#this was a draft that i finished and now i just want it out of my drafts

[overtrred28]

So high school | Jessie Fleming x reader

Summary; The story of how you and Jessie were brought together one fateful night in college and didn't leave each others side ever again.

Words; 2050

Pairing; Jessie Fleming x UCLA reader

A/N; Mother Taylor has inspired me and a tiktok that paired a footballer with an academic girl and I had thoughts. Then I was wondering who to do it with and THEN… UCLA J FLEM. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do because I’m in a Jessie mood rn. Btw this has been sitting in my drafts for literally like 2 months and I haven't had the inspiration to finish it until today. Enjoy loves xx

Jessie was more than kind of uncomfortable right now.  She was tired after a full day of classes and an early morning training session, wanting to flop into bed after her long day and sleep away most of the weekend. But here she was, nursing a cup of coke in the corner of a frat house and wishing she had declined the invitation to come out with half of the soccer team. 

“You good?” Teagan had made her way over, leaning against the wall and looking down at the midfielder who was seemingly lost in thought.

“Yeah, fine.” Jessie nodded her head, hiding the fact she desperately didn’t wanna be here anymore. 

“Why don’t you try and go talk to someone? I’m sure there are plenty of pretty girls catching your eye right now.” Teagan nudged her shoulder with a smirk, downing her drink before walking away again. Jessie sighed before taking another sip of her coke and walking to another section of the house where more people congregated. 

Her eyes filtered through the room, trying to take the goalkeeper's advice but giving up after noticing every pretty girl making their way over to someone else. Eventually her feet mindlessly walked her over to the back door, the glow of the pool under the moonlight catching her eye first before she spotted you. 

Your friends had practically dragged you from your dorm, insisting you had to come and party with them, but where were they? Probably inside making out with frat guys and forgetting you actually came with them. That’s how you had found yourself sitting on a deck chair outside, avoiding the loud music and heavily intoxicated 20 year olds celebrating the start of their senior year, after your friends ditched you early on.

It didn’t bother you, them leaving you alone that is. And you could have gone home but you wanted to stay and make sure your friends made it home safely. 

Jessie only saw the side of your face from how you were positioned on the chair but immediately found herself drawn to you. People may have called her crazy for falling with just one look, but when you know, you know. 

You didn’t hear the sliding door open, too busy looking up at the moon and wondering what else you could be doing right now if you stayed in bed. It wasn’t until you heard the chair beside you creek that you finally noticed her, snapping your head at the noise and becoming encapsulated by her big brown eyes and freckles immediately. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” She apologised, her eyes somehow getting bigger and more beautiful. 

“I-it’s okay.” You let out a breath. “Just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.” You shared a soft giggle and she finally smiled. 

“Yeah, not really my scene.” Jessie shrugged and began sitting back in the chair, copying her movements and turning your head to face her.

“Me either.” You smiled before reaching out a hand to her. “Y/N.”

“Jessie.” She connected your hands, ignoring the tingling she felt in her fingers while you pushed down the butterflies fluttering around your stomach. 

You two spent the rest of the night talking before she offered to walk you back to your dorm, after finding out your friends had already left with guys and you were left alone. Well, not so alone now. 

The next few weeks would find you and Jessie with each other as much as possible, save for your individual classes, and you were happier than ever. You weren’t dating, no but it began to feel like it, especially when you ran down the bleachers after she won her next match, Jessie catching you as you jumped into her arms with pride. 

After almost two months since meeting you finally had your first kiss. It wasn’t super romantic but exactly how you would have wanted it to go. You and Jessie were hanging out in her dorm, you studying for an upcoming exam and her pretending to catch up on classwork but really spent the whole time staring at you. 

“Jessie.” You were focused on the millions of highlighted poems and texts that sounded you on the floor but could feel her eyes burning in the back of your head. “I can feel you staring.”

“What?” Jessie acted dumb, biting her lip to hold back a smile as she watched you turn your head, raising an eyebrow.

“You know that if you don’t get this work done you’re not playing this weekend. And I already cleared my schedule to watch you soooo.” You sat up fully, leaning back on your arms to look up at her on her bed.

“Can we not just take a small break? We’ve been at this for hours!” She whined, tilting her head at you, a fake pout accompanied by some puppy dogs eyes. 

“It’s literally been 45 minutes.” You deadpanned as you got up and jumped up to sit next to her. 

“45 minutes too long.” She huffed and you stifled a laugh as you looked at her. 

“What would you rather us do then?” You asked while shaking your head at her, letting out that laugh but stopping when her silence was noted. You looked up to find her staring, no, gazing into your eyes, a look on her face she had many times but this was the first time you noted it. She looked lovestruck. 

Your mouth opened to speak again but you were cut off when she was suddenly moving forward, one hand reaching up to hold your cheek and the other moving down to hold your waist. Before you could process anything, her lips were on yours and it was as if you had been transported into another world.

After that kiss your relationship didn’t seem to change that much, still spending almost all of your time together, though this time spending it a little closer and with a lot more kissing. Something about your relationship felt so young and naive, like you were back in high school making out at parties and never spending more than a couple hours apart from one another. 

You now went to all her training sessions, sitting in the bleachers finishing homework while she prepared for their next match. Jessie loved you just being there but was getting a little annoyed that you weren’t fully paying attention as she ran rings around her teammates in an effort to impress you. She knew the perfect way to get your nose out of your books. 

“HEY BABE!” Jessie shouted up to you across the pitch. The sheer volume and urgency of her voice caught your attention instantly, looking up to find her waving her arm comically in your direction. 

“What?” You laughed alongside her teammates who were standing on the pitch waiting for something to happen. 

“WATCH THIS!” She yelled again before running back to her starting position, eyeing up the cones and dummies she meticulously laid out and the ball that laid in wait for her. You bit back a smile at her excited nature, waiting for her to begin whatever trick she was about to show off. 

She began dribbling the ball skillfully through the first few cones that were placed closely together. Yourself and her remaining teammates watched her feet intensely, quite impressed with how precisely she was keeping the ball in and under her feet. She made it through her round of cones and looked up towards you in the stands, making sure you were in fact watching her and whether or not you were impressed. But what she failed to notice was how close she had positioned the steel dummies that were part of her second skill test. 

Everyone saw it happen before she did, running straight into the dummy, too distracted by you to realise she was running into it. You heard the ding from halfway up the bleachers and within seconds you were racing down to her on the pitch, trying to keep your laughter at bay so you could seriously check on her. 

“Jessie, are you okay?” You knelt down to where Jessie was now sitting up, legs splayed across the grass and a hand to her temple, soothing where she hit her head. 

“Don’t laugh. I was just trying to impress you.” Jessie finally spoke, avoiding your eyes and producing a pout, meanwhile her freckled cheeks were getting redder than they already were. 

“Oh baby I know. It was very impressive till… you know.” You directed her eyes back to you with a soft smile, biting your lip again to hold back your laugh. 

That night Jessie continued to pout, even when you were giving her all your attention, laying between your legs as you held an ice pack to her temple and babying her all night long even though you didn’t put the dummy there, she did. 

After graduation you moved with Jessie to England for her contract with Chelsea, you managed to land a position at the University of London, teaching in the English department, a great start to your life together in a new country.  

Jessie proposed to you in January of 2022 after three and a half years of dating, keeping it private and personal by dropping down on one knee as you were getting into bed one cold night. 

Clad in flannelette pyjamas and fluffy socks, just having got out of the shower, you walked back into the bedroom expecting Jessie to be curled up in bed and waiting for you. But as you turned the corner she was bent down on one knee and holding a ring in her shaking hands. Jessie had prepared a whole speech about how much she loves you and wants to spend the rest of her life with you but in true Jessie fashion she got nervous and the only words that came out were. “Marry me? Please?” 

You both took the next year to plan the wedding for Spring 2023 before the world cup, wanting to make sure you knew what you wanted and to enjoy being engaged before being married. 

The big day finally arrived and you hadn’t seen Jessie in more than 24 hours, both of your bridesmaid groups separating you from one another for practically the first time in almost 5 years. 

It was a beautiful ceremony filled with all for your close family and friends to celebrate your love and unite your families. You cried, Jessie cried, everyone cried. The reception though was one massive party. Everyone danced, everyone drank and most of all you got to have fun with your wife like you did back in college. 

At the end of the night, after the party ended and everyone went home, you and Jessie were sipping champagne on your hotel room floor, giggling with one another in the silent room while wearing matching pyjamas. 

“I love you.” Jessie said as she stared, no gazed, in your direction. “You’re so pretty, will you marry me?” Her words were slightly slurred as her tipsy frame swayed back and forth every so slightly. 

“Too late, already did.” You laughed as you brought your left hand up to her face, showing off both of your shining rings. “Look.” You brought her hand up too, showing her own ring clad fingers to her, shock adorning her freckled face. 

“We’re married already?!” Jessie shrieked and you knew it was time for bed. 

“Yes, now come on. Time for bed my love.” You placed a kiss on her lips before putting your flutes down and pulling Jessie up with you from the floor. You dragged her over to the large bed, crawling alongside each other to then assume your regular positioning. Jessie waited for you to get comfortable against the pillows before laying herself across your chest, her pillow. 

“Baby?” Jessie spoke after a few minutes, tilting her head to look up at you. 

“Hmmm?” You respond as you begin to stroke her hair gently. 

“Tell me about the first time you saw me.” Jessie asked before setting back down against your chest. You let out a small breath, a smile donning your face as she asked you. 

“Well, I was sitting at a party next to the pool…” 

THE END

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 12. To be taken over by power

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, a bit of smut

— WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

One uses power by grasping it lightly. To grasp with too much force is to be taken over by power, thus becoming its victim. — Bene Gesserit Axiom

She awoke feeling sore but satisfied. As her mind caught up with her body she realised it was because Feyd had slept on her all night. She opened her eyes to the pale light of the morning and a swath of black sheets tangled all across their bodies. He laid in her arms, his head over her chest, his arms around her waist, his legs curled up innocently. When she stretched and arched her back to put her blood in motion Feyd didn’t stir but his arm tightened around her waist and a hot puff of breath tickled her chest. His face had lost in sleep all of the meanness it had during the day... She smiled and brushed her thumb across the edge of his lips. His lashes fluttered and he grumbled, pouting like a child.

“Don’t wake up,” he mumbled. “I want to sleep some more.”

“But you’re not sleeping now, are you?”

“Then why am I having such a pleasant dream?”

“Do you tend to dream of me?” she giggled.

“Yes. Before I met you,” he answered with a little yawn before his mouth shut tight again and he tightened his arms around her.

She hadn’t had much time after their ‘playing’ with the Gom Jabbar last night to think of what his resistance said about him, although she had realised between shivers of excitement that his endurance was remarkable. She knew he loved pain and that served as an easy enough explanation, but perhaps there was a little more to her na-Baron.

“Since when?”

“A while,” he muttered, nuzzling into her chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“Yes, well. You’re awfully curious about it.”

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?”

“I regret telling you,” he sighed with a sense of finality and she knew he’d say no more.

Her hand found a natural place to rest atop his head and she thought quietly about what he’d just said as she scraped gentle scratches on his scalp. He purred against her like a kitten and wrapped his soft, cold body around her, pushing the sheets away until he was all she felt.

She found herself quite languid that day from when they got out of bed all through to the evening. Feyd took her with him for a meeting with his mentats and drafted a few messages for Giedi Prime — although he asked her to leave the room for the last one, the one he wrote to his uncle — and before she knew it they were having dinner together again. She had almost forgotten all the bad memories associated with that room, that table... She sat closer to Feyd now and felt less fear about it, and what she had gained in calm he had gained in happiness. He smiled more often through the day, enough for her to catch it, and glanced toward her when he thought she wasn’t looking. His gaze was so heavy she could almost sense it on her skin.

“So what did you dream of?” she asked after she finished eating.

He looked at her and kept on chewing, jaw flexing quietly, and pretended not to understand what she meant. He wore softer clothes today — a black Harkonnen robe that covered his whole body and made him that much harder to read. He moved quite naturally in it, unusual for one so used to armour. She smiled at him but refused to indulge his pretence of ignorance.

“You know what I mean,” she said with fondness.

After a lingering glare, he turned his attention back to his plate and busied himself with eating, even if his plate was almost empty.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said at length.

“You’re shy…”

“So what if I am?”

Her smile grew gentler at his admission. It was a rare man who would admit to it without feeling ashamed, even if he sounded a bit defensive.

“I am allowed to be.”

“Yes, you are,” she said. “But I want to know anyway.”

“We all want things we can’t have.”

“Not you, though. Not the Governor of Arrakis.”

“Why not me?” he asked, turning his sharp eyes toward her.

“Well, what do you want?”

He pouted and turned to his plate again, swirling his knife around the leftovers.

She looked at him and kept looking for long moments. He had skilfully diverted the conversation from what she had asked to something else and yet both ends of the conversation were connected. He was being childish, one didn’t need to be a Bene Gesserit to know that. She asked herself what it was about his dreams, or about what they’d done last night, that had turned him so. The answer presented itself rather quickly.

She reached out the small distance and placed her hand on his. He stilled immediately, his grip limp and weak and dead beneath her touch. Gently she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and brushed her fingers across his soft pale skin. Like a shadow his gaze came up to meet hers and in his eyes were pleas he did not dare voice out. Before long she had risen from her chair and sat in his lap, hands cupping his tense face to brush away the tears he couldn’t spill.

“What do you want, hmm?” she quietly asked, her whisper touching his skin.

Feyd closed his eyes and breathed a deep and heavy sigh, fighting against everything his uncle had probably told him about the Bene Gesserits, about women… The question itself had no purpose. She knew exactly what he wanted. But she wanted him to admit it to himself, to her, and set free those weak and traitorous emotions — longing, loneliness, and pain. What he wanted was both a mother and a lover, a figure in his life unlike any other, a vessel for all the care he had inside of him with nowhere left to spill. She brushed a finger across the dark circles underneath his eyes and traced down his face towards his lips. He was as open as a broken book, a battered gate, a hungry mouth to feed, and she would give him everything he wanted.

“Do you want me?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Feyd frowned, his pride still in the way of him admitting just how vulnerable she’d made him. It almost broke her heart.

“How do you want me?”

His hands left the edges of his seat to come around her waist and hold her. “In every way,” he muttered, opening his eyes but still not daring to look into hers.

“But you know I’m yours,” she said with a barely concealed tease in her voice.

“No, not like that. I…”

She cupped his jaw and let her finger linger on his lips in a way she knew would warm his blood. Feyd sighed and kissed her caressing hand and then his arms around her pulled her in until he could sink his face into her shoulder. She cupped the back of his head and held him.

“I want to be yours, too,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, a thin sigh of relief escaping her, and she fought back a smile. “I know, I know,” she said with all the soothing she could muster, her hands petting the back of his skull.

“But you won’t have me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true…”

“Is that in your dreams as well?”

He didn’t answer. She kept on distractedly petting him, cuddling him while sitting on his lap and tried to decipher meanings from the way his breath fell on her skin and the tremble in his arms around her.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said.

They went to their shared room together and he sent the guards away before closing the doors behind them. She hugged him from behind while he undressed and laid her forehead on his back. Feyd paused with muted hope but kept his thoughts to himself. She’d come dangerously close to the core of him the night before, cracked him open with pleasure, with pain, and supped on the bitter centre. What she set in motion had the momentum to get her out of there, to save her from the desert planet and out of Harkonnen hands, if only she made sure to fan the flames aflutter in his heart.

“Don’t pretend,” he said, his voice low and sad. “Don’t pretend you care or that you like me.”

“Is it because I hurt you too much last night that you think that I don’t —”

“I just know it,” said Feyd as he stepped out of her arms.

Should she contradict him? Could she? He scared her when he gave in to his darker feelings. It made her feel like she lost control of him. But the prospect of him being wrong scared her even more… She walked toward the window and hugged herself, watching the night fall on Arrakis. Already he was slipping through her fingers and if she only closed her fist he’d slip much more. He was ruled by his emotions but it was a hard task to accept that she was a bit like that as well. He’d never properly grown up, and neither had she, and just like he wanted to escape the constraints of the Barony… She desperately wanted to get away, and knew he was her path toward it. As she frowned at her reflection in the thick shadowy glass his shape appeared behind her, a ghost through the dark. He hugged her from behind much as she had done before but he had shed his clothes by now and his naked arms curled up around her. He rested his head against her back.

“I want to tell you,” he started quietly, “but I know I shouldn’t. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“No, you don’t think much of me at all, do you?”

“That isn’t fair…” she said, turning in his arms to look at him. “You’re the one who always leaves me behind. Who has me walk out of the room. You don’t trust me —”

“Because you’re not trustworthy. You say you’re my Bene Gesserit and you let me do things to you that you despise, but deep down —”

“You have no idea what I really think and feel.”

“There it is,” he slowly rasped, his smooth brows casting shadows over his tired eyes. “You don’t think me capable of understanding.”

“No, I know you are very capable,” he said, her hands tightening around his arms. “You lasted an admirable amount of time with the box. Whether it’s because you were tested before or because you like pain, it doesn’t matter. It’s… more than anyone I’ve ever heard of. And your dreams... Your dreams come true, don’t they?”

Feyd pulled away from her as if he could hide in the shadow of the setting sun, but her hands still gripped him and his arms were still around her waist and even if he could have hidden he was all too clearly seen by her.

“Not all of them, I hope,” he muttered.

What is he afraid of? she asked herself. From the sad and worried look in his eyes and from the way he held her she could only guess it was a fear of loss. That was what he’d admitted to earlier, wasn’t it? He wanted to be hers. He feels rejected… Unwanted, she realised. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Sure, she’d given him everything he asked for, both the pleasure and the pain, but fulfilling his baser needs had only opened up his mind to what he really wanted: to belong.

Her grip tightened around his muscled arms and she leaned in to kiss him, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Feyd waited breathlessly for her to close the distance and she never did. The only way around him that she knew was to manipulate him, and she couldn’t do that anymore. Not to the young na-Baron with so lost a look in his blue eyes. She couldn’t pretend to love him, not even to save herself. So she let go of him, withdrew, and turned around. She barely took a step before he stopped her. He slid a finger through the lacing of her dress, pulled her back, and started to undo it.

“You know, I can’t help but respect you even when I hate you,” he whispered roughly. “You teach me new forms of pain each day we are together.”

She smiled to herself. “Do you prefer the type of pain from yesterday?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Frankly? Yes.”

She laughed and heard Feyd chuckling behind her, although there was a string of sadness there. His fingers worked quickly to undress her and he pulled her back into his body, their skin sticking to each other’s. His embrace didn’t last long before he took her hand and led her to the bed.

She let herself be guided, allowed him to take control in a way she hadn’t since she was a child in schooling, taught to move and breathe and think by the Proctor Superiors, only this time there was no design about it. She had nothing to learn, nothing to gain by obliging him, no motivation to pretend. She found herself sitting down before she even realised she’d crossed the room and her eyes searched for Feyd, finding him seated on the bed beside her. His gaze was focused on her neck, her lips, the way her hair fell around her shoulders, and slowly his hand trailed her back in something of a caress. She shivered and then his attention came to her eyes again.

His lips parted, pink and full and boyishly beautiful, but he changed his mind before he said a thing. She wondered what he’d been about to say but it was clear even without words: he was afraid of her, nervous that a wrong move or word misspoken would make her leave. He was overly cautious as he trailed his fingers down her back and curled them around her waist. She let him kiss her without any complaints or attempt at seduction and took the gentleness he offered. And she kept her eyes open throughout to look at his silky lashes, the tender pallor of his face, the way his brows would crease, and found herself admiring him for the first time ever — not for all his qualities, not for the carefully cultivated end results of centuries of breeding, but for his delicacy, his frailty, the way he seemed at times so breakable. She cupped his cheek and leaned into the kiss, surprising him into a moan. She felt his full lips curl and his tongue lap at her skin and then she pulled away. Feyd’s eyes were dark and drowsy, drunk with the closeness of her.

“What did you dream of?”

“You still want to talk about that?” he frowned, sounding quite betrayed.

“No, it’s not to know it. I just want to make it real.”

He bit his lip and sucked in a breath that trembled when he let it go, and around his eyes, she could see the crease of worry.

“I’ll tell you if —”

“No,” she said. “No more games, no transactions or conditional surrenders. Tell me only if you want to.”

He leaned in again and crushed his lips to hers, hands tightening around her waist to pull her body flush to his. Without a thought she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, knees brushing clumsily against his.

“I don’t want to tell you,” he whispered against his mouth, his eyes soft and pleading. “But I want it to be real…”

When he kissed her again he did it with a bit more pressure until she laid back down. Feyd held his body atop hers suspended without breathing, letting her hips go to thread his fingers through her hair. She grew drunk on his attention, the way he held her, the desperate way he kissed her, on how she could almost taste his thoughts. Her hands started feeling hot and itchy and she soothed them by brushing them across his skin. His thighs were softer than they had any right to be, his hips were lean and smooth, and she didn’t get to feel his body and higher because he started making his way down her own. He sucked the sweat off of her neck and tasted the murmur of her moans, he licked across her clavicles and nibbled on her bones, he placed sweet kisses on her breasts until her nipples rose... He smiled when his lips found them already erect and he opened his eyes to look cockily up at her.

She watched him breathlessly as he lavished attention on her body so transparently proud just to see her react to what he was doing. There was an animal simplicity to it that felt like a betrayal of everything she knew but once she saw him like that she couldn’t look away. However seductive his plush lips looked suckling on her nipple, however strong his body, stretched across her own, muscled, pale and gleaming like the statues of old, he was more than anything else dear to her because he was just a little boy. Needy and eager to please, playing with her the way his thoughtless heart dictated. She brought a hand up to his head and gently scratched his scalp and his lips parted from her breast to sigh. Eyes still closed he licked across her nipple, rolling it until it was lathered in his spit. A snake of fire coiled in her stomach. It made her squirm.

Feyd moaned into her flesh and his hands came to her thighs. She tensed up, remembering so many rough handlings — from both him and her — but he touched her as gently as if she were made of glass. And as his kisses moved between her breasts, over her heart, trailing down toward her tummy, he parted her thighs so softly that it made her shiver. He took his time brushing his cold hands across her skin, going higher and higher slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted to. When his fingers reached her core he turned his playful eyes up at her and smirked. He held her gaze as he licked her stomach with a silent promise and trailed a finger through her folds to part them. She allowed herself to blush as she looked down at him, forgetting herself completely for a moment, living only through the softness of his lips, the sleek movements of his tongue, and the proud look in his eyes. Her first instinct was to question him, to dig into his ego and find out what he planned, but she quieted that part of her and waited.

“You’re this wet for me?” he murmured, his lips right above her mound. She could feel his breath tickle her where she was most sensitive. He sounded playful and proud and there was an expectation in his voice that was inescapable. She had to answer.

“Yes…”

He buried his face between her thighs but not before she saw how wide his smile was. His hand tightened on her leg and then she felt something brush up against her ankle. A pale blue eye looked up at her, gauging her reaction with hungry anticipation, and she realised it was Feyd showing off how hard he was as he rubbed his cock against her. Her nails curled up against his scalp halfway between a caress and a scratch and he giggled. He was being so sweet with her that she could almost fall in love.

“Come up here,” she whispered, her head tilted lazily against her shoulders, her hair a messy halo on the bed.

“Not yet,” he rasped, peppering little kisses up and down her thigh. “I’m going to taste you first.”

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 7: The Cabin: Day 3

Summary: What starts out as a peaceful morning quickly turns steamy after an argument.

Word Count: 9,565

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, smut, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected sex

A/N: Yeah, you read the warnings right. It’s time. When I tell you this chapter took days to write 😭 different parts got rewritten like four times. The final product is nothing like the drafts. Even editing it there was stuff added, and I got to the point where I just needed to stop and post it. Please enjoy!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 7

The storm settled down about thirty minutes after you and Soap ate. It still continued to rain, but the thunder was moving off into the distance, and the wind had stopped completely. You were still forced to stay inside, but at least the worst of the storm had passed. You could look for the damages done tomorrow.

Soap laid down after he finished eating and just rested. You didn't say anything more to each other about his episode, and you didn't expect him to open up. It was a little different for everyone, but sometimes talking about it made it worse. With nothing better to do, you also laid down. The sound of the rain falling softly outside was eventually enough to lull you into sleep. 

The next morning, you'd gotten up super earlier. Given the fact you probably went to sleep around 1900 (or 7 pm) that made sense. Soap was still asleep when you got up. He was sleeping on his back, an opened black journal balanced on his chest, and a pencil still in his hand. His arms were bare, meaning sometime last night he'd probably stripped down to his underwear again.

Leaving him be, you got up and decide to see what the damages were from last night's storm. You moved both rocks away from the doors then went out the back door, closer to the lake.

There were tiny sticks everywhere in the back. Once they dried out, they'd be great for the wood stove inside. A few larger branches were also scattered about. The one that caused the loud scrapping noise last night had just barely missed the outhouse, and its limbs were propped right up against the side of the cabin. If it'd fallen a few inches closer, it would have hit the roof. You hate to think about what would have happened if it had.

Hopefully this was the last of the rain for a while. You weren't sure if you could take another storm, and shockingly, not because of Soap. Honestly it hadn't been the absolute worst thing to be trapped inside with the Scot. It'd mostly just been boring. But then again Soap had been out of it most of the night because of the episode he had. You had feeling things would have ended in a shouting contest if he hadn't. Regardless, you didn't want that or for him to get triggered by another thunderstorm.

Luckily, the sun was out, birds were singing, and there wasn't a raincloud in sight. It was beautiful out, and you wanted to enjoy the morning. You hadn't had the chance to go on a walk or a run yet. It would be nice to start off your morning positive for once, unlike the last few days.

To be expected after a storm, it was fairly muddy, puddles of water everywhere. The lake had also risen quite a bit with the new water level came right up to the tree where Soap had been sitting yesterday. So a walk along the shore wasn't going to be possible, but you could handle a little mud in the woods. Heading back inside to the bedroom, you make the decision to go on a nice walk around the woods.

Soap is still asleep on his cot, his brows pinched together slightly, and his book still balanced on his chest. The pencil had slipped from his hand though and now just lay beside him. You move around the room as silently as you can, grabbing the things you need and trying not to wake him in the process. He'd make a sound every now and then, but he never woke up.

Once you were ready, you pause at the bedroom door and look over to his sleeping form. You were debating if you should wake him up to let him know you were going. He hadn't given you that courtesy before. Maybe it was time for a little payback. Time for him to wake up and not know where you are. Odds are though, you'd be back before he's even up. Or he simply wouldn't care.

With that in mind, you gently shut the bedroom door, and head off for your walk.

***

For the first time since arriving to the cabin with Soap, you finally feel some of the stress melting away as you walk through nature. It smells like dirt and rain, and it's absolutely perfect. Even the tension is your shoulders seems to be easing up a bit as well.

You're not sure how long you've been gone. There was no way to keep track of time. At some point though, you decide to turn around and start head back the way you came. You didn't want to go too far from the cabin in case you got lost.

As you're stepping over a fallen tree you used as a landmark to let you know you are heading in the right direction, you hear some rustling coming from some densely packed foliage behind you. You pause for a moment, watching the now still bush. Just as you're about to brush it off as nothing, you swear you hear a growl or a grunt. Adrenaline floods your system, triggering your fight or flight instincts. In this case, you go with the ladder reflex.

Jumping off the falling tree trunk, you start to walk with a quicker pace, trying to distance yourself from whatever you heard. The thought of it being a bear or a mountain lion crossing your mind, making a new fear run down your spine. Sure, you were highly trained in stuff like hand-to-hand, but your expertise was in protecting yourself against humans and maybe dogs, not wild animals. If you had a gun, then yes, you could absolutely take on a wild animal, but you didn't even so much as have a knife on your person to defend yourself with.

As you walk, you keep looking back over your shoulder, though you never see anything. While you are distracted and not looking where you're going, you suddenly step in something squishy. Stopping and looking down, you discover you've stepped in what is probably bear poop. A big fresh pile.

You gag a bit and remove your foot, trying to desperately kick and wipe it off on the foliage and nearby trees. The shit on your shoe distracts you momentarily from the thing you'd been trying to get away from. It's when you hear more of the rustling and sniffing sounds that your blood runs cold.

You look around again, still not seeing anything. The greenery around you is far too dense to get a good view. You know you have to get away, but not knowing what the threat was is really beginning to freak you out.

Forgetting about your soiled shoe, you start to walk again, trying to fight the urge to run. Rationally, you knew that could cause whatever it is that's following you to start chasing you. You just want to be back in the safety of the cabin with Soap. Why didn't you bring one of the flares or the knife? It was just a pocket knife, but it would have been better than nothing. 

Once some distance has been made, you pause and listen to see if you're safe. You can still hear the soft low rumbles and the shuffling of leaves like something is tracking you. Soon enough, you can't help it anymore; you start to run. You've got to be almost back by now. Surely you can just outrun whatever it is.

It's hard to listen for anything chasing you while you're running, but every time you look behind you, you don't see anything. The bushes are moving, but you can't tell if it's cause you just slammed through them or if you're really being chased. Not wanting to know the answer, you don't dare to stop until you see the cabin.

Relief floods your system when you see the clearing that houses the cabin. The moment you cross the thresh hold, you expect to feel safe. However you don't. You look back towards where you just came from and watch for any signs that the mystery animal is still following you. There isn't any movement or sounds, only the labored sounds of your breath from running. Slowly, you start to back up towards the cabin, senses heightened.

When your back hits something solid, hands grabbing you, you don't process immediately that it's just Soap. Your mind is still in survival mode. You scream and start trying to fight, getting a few angry and surprised sounds out of the Scot.

"Oof-! Steaming fucking Jesus, States!"

Soap had gotten up shortly after you left. When he couldn't find you, he'd assumed you were out in the woods somewhere and just went about his morning. He also surveyed the damages and decided to pick up sticks until you came back.

When he heard a ton of rustling on one side of the cabin, he went to check it out, and there you were. Your back was to him and you were taking slow steps towards him. You'd been about to run into him, and all he did was put his hands up to stop you, and then you started attacking him.

"What the fuck has gotten into you!?" He grabs your wrists, and you're quick to stop trying to hit him once you come to your senses. You look into his eyes, then hear the sound of the leafs rustle again. Your gaze snaps back to the tree line.

"Something was following me. I-I think it was a bear. I ran all the way back." You find yourself pressing back into Soap. His hands move from your gripping your wrists to holding your sides by your ribs once you turn.

You don't notice it, but Soap stares down at you for a second as you huddle against him. His eyes are softened and filled with concern before turning hard as he scans the woods, looking for this bear. He keeps holding you, keeping your smaller frame close to him. You can feel his hold on you tighten a bit, almost protectively.

As he does, without even fully realizing it yourself, you're starting to relax into his hold. Your body is naturally pulling towards him. He's warm and feels like safety. It's when the fear in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies that you notice all these feelings. You try to tell yourself it's just remnants of adrenaline.

When there's a little more rustling, Soap starts to wordlessly move. His hands drift to your hips, and he moves around you. "Stay here." He mutters to you, walking to the tree line, picking up a big stick along the way for protection.

"Soap, wait! What are you doing?" You really don't want to see him get mauled by a wild animal, but there's not much you can do to stop him aside from pick up a stick for yourself and try to help.

Soap pauses to listen carefully for any movement or signs of danger before poking the stick into the green shrubs in an attempt to startle whatever is in there. You tense up as he does, hands gripping your stick tightly, prepared to fight whatever it is he startles.

A little squeak comes from the bush, and Soap watches as a two squirrels dart back into the woods and up a tree. It causes a laugh to bubble in his chest, one he tries to stop, but soon, his hands are on his knees, and he is laughing at you. All you can do is stand there and glare at him, dropping your stick. It makes a dull thump as it hits the ground.

"It was just a few wee fucking cons! You were running from a squirrel!" He laughs, making your cheeks turn a deep shade of red. You're were not too fond of being laughed at.

"I wasn't running from a squirrel!! I heard growling and-"

Soap is still laughing at you. Any "butterflies" you might have had when he held you were crushed immediately. You hadn't been running from a squirrel. Whatever it was had been big and had a deep growl.

"It was a bear! I swear. I even stepped in its shit!" You motion down to your boot, which just looked muddy, but you knew better. "There was at least one nearby!" This just makes Soap laugh even harder.

"You stepped in bear shite too? Oh, that's too fucking good. I bet that fucking sucks." You don't feel like he's sympathizing with you at all. "Have fun cleaning that mess up. Let me know if you need me to scare off anymore angry, growling squirrels, eh lass?"

Your face is getting red with anger and embarrassment more and more by the second. "Stop laughing at me, you fucking dick! I know what I heard!" You shout at him. It had to have been a bear.

Soap sighs as he finally calms down a little, wiping his eyes like he's wiping away tears. His amused express is at restarting to grow a little irritated with your continued claims about the bear. "Oh quit your fussing! There's no bear here, so just pull that stick from out of your ass and calm down."

"How about you stop acting like I'm stupid! Like I'm making it all up, or I'm some paranoid idiot! Even if it was nothing, it still felt like I was being chased."

Soap rolls his eyes, huffing a little. "States, seriously, you're fine so let it go. Stop acting like a wee little girl and start acting like you're a grown ass woman in the military. Go inside, calm down a bit, and come help me pick up sticks."

You roll your eyes at him. You know what you heard. You know how you felt. He could say you got scared by squirrels, but you knew better.

"Go fuck yourself, Soap. I'm not helping you with shit. I'm hungry. I'm going to make food." You grumble, leaving him and stomping towards the cabin.

"Make me some too, aye?!" He calls after you. He was insufferable. You still have four more days of this. The third wasn't even close to being over.

"No!" You shout back, getting a scoff from him.

"Brat." He mutters under his breath as he watches you disappear around the side of the cabin.

You retreat to the cabin, kicking your poop covered shoe off by the door outside before you went in. You'd had enough of being in the woods for today. Outside for that matter. You were certain there was a bear out there somewhere, and you weren't looking to run into it again. If possible, you were content to stay inside and read the rest of the day.

You search around a little bit for something good to eat, eventually settling on making some eggs. Putting a log and a few sticks in the stove, you get a fire going. You set the only frying pan you had on the stove top and wait for it to heat up. Once it does, you take out the eggs and flip the carton open.

Before you can grab one, a scratching sound near the front door makes you jump. You're tense for only a few seconds before huffing and relaxing. It had to just be Soap messing with you.

"Fuck off, MacTavish!" You shout, trying to go back to your cooking, but it keeps happening. Sighing in annoyance, you storm over to the front door. "Soap, I swear, I'm going to kill you if you keep it up!" You shout angrily, pushing the door open, but not seeing any sign on the Scot.

You venture outside a little more, but you don't see him anywhere. What if he wasn't the one messing with you? What if it was the animal from earlier? An uneasy feeling settles over you.

"Soap?" You call out softly, but you get no reply. You even try to peak around the cabin to see if he was hiding by the sides. When you don't spot him, you begin to feel more on edge. Groaning in frustration, telling yourself not to worry, you head back inside.

You pick up the egg carton and try to resume your cooking, though you're still tense and on edge. You'd just managed to pop the lid on the eggs open when Soap comes bolting out of the bedroom. He's making a big scene, growling and snarling, almost like he's pretending to be a bear.

The second he does, your heart is leaping into your throat and you scream. Adrenaline surges through you as you instinctively use the thing in your hand as a weapon. Soap is pretty much right behind you by then, and your muscles react faster than your mind can process. You smash the small paper carton into his chest with all your might, the impact causing most of eggs to burst out of their shells, yolks splattering across his shirt and dripping onto the floor.

Soap stumbles back a step, a mixture of surprise, shock, and anger prominent on his features as he looks down at his shirt. As he does, the box falls to the ground. Any eggs that hadn't broken certainly did as it hit the hard wooden floor.

Your body is buzzing, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you look down at the carton, equally shocked. All of your eggs are gone. Meanwhile, Soap is standing there mirroring your expression. His jaw is dropped, and his clean shirt is splattered with a generous dose of raw eggs. You both stand in stunned silence, until all hell breaks loose.

"Jesus, States!" Soap exclaims, wiping the yolky mess off his chest and onto the floor. "Why the fuck would you do that?! Why did you toss the whole damn carton at me!? That's literally the best fucking thing we have to eat!"

You're in shock. He's really going to get mad at you?

"You're joking right now?" You inquire, raising your eyebrows at him. "Tell me you are joking! You're gonna get mad at me when you're the one who fucking just scared the shit out of me!?"

"I didn't think you'd freak the fuck out and throw all our fucking eggs at me!"

"I didn't think you'd be acting like a child and trying to pull a pathetic prank on me! You scared me for no fucking reason!"

"Oh for the love of God, woman," he growls. "Get a sense of humor! It'd do you some good. Now we have no eggs and my shirt is fucking ruined! I only brought four pairs! I don't have a washing machine or an endless supply of shirts at my disposal!"

"You'd still have a clean shirt if you weren't such a jerk!" You shout back, hands clenching into fists at your sides.

"It was a bloody joke! What about you? Thought you were supposed to be a field specialist. Couldn't hear me coming? Didn't know something was up? Are you that fucking bad at your job?" Soap was pissed at this point to be taking jabs at your line of work.

You laugh, the sound lacking any amusement. All that was there was pure rage and spite. "The hell did you say? I'm not good at my job?" You ask lowly. "I reacted like anyone would when they're scared out of their mind! Forgive me for assuming I wouldn't have to be on guard around someone who is on the same team as me!"

"Ah, don't start with that shite again." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

"Don't you dare fucking walk away from me, MacTavish! I'm not done with you!" You follow after him, moving to block his path. He's trying to head into the bedroom.

Soap glares down at you as you stand in his way. His chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths. "I'd fucking like to get a clean shirt," he growls, gesturing to his chest, still smeared with the remnants of the eggs. "So move."

He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own. He pushes you back into the bedroom and off to the right side of the room where your cot is, simmering in anger.

God, he was so livid. He just wanted to get his shirt and get out of this cabin before he did something he'd regret. Tension had been building rapidly between you since day one. Ghost's words had been haunting him for the last three days, and it was all he'd been able to think about.

You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system.

"Don't push me!" You growl, shoving Soap's hands off you even as he's retracing them.

"Then get the fuck away from me! Leave!" Soap shouts, ripping his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the ground.

"Really? You're telling me to leave when you're the one who started this?!"

"Yeah, I am! So fuck off!" He seethes, storming over to your shared dresser and pulling out a clean shirt for himself.

He doesn't wait to put the shirt on, instead just making a break for the door. You're far too upset to just let him leave though. Moving fast, you block the doorway again, a hand on each side of the frame, trapping Soap inside. Though he could easily plow right through you if he wanted, he just glares down at you.

"Get out of the way, States."

"You know, maybe if you were a better teammate we wouldn't be in this mess! It's your fault we're in this damn cabin anyway!" You point a finger at him, poking him in the chest and adding to his annoyance.

The second you poke him, he snaps. He was so fucking done with this. His patience was hanging by a thin thread, and you just cut it with a knife. In a flash, he grabs your wrist, twisting it so that your finger is pulled away from his chest. His grip was firm, but not painful as he forces you to walk backwards into the kitchen. He glares at you, his blue eyes icy and filled with anger.

"You know what, States?!" He barks, his voice deep and filled with venom. "You think you're so bloody perfect, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you're not! You mess up all the fucking time! Just like how you messed up in Naryn!"

He moves closer, his face inches from yours. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, see the fury burning in his eyes. Your chest as heaving as you stare up at him.

"Why do hate me so damn much! Tell me, Soap. What did I ever do, that from day one, I became the one person you're ever an asshole to?!" You shout back at him, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"I'm not doing this right now." He growls, releasing your wrist and turning to retreat, but you want answers. You follow right after him and block his exit yet again, making his fists clench as his sides.

"No! You're going to answer me!"

"States."

"Why do you hate me?!"

"Move."

"Or what?" You challenge, not aware how close Soap is to snapping. Your eyes are locked on each other, each refusing to look away.

You're both breathing heavily, and the tension in the cabin is building to a very unstable level the longer you hold eye contact. The very thin string that's been keeping you apart is slowly breaking, snapping slowly until there's just the most fragile thread holding everything together.

Then Soap looks down at your lips, his eyes the knife that makes it all come shattering apart. Before he could think twice, before he can rationalize it, he grabs your face, leans down, and captures your lips with his in a rough, angry kiss. It was spontaneous, impulsive, and probably a terrible idea. But in that moment, he didn't give a damn.

You stand there in shock.

He's kissing you.... Soap MacTavish was kissing you....

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was rough. All teeth and tongue and force.

It was confusing. It made your head spin, making you feel instantly dizzy. But you didn't want to pull away.

You hesitate only for a moment before grabbing his head in both of your hands and pulling his lips harder against yours. Your body presses right up against his as you meet each of his kisses with a fury of your own.

Soap is taken aback by your response. He fully expected you to pull back, slap him, yell at him. But instead, your hands are tangling in his short hair, pulling him in closer.

Well, fuck.

He deepens the kiss, his hands slipping down to circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, your arms circling his neck, keeping his lips on yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, your chest pressed against his, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intoxicating, maddening, and thrilling.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and desire. You bite down on his lip and barely register the small, primal sound of satisfaction that rumbles in Soap's throat as you do. His hands move from pressing you against him to gripping your hips. With a grunt, Soap is pushing you back against the closest wall he can find. Your lips pop apart for just a second before he's smashing his back against yours.

He pins you against the wall with his body while your hands eagerly run down his chest and torso. Every time he moves, his muscle flex under his skin. You can’t take your hands off him.

His hands can’t seem to help exploring either. They restlessly roam every inch of you he can touch. Eventually, his hands find the hem of your shirt, and he wastes no time in getting the chance to feel the soft skin of your torso.

The thin fabric of your shirt offers little resistance as he slips his hands underneath it. You feel his roughened fingertips trace up your sides, moving until he reaches your breasts. He cups both of your breasts through your bra, giving them a firm squeeze before gently kneading them. You gasp against his lips, a soft, needy whine leaving you.

Oh hell...

Soap is in deep now. He doesn't care about the consequences, about what this might mean for you both. At this moment, all he wants is you.

"States," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you open your eyes as your lips part a little.

He's still so close to you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against your lips and mixing with your own. His eyes are locked onto yours, his gaze darkened and pupils blown. Like he’s a starved man staring down an animal he wants to devour. It’s almost too intense. Your eyes leave his, flicking down to his lips for a second. They’re red and glossy from your intense make out. You’re sure yours look the same to him.

You don’t get to admire his swollen lips for long. The moment you break eye contact, he strikes. His lips are back on yours, a deep groan leaving him when you instantly return his kiss.

His hands have left your breasts, quickly trailing down your body to grope your plump round ass. He gives both cheeks a firm squeeze, pulling you away from the wall just a bit. One hand moves up to the curve of your spine, the other staying on your butt cheek. He then grinds his hips against you, pulling you tight against him as he does.

You moan at the friction, able to feel him through his pants. He's getting hard right against your thigh as he shamelessly squishes you into his growing erection. His hips are gently humping into you, and you want to move too, but he’s holding you far too tightly.

You didn't think you'd ever be in this position. Kissing, let alone dry humping, on Soap MacTavish. Yet here you are, locking lips with him in some kind of sick, hate filled dance.

Not able to move much, you move a hand to the back of Soap’s neck and gently, but firmly, dragging your nails from the base of his skull to the side of his neck. It pulls a shuddery moan from him and makes his hips lose their rhythm.

Soap suddenly pulls away a little, slamming you back against the wall once more. You grunt as he does, pain radiating up your back. With how much he was slamming you around, you were gonna be so bruised tomorrow.

"You fucker." You growl, hands moving to grab his hips as he presses them back into you. He starts to grind once more, a deep chuckle emitting from him.

"You deserved that one." He says, voice almost shaky with lust.

"The hell did I do?" You ask breathily as he leans back in, kissing at the side of your throat. He trails the wet sloppy kisses right up to your ear, his breath hot and voice husky as he offers up an answer.

"You've been driving me fucking mad for six months." He growls lowly, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

You moan softly, his words making the throbbing between your legs so much worse. You press them together, but it doesn’t little to stop the ache.

Soap starts to trail his kisses urgently back down your knee, teeth dragging and lips making delicate popping sounds as he sucks a few marks here and there. You moan quietly into his ear, placing a hand on the back of his head as your eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, he bites down, rather hard, making you gasp and wince. It hurt like hell, but also ignited some hidden pleasure you hadn’t known existed.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You moan, legs buckling, nails digging into Soap’s shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Soap grabs your hips before you can fall, slotting one of his own thighs between yours. He begins to gently rock you against him, soothing that ache with each rub against his flexed muscle. It pulls a satisfied moan from your lips as he grins at you.

"Oh, there you go, lass." He mumbles, leaning in to kiss at the spot he’d bitten. "That feel better? You like that?"

"Ass." You sigh, gripping his arms as you shamelessly start grind on his thigh to get some relief.

He chuckles at your remark, his teeth nipping at your jawline. "Such a brat. You drive me fucking mad, States, you know that?" He growls, his voice low and lustful.

"Yeah, you don't exactly make me sane either." You growl right back at him, making him laugh deeply.

He removes his thigh completely then, making you whimper at the loss. Your legs instantly buckle again, hands holding onto Soap to keep yourself upright. His hands move to your hips almost instantly, steading you and pressing you back against the wall.

"I can't wait to fuck that sense back into you." His lips collide with yours once more in a bruising kiss. It's dizzying the way he kisses you. And when he bites your lip, making you hiss, and he grins about it. Oh you hated him. Cocky bastard.

His hands move from pinning your hips to the wall, to tracing alone the hemline of your pants. As he is kissing you, he starts to unbutton your pants and yank them down. They only make it to your mid thigh before getting stuck. He growls against your lips, muttering something about you, "always being so fucking difficult."

Your mind is too fuzzy to realize what Soap is doing until he's doing it. Your body jerks, and you gasp when you hear the sound of your pants ripping. Your eyes fly open, and you give him a rough shove to view the damage he's done. The seam right between your legs has been torn almost completely in half.

Your jaw drops as you stare down at your pants in shock. You don’t even realize that his arms are snaking around behind you to finish the job. When he gives it another forcible rip, you snap.

"Oh my God! Soap! Are you serious right now?!" You shout at him, the brain fog of sex clearing up quickly. You can't believe he's just destroyed your pants.

"You ruin my shirt, I ruin your pants. Maybe you can use these as rags when you clean up those eggs."

"Like hell I'm not! You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be the one cleaning that up. They wouldn't be there in the first place if you hadn't scared me!"

"Yeah, but you're still the one who threw them."

"I can't help it if my fucking reflexes are triggered! If I clean it up, I'm cleaning it with your clothes, you bast- ahh~" You try to threaten him, but your words are cut short when his fingers find your clit. His thumb has slipped under your panties and is rubbing quick little circled right onto the sensitive thing.

Soap laughs as your words trail off, slowly backing you against the wall as you turn to putty under his touch.

"Oh, steaming Jesus... you're already fucking soaked for me." He growls out, eyes training on where his thumb is moving in your underwear before turning his attention back to you. "You that desperate to get your hands on my clothes, sweetheart?"

You huff at his accusation. "That's not what I said, and you know it." You say through clenched teeth, mind melting. "Your clothes smell like shit anyway. Little egg wouldn't hurt."

His hand shifts slightly then, and his middle finger prodding around just slightly before finding your slick entrance. It takes nothing for his finger to push into your velvety walls. He doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the feeling of his finger inside you. He's thrusting it in and out of you, using his palm to keep a steady pressure on your clit. 

"N... nah..." you try to talk but couldn't get the words out. The pleasure is so sudden, and when Soap hits that one spot, you don't even want to try to argue with him anymore.

"This all it take to get you to shut up?" Soap growls, his free hand gripping your hips tightly to keep you from moving. "Huh, States? Just needed someone to finger you real good? To fuck some manners into you?"

"Fuck. You..."

Your nails are digging into his forearms as his hand picks up speed, palm now slapping against your clit with each thrust of his fingers. You can feel the pleasure inside you, building and building. Like a faucet dripping into a bucket where the water is beading up at the rim, so close to breaking and pouring over the edge.

And you might have let yourself come if it weren't Soap who was the one trying to make you go over the edge. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of coming so soon, so easily on his just his fingers. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a long moan, trying desperately to hold on.

"Fuck, States," Soap growls, able to see just how close you are to giving in. He slows down enough to allow his thumb to find your clit once more, rubbing it in slow, hard circles to change up the pace. He wants to hear you moan, to see you lose control.

"Still think you won't clean it up?" He asked, smirking as your glare turns into your rolling your eyes back as he presses his finger right into the place he knew had been making you squeeze down on his finger. Your hips instantly buck against his hand when he does, telling him he had the right spot.

Shifting slightly so his hip is pinning your leg, he brings his now free hand to your throat, which makes you tense a bit. Your breath hitches, expecting him to squeeze and close your airway, but he's holding it gently, not squeezing. Leaning in, he starts to kiss at your lips again, slower this time, but still just as rough and mean.

His finger has stilled now, buried as deep as he can go. He starts to slowly stroke at the spongy tissue, curling his finger against the same spot over and over. He swallows every moan that leaves your lips, pressing himself harder against you when you fight for control by bucking your hips.

"If you promise to be a good girl," he speaks against your lips between harsh slow kisses. "And clean up the mess you made, then I'll let you come." He gives you a few more kisses, not letting you answer immediately. "You gonna be a good girl for me, States? You gonna shut the fuck up, listen, and do what I tell you to?"

He's looking right into your eyes, his hand still on your neck to keep your gaze on him. You were so tired of Soap having all the control. Tired of not being able to get a word in because he had his hands all over you. You growl at him, which just makes him grin.

In an attempt to level the playing field, you reach down to the now very prominent tent in his pants and grip him hard. Needless to say, you're very happy you'd been making eye contact with him when you do. It wipes the grin right off his face.

"Ahh, fuck!" Soap lips part as he lets out a strangled groan, eyes rolling back ever so slightly. His hips buck hard against your hand as you grip him, and he curses.

He feels a lot bigger than what you'd seen when you accidentally walked in on him naked. Then again, he also hadn't been fully erect then. His cock felt hot, heavy, and throbbing now.

His hand leaves your neck to grab at your wrist, gripping it, but not moving it, as you start to rub your palm against his bulge. He watches the action for a little bit, panting heavily, before turning his focus back on you. His hand starts to move again, thrusting into you in time with your rubbing.

Not one to let Soap of all people win, you start to unbutton his pants and reach down into his underwear to pull his rock hard cock free. Soap hisses as you do, and you can tell why the second he springs free. The tip of his cock is an angry red color. It shimmers slightly from the puddle of precum it's been sitting in while in his underwear, and another bead of it was already forming on the slit, getting ready to form into a little droplet and drip down.

Wasting no time, you get to work, stoking up and down his length, working the precum down his entire shaft. Once he's more slick, you start pumping him furiously, stopping every now and then to let your thumb focus on rubbing the sensitive skin under his tip.

And Soap is fucking loving it. He groans heavily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Oh fucking hell, lass. That's it..." He breathes, his hand now slamming back into your pussy in quick thrusts.

"I'm not cleaning up shit." You seethe, voice just above a whisper. Your disobedience earns yourself a stinging bit to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Soap's teeth dig into the soft flesh, and you moan out, a mix of pleasure and pain, right into Soap's ear.

The moans sets something off in Soap. He has to have you. Right here, right now. Nothing else mattered. He needed to feel you clamping down on him. He wanted to rid himself of all the tension from the past three days, clear his mind from the anger, burn it off by fucking you. He wants to make you feel good, feel pain, make you scream his name. And he will.

"You don't want to play nice?" He asks, pulling his hand free from your underwear and yanking your hand away from his cock. "Don't want to take responsibility still? Well that's fucking fine, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so stupid you won't be able to form a single thought let along clean."

You have a retort, but you yelp before you can get it out. You're not sure how he does it, but in a quick movement, Soap has grabbed your legs, wrapped them around his hips, and has you up off the floor. His cock is now resting right in the crease of your ass, your back is still pinned against the wall, and your arms quickly circle his neck for support. The last thing he does is adjust his grip on you, both hands moving to support your ass.

"Doubtful." You egg him on, making him pause to look at you. "You couldn't even make me come on your fingers. What makes you think your cock will be any better?"

Soap glares at you, a snarl forming on his face. "I could've made you come on my fingers, but I'd rather feel you come around my cock."

You rolls your eyes at him. "Bet you'll come before I do."

The glare on his face morphed into a grin that spread slowly onto his face. His member twitches against your ass, and you almost wish you hadn't said what you just said. It was a challenge now, and Soap loved proving you wrong.

"Really?" He snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He shifts you around in his arms, cock dragging along your ass as he pulls his hips back. His tip leaves a cool wet trail. "Let's see if you still think that when you're coming around my cock." You feel the push of his velvety, hot tip as it drags through your folds, lining himself up. "You better brace yourself." He warns, his tone dark and dangerous.

"You better not-”

He pushes into you then. A single, quick thrust of his hips, and his thick length is splitting you in half, filling you completely. You throw your head back against the wall, your breath getting caught in your lungs. Even as slick as you are, it's by no means painless. The sudden intrusion makes your entire body tense as it tries to accommodate him.

"Breathe, States." He instructs, thumbs rubbing circles onto your thighs. At least has the decency to pause for a moment and slowly work his cock the rest of the way into you instead of just ramming you again. By simply lifting your legs a little further up on his hips, you finish sliding down onto him.

His hips are flush with yours, your clit just kissing his hair covered pelvis. You sigh and gasp when your clit meets up with him, the bud still very sensitive. Soap takes a moment to rock you against him, giving your clit a little more stimulation.

"There bonnie. That's better isn't it?" He moans, the gentle rocking feeling good for him too. "Ohh fuck.." He sighs, pressing his forehead to the side of your neck. "You’re so tight."

"That fucking hurt, you fucking ass." You curse him when your breathing finally evens out a bit. That's Soap cue you're ready for more.

"Oh, you're fine. It'll feel good." He readjusts his grip, moving his hands to your thighs, preparing for the harsh fuck he's about to give you.

He wastes no time, dragging his hips back, only leaving his tip inside you, before snapping up into you, starting a brutal pace. You groan loudly, throwing your head back as he slams into you. Each thrust creates a smacking sound as his hips collide with yours. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shoulders and clenching your teeth as you wait for the drag of his cock to feel good.

Soap is already enjoying himself, moaning and panting against your neck. "I'm going to ruin you, States.." He breathes against your skin, his voice a low growl. "Feels so fucking good..."

Then it's like a switch has been flipped. The drag of his cock goes from a dull ache to feeling incredible. He's hitting something in you that's taking your breath away in the best possible way. Once the pleasure starts, there is no more holding back.

A moan tore through your vocal cords, head falling back against the wood behind you. Your walls burn as they stretch and flutter, seeming to form perfectly around his cock. The second Soap has you moaning, he goes harder. His hips piston up into you, making your back slam against the wall. It's probably going to make you so sore later, but fuck you don’t care right now.

Soap is starting to sweat already from his efforts. It's also hot in the cabin. Normally he props the doors open during the day for air flow, but he's not about to stop to do that now. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to look away from you. His eyes stay locked on your face the whole time. Your eyes are shut, your mouth hanging out as moan after moan pour from your lips.

He was out of his mind. Fuck Ghost for always being right. Fuck him for putting this idea in his head.

"Ahhh.. Soap!" You moaning his name is almost his undoing. His hips stutter, and he has to focus on not finishing right then and there. His needs to get you off. Now.

Moving his fingers back your clit, he starts to frantically rub your little nub, making you cry out. Fire is coursing through you, everything is wound too tight.

"Come on, States,” he pants, “That's it. I know you're close, lass. I can feel you fucking trying to milk me. Just let go for me. I know you want to." He coaxes, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck!" You curse, his dirty talk really starting to drive you towards the edge. Your legs are shaking as they lock around him, your clit is burning as he continues to rub it. Harsh slaps filled the cabin as Soap's hips continue to met yours, squishing sounds echoing as his cock penetrates you over and over and over again.

"Come for me lass." Soap commands, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “Come for me right now.”

"I... fucking.. hate you. So damn much." You growl, tears gathering in your eyes from the intense orgasm about your hit. And then you come, relief flooding your veins. All the tension eases up, all your stress is gone. Melting away as each pump of Soap's cock drags out the waves of pleasure.

"Yeah, scream it louder!” Soap pants, pushing harder, slamming you down on him. “There you fucking go. That's it! That's fucking.. Fuck, States!"

Soap feels your walls act like a vice around his member. One squeeze from you is all it takes to drag him towards his own finish. He needed to feel his own release, to feel himself come undone inside you.

As you start to come off your high, Soap is desperately chasing his own, ignoring how your body is starting to relax. He thrusts harder, faster, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you up.

All you can do is grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he buries his face into your shoulder, his stubble ticking you. Your walls are still fluttering in aftershocks, moans and heavy breaths still pouring your lips as Soap fucks you.

Soap is close, you can tell. His breath hitches, his body tensing as he nears his own climax. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate. He could feel it building, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, ready to explode. With one last hard thrust, he comes, shooting his load deep inside you.

He groans heavily into your ear, his cock twitching as the hot ropes of his come paint your insides. He’s finished after three more thrusts, his body shuddering as he pushes into overstimulation. He keeps his forehead against your shoulder, panting heavily while he recovers. He can still feel your walls fluttering around him, could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You cling to him, his hold on you just as tight as the waves of pleasure start to fade for you both. Now that your mind is no longer foggy with lust, something heavy settles in your gut.

What the hell you've just done…

"Fuck," Soap curses, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You feel him shift his hips, allowing his softening member to slip out of you, making you wince. He all but drops your legs, letting them fall from around his waist. You wobble as you try to find your footing, and he pushes you to lean against the wall before taking a step back himself.

You cling to the wall as your shared release begins to drip out of you, running down your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You're panting, as is Soap, as you both try to rationalize what's just happened. Dread and regret settle in the pit of your stomach.

Soap tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand over his face, looking anywhere but at you. You feel so fragile in this moment as you watch him, waiting for his next move.

"Soap?" You whisper, desperate for him to say something. To talk about what just happened, to tell you what this means. But as Soap looks at you, his eyes harden.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He points to the eggs and to the floor under you, his voice cold and distance. He turns to leave, shoving the cabin door open and going God knows where.

Your voice catches in your throat, hurt by his words. You want to stop him, run after him, but you can't. You're in shock, your legs are weak, and you're starting to realize just how much you fucked up.

One second you're in an intense argument with Soap, the next you're fucking each other raw. And now you’re all alone, wondering what hell you just did.

***

Soap needed air. Now. He just made the biggest mistake of his life, and you're looking at him with the most scared and confused eyes. Wondering so many things, things he doesn't have answers for.

"Go clean yourself up. And all that too while you're at it." He tells you. He knows there's no reason to treat you this way. Especially since he's the one who initiated sex with you, but he's so mad at himself right now. Mad for letting himself give in. And even worse, now you look hurt.

He needs air. 

Soap rushes outside, shoving the door firmly like it purposely got in his way. He stands on the porch, running his hands over his face. Trying to calm down. He just needs to breathe for a minute.

Ghost was right about one thing. The orgasm you just pulled from him did release all his tension. Like it was as simple as cutting a single thread. The thing he neglected to tell him was that after all that tension and stress was released, a different kind of tense would creep in.

Actually Soap supposed he was 100% right. Ghost never did say a thing about what it would be like after.

Fuck Ghost…

Soap wants to run. To leave and never come back. But as much as he can't stand you, Soap can't bring himself to leave. Not after your first night together, not after seeing how scared you got. No, as much as he wants to, you are still his squadmate. No man left behind. He can't leave anyone else behind...

However, he is equally aware that he needs time to himself to process everything. Work through some stuff in his head before you talks to you. He should at least help you clean up though. What kind of a guy would he be if he just fucked a girl and left her to clean up the mess. He was already planning on leaving for a few hours to clear his head, he might as well make sure you're somewhat ok before he goes. So you won’t be so stressed.

Sighing, hoping this will just blow over, that somehow you'll never to talk about it, he turns to go back into the cabin.

***

After about a minute of clinging onto the wall, you find enough strength to move. The first thing you do is wiggle out of your destroyed pants and use them to wipe between your legs. Your underwear was still on, but you want to change into a fresh pair. A lot of your arousal had stained them and some of Soap's come had gotten on them when he pulled out.

Once you're clothed again, you make your way back into the kitchen and look down at the white and clear stains on the floor. You want to clean up that stain before anything else. Wipe away the evidence of your coupling. However, you know it's not going to do much. The soreness between your legs is a constant reminder of what happened.

You kneel down, and right as you're about to grab your pants and use them to mop up the mixture of your and Soap's release, the door opens again. You're frozen as Soap walks through, his eyes on you at first. An awkward tension fills the space, and you look away from him, picking at one of the loose strings on your destroyed pants.

Soap finally moves, stepping past you to get to the bedroom and coming out a second later with his egg covered shirt. He kneels down in front of you and uses the sleeve of his shirt to start wiping up the cum stain. Once it's mostly gone, aside from the dampness causing the wood to be two different shades, he moves on to pick the eggs box up and takes it outside.

You get up and start to clean up the eggs while he's gone, knowing you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later. You couldn't just fuck each other and act like nothing happened. Especially with the history you and Soap had.

When Soap comes back, you find yourself tensing up once more, the awkward air returning. He pauses in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to look up him. Eventually, he joins you on the floor, helping you mop up the eggs.

Once the area is clean, or mostly clean (the eggs left a residue), you finally look up at Soap. You open your mouth, wanting to talk to him about everything, but he speaks first.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit. Few hours." He says, moving to stand up.

You want to run after him, tell him to stay so you can talk things out, but a part of you is too ashamed to go after him. You felt like you'd already lost your dignity and running after him would just make you feel even more pathetic.

“Ok…”

You let him leave, the creak of the front door sealing the decision. The moment the door closes, a wave of anguish crashes over you. Now that he's gone, you can finally let the tears fall. The confusion, the anger at yourself, the regret, the shame—all of it eats at you until you're exhausted. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Soap is gone for hours again. It's getting dark, but you can't bring yourself to care as much as you did the first time. Having some time away from him to cry and work out the emotions was actually kind of nice. But the loneliness creeps in, wrapping around you like a cold, suffocating blanket. You curl up on your cot, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

By the time Soap does come back, you're already in your cot, eyes shut but not sleeping. You hear the front door open and close, hear his footsteps come to the bedroom door and wait outside, hear the door slowly push open, and you can image him peeking inside.

"States?" He asks in a really soft voice. You don't answer him.

He comes into the room, and you feel like he's looking at your sleeping form, but you don't dare open your eyes to check. You hear him sigh, and then he starts to quietly move about the room, getting himself ready for bed.

When he finally crawls into his cot, the silence settles heavily over the room. And once it's silent again, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying.

[wheeboo]

just a roommate thing | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which playful flirting between you and your roommate has always been the norm, but how does that help with how you really feel towards him? PAIRING. kim mingyu x gn!reader (ft. seokmin) GENRE. fluff, humour?, roommates (and prob idiots) to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, slightly suggestive, just... flirting?, reader is shorter than him, mingyu is shirtless, reader is referred as "princess" once, mentioned that reader is wearing makeup, reader dislikes pizza for the sake of plot sorry to my pizza lovers HAHAHA, reader is gender neutral but they briefly compare themselves to another girl, kissing WORD COUNT. 5.2k

requested by anon: Hii, I wanna request a Mingyu fic where him and reader are roomies and they’re very lovey dovey ig but “jokingly”. But then reader is like trying to go on dates and stuff and Mingyus jealous💀 idk man

notes: this was actually a random request that i started months ago and suddenly decided i wanted to finish RIGHT NOW when i was scrolling thru drafts. no idea if the anon who sent this remembers this but um... yeah ! lowk turned out a bit of a mess i think this plot sounded better in my head, enjoy nonetheless :')

You like to think that being roommates with Kim Mingyu is both a blessing and a curse.

You used to believe that having your very first roommate straight up abandon you at the very beginning of the semester was something you could pull off with, because you'd rather be living alone than living with someone you can hardly vibe with. It worked for a while, until the housing department paired you with Kim Mingyu: tall, obnoxiously handsome, ridiculously muscular for seriously no goddamn reason at all, annoyingly charming, and a goofy smile that could light up a room.

Any person would probably kill to be in your place right now, but sometimes you think you'd rather trade places with the pigeons outside your window. Mingyu wasn't a bad roommate𑁋far from it, actually. He kept the apartment spotless, never hogged the bathroom, and even cooks mean late-night ramen whenever you both are drowning in deadlines.

But the problem was, Mingyu was also excruciatingly touchy. Not in a creepy way, but more like a human koala bear who couldn't seem to function without some form of physical contact. Whether it was ruffling your hair as you walked past him, casually draping his arm over your shoulder while watching a movie together, or sneaking up behind you to give you a surprise bear hug while you cooked, there was a line between friendly and... something more.

It was comfortable, almost too comfortable. You told yourself it was just a roommate thing, just a Mingyu thing𑁋that you were both really good friends who happened to be a little more affectionate than most. But you seriously want to smack his head sometimes. And maybe your own too, even if you secretly like the attention. Because deep down, you know there's nothing casual about the way you feel about Mingyu.

But lately, for God's sake, you don't know how much more you can handle.

"Need any help with that?" Mingyu's voice snatches your attention from your aimless stirring of some cookie dough, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull.

Here he is. Kim Mingyu in all his glory𑁋shirtless with a towel in-hand dabbing at his dripping strands of hair, his tan skin glistening with droplets of water from the shower. You try your best to keep your gaze focused on the cookie dough in front of you, trying to ignore the way his damp hair sticks to his forehead and how the sight of his abs are practically boring into your soul, but that's easier said than done.

Your throat tightens, and you let out a cough.

"Yeah, um...." You let your eyes drift down to the plain-looking batter of cookie dough in front of you. "Can you grab some chocolate chips from the pantry?"

Mingyu just raises a brow, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Sure thing, princess."

You feel your cheeks burn unpleasantly at the playful nickname, and you mutter a quick thanks as he saunters past, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him. You focus back on stirring, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest and the way your fingers fumble against the spoon.

He returns with a bag of chocolate, and as he leans over to pour some into the bowl, your arms brushing lightly. A jolt shoots through you, and you almost drop the spoon. He pauses, eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before you get yourself back to mixing the dough again.

"Here, let me help you," Mingyu offers, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches over to try to grab the spoon from your grasp. You can practically feel the warmth of his body radiating through his bare arm.

You let out a scoff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "I can handle it, Gyu."

He just chuckles, and the sound seems to send shivers down your spine.

"Nonsense," he insists adamantly, tone playful but there's a pinch of softness in there too. "Two hands are twice as fast, right?"

You roll your eyes in slight annoyance, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

"More like twice as messy." Yet you end up surrendering the spoon to him anyway, because simply saying no to him is a strenuous thing to do over anything else. His hand meets yours halfway, fingers touching against your knuckles as he snatches the whisk from your hands.

The heat from his hand lingers even after he pulls away, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from him, mesmerised by the way his biceps flex, the way his hair falls in messy dark strands across his forehead, the way his lips curve as he focuses on whisking in a way that's both infuriating and endearing.

But amidst this, you can't help but feel the nagging feeling settling at the pit of your stomach.

"So, what's the occasion?" Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I mean, you don't usually bake cookies on a random Wednesday night. Is there something special going on?"

You swallow, feeling your mind draw a blank, trying to come up with a nonchalant answer. "Oh, you know... just felt like baking."

Mingyu just scoffs, clearly not buying your words. "Come on, Y/N. You're a terrible liar."

God, how can he always see right through you? Does he have some sort of sixth sense? And yet, even despite the discomfort of being so transparent, there's a strange sense of comfort in knowing that Mingyu can see you for who you truly are, except for the one thing you want him to notice about you.

"Fine." You give in, running a slightly frustrated hand through your hair. "It's... Seokmin."

For just a single, most miniscule moment, Mingyu pauses.

"Seokmin?"

You swear you can feel your feet sinking into quicksand. "The guy from my history class, remember? He... uh, I asked him out the other day."

Mingyu's whisking slows down as he processes your words, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes. But before you can dwell on it further, he masks it with a faint smirk.

"You asked him out?" he asks, as if still trying to wrap his head around it.

"Yeah, I..." You seriously want to sew your mouth shut right now. "I thought I would, um, you know... put myself out there for once."

You watch as Mingyu throws another handful of chocolate chips into the batter, a little more forcefully this time, the clatter against the metal bowl echoing in the sudden silence. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the way his jaw clenches and unclenches.

"So," he continues, seemingly unfazed. "what did he say?"

You hesitate, watching as his hands work the dough, mind whirling with confusion and caution.

"He... um, he said yes."

"Huh," Mingyu murmurs, tone teasing. "And here I thought I was the only one who got to enjoy your company."

His words jab at your heart, a pang of guilt twisting around in your stomach, but you try to brush it off with a forced chuckle.

"You know you're irreplaceable, Gyu."

Mingyu's gaze flickers to yours, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of... something in his eyes. But before you can decipher it, he offers you a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right," he replies casually. "I'm glad you think so."

Mingyu is wearing one of your hoodies.

Sure, you've worn a couple hoodies and sweatshirts that he has given to you out of practicality as they were really oversized and comfortable. But here, in the middle of your kitchen, highlighted under the warm glow of the overhead light and the aroma of cooked ramen, seeing Mingyu draped in your favourite oversized, white hoodie felt awfully intimate, and it brings that overwhelming flutter to your chest.

"Hey," he greets you when you walk in. "How was the date?"

You can still hardly believe what you're seeing right now, gaze staring at the way the fabric seems to cling at this broad frame, and your own lips doesn't seem to be functioning correctly.

"It was, uh... it was good," You manage to stammer out, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and forcing your gaze away from the way Mingyu rolls up his sleeves. "He liked the cookies."

"He liked the cookies?" Mingyu raises an amused brow, leaning against the counter with a casual ease that throws your already flustered mind into further disarray.

You shrug, feeling like your burying yourself down into an inescapable hole. "Yeah, he did. We, uh, had a meal at the park, talked for a while, the usual stuff, you know."

Some silence stretches between you, filled with the soft sizzle of the ramen and the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You watch the way Mingyu twirls the noodles around a pair of chopsticks, before shutting off the heat of the stove.

"Are you wearing my hoodie?" You ask as he's taking a sip of the soup, the question tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. "I swear I've been looking for that one for ages."

Mingyu looks down at himself as if he remembering what he's wearing, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, and he scratches the back of his neck in a gesture that's so uniquely him𑁋it makes your heart ache.

"I... forgot to do my laundry, and it was the first thing I could find," he admits, then takes a sip of the ramen, eyes meeting yours briefly before dropping back down to the bowl. "Looks comfy on me, though, doesn't it?"

He wasn't wrong. It usually engulfed you, but it hung loosely on Mingyu's bigger frame, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows to reveal his strong forearms.

"Well," You say, clearing your throat. "I wouldn't mind having it back, actually. It's my favourite."

"Yeah?" he tests playfully, raising a mischievous eyebrow. "I don't know, it looks pretty good on me."

You watch as he flexes his arm playfully, making the fabric of the hoodie stretch across his bicep. You can't help but let out a small, choked laugh, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest despite yourself.

"Oh, come on," You fret, trying to keep your voice light. "You got plenty of hoodies, dude."

But Mingyu just takes another casual sip of his ramen, his expression calm.

"Maybe," he says finally. "But this one smells good. It smells like you."

You freeze up. It smells... like me? Well, obviously, it fucking does𑁋

"Just bring it back to me when you're done with it," You say almost lamely, unsure if you wanted to laugh or flee to your room and hide.

"I mean, if you want it so bad I can take it off right no𑁋"

"No! Don't do that. Oh my gosh," You shoot a glare towards him, pursing your lips together tightly at the sight of him reaching for the ends of the hoodie like he was actually about to take it off... right in front of you. "You know what? I'm tired. Goodnight."

You're already marching off to your room in the middle of Mingyu bringing another mouthful of ramen into his mouth.

"Hey!" he calls out to you, nearly spitting out noodles in the process. "Where's my goodnight hug?"

You freeze at that in the middle of your doorway. Seriously, are you really in this deep to the point that you've made it a habit to hug each other before going to bed?

You hardly register Mingyu coming up from behind once you turn around to see him. His mouth is drooped into a pout, eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you expectantly. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly adorable he looks, and your need to be annoyed at him falters each passing second.

"Fine," You relent, stepping forward to give him a very brief, obligatory hug. But the moment you feel his strong arms wrap around you even more, you know it’s not going to be a quick one.

Mingyu’s warmth seeps through the layers of your clothes and down to your core, and you find yourself relaxing against him, as if it was a natural response for your body to do. He squeezes you a little tighter, letting his chin resting lightly on top of your head. A low sigh escapes him.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You close your eyes, only for a moment, letting yourself relinquish the way he holds you. It feels like everything you’ve been trying to ignore𑁋all laid bare in the simple act of a hug.

"Goodnight, Gyu."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, the features to his face softer than you’ve ever seen it. For a moment, you think he might say something more, because his lips seem to attempt at forming a word, yet nothing comes out. But then he simply smiles, and the seconds finally pass.

"Sleep well," he says quietly, releasing you reluctantly, and giving you a gentle pat on the head before heading back to the kitchen.

You have your next date with Seokmin a week later.

You told Mingyu ahead of time as well, and he reacted the same way as last time𑁋nonchalant, playful, a pinch of tease, an averted gaze down towards his phone, and simply bidding you with a have a good time. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely unbothered or if he was just playing it cool, and the thought sort of irked you the entire day.

After Seokmin dropped you off home, you find yourself standing in front of the door to your place, as if you're trying to laser a hole through it with your eyes. Yet you simply huff a breath, fumble with getting the keys out of your bag and inserting it into the keyhole, before stepping inside.

And the fresh smell of food hits you.

It's really hard to not acknowledge the fact that Mingyu is quite literally a living, breathing chef sleeping in the same apartment as you.

Mingyu turns his head around, noticing you standing in the doorway, and lets his gaze scan over you from head to toe. He could see the bits of extra effort you put into your appearance today that he wasn't able to see earlier as he was out. There was a pink colour that dusted over your cheeks of the blush you probably put, a bit of glimmer to your eyes from some eyeshadow, and your lips glossed with a soft sheen that catches the kitchen light just right.

"Hey," he lets out airily, watching you place your bag on the table. "How was the date?"

You run a hand through your hair. "It was... It was good. Seokmin's really nice. He took me to a pizza place."

Mingyu stills at that for a second, lifting a brow in question. "I thought you don't like pizza."

"Well, yeah, but I said it was fine so𑁋"

"If he was going to take you out on more dates, then he should know what kinds of places you don't like to eat."

"I said I was fine with it, Gyu," You retort a bit harshly, immediately regretting your tone in the silence that instantly engulfs the two of you. "We ended up having a good time anyway."

The sounds of something cooking reverberate throughout your shared place. You watch the way Mingyu stirs something in a large pot with a pair of chopsticks, before taking it out, blowing on it a few times, and taking it into his mouth for a brief taste test.

When he puts the chopsticks back down and kills the heat on the stove, he faces back to you with his hands placed firmly on the counter.

"Did you two do anything else?"

The smell of the food makes your stomach rumble quietly, but you attempt to conceal it with clearing your throat. "What do you mean?"

"Like..." Mingyu motions something with his hands and you could only peer at him quizzically. "Like have you𑁋"

"Are… Are you about to ask me if we kissed?" You nearly want to scoff at that. "Do I look like the kind of person that kisses on the second date?"

Mingyu just laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I don't know. Do you?"

All you do is shrug your shoulders, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Well, no, we didn't kiss. We just... talked."

Mingyu seems to take in your words for a second, before nodding slowly. "Okay. That's... That's good."

The way he says it makes you feel a bit uneasy. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you are, both from the evening and from this conversation. Mingyu glances at you again, something apologetic forming in his eyes.

"Sorry," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to pry. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, it's... fine," You reply, though you're not sure if it is. "I'm just tired."

Mingyu gestures over to the pot on the stove. "I made some food if you're hungry."

You walk to the side of the kitchen where he's at, taking a peek inside the pot. "Is it...?"

"Yep!" Mingyu exclaims excitedly and steps up beside you, where you could practically feel his presence lingering right on your skin. "My signature jjajangmyeon. Your favourite."

Your stomach rumbles again, and you swear Mingyu hears it from the way his lips quirk up in a smirk down at you. You almost want to (affectionately) shove that expression off his face, but you don't, because his gaze toward you relaxes when you look back up at him. It's a look that feels familiar, comforting, and slightly intimidating all at once.

You feel your heart clench tightly in your chest.

"I'm starting to think," Seokmin starts, loudly slurping up his cup of boba tea. "that this is a very bad idea."

You grimly shove the straw through the plastic and take a long sip, the flavours from the drink bursting in your mouth as you do so. You hear the loud screech of Seokmin bringing his chair closer to the table.

"I'm starting to think it is too."

Seokmin's eyes widen. "You are?" Then he scoots himself closer to you almost pleadingly. "Does that mean you're gonna tell him?"

"I..." You mentally want to facepalm yourself right now. "I don't know."

"Y/N!"

"I know! I know! I'm a coward!" You bury your face in your arms for a moment, letting out a few muffled groans at the cold surface of the table. "We're literally roommates and it complicates everything! There are times where I feel like there's just something a little... more to us, you know? I mean, do you usually give goodnight hugs to your roommate?"

Seokmin snorts a little at that. "I don't think Minghao would like it if I did that to him."

"Okay, okay. Just𑁋If your roommate wasn't Minghao and someone you liked, would you give them goodnight hugs too?"

You could tell Seokmin is genuinely thinking about the question. His lips purse together in thought, his hand running over the sides of his cup.

"If I liked them, I'd probably find any excuse to be close to them. Like sharing food, doing little favours here and there, wanting to hug them and stuff like that..." Seokmin admits a bit bashfully. "Isn't that what he does to you?"

"Yes, and it's driving me absolutely bonkers. And he... He knows a lot about me, you know? We've had, like, late-night talks and stuff. I've never gotten close with any other person like that. He's just so... ugh!" You glance up at Seokmin with helpless eyes. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess, Seokmin."

Seokmin chuckles lightly. "Hey, I only agreed to be your fake boyfriend because I owed you for saving my grades in class. I didn't realise the extent of how bad this is."

You glare at him playfully at that, lightly swatting him on the arm, but Seokmin just manages to dodge it and swipe your cup of boba tea away from you.

"Okay, but, hypothetically speaking. Let's say he does like you..."

You snatch your drink back and take a long sip, catching a boba pearl between your teeth. "Mhm..."

"And I know the whole point of this was to see if he'll get jealous," Seokmin continues. "but let's say he does like you, wouldn't that mean you're kind of... playing with his feelings?"

Seokmin's words make you pause mid-sip. With the straw between your lips, you contemplate his question as you stare blankly at the swirling boba tea. Playing with Mingyu's feelings𑁋could that really be what you're doing? The whole fake dating plan had started as a test of sorts to see if Mingyu would show any signs of jealousy. But now, as you're sitting here with Seokmin, you're starting to think you might have fucked up a bit. Maybe a lot.

"Because I think from all the details that you told me and how he acts around you," Seokmin pauses and fixes up his posture, looking at you with a lighthearted yet serious expression. "it sounds like he likes you. And if he does, pretending to date me is just going to hurt him. Or confuse him. Or both."

Your mind races with Seokmin's words, and you feel a pang of guilt settling in your chest. "You think so?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, honestly."

"That's not reassuring at all."

"Well, you never know!" Seokmin exclaims. "Look, I'm no love expert. Maybe you two have been pining for each other the entire year but just don't have the guts to say anything about it. And if that's the case, you owe me another free meal, or a few them. You owe me another three free meals!"

You scoff at that before bringing the straw up to your mouth again, hoping that you could drink away the heat blooming within your face.

"Ugh, I'm getting headache𑁋"

"Isn't that Mingyu right there?"

You nearly spit out your drink at that, swearing you could hear the snap of your neck as you bring your head up to where Seokmin is looking with wide eyes. And low and behold, you spot Mingyu entering inside the boba shop.

He's not alone though; he's with a girl.

You feel your heart drop down to your feet as you watch them approach to the ordering counter. They seem comfortable with one another, even if you can't hear what they're saying, their easy smiles and relaxed body language twisting your insides into knots. Mingyu leans in slightly, saying something that makes the girl laugh, and you can't help but notice how effortlessly he charms her, just like he does with everyone.

A tap lands on your shoulder, and you face away to see Seokmin looking at you with worried eyes.

"Do you want to leave?" he mouths to you quietly.

You glance back toward Mingyu and the girl, and the second you see them turning in your direction, you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the chair letting out an earth-shattering squeak.

And you freeze up.

"Y/N?"

You slowly turn around to see Mingyu and the girl approach the table. The first thing you notice is how pretty she looks, her long, flowing hair showering down her shoulders in soft waves. There's a cheery, whimsical aura that you can sense from her, and that seems to be enough to convince yourself that's the kind of personality that Mingyu likes.

"Hey," Mingyu calls out to you again, a smile to his face once he realises it's really you. Briefly, however, his lips seem to straighten out when he shoots a glance toward Seokmin. "I didn't know the two of you came here for your date."

Seokmin laughs a bit too obviously. "Yeah, man, what a coinc𑁋"

"We were just leaving, actually." You swiftly grab Seokmin by the wrist, tugging him toward you. Then you offer nothing but an unsteady grin. "I'll see you later, Mingyu."

You drag Seokmin out of the shop before hearing whatever Mingyu was saying, your heart pounding like a damn drum in your chest. You don't look back until you're safely outside and a long distance away.

You let go of Seokmin's hand to catch your breath. And when you manage to pick yourself back up, Seokmin's already peering at you with an amused look.

"What was that?" he asks airily, arching up a single brow. "Did you just run away from your roommate?"

"Be quiet," You hiss back at him, attempting to shove him but failing miserably. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh, you hear that?" Seokmin taunts annoyingly, tapping his foot on the ground. "That's the sound of jealousy."

You gulp down a lump in your throat. He's right. You are jealous.

"Dammit," You curse to yourself. "The whole fake dating thing... It was stupid. I thought that, maybe, if Mingyu got jealous, it would mean something. But now, seeing him with that girl..."

"It hit you hard."

"Yeah," You finish simply. "It did."

"And so..." Seokmin lightly nudges you with his hip. "what will the answer be?"

You only narrow your eyes at him, and the resigned sigh that you let out afterwards is enough to send Seokmin's excitement into orbit.

"Yes!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you relentlessly. "I'm getting free food!"

Hours pass, and the ache in your chest hasn't eased.

You find yourself melting into the couch, anxiously tugging the ends of your sleeves as you replay the scene over and over back at the boba place. This stupid plan really had backfired on you big time, like a slap to the face, a punch to the gut, a kick to the heart𑁋all in one go.

Every detail from the way Mingyu and that girl walked in together, the ease with which they interacted, and the pang you felt in your chest from how perfect they appeared right next to each other𑁋it all played on a loop in your mind. You knew now that you have to confront your feelings, but the thought of it makes your stomach twist into a pretzel.

There's some random show playing on the TV in front of you, but you could care less at paying attention to it. The apartment is still quiet since Mingyu wasn't back yet, and you could only clench your fists together in a suppressed fit of panic.

"You're an idiot," You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "A complete idiot. How could you be so stupid𑁋"

A rattle at the locks on the door shuts you up, and maybe the world stops spinning too. You feel yourself sink more into the couch out of anticipation.

When the door swings open, Mingyu steps inside, and you hear the rustling sounds of plastic bags. He peers around the apartment for a moment, and when his eyes land on you, he visibly relaxes.

"Y/N?" Even knowing that he's here, his voice still seems to catch you off-guard every single time. "I brought some ice cream for𑁋"

"I'm not dating Seokmin."

The silence that follows is almost suffocating. Mingyu drops the bag of ice cream on top of the kitchen counter, his gaze still not leaving yours. He blinks a few times, as if processing what you just said.

"You're... not?"

You shake your head, a knot forming in your throat. This is it.

"No, Gyu, I'm not dating him," You clarify, tone more serious this time. "We never dated. It was all fake."

All Mingyu does is continue to stand there under the dim lighting of the kitchen light. You can hardly decipher the expression on his face; it was something between confusion and surprise. You try to catch for signs of disappointment, but when he steps a tad bit closer to you, your mind goes a bit haywire.

"Why?" he finally questions after what seems like an eternity.

You take in a deep breath. "I was... I was stupid, okay? I... I thought that if I could make you jealous, it would mean something. That it would mean..." There's a brief pause as you rekindle yourself. "...that you liked me too."

Mingyu's brows furrow slightly in confusion, and you can't tell if the situation is getting worser or not; if the room was getting hotter and your skin was at the point of boiling; if all of this was already tumbling down before your eyes.

"Look, I know we're roommates. But sometimes I think𑁋I feel like there's more to that. We always hug… and flirt, and I..." You purse your lips together as your tongue struggles to grasp the right words. "I like you, okay? I fell for your stupid smile, your stupid hugs, your stupidly good cooking skills. I fell for everything about you. And I couldn't tell you that because I was scared of fucking everything up."

The room seems to hold its breath as you finish speaking. You feel awfully vulnerable right now, like you've laid bare your heart and soul and every single one of your insecurities. Mingyu only remains still, his eyes with surprise. The silence stretches on, and you find yourself gathering your thoughts together as if sensing impending doom.

You let your shoulders slouch in defeat. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, we could just𑁋"

"I was jealous."

"𑁋pretend all this never happened𑁋what?"

"Of course I was jealous, Y/N." Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, the action all too endearing. "I was stupid too. For not telling you. For not taking the chance when I could. I was jealous when you talked about Seokmin, but I was also a coward for not wanting to screw anything up.”

You could only knit your brows together dazedly, gazing up at him as if he's said a foreign language. "You... were jealous? What about... what about the girl from earlier?"

"She's just a classmate from my English class, and she's interested in one of my other friends. We just happened to cross paths and I offered to grab boba so I could help her with𑁋"

"Shut up," You suddenly say firmly, and Mingyu does immediately, his focused, half-lidded eyes boring down into yours with a look that sends a jump to your stomach. That was all that you need to hear.

He's practically looming above you. You don't recall how exactly he got closer to you but you have nothing in you to complain. If anything, your feet drag you closer toward him, close enough you're able to smell the faint scent of his cologne and perhaps hear the way his heart is beating just as fast as yours.

With one of your hands, you reach up slowly, letting your fingers toy carefully with the collar of his shirt as you search his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But Mingyu's gaze softens, probably like it always has when he's with you, his breath hitching slightly as your touch lingers on his shirt, curling more into the fabric.

Then your lips tug up into a faint smirk, and you pull him down just slightly.

"Don't make me regret this, Kim Mingyu," is all you say before closing the gap and pressing your mouth against his.

He nearly melts right there at the touch of your lips together, but it doesn’t take him long to be kissing you back with more desperation than you expected. His hands slowly draw down your sides, bringing you even further into his embrace. The briefest contact of the tips of his fingers under your shirt makes you tense.

“I won’t,” he whispers in between kisses. “I won’t.”

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @maesvtr0

[dvzaiosamu]

𓇼 SUMMERTIME JOY | chuuya nakahara. A little one-shot where you and Chuuya are on the beach enjoying everything. As simple as that! It may not be very long, but I hope you like it.

Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I logged in to write something. As I just took my summer vacation, I want to wish everyone a happy summer and enjoy it. These days I had no motivation to write and I left everything half done in my drafts. But now I'll try to make the effort to write something!

The sun in the sky looked like a colored drawing, even childish if you looked at it another way.

It was summer and damn right it felt like summer. You felt the sand between your feet, warm to the touch. A bikini and a beach hat. Everything was perfect and like a vacation away from everything, disconnecting and sharing emotions with the sea.

Underneath was a beach towel and a hammock tied to two trees. Next to it you had a frozen box with multiple foods and refreshing drinks as well as a bag with sunscreen and so on.

And your husband is there too.

At your side is Chuuya, who has taken the vacation very personally. There he is lying in a hammock that is tied to two trees, cocktail in his hand. Black sunglasses on his head, bare skin with a thin open jacket on top, beach shorts and some flip flops lying around.

"Hey, Chuuya... Do you remember when we were still little and we always came to this beach?" you find yourself asking.

"Of course I remember, you were a disaster," he smiles. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...do you remember when we ran into the water to take a dip?" you continue. "I wonder if instead of staying here in the sun, we'd go there to… you know."

"If my beautiful wife says so, I don't have a big problem," leaving his finished cocktail on the sand, he stands next to you. "Come on."

Walking with him towards the seashore, smiling like you've never done before, you feel a disconnection from the outside world, not worrying about work, enjoying a good vacation.

You were thinking, and you feel arms lift you up, bridal style. You laugh at Chuuya's expression, one of determination and like he was so focused on getting you to the water, it seemed like his face expressed a lot of effort.

"The water is freezing... Don't you think you should let me get used to it?" you say, feeling the water cover your knees.

"The only thing you have to get used to is that tonight we are going to celebrate our vacation in a house that I bought for this vacation," he responds, leaving you in the water, where you can still touch the sand with your feet.

"What a gentleman you are."

"For you I can be anything—"

A palm of water is thrown at Chuuya's face, wetting his hair.

"Take that!"

"What was that for!" complains Chuuya.

"Nothing really! Just making this more fun for the two of us," you laugh like a child.

"Oh yeah?" he splashes water all over you. "Then this is a sweet revange."

"Ack— c'mon! Not salt in the eyes!" you whine.

Well. What a vacation. Is this what humans call to be happy with one's lover? I believe it is.

Do you know the worst? I had written all of this before, it didn't save when I accidentally clicked on a notification and I had to rewrite it entirely. But hey, although this one didn't turn out the best, and it's a bit short, maybe incoherent, at least I hope it's something for my dear followers :3

[beets]

baby, bi bi bi

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[littledreamling]

Instead of (or perhaps along with) Hob being proficient in all kinds of weaponry (10/10, amazing trope), give me Hob being proficient in medieval and renaissance instruments and dances.

Give me Hob Gadling who loves the beat of the drums, now that he’s had a few hundred years to remove himself from the battlefield where they used to be played to raise morale and time reloading. Give me Hob Gadling who unironically loves the bagpipes, who knows how to play the bagpipes, who will march across campus belting out a lively traditional melody that only he remembers, much to his students’ delight and his fellow professors’ annoyance. Give me Hob Gadling who can’t help but get up and dance whenever he hears a folk tune because it reminds him of home, of the home he used to have, long before any dark strangers or mentions of immortality. Give me Hob Gadling who teaches renaissance court and country dances as a history class and every time he sees one of his students grinning with the thrill of it, he can almost feel Eleanor standing beside him, reveling in the joy of music and laughter and good company. Give me Hob Gadling who ropes Dream into dancing with him, because they may be the last people on earth who know these steps and Hob isn’t going to let them fade because they’re important, because they’re what make him human.

Give me Hob Gadling who chooses to keep more than just his soldiering expertise alive, whose heart leaps at the first beat, whose feet tap and legs jump and arms weave as he expresses his love for life in every way possible.

[mattodore]

if i can get these hair ties to work first try i'll be unstoppable

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Me: innocently reading the tags on your latest Chase/First art. You: #my brain was like heehoo what about some love spell/pollen trope?? Me: instantly loses my entire goddamn mind.

Seriously though, I recall you saying that you don't think post-soup Chase is capable of genuine selfless love. And tbh I agree, though it's worth pointing out that there are many ways to love, and having one of them removed doesn't mean Chase can't learn to love in others. But. BUT. Consider Chase somehow getting hit with a love spell/potion that gives him back the ability to love? Even if it's just one person (First) and he can't control those feelings? It might be overwhelming. It might be irresistible. It might be... nice.

Catch First trying desperately to undo this nonsense and Chase refusing because being able to love someone like this is pretty great, actually. And if First protests by arguing that these feelings aren't genuine, well, Chase is pretty sure he'd have fallen in love already if he were capable of it.

Jesus anon, this. this ask was making me lose my entire goddamned mind all these months!!!!😫😫

I totally agree with you about there being so many different ways to love someone, so the whole 'selfless love' is kinda a bit overrated in media. The reason why I said that I think Chase is incapable of "genuine selfless love" type is mostly because I think since he became immortal/changed, he sorta lost that softer human part of himself that truly felt positive and kinder emotions. Everything became tainted and just a little bit twisted by evil/darkness, even his affection.

So, like, the idea of a love potion/spell that perhaps returned or unlocked that part of his brain and maybe even amplified it, and him going 'Oh, I have forgotten what it felt like' and enjoying it despite it being sort of??? Artificial is just RAAAAGGAGAGAGAHHAHAGHHHHH

And First trying to undo it, not only because it makes Chase even more of a nuisance, but also because no-one deserves to be not in control of themselves is just very 🙏

But BUT I also can't help but imagine a scenario where Chase gets hit by a love spell and nothing seems to change. He still fights and flirts with First, he still smiles his secret charming smiles and needles and teases the Ninja. Outwardly his behaviour is the same but now Chase's emotions and feelings behind those actions are (questionably?) more genuine.

I don't remember if I extrapolated on this before, but I picture Chase's behaviour as more of a front. His seemingly carefree flirting and teasing is mostly to needle and annoy First, because he enjoys how it gets under First's skin better than anything else could. It also stems from actual attraction Chase feels towards First (though in his mind he will never admit to it being anything more than just physical attraction). Emotionally however, Chase always was more cold and calculating, a bit cruelly teasing.

So, I can't help but imagine that he gets hit by a love spell/potion and now all that front? Actually becomes geniuine. And like you said, Chase would be like: Oh. It seems that, if I was able of falling in love in any capacity - I have already done so.

[pasta-pardner]

Triangles, trios, and trouble. No one does it quite like the GBU polycule.

Originally started as a fill for the @yeehawgust prompt "A Whole Heap of Trouble", but then I took too long and missed the month. 🙃

[ahundredtimesover]

Hi 👋🏽 I’ll be going on an indefinite break that may (or may not) be for good.

Writing fanfiction was an escape for me these past 2 years. It was a way to express my love for the tannies in how I wrote them as comfort characters, and it was a way for me to make sense of my own experiences and emotions. These fics have always been very personal, with a bit of me in every OC, my pains reflected in their stories, and words I wish someone told me growing up expressed in the dialogues. And I’ll always be so thankful that many of you related with them, found meaning in them, and found comfort in them. That will always be my favorite part 💜💜 stories are so powerful! They’ve allowed me to connect with so many people and make memories in this (mostly) lovely part of the site.

But the process of writing has also been draining, not as cathartic as it used to be, and not as fulfilling. So much as I find myself going back and forth with the numerous stories in my drafts, I can’t bring myself to continue with them. Not anytime soon, at least. Maybe one day the itch to write will be so intense, or JJK1/KTH1 drops and I’ll lose my shit (Untitled and Belong were born out of Indigo and D-day after all), or after rereading my stories, I’ll miss writing so much. The thing is, I’ve never loved BTS as much as I do right now; perhaps I’m content with screaming about that love to myself in the meantime.

I’ll be lurking around here, maybe pop in every once in a while (so plagiarists, keep off my work, pls). My stories will remain here as your comfort 😌 and I’ll do my best to put out the PLM drabbles I promised! Other than that, all the stories are complete for you to enjoy (sorry to those waiting on TLA 😔 I hate that I’m unable to continue). I also have Twitter (jmimi_mi). I’m also just a lurker but say hi if you want! 😊 we can talk bts and fics and whatnot over there (I’ll try, I promise).

Please give love to the authors who are still lovingly putting out work for the community! 🥰

[emily-mooon]

60s spy au Nordegrim anyone?

[neverevan]

Wip Word Search 🔍

rules: use this generator to generate three random words (or however many you'd like to do) and share the lines where they show up in your WIPs

my words: affect, great, opposed

1. affect from the mudslide fic ☔️

He watched as Eddie got up from the couch, carefully depositing Christopher’s legs from his lap before turning back to him and planting a soft kiss onto the top of his soft curls. He was getting too old for these kinds of affections when awake and — as much as he couldn’t wait to see Christopher become his own, independent person — Buck desperately wanted to halt time. It wasn’t a fair thing to think; Chris wasn’t exactly his kid to begin with and regardless of what Eddie’s will said would happen after his death, Buck's place in their lives wasn’t set in stone, so he savored every tiny moment he could. Somewhere along the last handful of years, Eddie and Christopher became Family, with a capital F. Buck loved Chris like he was his own and his feelings for Eddie were clear as day — only if not for the man himself. It was better that way, Buck reasoned. He probably wouldn’t let Buck hang around all the time, if he’d have known. Eddie probably didn’t think of them that way anyway. Buck ran his fingers through the curly hair tickling his cheek and pulled the kid’s small frame just a fraction closer, relishing in the moment of stillness.

2. great from the jealous eddie fic 🧇

“So uh t-tell me about yourself, you know, hobbies, pets, family, whatever.” “That’s pretty broad.” Jason chuckled and Buck felt his cheeks heat up immediately. Wow, he really hasn’t been on a proper date in such a long time that apparently he lost the ability to make conversation. Great. “Sorry I—” “Relax, Buck. It’s alright.” His shoulders sagged a little at that. “I guess cycling is a hobby, right? I’m not allowed pets at my place and uh… Two sisters, parents live in Nevada.” “Uh great, that- that’s great! I have a sister too, my parents live in Pennsylvania though.” Jason assessed his face for a long moment before he leaned back in his chair with a small sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem much more nervous than before. Is everything alright?” “Uh yeah— yeah, I’m fine, just…” Buck sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Eddie, my uh my partner at the 118, he’s been acting kinda weird about us going out. I just… I don’t know, I guess I got a little into my head about it.” A disapproving frown tugged at the patch of skin between Jason’s eyebrows for a moment, before it disappeared with a sigh. “So he’s one of those guys then.” Buck knew what he meant instantly; the type of guys who were just too macho not to feel threatened by even the mere mention of two men dating. Of course, it couldn’t have been further from the truth —  and Buck was quick to make that clear. “N-no, not at all! He’s a good guy, great actually. He’s my best friend.”

3. opposed from the breeding kink fic 🛏️

“You might be right,” he breathed, leaning over Buck and slipping his hands under his thighs for more leverage, “maybe we should just stay here like this forever.” Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment when he bottomed out again. It wasn’t a plausible or in any way realistic idea, really, but Eddie found that he still wasn’t opposed to the fantasy of it. Especially not when Buck’s warmth enveloped him so perfectly, while he got to watch his chest rise and fall quicker and quicker, listen to his quiet whines and grunts as Eddie sped up his movements until he hit a steady rhythm and smell as fresh sweat broke through the lingering scent of their shared body wash; tea tree and mint. His hair was still damp from their shower and that was one thing they didn’t share; the shampoo — and god, Eddie was grateful that it never became something that he’d lose on the account of getting used to smelling it on himself, so now he could let the fruity and fresh scent of green apple, and something that uniquely belonged to Buck wash over his senses.

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @fortheloveofbuddie and @wikiangela thank youuu 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @eddiebabygirldiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @ladydorian05

[good-beanswrites]

My translyrics for Salamander, written out under the cut :D

This one was much more difficult than the last, but I'm still very satisfied with it! 😤 I'm both sad that my version lost a lot of the fun soundplay of the original, and also waaay more impressed with the lyrics and vocals after digging it like this! I tried to keep it balanced between the original and Fuuta's version, though maybe it ended up leaning more toward the cover, idk. Leaving my specific notes in the tags 👍

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I want a taste, but all this spice may prove more than I can take, (eh?)

Something's on your mind. So spit it out and tell me, don't waste my time, kay?

I'm hooked on this, pass me a dish.

The way I'm starving here without you -- it's a crime

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want a bite, I can't help giving in to this new appetite.

Again, again, I want to be on fire when I get to the end.

We live too fast, we burn to ash,

I never handled spices well and it's a crime.

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

I want to burn bright red

I want to burn bright red

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

Tell me I'm not alone in my mind!

Salamander~ Look what's happened to me. This pa- passion's crazy

Tell me I'm not delirious, I'm being serious.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want to leave I want to go, but I can never stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

[klonoadoortophantomile]

thing i drew on one of my schools ipads instead of working on my actual art project 👍