over and he thinks it makes sense so we’re going with it! i hope you all enjoy :)- sava

part two

“Well hello everybody!” Eddie exclaims, scaring half the Hellfire lunch table with his presence. You hear groans and curses fill the table as Eddie laughs at the reactions he pulled from his friends. You just sit in the seat that’s located on the left of his, laughing at his usual antics, but curiosity begins to strike when you take a look at Eddie.

His face is bright and shiny, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he sits down with his lunch, pulling out some pretzels to munch on. You take in the other details about him, how his hair looks actually kept up and how he doesn’t reek of his usual pot smell, but of…cologne? You had no idea who it was that was sitting next to you, but it sure as hell wasn’t Eddie Munson.

“What’s got you so happy today, Eds?” You ask, nudging him with your elbow. He flashes you a big smile, pretzel bits showing along with his pearly whites. He looks adorable as ever.

“Well I’m glad you asked, sweetheart. I, Eddie Munson, have a date tonight,” he announces. Your heart does a summersault at the nickname, his nickname he always uses on you, before you fully process the second part of his statement, making your breathing stop for a moment. What the fuck?

You didn’t make this fact known, but you were crushing on Eddie…hard. The two of you have been close since your middle school days, having really connected with his band Corroded Coffin playing at the school talent show and approached them afterwards to share your appreciation. It’s been history ever since.

But it wasn’t until your freshman year of high school when you started crushing on Eddie. You had been having a hard time at home due to your parents divorce, and your father winning full custody meant you moved into the same trailer park Eddie and his Uncle Wayne lived in, the two of you growing closer than before now that you only lived a few doors down. You and Eddie would spend most of your nights together anyway, and one particular night your freshman year, you felt these butterflies flutter around in your stomach as your head rested against Eddie’s shoulder watching Sleepaway Camp, your and his favorite movie that you’d watch at least once a month together. Since that day you had kept your feelings hidden from him, not wanting to ruin things between you and your best friend. You thought the pain of not having him in your life at all outweighed the pain of being stuck in love with him, and that was a fight you’d be willing to battle.

“W-what? W-with who?” You ask, trying to cover up your slight stutter with a cough.

“Okay so you remember our latest show at the Hideout? Well with more and more people starting to show up as of recently, we’ve been getting some fans. And this girl, her name is Shirley, gave me her number and I thought ‘What the hell?’ and rang her up yesterday,” he explains to you and everyone at the table, the freshman not being able to help their curious little selves. 

“That’s cool Eds,” you reply back, trying with all your willpower to remain neutral and shove the emotions you were actually feeling down deep inside.

“Yeah. We’re actually hanging out after Hellfire. She even said she might swing by, she’s been curious about the game a little. At least, that’s what she told me,” he tells you, causing you to drop your fork and look at him. He shoots you a weird expression at your reaction.

“Oops, sorry. But uh, I thought you weren’t allowing non-members into the meetings anymore?” You ask, your eyebrow raised.

“That’s true, but, as Dungeon Master, I’ll make an exception this one time. Who knows, maybe she could become an honorary member. She’s really cool, Y/N. You’d get along with her great,” he tells you as he clasps his hand on your shoulder. 

“I seriously doubt it,” you mutter lowly, hoping your close proximity to Eddie didn’t allow him to hear. As if a saving grace occurred, the lunch bell rang and you jolted up from your seat, collecting your trash. You could see Eddie eyeing you from your peripheral. One thing there is about Eddie, he’s observant as hell. You’d usually applaud and commend it, but in cases where you were trying best to hide your feelings, you absolutely hated it. Sometimes you wondered how you were able to get away with him not knowing how you truly felt, but all the more relieved that he didn’t.

“Hey sweetheart? Is everything okay?” He asks you. You quickly turn to him with a slight smile and nod, before rushing towards the trash can that sat behind him.

“Yep, all good. Just gotta go tend to some newspaper stuff. I’ll see you at Hellfire!” Your words moving as fast as your legs as you bid the table goodbye until your meeting tonight, practically sprinting towards the newspaper room, where you’d spill your feelings to one Nancy Wheeler in your secluded gossip corner.

Nancy was one of the only people who knew about your crush on Eddie. The two of you have been super close since you started high school, and even more so with all the shit that’s happened with the Upside Down that started when the two of you were sophomores. Plus, with her brother now joining the Hellfire Club, she asked you to keep an eye on him, especially with everything that’s already happened in Hawkins, but you really didn’t blame her for that.

Stumbling down the hall with your backpack sliding off your shoulders, you open the doors to the newspaper room and see Nancy’s head pop up from her collaborating with Fred. You walk down the stairs calmly while giving her a pleading look, nodding your head towards the corner the two of you have your major discussions at. She gives you a small nod before returning to her conversation with Fred.

You unpack your bag and begin working a bit on the paper while you wait for Nancy. You were trying your best to remain calm, focussing on your breathing so you didn’t get worked up more than you were when you started talking with Nancy. Your mind had a habit of working against you, running a hundred miles a minute coming up with the absolute worst scenario of every situation you encountered. You didn’t need to be thinking doubtfully about your friendship with Eddie, but you physically couldn’t help it.

How could Eddie have a date with someone and not tell you sooner?

The two of you were best friends, he always told you when something great happens to him immediately after, and you do the same with him. Living just a few doors down, you had that luxury of always being near the person when you celebrate your wins, or comfort one another in your losses. So him keeping this from you until the next day? It definitely hurt, in more ways then one, and you didn’t quite understand it. Would you still be upset about it? Absolutely, so that bit didn’t matter much. You just wanted to know why. Why he’s choosing to date someone now, after being single for so long. Why he-

“Hey, I’m here. Sorry, I was working with Fred on the basketball story,” Nancy tells you, pulling you out of your zoned-out state.

“No worries,” you say, your voice residing somewhere distant. You feel a slight kick come from under the desk, prompting you to look down for a second, before bringing your eyes up to see Nancy, who shoots you a look of concern. Nancy too, was very observant, from what you’ve seen over your friendship the past three, nearly four, years. The people you surrounded yourself with the most were some of the most observant people in Hawkins, which was both a blessing and a curse. You sigh, turning slightly closer to her, ready to confess.

“Eddie has a date tonight,” you whisper softly. You watch her jaw open, as shocked as you were. At least, hoping in the same sense that you were, and not in a negative way. You never really knew about Nancy’s stance on Eddie, whether she liked him or not. The way you talk about him all the time you would think she’d be sick of it all, but never stopped you from spilling your secrets out to her.

“No way! With who?” She whisper-yells, scooting closer to you. You watch over her shoulder at Fred and some others looking your way, so you fake working on a spread, signaling Nancy to do the same.

“Some girl that came to their gig at the Hideout on Tuesday. I didn’t see it so it must’ve been when I went to the bathroom,” you continue to tell her while fake focusing on the piece of paper in front of you. Your entire demeanor suddenly became deflated, saying it aloud and hearing it from yourself. All becoming so real.

“That’s crazy. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“No, but what can I do about it? He and I aren’t dating, so I have no room to say who he can or can’t date,” you answer. You peak over at her and see her looking you dead in the eye, to which you couldn’t blame her. Even you didn’t believe what you were saying.

“Yeah, I know. He said she might stop by Hellfire, and, Nance, I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through the meeting tonight if she’s there,” you tell her. She reaches out and squeezes your hand and you give her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hey, if you think it’ll help, I can pick you up from Hellfire tonight and we can chill at my house for a sleepover. Junk food, distractions…I can even invite Robin and see if she’ll pick up some tapes after her shift at Family Video tonight,” Nancy suggests. You eyes widen in excitement and nod, truly needed a night where you don’t talk or think about Eddie. Just a night with your girls.

“That would honestly be the best, thank you Nance,” you tell her. She flashes a warm smile your way and scoots a bit away from you.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you and Mike up at 9 after I get Robin from her shift, if she’s free. It’ll be fun,” you tells you. You agree and continue working on your spread, excitement flowing through your body at the thought of a fun night ahead, even with the dread buried in the pit of your stomach at the thought seeing Eddie tonight at Hellfire with a woman at his side. A woman that wasn’t you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Running down the halls and towards the room behind the theater, you look at your watch and try to pick up the pace. You had lost track of time in your efforts in avoiding Eddie by doodling some drawings in the sketchbook that you kept on you at all times, which in turn made you late to Hellfire, something you never did. But in your defense, you usually had Eddie giving you a ride to and from the meetings. Today was not like the rest. Walking through the threshold of the meeting room, you give yourself a few moments to catch your breath.

“Sorry I’m late, I-“ you began to say, but were interrupted by giggling coming from Eddie’s throne. You see a girl with strappy heels and a short, short dress leaning against it playing with Eddie’s brunette fringey curls. That must be Shirley.

“Oh good, you’re here. We almost started without you,” Dustin exclaims, his goofy smile appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I doubt it,” you tell him, throwing your bag in the seat closest to him and ruffling his hair, him protesting and swatting at you in return. You notice out of the corner of your eye Eddie giving you a confused look, then looking towards your usual seat, which remained empty. It was no secret that you had your own seat in Hellfire, right next to the Dungeon Master himself, but today, you knew it was best to keep your distance. Didn’t want to interfere with his date and all. 

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Eddie pauses, giving you a look. You chose to just look at the table in front you to avoid eye contact. “Lets start.”

Dustin is the first to roll the dice, and everyone around watches as the campaign for the week begins. You try your best to pay attention to the game in front of you, but keep getting distracted by the amount of giggling coming from Eddie’s throne, due to himself and Shirley. They were acting like those couples you and Eddie would make fun of in the halls that were practically fucking in the halls of Hawkins High, and you’d always make fake sick sounds as you passed by them. Now that he’s acting those same people right in front of you and the rest of the club, you felt yourself growing sick, for real this time. 

You stood to the side as you watched Shirley climb in Eddie’s lap, draping herself all over him and her lips ghosting over his ears as she whispers little things in his ears, and the reactions he gives to her words make you want to punch a wall. Not in anger, but in jealous. The green eyed monster had awoken inside you, and you felt yourself getting riled up at the thought of them continuing this act throughout the rest of the meeting. The worst part of it all? You knew this isn’t where the night ended for them, and you could only imagine what other kinds of plans they had up their sleeves.

“Y/N, you’re up,” Mike whispers to you, snapping you out of your small jealousy-induced trance. You take the dice from Gareth and shake the dice in your cold hands a few times, before tossing them on the table.

6.

You didn’t have enough health to pull any big moves. No luck to play the hero tonight. You sigh and slump your shoulders as the rest of the group lets out an annoyed groan. You were completely off your game for the night and you knew with how observant the club was, they could tell. But luckily for you, they didn’t press you about any issues you may be having. 

“What’s your move, Lady Y/N?” Eddie asks you, his smug look making your skin crawl. Usually his dramatics during the game always wowed you and you’d join in, but it was hard to take in anything he was saying or doing with the leech that was attached to his hip.

“I…retreat,” you say, taking a step back from the table and Mike is quick to take the dice and roll for himself in order to save the campaign. You walk over to the seat you set your stuff in and take the sketchbook out you’d been busy with before the meeting and begin to draw.

“Do you know where the closest bathroom is, rockstar?” you hear Shirley ask. You mentally groan.

“Sure thing. Y/N, can you show her where it is?” Eddie asks, turning to you. You place your sketchbook back in your bag and stand from your chair. Flashing Eddie a fake smile, you nod and begin to walk towards the door, the sound of Shirley’s heels clicking behind you filling your ears.

The halls are quiet as you make your way to the bathroom around the corner. 

“So you and Eddie, you’re best friends right?” Shirley asks you as you continue your journey to the bathroom.

“Yep, since middle school,” you answer.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m gonna be honest, I was a little worried when Eddie told me he had a girl best friend. I always think guy girl friendships are weird and don’t last. They usually always end up dating in the end or ending the friendship because one likes the other, and the other doesn’t feel the same way. At least, that’s how I see them,” she rambles. You slowly nod and point out the bathroom, her thanking you and doing a fake little run inside.

Pressing your back against the wall outside the bathroom, you can’t help but think on the words she said, the thoughts of you and Eddie ending your friendship lingering and seeping into every fiber of your body. It’s the exact reason you kept your feelings deep down and hidden, but would that work out in the end? Are you putting yourself through the pain and heartache for nothing?

The bathroom doors opens once more and she comes out.

“Thanks for waiting for me. I’m really excited to hangout with Eddie after your club ends,” she tells you. 

“What exactly do you two have planned?” You ask, your curiosity getting the best of you. Part of you didn’t want to know, but your brain was screaming at you to find out.

“Nothing special. We’re gonna go back to his place and hangout, maybe smoke some. He also mentioned something about watching a movie…Sleepaway Camp? Have you heard of it?”

You froze.

Did she really just say that?

She stops and turns to you, giving you a look of concern. You felt the world around you starting to spin, the feelings from everything starting to come up.

“I-um, I’m sorry, but I-I’m not feeling too great right now. The theater’s in there, but I’m gonna go outside and get some air. C-Can you tell someone to bring my stuff out to me when everything ends?” You ask, your voice shaking as you lean against the wall for support. She gives you a nod and scurries inside the theater, leaving you to bolt out the doors of the school and towards the parking lot. 

You bent over and held onto the railing by the stairs that spilled out into the parking lot, convincing yourself you needed to wretch. The feelings clouding your brain were mixed, swirling together in a nasty mixture that you weren’t sure how you’d describe to Nancy and Robin. The feels of hate and sadness blurring the lines and becoming one as you stood outside, wishing you had your jacket to protect your from the harmful feelings and the cool March temperature. 

Sitting on the stairs with no luck on spewing your guts out, you let out a sigh and hug yourself in a pathetic attempt to warm up a bit. Your body grew cold rather easily, something that was always an issue, but the solution, or rather the two, were inside. You kept your jacket on you at all times, even despite the temperature being hot, because you never know when you might need it. In the event you forgot your jacket, Eddie would either lend you one of his, or just wrap himself around you, rubbing your arms with his big ring-clad hands to get you in a good place. You always welcomed that comfort. It felt nice being so close to him, even if he may not feel the same.

Your pity party is interrupted by a car pulling into the lot and parking right by the stairs. As the window rolls down, you see Robin pop her head out in a cheerful manner, but soon her features soften when she takes in your sour expression and sad body language. 

“What happened?” Nancy asks from the driver seat. You rise to your feet with a sigh and walk over to the car, leaning inside through the window.

“More like what didn’t happen,” you respond, shaking your head and shrugging. 

“Did that girl show up? Nancy filled me in on everything when she picked me up, so I have a ton of movie choices for tonight,” Robin rambles.

“Yeah she showed up. And they were being gross and lovey-dovey all night. Made me want to puke,” you explain. You feel Robin’s hand touch yours in an attempt to comfort you, to which you place your other hand on top of hers and give it a pat.

“And what prompted you to be out here instead of inside?” Nancy asks. 

“Well first off-“ you begin, but hear laughter coming from behind you as the school doors open. You turn and see everyone laughing and walking together, the meeting drawing to an end for the week and you let out a soft sigh. Everyone goes in different directions, with Jeff, Gareth, and Dustin going off in one direction, Eddie and Shirley going towards their van, and Lucas and Mike coming towards you guys. Mike nor Lucas had your bag in their hands, which made you worried that you’d have to go all weekend without your supplies and homework.

“Wait, Y/N, where’s your stuff?” Robin asks. You shrug your shoulders and turn to the side, Eddie standing by Nancy’s car. You see his unreadable demeanor comes closer to you, his eyes fixed on yours as he holds out your bag to you. Taking it, you sling it over your shoulder and slide over as he kept walking closer to the window you once hung out of.

“Wheeler, you might if I borrow Y/N for a sec before you take off?” He asks. You watch Nancy nod and Eddie leads you over away from her car, out of ear shot of both Nancy and that crew, and Shirley, who’s waiting at Eddie’s van. You both just look at each other for a moment, you not really knowing what to say.

“Thanks for grabbing my-“

“What’d I do?” He asks you, his voice sounding neutral. You look towards the ground and swing back and forth on your feet for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable excuse for your behavior today.

“Nothing,” you reply, your eyes glued to the ground.

“You can’t even look at me, Y/N,” he says, looking down to try and catch your eyes. You let out a huff and look back up at him, trying to get this conversation over with, which was something you never wished with Eddie.

“There’s nothing wrong, okay? I promise,” you tell him. Now it was his turn to huff, added with a kick to the ground. You could see that you’re irritating him, and if you were him, you’d be irritated as well. But today was not your day, you just needed time away from him and try to bury the feelings you had towards him even further down. Take the weekend and recoup. Not to mention, his date was merely a hundred feet away and waiting for him to go back to your place and watch a movie together. Your guys’ movie.

“Y/N, please, I know you better than anyone. Can you please ju-“

“Eds! Are we going soon?” Shirley yelled from the van.

Ouch.

She just used your signature nickname for him.

What else did they plan on taking from you today?

“Soon sweetheart, I promise,” Eddie yelled back.

Double ouch.

Now he was using your signature nickname.

“You know what Eddie, just go, she’s waiting on you. Have fun watching Sleepaway Camp,” you tell him. Shit, why’d you just say that.

Your mind was starting to think before your mouth, the feelings that have been brewing the entire day bubbling to the surface and taking over the part of your brain that had rational thinking. That green-eyed monster was started to show her true colors. You turn on your heel and begin to take off towards Nancy’s car, when you feel Eddie grasp your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait, Y/N, how’d you know we were watching Sleepaway Camp? Did she tell you that?” He asks. You sigh and shift towards him.

“Yeah, we talked in the hall. But it’s not big deal Eddie, just go,” you say, not understanding why he was so determined to make things right between the two of you right now? Yeah, the two of you hated leaving things in a bad place, but you never pressed him about anything he was super upset about or just didn’t feel like talking about, and usually he was the same with you. Maybe today was not destined to be in the cards for you after all.

“You’re jealous,” he says matter-of-factly. You scoff and cross your arms, trying to add another layer of defense between you and your fragile heart that was about to break loose with all these feelings. You were starting to lose your resolve, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I am not jealous!”

“You are totally jealous! Jealous that I’m spending time with someone, a girl, who isn’t you. Don’t worry, Y/N, you aren’t being replaced, I’ll always make time for you,” he tells you, thinking he’s helped, when really, it only hurt more. Like he thought he’d have to pencil you into his life.

“It’s not that Eds-“ you begin to say, but his laugh cuts you off.

“Then what is it then? You mad you don’t have a ride? Or-or-or upset that we’re watching Sleepaway Camp?” he pesters you. You could feel yourself getting really worked up and uncomfortable, wanting to just jet off to Nancy’s car and ride far away from this conversation.

“Oh wait, do you like me or something Is that it? Do you have a big ol’ crush on me?” He asks mockingly, making you freeze. “Just tell me what’s wrong Y/N, please.”

You hesitate.

Fuck.

You. Fucking. Hesitate.

“N-no, I don’t have a crush on you,” you say, brushing it off with a weak laugh. You see Eddie himself freeze, looking at you with a deadpan expression. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Wait, Y/N…you have a crush on me?” he asks. That was definitely an understatement. You swallow down a breath that wasn’t able to escape, your body beginning to shake in fear.

You see the way his entire demeanor changed when he realized. The dramatics you so desperately loved stopped all together, replacing it with a scared look. Scared that it’s true and he had to let you down? Scared that he didn’t feel the same way? Scared it was you, of all people? That familiar feeling of wanting to throw your guts up began to boil in the pit of your stomach, your chest tightening as you continued to stare Eddie down like a dear caught in headlights, the silence booming throughout the parking lot. You couldn’t handle this, not tonight. You’ve already had the shittiest day possible, you need to escape before you lose your best friend forever.

You take off in the opposite direction, towards Nancy’s car as you hear Eddie calling after you. The tears were brimming your eyelids, desperate to fall and let every emotion you’ve been bottling up all day to come out in a flood. You open the car door and hop inside, practically shoving Mike in the middle.

“Drive Nance,” you say, shooting them a pleading look.

“Wait, Y/N, what happened?” Robin asks.

“Nancy, can you please drive away, now,” your voice raising as you plead. Nancy responds by changing the gear and stomping her foot on the gas pedal, making your escape out of the parking lot and away from Eddie Munson, who you can see still standing in the empty lot watching you leave. You let out a shaky breath as you turn and face out the window, hot tears rolling down your cheeks and sobs racking your body as you all make the journey to the Wheeler’s house.

[heesdreamer]

SUNSHINE

PAIRING ➩ basketball player heeseung x cheerleader reader

WARNINGS ➩ um its super rough smut lol

WC ➩ 5k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ i hate both short works and straight smut but i guess that vlog got to me so here you go NOT PROOFREAD also i don’t like writing the boys completely out of character and i do not think hs would say or do half of these things lol but for the sake of the story

“You might just be the least positive cheerleader of all time.”

You were turning your head to the side to glare at the voice suddenly appearing from your left, sighing and rolling your eyes when you spotted who it was and going back to your position with your arms crossed on the side of the court as the game continued on.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be all smiley and ‘go team’?” Heeseung was continuing on even though you were clearly ignoring him, something you did every time he attempted to bug you during the games and rile you up enough to get a reaction.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the court and not sat next to me on the bench?” You were snapping back at him and you quickly glanced at him before looking away when you saw the familiar smirk creeping up on his face.

Heeseung was definitely not a bench warmer, far from it considering he was practically the star of your schools basketball team and he knew you were aware of this. That still didn’t stop him from occasionally allowing the coach to switch him out so he could come and sit near the cheerleaders, seemingly finding a lot of mid game entertainment in you and your cold reactions.

You’d gone to school with him for most of your life but you never really noticed him until high school started and you joined the cheerleading team under the pressuring words of your mom.

She’d been one when she was your age and she claimed it to be the sole reason she loved high school, the place where she met all of her friends and eventually your father when he transferred their junior year. You’d pretty much expected to be forced into it since you were a child and now on your fourth and final year, you were more so just going through the motions.

Your stoic, and borderline aggressive, personality mixed with the image of you in a small glittery skirt and your hair sporting a giant obnoxious bow in your schools representative colors, seemed to catch the attention of the star player and he hadn’t left you alone since.

“When would I get to talk to you if I wasn’t on the bench?” He was leaning sideways towards you and you frowned softly, trying to ignore him and the stupid smirk sticking to his face now. “It’s not like you stop for me in the hallways.”

“Have you tried taking a hint?” You were once again harshly spitting the words at him and you felt a bit frustrated with yourself for not being able to keep your composure like normal, already stressed from an intense workload and the building pressure of graduation as it approached. “Why can’t you go bother your fan club, I’m sure they’d be more than willing.”

Heeseung definitely didn’t have the same concerns as you and you didn’t necessarily blame him. It isn’t his fault he was immediately offered full ride sport scholarships to multiple different schools and as much as you hated to admit it, he worked hard for his success and he deserved it.

That fact still didn’t make it any less annoying that he was constantly bugging you with his quick comments about your attitude or his countless attempts to flirt with you, asking for your number or sending you Valentine’s Day singing grams every year since you’d met, even though you’d stormed into the cafeteria freshman year and dumped his soda on his head for humiliating you.

He hadn’t gotten upset and started to dislike you like you had hoped for, instead he smiled and moved his wet hair out of his face before asking if you liked the flowers he’d left at your locker.

“Why would I do that? You know you’re my favorite, sunshine.” His tone was lower now and the nickname fell from his lips casually, routine by now considering how much he said it despite the fact you told him to knock it off every single time he used it.

You were sparing him once last glare before turning back towards the game and ignoring the fact he was a lot closer to you now, one small sideways scoot away from being off the bench and on the same bleacher seat you were on.

He was persistent to a point that you could almost admire and you’d never be foolish enough to deny that he was almost stupidly attractive but that didn’t change anything for you. You had too many differences for you to be truly interested and it didn’t help that he smelt like sweat almost every single time you saw him.

Plus, you weren’t lying about his fan club and you already had to deal with numerous sharp glares and mean whispers throughout the years and that was without you reciprocating the interest.

You’d long associated the boy with negative things so it was pretty common for you to greet his smiley face with an eye roll or a straight up sneer, trying your hardest to ignore him but typically falling into a small session of half bickering half flirting before he was giving up again and leaving you to sit and seethe. You couldn’t even escape him at home either, something you were especially aware of right now.

It was two hours into trying to get some homework done and your patience was wearing thin the longer the sound of the basketball outside continued on.

You just so happened to be in the universes shit list and you lived directly across from a park in the neighborhood. You’d been excited when you first moved in, being able to play constantly when you were younger and eventually developing it into a nice place to sit and relax after school. You would have solo picnics under one of the big trees or just go and listen to music laying in the grass.

That is until Lee Heeseung also moved into the neighborhood, starting off your sophomore year with a big obnoxious moving truck on the other side of the park and what followed nearly drove you insane.

He was outside nearly every single day after school and practice, no matter if it was cold or hot, rain or snow. What once had been a calming spot for you to unwind was quickly overtaken by the sound of rubber against cement and you stopped going the day he started.

Sometimes he’d wave at you from the court, catching sight of you glaring down at him from your open bedroom window, but he never made any attempts to talk to you or invite you to join him unlike he did in school and neither of you ever mentioned the fact you were neighbors during your little moments of heated conversation. You learned to ignore him over time but you were particularly stressed recently and before you knew it you were letting out an annoyed yell before marching out of your room.

You’d barely processed the fact you were moving as you tugged a hoodie over your head and slipped on your boots, heading out the door and slamming it as you passed through.

Some of your fire had disappeared by the time you were actually pushing out into the cold night air and crossing the empty street, your steps becoming more hesitant as you entered the park and approached the basketball court, realizing you were going to have to actually speak to him. He didn’t look over as you got closer and your frown appeared again at the sweat gleaming from his skin, his neck red and agitated like he was pushing himself past his limit.

“Do you ever go home?” You were asking before you had decided it was a good idea and you were almost as surprised as he was to hear your voice, jumping slightly at the same time he did as he whipped around to look at you.

He looked confused for a second when he saw you standing there on the court with your hands stuffed in your pockets but when he seemingly processed it was you, he was breaking into a small smile.

You watched him as he continued to pant and try and catch his breath to be able to respond to you, sighing in the meantime and taking a few step backwards so you could sit on one of the benches and stare up at him in the middle of the court.

“Almost didn’t recognize you without your pretty little skirt, sunshine.” His response was eventually coming and it immediately pulled an eye roll from you despite the fact your stomach flipped as he took a few steps in your direction, tucking his basketball under his arm routinely and watching you with amusement and interest.

“Yeah well…” You couldn’t think of a good comeback as he continued to get closer and you inwardly blamed it on the cold.

“Did you come to cheer me on?” He was asking in a soft voice but it had a mocking hint to it, not necessarily mean but potentially bitter and you stared up at him as his eyebrow cocked. “My own personal cheerleader?”

You were trying to get a good read on his expression but it wasn’t making any sense to you, his face lacking it’s usual lightheartedness and almost looking conflicted as he watched you and seemingly waited for you to finally think of a witty response. You didn’t have one, thrown off by both his strange demeanor and having a conversation in an unfamiliar place and you couldn’t tell if he was pleased or disappointed at your sudden loss for words.

He wasn’t saying anything further and you would’ve sighed in relief if it wasn’t for the fact he was watching you so intensely, eventually sitting beside you on the bench and you tensed up when you felt his thigh pressing against yours.

“You didn’t have to stop playing.” You were eventually muttering and you would’ve been more self conscious about your out of character behavior if he wasn’t already being so strange.

“Yeah I did.” He was sighing and you turned your head to look at him, being met with his side profile as he stared straight ahead towards the court and ignored the fact you were staring at him. “You’re a distraction.”

A laugh was bursting from your lips accidentally, almost a scoff and you cut it off short by covering your mouth and giggling out an apology when he shot you a sideways glare. You were shaking your head and trying to gather yourself before clearing your throat softly. “You see me every time you play, never been a distraction then.”

“Are you kidding me?” Now it was his turn to laugh but it was a lot more dry than yours and almost sarcastic sounding, like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said that. “You don’t think seeing you in that outfit every game is a distraction?”

He was finally looking at you now and your face flushed at how close that made you, nearly touching noses if either of you leaned forward slightly but you stayed perfectly still and scanned over his face as you tried to take in his words. You would’ve thought he was joking around and doing his usual rounds of mindless flirting but his tone was flat and his face remained serious, even as you watched him curiously.

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond and your words felt caught in your dry throat, letting down your guard for just a second too long and being struck with nerves.

“A good distraction?” You were eventually pushing out and your voice lifted in a curious tilt, his serious face breaking into a small smile again at the sound of your soft question and hesitant tone, two things he rarely heard from you.

“Yeah sunshine, it’s good.”

——

You spent the next two days avoiding Heeseung as much as you can, having ended the night in some more whispered small talk before he was resuming practice and you were eventually slipping off back to your house once the cold became too much for your hands and nose.

It was weirdly nice to watch him play in a place where he wasn’t obviously trying to show off and under the pressures of competition, watching the skillful way he moved and the sweat that continued to reflect off his deep tanned skin despite the bitter cold touching on yours.

You still felt awkward for having interrupted him and it didn’t help that you had finally played into his flirting for once, mistakenly letting your guard down once you saw him in a more neutral environment and you felt extremely embarrassed about the whole entire encounter. You were telling yourself it had nothing to do with the fact he made your face flush every time he leaned closer or the way your stomach flipped as he talked about your skirt distracting him.

Sadly, you couldn’t stay away from him for long considering a school year quarter pep rally was approaching and everybody involved needed to come to the gymnasium to practice together, including both the cheerleaders and the basketball team.

You frequented the gym a lot more regularly than other students and were pretty used to being in front of a crowd or performing routines to all of your peers but you could tell some of the clubs who would be involved were feeling nervous, striking up conversation with one of the boys from the dance club to try and ease his nerves.

The conversation was entirely friendly and even a little bit awkward considering you barely knew him and he was a lot younger than you but little did you know, Heeseung was watching you from across the gym and making his own assumptions about the interaction.

You completely missed the way his jaw was clenching as he watched the two of you laugh, you instinctively leaning forward and touching the boys arm as a comforting gesture and giving further reason for the hard glare being sent your way from the other side of the room. It didn’t help that you hadn’t been speaking to him and had went right back to actively avoiding him, he’d been overthinking it and looking forward to talking to you about his worries today since you had to be in close proximity.

So it was driving him crazy that you still hadn’t approached him and even worse, you were too caught up in a conversation with some kid he didn’t bother to place a name to.

Eventually the first round of practice was going to start soon and Heeseung watched as your coach said something to you briefly, stared as you nodded in acceptance and then wandered off to go and gather whatever it was that she had asked for.

He was following behind you without even thinking about it, completely ignoring the calls from his teammates asking where he was going and urging him to hurry up before the run through started. You were heading back towards the storage lockers where there was plenty of extra balls and uniforms, anything that might be needed during a game or an event.

You were barely thinking about the basketball player during this whole time, too distracted with the busyness of the day, but he immediately came to mind when you felt something pressing up against you from behind after entering the storage room that was tucked behind the large indoor bleachers.

“What are you doing?” You were grumbling out to him in your usual annoyed tone even though your stomach was flipping at the fact he was actually touching you for once, something he rarely did despite his constant advances.

He wasn’t fully pressed against you but just enough so that you could feel his clothing near yours, you could sense his large frame looming over you and practically caging you in near the wall you’d been passing when he arrived. You shifted slightly so you could turn your head to look over your shoulder and glare up at him when he didn’t respond.

“Who’s the kid?” He was responding and his voice was lower than usual, lacking it’s typical lightness and humor that came along whenever he felt like teasing you.

“Don’t be jealous of a freshman, it’s not a good look on you.” You were shaking your head and sighing, turning back to look at the shelf and try your best to ignore him despite your alarming awareness to how close the two of you were.

It was only increasing when his hand was finally touching you, snaking forward and resting against your hip in a way that caused your breath to catch in your throat, making you lose your nonchalant demeanor for just a split second before you were attempting to compose yourself again. He was just holding onto your hip, his hand large enough that his fingertips were pressing into your stomach.

You didn’t say anything as he touched you and you still didn’t when he was tugging you backwards softly, pulling your bottom half against his instead of fully pressing against you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second at the feeling of him but you didn’t want him to see the obvious effect he had over you.

You were wearing a hoodie over your cheerleading uniform and half of his hand was underneath it so he could feel the hem of your skirt properly, bunching up the thick fabric around his arm slightly. He’d only pulled your lower half backwards so you were partially bent over now, barely enough to be noticiable but the implication made your cheeks burn.

“Why would I be jealous?” He was finally asking and his voice didn’t cut the tension at all, if anything worsening it. “Wasn’t him you were thinking about when you put this on.”

A scoff was falling from your lips at his sudden claim, despite how true it was considering you’d stared in the mirror particularly long this morning thinking about Heeseung calling you a distraction. Your careless attitude wasn’t holding too strong especially since he was squeezing your hip bone softly, your body instinctively pushing back further against him and causing your breath to stutter.

You felt slightly dizzy from the feeling of him against you so intimately, mixed with the fact that he had obviously been jealous over something as simple as you having a conversation. It should’ve annoyed you like it normally did but your heart raced slightly instead and you placed your hands against the wall subconsciously.

He took that as a cue to bend you over more, bringing his other hand up to your empty hip and using both of them to tug you fully backwards by the waist so you were flushed against him.

“Why are you wearing this?” He was suddenly asking and you were confused for a second before you felt him tugging on your large hoodie, childish annoyance in his tone at the fact most of your uniform was covered up.

You laughed softly at his whining, your voice embarrassingly affected and breathless. “Didn’t want to be a distraction.”

“That’s bullshit, you like knowing I’m watching you.” He was mumbling again now and it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, not really caring if you heard him. He was taking another step forward now and you could feel him more now, your head falling forward at the realization he was hard against you. “You’d let me take you right here, wouldn’t you?”

You considered not answering for a second and lowering his ego but he was slightly shifting backwards and releasing the pressure and a wave of panic ran through you.

“Yes yes I would.” You were rushing out and moving backwards to try and feel him again, ignoring the soft chuckle he gave and the way he squeezed your desperate hips in amusement. “You know I would.”

“Always so mean to me sunshine.” His voice was mocking again like it was the other night at the park and you were slightly thrown off by his change of demeanor, not expecting the roughness from the boy who was always big smiles and loud laughter everytime you’d seen him. He was bordering mean at times with his rough touches and provoking voice but you didn’t mind it at all, knowing you’d be dripping down your thighs if you were less clothed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being mean Hee.” Your voice was high and whiny but you were too turned on to be embarrassed, knowing how pathetic you must look.

“Show me how sorry you are.” He was instructing and you paused for a second, not exactly sure what he meant until he was lessening his hold on your hips. “Fuck yourself against me.”

Your breath was catching in your throat again and you let out a soft whine, one of your hands on the wall sliding down it slightly as you almost lost your balance.

He wasn’t exactly radiating patience and you were beyond desperate so you wasted no time in giving him what he wanted, pushing yourself back against him harder and crying out when you felt that he wanted it as much as you did, almost painfully hard now. His hips instinctively moved forward to meet yours but he immediately froze and stopped, letting you do all the work as you continued to roll your hips against him and try to get some sort of relief.

It wasn’t nearly enough for you, barely enough pressure for you to feel him and imagine how deep he would feel inside you but not enough to actually help you out in your building desperation, overwhelmed with longing for him as your hand fell off the wall and reach back to grab into his wrist.

“Please, I need you to touch me please.” You were begging him and a soft cry sunk into your voice, your head spinning with how bad you wanted to feel him anywhere.

“Fuck look at you.” He was grunting out before caving into your request, pulling you up softly and walking forward so now your entire body was pressed against the wall.

The cement was cold on your cheek and it would’ve been too uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the immediate distraction he was providing, his large hand slipping under your hoodie and aggressively groping your chest. His knuckles must’ve been rubbing against the wall but he didn’t show any signs of caring about the pain, twisting your hard nipple in his fingers and humping himself against you.

Your head was falling backwards to land on his shoulder, panting and letting out streams of high pitched whines as he roughly played with your mounds and thrusted against your skirt covered core.

He was using his free hand to reach over and grip your chin, holding it tightly between his fingers and turning your face so he could sloppily kiss you from where you laid on his shoulder. You were happily humming into his mouth despite the amateurish way you were moving against each other, more combined teeth and swapped spit than an actual kiss.

You could feel it dripping down your chin as he licked into your mouth, completely filthy and dirtier than you ever imagined him being. It was driving you absolutely insane and you’d completely forgotten about where you were or the fact people were expecting you back, the door not locked and accesible to anyone who came looking for you.

“Want you inside me Hee, please.” You were crying out into the kiss and he was only pulling back enough so you could speak, watching you with hooded eyes and parted lips and he tried to catch his breath and process what you were begging for. “I need you so bad, I can’t breathe.”

“Want me to fuck you sunshine?” His mocking tone was back and he squeezed your chest aggressively to emphasize his words, rutting against you in a sharp thrust that sent you harder into the wall again. He ignored your shocked cry and did it again before laying another wet kiss against your mouth. “Tell me baby, go on and beg for me.”

“I’ll do anything please, anything.” You were nearly sobbing now as you desperately tried to appeal to him, rocking yourself backwards into his hard cock to try and get him riled up enough to snap. “Need your cock in me so bad, do anything.”

Your words were slurred and mainly gibberish by now but it seemed to be enough for him, he cursed under his breath as he watched you desperately beg for him and you barely had time to process the fact he was moving before he was tugging down his basketball shorts and pressing your face against the wall again.

You moaned sharply into the cold cement and you were grateful it muffled it slightly considering you only got louder once he was roughly pulling up your skirt, ripping down your panties in one go and not bothering to warn or prep you before he was pressing the head of his hard cock against your entrance.

“Next time I’ll take my time with you, make you fall apart for me slow.” He was muttering in your ear as he lined himself up, pressing forward slightly and covering your mouth with his head when you let out a loud cry. “Can’t wait anymore though, gonna fuck you like the slut you are.”

You were nodding enthusiastically at his demeaning words, the more coherent part of you fluttering with butterflies at the fact he was already thinking about a next time that wasn’t so rushed. You had no issue with him simply fucking you now, feeling like you’d die if he spent another second teasing you or building up to it.

He was finally pushing himself fully inside you and your legs would’ve gave out if it wasn’t for his arm that was snaking around your stomach and his heavy weight pressing you against the wall, practically suffocating you as you lost your breath from the feeling of his complete length inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He was hissing out between gritted teeth and you instinctively clenched around him at the comment, satisfaction rolling through you when he groaned at the feeling. “No idea how long I thought about this.”

“Then show me.” You were snapping out, immediately hearing him laugh as your usual attitude resurfaced for a second, quickly growing impatient the longer he stayed still inside of you.

You were quickly taking back any anger you had when he was pulling out of you, almost all the way, before slamming his entire length back in. You could feel him so deep that you almost couldn’t catch a breath, bucking forward and your mouth parting in a silent cry that was immediately interrupted when he started to fuck into you at a fast pace.

He gave you no time to adjust to his thick size and you were grateful for it, the rough burn of him stretching you being exactly what you needed after years of bickering and teasing with him. It was beyond what you could’ve imagined, all that tension finally bursting into relief as he fucked you so rough you’d surely be coated in bruised by the time the pep rally actually rolled around.

You’d gone completely dumb and you knew he had too, holding his composure just enough to continue his aggressive thrust but losing all ability to tease you or make more comments towards your behavior.

He was holding you tightly against him and you almost wished you were somewhere more private so you could see him undressed, suddenly overcome with the need to feel his skin against yours and be completely covered in his warmth. You tried to ignore the unusually soft thought towards him and focus on how good he was making you feel, the familiar tight coil building in your stomach as he continued to fuck into you deep and rough.

“Please please.” You were begging again but you weren’t even sure what for at this point, your mouth just moving on instinctively so he didn’t stop under any circumstances.

“I know baby I know.” His voice was more gentle than it had been before but still just as tight and overwhelmed, definitely reaching the end rapidly himself like you were and trying his hardest to prolong it considering how good you felt as you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. “Squeezing my cock so good sunshine, you’re so perfect for me.”

“For you, just for you.” You were quickly responding to the casual possessiveness he had showed and this seemed to affect him more than anything, his hips faltering for a second in their assault before he was fucking into you even harder than you thought was possible. He clearly liked hearing you claim yourself as his own and you felt overwhelming dizzy at the realization.

It was a complete blur now as he fucked into you, coming undone faster than you ever had before and blacking out for a few seconds from the pleasure of him doing the same inside of you. You were too out of your head to care about the fact he had came inside of you and you didn’t even think about it.

You were immediately worried it would be awkward once you were coming back to your senses but then you processed the fact that Heeseung was placing soft kisses against your neck, turning you around gently so you were finally facing him and you felt a bit emotional from how kind he was being now after he’d just taken you so aggressively.

You were definitely in some sort of dropped space after the intensity you’d just been through because you were kissing him suddenly, happy you’d had him in that way but now feeling like you’d missed out on seeing him from this point of view.

He was grateful accepting the kiss and tugging you forward by your lower back, the same place he’d been holding but very different context now as he softly moved his mouth against yours and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Are you going to let me take you on a date now?” He was asking into the kiss and you pulled back to laugh softly, laying your head down on his shoulder and feeling the way they lifted as he chuckled at your reaction.

“Yeah hotshot… I’m sure we can work that out.”

[cauterisen]

is it too early to start planning white day things for the blog? get kimiko all the nice white day gifts actually

[blackbirdie1234]

Paul's Imprint

What being Paul’s imprint would be like.

A/N: Not proofread. Hope you guys enjoy this and let me know if you would like me to do the other pack members or the Cullens(what being their mates/bloodsingers would be like). I really appreciate all of the likes and reposts! Thank you all so much and I am glad you like my fics :)

Being Paul’s imprint would require A LOT of patience.

He has a soft spot for you, so his anger wouldn’t be taken out on you or directed much toward you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t see his bad side. When someone in the pack pisses him off he usually gets upset and phases. They fight it out, and then he comes home. He is either still upset or wants serious attention. If it’s the former expect some attitude and him taking it out on basically everything else but you. He might be aggressive with things, slamming things down and being loud. You would probably need to give him some time to cool off some more before trying to comfort him. If it’s the latter then you will have to have a cuddle session, his favorite position is laying in the bed or couch with his head in your chest and you playing with his hair and talking about your day. Your voice soothes him and calms him down, so he likes it when you talk to him. He could care less what you talk about, you could tell him about your day, or how much you hate that one girl in your math class because she chews gum loudly, you could literally talk about anything and he would be content. 

Being Paul’s imprint means a lot of love and affection.

When he isn’t on patrol, he is with you. He will be on you and hugging you all of the time. Now if you have trauma with affection or just don't like to be touched he would 100% respect your boundaries, but he would try and find small ways to show and get affection. Like holding your hand or even just touching his pinky against yours when you are next to each other. He would find ways that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable and was still getting his needs met. He doesn’t mind showing his affection in front of others either, he could give less of a fuck if the pack teases him. He loves you and doesn’t care who knows it. At the beginning of your relationship, he was very careful, learning what you liked and what you disliked. He was also very subtle with his affection but he still craved it just as much as he does now. He would softly play with the hair on the back of your head while talking by the fire, small and soft touches here and there, he would DEFINITELY do that thing where guys softly touch your waist while moving behind you.

Being Paul's imprint means you would spend a lot of time with the other imprints.

You would probably be close with the other imprints. Having a werewolf boyfriend isn’t exactly normal. You might feel alone or lost a bit in the beginning. Paul was one of the first to phase, which means you most likely were also one of the first imprints. Especially if you knew Paul before the transition. Emily was one of the first imprints you met, she was so sweet and welcoming to you, and your bond turned into a sibling relationship. She treated you like family right away and made sure you knew that you were always welcome. You met the others as they became a part of the family and now you spend a lot of your time with them. You do a bunch of group things together, shopping, baking, cooking, movie nights, and of course bonfires. You all enjoy each other's company. The boys are on patrol a lot and it helps everyone get their minds off of missing them. 

Being Paul’s imprint means late-night texts and calls.

Again, the boys are on patrol any time of the day or night. When Paul takes the night shift he makes sure to update you and let you know that he is safe. He is also expecting the same from you. He misses your voice, especially when your schedule gets busy and you can’t see each other as much. Sometimes he’s able to slip away for a second to see you, give you a hug and a kiss and then he is back out patrolling. He does it more often if he is patrolling near your house, mainly so he can do it quickly before Sam notices that he is missing and makes him come back.

Being Paul’s imprint means he is VERY protective of you.

He is already a protective person, it doesn’t matter if it is his friend, family, or even a stranger. He will take a bullet for someone he doesn’t know, it’s just in his nature. For you on the other hand, he would take that bullet and then hunt the person who shot it down until they beg you for forgiveness for even daring to THINK about hurting you, all the while he is still bloody and hurt. His protectiveness also correlates with his jealousy. He is a very jealous person when he is in a relationship. Even though you are his imprint he still can’t help but let the green-eyed monster loose whenever another person hits on you or checks you out. He knew you were hot, but you were for his eyes only. Being a werewolf means having to control your anger, but Paul was never really good at that, so most of the time it was you who had to calm him down. You didn’t want your boyfriend to maul someone, especially not in public. You were the only person who could calm him down fully, you would reach for him with your soft touch and everything else would fade away. Sometimes all you had to do was give him a stern look and he would cool himself off not wanting to make you upset. It bothered you sometimes how angry he would get, you tell him all the time that he is the only one for you and he has nothing to worry about but he still lets his jealousy get in the way of reasoning. 

[satoruhour]

While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”). 

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef. 

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

[starsupe]

- added tags : dynamics

⁽ ⠀ ☆ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ dyn  ;  url  -  name   /  *  quote