#why does knowing this anxiety will pass and i will look back at tonight like. wow that was unnecessary?? tomorrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

selfishdoll · 1 year

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NOW PLAYING…. FANTASIZE

I know what you fantasize about

TAKUMA INO x SUCCUBUS! READER.

sum: ino, desperate to feel the touch of a woman, seeks out alternative options. which includes, summoning a demon into his house.

cw: ooc characters, modern au (no cursed techniques), lowkey loser ino (i love him), virgin!ino, switch (both of you), handjob, blowjob, cowgirl, praise, pussy-drunk ino, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (on both sides), demons, demon rituals, angst if you squint, porn no plot, chubby reader, gojo is a bit of a dick, etc.

it was so funny looking up rituals for summoning a succubus, i know the person watching my phone activity is concerned. also, does this count for kinktober? idk i’m new around here. but i got this idea while working so…:) hope you enjoy. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

Takuma Ino was having a bit of dilemma. It wasn’t anything serious like a sickness or losing his home, rather— it was actually quite silly.

He has never, in his twenty-one years of living, made love to a woman. Or anyone for that matter.

Now he’s been on dates before. Has flirted with woman, hell; even kissed a few. But, it never went farther then that. He wasn’t sure why, it ate him up inside that he didn’t have such experience like his seniors Gojo and Geto, even Nanami. And as much as he’d like to find the root of the problem, Ino refused to ask any of them for some perspective.

The thought alone made him want to curl into a ball and die.

But him being inexperienced wasn’t a secret, given Satoru teased him on it constantly. Much to the younger man’s dismay.

Things really took a turn one night, however, when Gojo said something a little off-putting.

At this point, you should just summon a succubus.

The statement was quickly overshadowed by Geto stating the white-haired male was being rude, along with Nanami agreeing. But in that moment, Takuma Ino wasn’t focused on Gojo’s lack of manners, rather; his mind swarmed with that idea.

Was it possible? Were such creatures real? Could he really summon one?

Ino was desperate. He felt something was lacking inside of him having no experience and all. So, just the thought of a solution like this.. well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

Which brings him to tonight, the man seated crisscrossed on his bedroom floor; staring down at the pentagram and candles in the middle of the room. He had spent hours before searching the web for summons, deciding on a relatively easy one. Drawing the pentagram took much more time then he wanted it to, along with placing the candles down. It was currently dark out, the moon shining into his already lit bedroom.

Ino pursed his lips, a bout of anxiety developing in the pit of his stomach. What if, he messed it up somehow? The thought of dealing with something worse then a succubus scared him much more than never having sex. However, another thought plagued him..

What if it didn’t work? Was it really worth wasting time on some stupid comment Gojo made?

It took a moment for Ino to decide his next choice of action, leaning on his crossed legs as an exasperated sigh escaped him. Moments of silence passed before he rose up, a small fuck it, escaping him. Leaning against his bed, the man glanced at his phone, reading through the remaining steps quickly.

“Okay, blood.. then chant.” Ino gulped softly. Settling his phone back beside him, he reached for the pocket knife off to the side. Flipping it open, he placed the blade against his palm, squeezing the handle of the small weapon. His breathing got heavy for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth— glaring down at his hand. Quickly, Takuma slid the blade across his skin, a sharp hissing escaping him once the wound started to sting. He watched as scarlet red blood slowly bubbled from the cut, breath hitching as the sight.

Ino breathed, lifting his hand over the pentagram and rose petals in the middle; watching droplets of blood slowly fall from his hand, into the pile. His lips moved, softly chanting the spell he had found on the internet, dark eyes glaring at the ritual.

The chant escaped his mouth five more times before he stopped, resting their silently for a moment. Waiting for.. anything, really. A signal, a sign the ritual had worked. That his desperation wasn’t all for not..

That he hadn’t cut his palm for some odd fantasy.

Unfortunately, nothing happened. Nothing, except for the sting of his hand and the one of his dignity. He was such an idiot— taking Gojo’s word at face value instead of as a joke.

Takuma Ino, felt pathetic.

Silently, he pulled his hand back, ignoring the sting of it as he began to collected the dirtied petals. He moved to blow out the candles next, collecting them as well to throw away. Once that was completely he exited his bedroom to his bathroom, coming back with a wet rag shortly after to rub away the pentagram.

Still silent, still completely mad at himself.

That was about five hours ago, Takuma deciding to push the event to the back of his mind and sleep. He couldn’t dwell over his stupidity for too long, he had work in the morning.

Curled up under his blankets, the man slept soundly, face pressed into his pillow. The room was quiet, atmosphere soft, his legs, heavy… heavy. Why were his legs so heavy? The half-asleep man turned, pulling his blankets a bit, thinking it was simply that.

But, no. Ino quickly realized it wasn’t that. Sleep was slowly drifting away, annoyance traveling into his body. Did he accidentally place something on his bed? Did something fall? Such question entered his mind, blinking away sleep as he turned— shutting his bedside lamp on.

Takuma Ino blinked slowly, eyes peering down at.. something, someone. A woman. She was, pretty. Cloaked in warm mocha skin, a form figure will full hips and curves; pudge pushed against the blankets underneath her. Her hair was neat, styled in long braids that rested in curly ends just below her ass.

And from what Takuma could see, she was completely bare.

“Wh—what..” The man stuttered under his breath, slowly pulling his legs from under her body, backing to the headboard of his bed. Biting the inside of his cheek, he reached over, planting a hand onto her shoulder. “Hey.. uh— miss?” He spoke, watching her stir just a bit. To his horror she turned from laying on her stomach, Ino quickly tossing his blanket in her direction. “Miss— its time to wake up!” Ino spoke again, voice holding much more urgency then it did before.

You slowly stirred from your sleep, blinking and yawning softly. You tilted your head to spot Ino already staring at you, a look of shock and nervousness painting his features. You only smiled, turning once again to rise up on your hands. “Hi..”

Ino gulped the moment your voice hit his ears, range a sickeningly sweet tone, soft; traveling into his mind so easily. He bit his cheek, clenching his pants in his hands. “How did you..get in here? Are you lost?”

You blinked at him for a moment, coming to sit comfortably on the bed, nearly smiling at the way he refused to look at you. Or rather, your body. “I’m not lost.. you summoned me here, right?”

As the words left your mouth, his breath hitched; eyes widening in shock. The ritual, actually worked? He had really summoned one, a succubus? There was no way, this had to be a prank.

“You look human.”

“I look how you want me to look..” You spoke softly, leaning back, sliding your hands down your body. “Or rather, your type.” You grinned, watching a warm red spread across his cheeks. You leaned, crawling up to him until you were far too close for comfort; watching as he sunk into the headboard to gain some space. “But, would you like me to change? Is there something else you wish to see?”

Ino breathed heavily, eyes finally falling from your face and to your body; trained on your soft plump breasts, your thighs, your hips.. everything was just so, perfect. Change? Such a thought would never pass his mind.

His trance was interrupted the moment a pretty giggle escaped you, his entire body stilling the moment your hand rested upon his lower stomach. You pushed up until your mouth was against his ear, speaking lowly;

“Looks like your body answer the question for you..” He hissed softly as your hand breached his black tshirt, gliding your fingers along his vline. You were so close, yet so far from he really wanted you to touch him; his head leaning back as you continued to rub gentle circles into his skin.

“Please..”

“Hm?” You feigned innocence, pulling back to glance at his face. His eyebrows were pinched a little close, eyes closed as he gently bit his lips. The sight was very pretty, you had to admit. “You want me to touch you more?”

“Yes—“ Ino spoke far too quickly, raising his head to look at you. His cheeks were flushed with red, embarrassed out of his mind— but he didn’t care. Not one bit. “Please.. please touch me more.”

Your glossed lips curled into a small smile, leaning over so you two were only a breath’s away. “You’re so cute, Ino.” You spoke softly, closing the gap to capture his lips. Slowly, you two enjoyed the other’s mouth, pressing your body against his own. You felt his hand twitched with uncertainty, slowly lifting to gently grasp your waist. You smiled against his lips, gently biting them in response. The moment a soft gasp escaped him, your tongue intruded his mouth, while your hand.. reached into his pants.

His fingers gripped your bare skin as your own traced his shaft, feeling him slowly harden under your touch. You wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly pulling him out of his pants and boxers. The man groaned softly as your thumb traced his tip, feeling precum slowly drip from the slit. You pulled back, cooing at the sight of his strained face. How cute..

You leaned over, lips pressed against his neck as you began to drag your hand up and down his shaft, slowly, watching him twitch with each glide across his sensitive tip. You sucked a kiss into his skin, switching around to kiss against his throat; relishing at the gulp you felt under your lips. Your hand quickened around his cock; focusing around his tip, grinning at the way his hips rose up into your hand.

“So cute..” You murmured to yourself, watching him carefully. He felt so sensitive from your touch, gasping out; soft groans escaping him every so often. The hand on your hip was bruising by now, fingertips digging into your skin, holding on for leverage. He’s never felt anything like this; your hand completely differently from his own. You played like him as if you knew his own body more than he did, grazing across secret places he’s never known about.

“O—oh, fuck..”

“You’re close, handsome?” You questioned softly, eyelids lowered as you hand got even faster. The man was bucking up into your hand at this point, fucking it, chasing his release. One he reached easily, lips parted as a husky, prolonged moan escaped his throat. You hummed softly as his warm release coated your fingers, glancing down as your hand slowly came to a stop. You tilted your head with a little simper, traveling down the bed. “You made a mess of yourself, Ino.”

Your voice brought him down from his high, blinking tiredly over at you. To his horror, you were leaning down towards his cock; the man gasping the moment your lips brushed his tip. “F—fuck..” He whined softly, gripping the blanket under him, a stuttered groan escaping him as your tongue traveled up his shaft, collecting his cum. “‘M too sensitive, please—“

Ino’s own pornographic groan interrupted his words the moment you took him into his mouth, eyes rolling back at your warm cavern. He could only lay there, overstimulated whines escaping him as you took him deeper into your mouth, tongue gliding across his cock; allowing his tip to hit the back of your throat.

You bobbed up and down his length, eyes closed and focused on your breath. Your hands resting on his thighs, feeling the muscles shake and clench with each movement of your head. It didn’t take long for the poor man to come again, his voice much louder than before; painting your mouth and throat white. Your moaned around his cock, slowly sucking him dry, feeling his hand press against your shoulder— gasping from the sensitivity. You pulled back slowly, swallowing the rest of his release, eyes peering over at him.

You warmed as his hand traveled to your face, feeling his thumb gently wipe away your mouth. You leaned into his palm, “Did that feel good, Ino?” You questioned sweetly, watching the man nod rather quickly; still breathless. You gently kissed his palm — right above his wound —, slowly traveling up his body, settling on his torso. His hands found your ass, gently caressing the warm skin— clenching when you pressed against his chest lightly.

“You want more, don’t you?” You spoke softly, leaning closely. Your noses brushed, moving in as if to kiss him, only to back away the moment you saw his eyes fluttered. His hand clenched your ass, a small chuckle exiting you as a result. “Use your words..”

Ino breathed sure his cheeks and ears were terribly red. He never imagined his first time would go like this, but, he wasn’t complaining. He glanced into your eyes, “Please.. I—I want to feel you.” He spoke, watching as you moaned softly at his words. He felt accomplished the moment you rose your body, scooting down a bit to hover above his crotch.

Your hand collected his cock, breathing slowly as you lined it up with your entrance. Pressing your knees into the bed, you slowly lowered yourself on his length; feeling his hands grasp your thighs the moment they began to shake. You moaned as he stretched you, velvety walls clenching the deeper he went. Soon, you settled into his lap, pressing your hands against his stomach to still yourself.

“Ar—are you okay?” You glanced up to spot the tinge of worry in his eyes, your cheeks warming at this. You leaned over, kissing his chin.

“Of course.”

Digging your knees into his soft blankets, you rose yourself up until only his tip remained inside— dropping down in one swift motion. The action caused the both of you to moan, his hands clenching your skin; resting his head on his pillows. You hands pressed against his stomach, fucking yourself on his cock; pretty moans escaping your swollen lips.

Ino was holding you so tightly at this point, allowing you to do anything you wanted; trapped under the pleasure you were giving him. Your plush walls clenching him, your hot skin pressed against his own— it was all so much, but he loved every piece. Hazy eyes slowly focused on you, watching work yourself up and down his length, how erotic your expression was.

“Look.. fuck— You’re so pretty.” Ino gasped out, hands traveling to your waist, slowly meeting your thrusts. His hips circled, watching you clench his shirt, pretty babbles of his name escaping you. He wanted to see more of it, needed to. You were far too much, yet he craved it.

A surprised whine escaped you the moment he began to fuck up into you, his feet flat on his bed, holding you tightly on his cock so you could do nothing but take it. The sound of skin on skin contact entered the room, your jumbled noises of pleasure surrounding the space too. Your bodies moved against each other, desperate for release— for the other’s as well.

Repeated fucks escaped you, leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck as he rose his hips more; reaching even deeper inside your messy cunt. You held onto him tightly, eyes pinched close as your nails dug into his covered skin. “F—fuck, so close, so close— Ino!”

His breathing was ragged, face stuffed into your neck as he felt his hips began to stutter. “Me.. me too, fuck— can i come inside? Wanna.. fill you up, oh fuck!” Ino’s voice came out in harsh whimpers, thrusts turning desperate, slamming into you as his mind grew cloudy. In the midst he heard your soft pleas for his cum, your pretty whines enough for him— pushing him over the edge. Spilling into your, fucking his seed into you; stuffing you full.

You gasped, eyes rolling back as you came as well; wet walls clenching, milking him of all he’s worth. The two of you panted heavily, his hips slowly falling to the bed as his arms wrapped around your middle. Your fingers curled into his hair, eyes closed as you simply laid on him.

“… Are you leaving now?” His tone was soft, voice scratchy from its previous abuse. You smiled at his words, shaking your head. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

To your surprise his arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“Good.”

#mani writes ━━ ★#mechahrt #mdni #jjk smut #jjk x poc!reader #takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino x black!reader #black!reader #fem!reader #x reader #chubby!reader

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thinemoonshine · 3 months

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⋆𐙚₊ 𝓼𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝓫𝐨𝐲 ˚⊹♡

good boy!sunghoon x bad girl!reader content(s): angst, sunghoon ice skates, reader and hoon both fall but sunghoon falls harder, one profanity, aggression (hoon punches), (y/n) is involved with bad people, sunghoon is so very down bad and possessive, he’s desperate type: oneshot word count: 2.8k

inspired by enhypen’s track, ‘blind’

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: in which sunghoon will do whatever it takes to win her heart—even if it means ruining himself ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

sunghoon winces when (y/n) slaps the bandaid onto his fresh cut on the cheek that he got from ice skating.

"that's what you deserve. i told you you were spinning too fast," the girl coldly chides and yet sunghoon finds his chest swelling with adoration. he knows—and he's the only one—that she's much warmer than how she seems.

sure, their first meeting wasn't ideal with her shoving a penguin shaped skating aid with too much force that it sent him crashing onto his butt. but the way she took care of him after, despite her snappy attitude and words, ooze with more sincere care than he ever expected.

she didn't do it because it was her responsibility but truly because she wanted to help him, to mend her mistakes and to see him heal. and it was then that sunghoon's interest was piqued which lead him to becoming a regular to the ice rink where she works at.

"can you stop looking at me with those sparkly eyes of yours? gosh," she breathes out exasperatedly but he knows, she's just flustered. still, he obliges and turns his face away to instead stare at the vacant iced floor.

it's normal for him to stay after working hours now, thanks to (y/n) always having the closing shift and he even helps around.

"wanna go for a drink?" he suggests and starts to take off his skates. he hears her scoff.

"no," she curtly rejects.

a small pout appears on his face which disappears just as quick. "why not? you don't have work in the morning."

"i don't. that's why i made plans," she once again, answers briefly.

the other's ears perk as he snaps his head up at her just as he pulls off his skates. "plans?"

"mhm. going out with this hunk of a junk for some drinks. that's why i'm not having any tonight," she explains with a sly grin, unaware of her friend's anxiety and discontent.

'she's going on a date? with a hunk?' his thoughts are loud and he manages to catch up to her who's already walking back to the counter, ready to get the keys and close up the place. "we don't have to drink alcohol. just nice warm or cold beverages are fine too."

(y/n) hums, giving it a thought before tossing the key to the skates equipment to him. "nah. you can go alone, can't you?"

sunghoon drags himself to the mentioned room, deflated from hearing her second rejection, and locks it while she watches with arms crossed. "it's boring to go alone."

"then, call someone," she suggests casually. "a friend or something. ooh, or maybe a girl that you're interested in~"

he can only frown at her little tease. why's she acting like he's got game? well, he does, but it's not like he's interested in anyone else but her. isn't it obvious that she's the one and only girl in his eyes?

"i don't have any," he grumbles and passes her the keys as he walks by.

"dang. i thought you'd have at least one at that humongous campus of yours," she comments and joins him shortly to leave the building.

once again, sunghoon drives her back to her house and she leaves before he can even say anything. almost like she's running away from him and as always, he's only able to watch her disappear before his very eyes. not a single opportunity to try and reach out for she'll just slip away.

time and time again.

—

(y/n)’s stopped working.

he hasn’t been able to see her since the day she told him she was going on a date. she replies to his texts (albeit lackluster) and posts on her socials frequently, showing the lively, happy outings she’s been having with her friends.

from packed, rowdy night clubs to relaxing picnics at the beach. she’s having the time of her life. sunghoon’s happy if she is but that does nothing to dispel his gnawing anxiety of his standing in her life.

has he…been abandoned?

can’t be. she wouldn’t.

…

……

would she?

his incessant worries eventually bring him standing in front of her door, his nerves all jittery and heart thumping violently in its cage that he too, jumps every once in a while from its force.

he gulps thickly and finally, knocks.

knock, knock.

no response.

his eyes flicker to the doorbell.

ding dong!

“who is it?” a tired voice groans through the door but sunghoon’s stammering lags him from answering quick enough—the entrance swinging open before he can and he instantly turns his head away.

eyes are wide with surprise, his cheeks are blazing red along with his ears while his apple bobs up and down in his throat in a stutter.

he didn’t expect to be greeted by (y/n) who’s dressed only in her pink satin, white lace trim nightdress—barely covering her cleavage or her legs with it stopping just below her butt. neither does it conceal anything else because he can tell she’s not wearing a bra and is desperately pleading that she’s wearing panties underneath.

he doesn’t think he can handle it if he were to find out she isn’t.

“sunghoon? what are you doing here so late?” she asks, either ignoring or actually unaware of his internal panic and fluster as his skin reddens by the second.

he swallows. “it’s um, uh—” a clear of his throat. “it’s 12pm. afternoon.”

only then does the girl notice the bright day outside in contrast to her expectations and she hums.

“come on in,” she invites and turns to venture deeper into her house. sunghoon fidgets on his spot, fingers curling tightly into the bottom of his shirt as he too, enters. “so, what’s with the visit?”

sunghoon watches her take a tub of ice-cream from her fridge and feed herself a whole spoonful before diverting his gaze away, afraid they’ll wander on places they shouldn’t. “nothing. i just…haven’t seen you in a long while. so…”

she tilts her head at his reticence and at the sight of his wandering eyes that are on everything but her, his tightly pursed lips and wringing fingers, a sly intent fills her. her own lips curling as she approaches.

sunghoon's eyes finally shift to her again when she sashays around her kitchen island and for the umpteenth time, his throat dries and yet he has the urge to gulp. he stumbles backwards and is pinned against the wall by her arms and figure.

despite being smaller than him, her cage is effective—too effective, even—seeing as how he’s completely frigid. head tilted to the back, spine flat against the wall and hands tightly clenched to his sides. from the way his breaths hitch and shake, one would think he’s being put through agonizing torture—which in his perspective, isn’t a far stretch.

being in such proximity with (y/n) to the point he can feel her breath against his skin and her warmth emanating like a fireplace; smell the flowery fragrant of her detergent and sweetness of the icy delicacy she had—it’s both hell and heaven.

“sunghoonie~ look at meee,” she sings with that siren-like voice of hers and his ears ring with every syllable echoing. he smacks his lips quietly before shaking his head, still keeping his face to the sky when he suddenly feels a plushy softness press against his bod. “come on, skater boy. don’t tell me you’ve grown ice cold?”

sunghoon’s breaths slow and deepen, confused at her sudden forwardness. she’s typically the cold one, the one who gives him half-assed answers and barely any attention. if it wasn’t for his constant visits to her job, they might not be friends at all.

so why is she here, sandwiching him against the wall, arms flanking him as she gazes foxily and provokes him with raspy whispers like a vixen?

it’s too… much. it’s all too much!

his knees tremble and he shuts his eyes, lips between his teeth so tightly it might bleed.

“what’s wrong, hoonie?” she asks with a teasing lilt, her nail tracing the outline of his bobbing apple down to his chest and abdomen—feeling it tense under her touch—before dragging it back up to gently pinch his chin and pull its down. her brow arches at his flushed features and glossed eyes, clearly a face of restraint and yet…bliss.

“please,” he murmurs, barely loud enough but the deafening silence of the house makes it discernible—from every tremor, to every gasp and crack.

(y/n) titters, a sickly sweet and villainous giggle that raises his hair. her hand slides higher up his jaw and she softly taps his bitten lower lip with her thumb which instantly makes him free the abused nub.

with his mouth parted, (y/n) suggestively pushes her finger in—making contact with the tip of his warm tongue and at his small gulp, she’s satiated enough to pull away.

that is, until sunghoon bites down softly, keeping it still as he grabs her wrist and licks the soft pad of her thumb. chu! he places a small peck. her eyes widen when his feathery kisses move further down to her every knuckle, the back of her hand, palm and her inner wrist.

all this while his strong gaze is transfixed on her.

“what’s going on? why are you acting like this?” he asks in a low whisper, his tone heavy with solicitous intent but also a growing hunger.

she giggles, a foxy grin on her face but it slowly starts to falter just as her gaze drifts from his. “well…turns out that ‘hunk of a junk’ is more junk than he is hunk. makes me realize what good of a man you are.”

sunghoon studies her expression, not overlooking a single detail, even to the tiniest shift—seeing her previous chirpiness fading to a gloom. “what did he do?”

“nothing. he’s just, not what i expected,” (y/n) confesses, her hand on his chest and hoon’s conscious of it, hoping she can’t feel the violent beats of his heart. he takes a deep breath through the nose, now brave enough to make a move and readies his arms to hug her.

but she pulls away before he can.

“you should leave,” she suddenly says as she steps backwards—a sudden coldness and emptiness befalling sunghoon—and roughly rakes her hair back. “in fact, don’t…come over anymore.”

“what?” sunghoon sounds, confused and honestly, terrified. what does she mean? is she…cutting him off? “(y/n), why—what do you mean?”

she turns away from him and returns to her tub of dessert waiting on the counter. but she only stabs her spoon in it, having no appetite. “i meant exactly what i said. leave and never come back.”

dread. it drowns the other. his already pale face blanched as his heartbeat accelerates—but not for reasons like before and instead, fright. fear of losing her now, which will lead to forevermore.

“(y/n), let’s talk about this,” hoon suggests, trying to remain composed but the shake in his voice belies him. the girl frowns, ready to argue when the door of the house is abruptly kicked open.

“(Y/N)! COME OUT! i know you’re here, you b!tch! STOP HIDING!” a gruff, masculine voice booms throughout the house and soon the source stomps his way into the kitchen. he’s…beefy. built beefy arms, wide shoulders and thick calves. he looks like he lives at the gym.

‘is this that hunky junk?’ sunghoon whips his head to (y/n), panicked and hoping for an explanation but is instead greeted by a pale-faced girl who’s frantically putting on a long cardigan over herself. her eyes shaking and arms wrapping around herself as she looks at him.

it’s different. a complete juxtaposition from how she was when he came. she was so carefree and casual, a ray of sunshine—but the moment this guy was mentioned, she turns gray and stormy, the moment he came, she’s like a leaf shaking in the wind.

and sunghoon isn’t sure what transpired, but the next second his knuckles are bloodied and landing punch after punch onto the muscly guy who’s straddled by him.

he isn’t as built as the piece of trash is, but he sure is agile. and all his frustrations, his anger fuel his blows—adrenaline surging through and numbing him from any pain as his fist digs into the unconscious man’s skin.

“sunghoon, that’s enough!” (y/n) stops him with a hold of his arm just as he’s about to dislocate the guy’s jaw further. “you can get into big trouble for this!”

her voice cuts through his raging thoughts and they quieten…slowly and surely…a tranquility blooms.

he turns, now noticing her whose gaze is wandering his face and figure and mien scrunched up with concern. his composure returns as he climbs off the inert, debilitated man and sits criss-crossed on the floor. suddenly obedient and gentle as (y/n) runs her hands onto his face, neck, everywhere to check for any wounds and gasps loudly at seeing his abused hands.

palms are cut by his vicious clench while knuckles are torn and bloody from his ruthless offense. yet, he’s mindless of them as his full attention is transfixed on the girl, a small affectionate smile on his face as he gazes lovingly.

“hey… i’m fine,” sunghoon softly assures when he sees her sniffling before sobbing. “hush, shush… don’t cry. please, don’t cry, (y/n).”

his arms finally, finally are able to wrap around her and he holds her close. fully satisfied and regretting nothing as he soothingly runs his hand up and down her back. head against hers, he breathes in and out, calm and peaceful as he feels her warmth, her heartbeat, her every breath against him.

“i told you to leave. you should’ve listened,” she muffles into his chest and feels it vibrate as he chuckles.

“what? and leave you here with this sicko? nah,” he says facetiously and kisses her crown before running his fingers through her hair. “never.”

“sunghoon, i’m serious!” she exclaims and detaches herself just to look at him with a somber look, contrasting him who’s smiling sweetly with eyes upturned to her. “that man won’t be the last! i-i’ve been involved in a lot of trouble with a lot of bad people! they know i’m here and they can come by anytime!”

“all the more reason to stay with you. in fact, you should come stay with me,” he suddenly proposes, eyes holding that familiar sparkle in them that both pains and warms (y/n) to see. “keep you safe, no?”

she sighs as she drops her face into her hands. “sunghoon… you—“ another sigh. “you’re not like them. these guys are bad news, they fight a lot and sure, you managed to handle this one but outside? things are a lot different. a lot worse. and calling the police is useless because apparently, they ‘haven’t done anything.’”

sunghoon frowns at this, but not of her underestimation of him, that should be expected, but of her comment about the police. a uniformed group of people tasked to protect and yet, they must’ve brushed her away just because she looks fine. by the time something’s happened, it might be too late.

disgraceful.

he holds her gently by the shoulders, causing her to look up and he instantly swoops down to kiss her teary eyes. “can you give me a list?”

“list?” she echoes and he confirms with a nod.

fixing her hair with his slender fingers, he then cups her face and caresses her cheeks with love. “a list of name, sweetheart. i’ll handle them for you. i promise you.”

and he binds himself to that vow. he’s not going to let (y/n) live day by day in fear. no. he’s going to make her feel safe and free. to be unworried and radiant through the days. to have no concern for anyone or anything except for him. to finally be able to love him just as he loves her—although, he’s more than certain her feelings can never vie with his.

besides, he’s gonna have fun with it. his hands have now tasted blood, fists have punched the face of his lover’s tormentor and the fact that he’s the one that’s saved her from him, to be her hero fills with a satisfaction and adrenaline no other activity can.

even skating doesn’t compare now.

“we should call the police so they can drag him away,” sunghoon says as he coldly glances at the collapsed man. “we’ll set our stories straight. say it’s self-defense. do you have cameras around?”

(y/n) nods. “i’ve got one at the entrance because someone kept stealing my packages before.”

hoon smiles, contented and wipes the remnants of her distress away from her warm cheeks. “that’s good. now we have breaking and entering to add. let’s keep him behind bars for as long as we can.”

and he’s only the first.

sunghoon can’t wait to meet the next one and get their bones crushed and battered by his hands.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bambi (heeseung ver.), you, a lucid dream (jongseong ver.), puppy boy (jaeyun ver.)

𝜗𝜚 disclaimer: i do not condone any reckless behaviour portrayed in this work. this is entirely fiction and does not depict the member's real personality. if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

#sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen x reader #sunghoon imagines #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enha x reader #jealous enhypen #possessive sunghoon #enhypen hyung line #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen soft hours #enhypen angst #downbad enhypen

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dixonsbrat · 1 year

Text

𖥔 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; rafe begins to push you away when he realises the true nature of his feelings towards you

pairing ; rafe cameron x kook turned pogue!fem!reader

notes ; this series will contain mature themes, such as : p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), swearing, physical altercations, potential nightmares and anxiety, arguments, drinking and drugs. if i forgot any please let me know.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

summer nights in the outer banks always felt like a mist of nostalgia washing over you as you ventured to the boneyard. the humidity was high, and the stars were bright. speckling across the night sky like a blanket of magic, each holding a promise to return the next day like they had every other.

tonight’s party had passed by in a flurry, whisking you away with your friends for a night of unconventional fun. just the way you liked it.

the boys were up to mischief, as per usual, as they took part in numerous bets and dares to see who was the ‘best pogue’ while sarah dragged you and kie to the bonfire for a dance. and despite the fact that you had spent most of the night in high spirits, you couldn’t help the sudden plunge of morale as you watched john b sneak up behind sarah and wrap his arms around her.

the two of them holding each other close and swaying to the music as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. it made your heart heavy knowing how badly you both craved and desired the love that they so openly shared with the world.

“hey, i have a question..." jj declares after the six of you had found somewhere quiet to hunker down away from the general vicinity of the party, and with a joint in his hand, he moves to lay his head in your lap as he gazes up at the night sky.

“what now?” kie rolls her eyes, waiting to hear what high-induced thoughts the blond had conjured up

“if oranges are called… oranges, why aren't lemons called… yellows?" silence fell over you all as you tried to hold back your laughter,swapping confused looks, only to eventually give in.

“okay. i think you've had enough of that for tonight,” pope grabs the joint from jj’s hand, despite his protests, and takes a puff for himself before passing it to john b.

“agreed. i think i’m getting a contact high just from being near you,” you laugh softly.

he lets out a small gasp, clutching at his chest as though he were wounded, “you should be grateful.”

“yeah, okay, j,” you shake your head, laughing, and ruffle his hair before turning to the others to ask, “hey, does anyone have the time?”

pope’s the first to check his watch, “almost midnight.”

“shit…” you groan quietly and throw your head to the side, sinking into sarah’s shoulder for a moment, “i’ve gotta go. are we still meeting before the dinner tomorrow?”

“yeah, of course.” sarah nods, knowing that the question was intended for her and kie.

picking yourself up and dusting the sand off your shorts, you swing your bag over your shoulder and wave goodbye to your friends. they blow you kisses as you start to walk away, shouting out a jumbled mess of their own goodbyes, but nothing was more distinct than jj's "see ya tomorrow, bubba!"

making your way through the remainder of the party, a group of kooks pass you by, each of them narrowing their eyes and one even blatantly whispering about you. your family’s history wasn’t uncommon knowledge on the island, and so, unlike the pogues, a lot of the kooks didn’t want to be seen hanging out with a ‘half-breed’, as they would sometimes call you.

like kie, your parents came from two different worlds, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t have quite the happy ending that the carrera’s did. so now you live with your mom and her new husband with all the other figure eight trust fund babies, but you weren’t really one of them — you never would be.

“y/n!” a voice calls your name, and you turn just in time to see topper wrap his arm around your shoulders. the strong scent of alcohol consuming your senses, and you sway off-balance from the impact of his weight.

“hey, top,” you pat his chest affably.

“hey, we’re friends, right?” he smiles drunkenly this time, and a slight hum leaves his lips.

you knew the question was of good nature, and you didn’t dislike topper, but he wasn’t exactly your favourite person either. so, not wanting to hurt his feelings while he clearly wasn’t all there, you decide to indulge him a little, “of course we are, buddy.”

“it’s just… i know you hang out with the pogues, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends? i’ve always been nice to you, and i know kelce thinks you’re cool, but rafe, he’s a tough one. he really hates pogues, and you’re like choosing to be-”

“topper, let’s go, man!” kelce shouts as he makes his way over to you, and a few steps behind him staggered along rafe cameron, “some of us are going back to mine.”

seemingly frustrated, kelce tries to get his friend to leave while rafe appears far more interested in the cup between his lips. when he does eventually look up at topper, his eyes fall on you under his friend’s arm for a moment before he runs a hand across his forehead and looks away as though he hadn’t paid you any attention at all.

“maybe you should get him a leash?” the suggestion falls from your lips, and from behind the cup in his hand, you swore you saw rafe smirk. though, it’s gone faster than it had appeared.

kelce lets out a soft chuckle, “don’t tempt me.”

“hey, y/n, why don’t you come with us?” topper turns to you with more enthusiasm than you could handle on a good day. like a golden retriever that was just given his favourite ball.

“as tempting as that sounds... i will have to pass.” removing his arm, you push him towards kelce, who reluctantly catches him.

“why not? it’ll be fun, and kelce and rafe will be there!”

“actually, i’ve, uh, i’ve got somewhere to be,” rafe discloses, taking the last sip of his drink before throwing the empty cup into the trash pile and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “so, i’m going to have to skip on tonight too.”

not wanting to stick around for the conversation about to be had, which would mostly consist of topper whining for rafe to go with them, you take your leave from the trio, “alright. well, i’m going to go. you boys have fun.” and as you pass through them, your arm accidentally brushes against rafe.

you don't think much of it, but the small graze seemed to have attracted his attention, because when you look back, his eyes are already watching you walk away.

the air was no longer sticky as you walked towards the main road. the temperature had dropped enough to cause an array of bumps on your arms and you cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket. the coolness nipped at your skin, and you helplessly wrapped your arms around yourself to gather as much warmth as possible.

the street was quiet, other than the distant sound of music from the boneyard and the occasional bark from a neighbourhood dog. the sky was dark with nothing but the stars helping guide you home, which only made it more noticeable when a set of headlights turned into the street. the sound of an engine began to approach you, slowing to meet your side before eventually coming to a stop.

“y'know, it’s at least an hour walk back to figure eight, right?” the driver points out, and an undeniable smirk tugs at the corner of your lips before you turn to see rafe leaning his head out the open window.

“really?” you retort, cocking your head to the side. “... what took you so long then?”

rafe licks his lips to try and downplay the smile on his face as you near the car, his eyes trailing up and down your body, "well, you know how it is?"

"topper wouldn't shut up," you say in unison, scrunching up your face as you nod.

"i guess that means i'll just have to make it up to you," he looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on the skin surrounding your chest and noting how the smallest cherubs of your nipples were poking through your bikini top.

smiling coyly, you sink towards him, pushing a hand to run across the stubbled hair on his head, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, "you better." your words muffle against him.

he hums with approval, a smug look on his face as you pull his bottom lip between yours, giving it a small tug, "you better hurry up and get in then."

you scrunch your nose at him before running around the other side of the car, and it doesn't take long at all for the two of you to reunite with the comforts of rafe's bedroom. the familiar scent of his vanilla lotion, cologne, and a hint of tobacco filling your senses the second he opens the door, and what was once a relevantly clean floor was now being littered with discarded clothing.

his fingers were gentle as they danced across your skin, loosening the knot in the back of your bikini with ease, before hoisting you up around his waist and leading you to his bed where he places you down atop his cotton sheets. his fingers make haste to remove the last pieces of your clothing as he peppers sweet kisses along your jawline, down to your neck.

rafe's kisses were reverent, his touch worshipping, as he slowly revealed every last piece of you. like a precious gift being unwrapped for all to see, but only rafe got the pleasure of doing so.

his breath is hot as he traipses his kisses further down your chest, and his lips soft as he presses them perfectly around the nubs of your breasts. flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin and erupting a whirlwind of rampant butterflies in your stomach.

"god, look at you," he mumbles, a hand now rolling down your waist, your thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him the most. you needed to feel him, needed him to touch you, and he knew it. he could tell by the way your hips were ever so slightly bucking up to try and reach his hand. "so needy, baby."

smirking, he slowly glides his fingers over your clit and then begins working small torturous circles over it. your chest starts to rise and fall, the breathe being pulled from your lungs, and rafe pushes the side of his other hand into your mouth to help muffle your moans.

it's then that he presses two fingers inside you, letting his thumb continue to work you as he slowly pumps them in and out. your hips jut up, the pleasure working it's way through you until you couldn't bare it much longer. then it stops.

"rafe..." you whine, panting.

"what? you really think i'm going to waste the chance to have you cum around me?" he meets your face, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking your juices off of them, "not when you taste this sweet."

then, without warning, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. letting nothing else stand between you both, he takes your mouth in a heated kiss. his tongue teasing you skilfully until you're left breathless. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you want him more.

with one hand gripping at your thigh, he uses the other to give himself a few pumps before swiping along your slit to gather your wetness. you jolt as the tip of his cock touches your clit, which he can't help but snicker at, and he slowly starts to push himself in.

rafe was big, there was no denying that, and you would have to bury your head in his shoulder from time to time to stop yourself from crying out as you sink down on him. you could feel him everywhere, and while you didn't have anything to compare it to, you had never felt so full in your life than when rafe was inside you.

it takes a moment to adjust but once he starts moving, all the pressure that had built up quickly turns into pleasure. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him as close to you as you possibly could, your chests moving together as one as he maintains his rhythm. you try to kiss him, but he feels too good inside that all you can do is let out breathy moans.

his thumb moves down to work your clit once more, adding to the pleasure tightening and compressing within your stomach. waves of ecstasy taking over your body as you succumb to your high while rafe tries his best not to cum in you.

you press your head against him as your orgasm rolls through your body, your walls clenching around him and daring to push him over the edge, "fuck, i love watching you cum."

you notice the way his pupils had dilated as he stares up at you now, and you press your lips to his as you slowly lift yourself off of him, immediately feeling empty inside.

"told you i'd make it up to you," he stretches his neck as he leans back to rest on his elbows, closing his eyes long enough for you to work your way down to his waist and take him in your mouth.

he was still so hard, and creamy from being inside you, that the second your lips came in contact, his head lulled back with a sigh. he was already so close to the edge that it didn't take long for him to blow his load in your mouth. and you didn’t waste a drop.

after recollecting yourself, rafe throws you one of his t-shirts to put on and you make yourself comfortable against the headboard of his bed. he, however, instinctively moves to rest his head in your lap, and your fingers idly run circles on his head.

whenever you were with rafe, it felt like all of your problems simply washed away. he made you feel things you never had before. he made you feel alive. and while you loved spending as much time with him as possible, there was always a bittersweet feeling gnawing at you, reminding you that none of this was real, because your time together always had to come to an end.

it was always easier to just rip off the band aid rather than to let it fester until it consumed your every thought.

"you okay?" rafe asks, taking notice of how quiet and spacey you were being. you nod, not wanting to turn this into anything. "you can tell me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand this time.

it was the small gestures like that that made it all the more difficult to keep sneaking around with him. you knew you could never tell him how you were really feeling but the longer you had to lie to your friends or hide away like he was ashamed to be seen with you, the more you wondered if this was how things would always be with him.

he had told you from the start that he had too much going on to be able to commit to anything or make promises he knew he couldn't keep, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. and no matter how many times he tried to reassure you that this wasn't just sex for him, he would always follow up with the fact that he couldn't let himself get carried away. not when ward was watching his every move.

“it’s fine, really,” leaning down, you press another kiss to his lips and then to his nose, “i promise.”

reluctant to believe you, he eventually nods before moving into your touch and nuzzling his face into yours as he kisses you once more. his hands move to guide you as your breath becomes ragged, and just as you’re about to get lost in him once more, you pull away, knowing that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

between breaths, you whisper, “it’s late. i should get going.”

rafe throws his head back into his pillow, heaving a sigh, and where you expected him to agree or even help you gather your clothes from where you had left them all over his floor, he instead stops you. his eyes flutter for a second, and his jaw tenses the way it did whenever he was fighting the thoughts in his head, trying to flush them out, and with a soft voice, he says, “… stay.”

an inaudible gasp leaves you as you contemplate whether or not you had heard him correctly and when you don’t answer, he pulls you back to the bed, "stay... please."

rafe had never asked you to stay before or vis versa, the night always ended with one of you sneaking home, and while you were ecstatic over the revelations, you were also sceptical as to what had changed his mind all of a sudden. he doesn't say anything else, just pulls you back between the sheets and wraps his arm firmly around your waist.

you hadn't given him an answer, but you knew you weren't going to say 'no', who knew if he would ever ask you to stay again. instead, you let yourself melt into his warmth where you remained until the sun began to rise.

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 ᡣ𐭩 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #— 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐟𝐰 .ᐟ

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yuquinzel · 1 year

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❛ ‧˚ IDLE TOWN — mikage reo.

notes ⨾ hurt / comfort, [ 1.6k wc ] i basically wrote this for practice but I'll post it bc i need feedback + my first attempt at actual angst so idk here have some reo angst i promise i'll make up for it with fluff later :P

you are leaving, for good. and reo knows he cannot stop it.

pause. rewind. he came back home three hours ago, everything was fine. or so he believed. he took note of your silence much quickly. you were talking, yes— but you were silent. he finds silence in your empty glances, less words and more hums for responses. you speak but your words are nothing more than incoherent blurbs of sound. you're silent when he asks you about your day, because you do not ask him the same.

he knows you well. too well to simply brush this of a result of exhaustion. the room he is in is cold, he winces because he does not find you in his arms and because that means you must be cold too. he knew to give you space, sometime to collect your thoughts as he does his.

but an hour or so has passed, reo wants to see you now. he can never always leave you to your thoughts for long lest you need a second voice to become the comforting reminder of not being alone. but if he's being honest, then this is more of a selfish act than a serving one. maybe more than you, he does not want to be left alone with his thoughts.

“hey,” a caffeinated sort of anxiety washes over him when he enters your shared bedroom. the air isn't awkward, but it is not comfortable either, “what're you up to?”

you are still silent, preferring a low and dismissive hum instead. he sits himself on the edge of the bed, hesitant as the way you'd approach a storm. he waits for eleven heartbeats— he knows because he can hear his heart— you don't say anything.

“talk to me, something's on your mind.” reo says. he feels your gaze scan him over, you are searching for something in him. that's the most of a response he's gotten out of you tonight. he hopes you find whatever answer you're looking for, an answer you've decided you won't find in his words.

“i don't know reo, i just— i'm exhausted.” you're lying. he can tell, you don't sound exhausted. you sound defeated. he also knows you are not lying to him, but to yourself. but he does not know what to say, maybe— maybe you still need time. it's okay, he reminds himself. we're okay, it repeats in his mind.

“then let's just get to bed, ’kay?” he can taste the desperation in his voice, it lingers like a bitter aftertaste. why he feels so unsure, he does not know. all he knows is that he doesn't like this — whatever this is — it's hollowing him out from the inside.

his hand instinctively comes to brush back the strands of hair behind your ear. he freezes when you recoil. “i— i'm gonna sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.” his heart stammers in his chest like your voice. you don't give him the luxury of a momentary pause, instead quickly standing up on your feet.

reo's just as quick. his hand envelopes your wrist, you wince a little from the harshness of his hold. “w-what? — no, you can't do that.” his voice is a little raised, long gone is the tenderness he always brings with himself. he's scared. he knows you are too. he looks at you, in hopes of a waver in your composure. you have been oddly calm this entire time, it settles uncomfortably in his stomach.

“i'm not asking you reo, i just need to be alone. just— just let me be.” there's a finality in your meek voice, reo winces at the biting tone.

but he's firm on his words, “this isn't fair, y/n. something's obviously bothering you and instead of talking to me like an adult, you're just giving me the fucking silent treatment? well, shit. i can't read your mind. talk to me— you always do.”

you have to look away, “i'm not doing this with you right now.” you wrestle your wrist out of his grip, walking out of the room with heavy steps that reo follows all too quickly— but you don't really walk into the guest bedroom as he'd feared. you stop. reo sucks in a deep, cold breath.

“what do you want from me?” your voice unfurls in shades of hurt, exhaustion and defeat altogether. reo furrows his brows, his heart beginning to pick up its rhythm, “no, what do you want from me? what did i even do wrong?”

“where were you today, reo? what was your day like?”

your question takes him aback, confusion weaving through the lines on his forehead. “what — you already know that, i texted you i had plans. you read my message, you replied.”

he pauses when a bitter, short-lived laugh leaves your lips. “right, you still don't remember.” your voice feels as empty as your null expression.

“we had a date today, reo. the date you promised to make time for, the date which was an apology because you haven't been home lately. that date — you forgot in favor of hanging out with your friends.” you are breathless now. reo can so clearly see the tears collecting in your eyes, and he also knows you're trying to keep them from falling. he knows you too well, after all.

reo feels lost. his shoulders slack in defeat, his thoughts blur altogether trying to make sense of your words. a heavy, stinging lump claws at his throat. it scratches him from inside until his voice bleeds in the form of quick and staggered breaths, “why — why didn't you say anything?”

this is where the tears trail down your cheeks, reo feels the ache to wipe the damp trails they leave in their wake. but he wills himself against it, he can not. he's afraid you'll burn if he touches you and he's not really ready for that. “i waited — i thought you'd remember. i was waiting for you.”

you don't wipe your tears yourself. because reo has always done that for you. he regrets his prior hesitance, and reaches out his hand to caress the side of your face. you're kind with that. you don't step back, you let him pad his thumb across your skin. he's grateful.

“i'm sorry,” he says. its heavy, but he doubts it carries much wait. “i'm sorry, i — i'm sorry. i'm such a fucking idiot. it just— ” he stammers, voice stuck in his throat. reo feels like he's choking on his words. he knows there's no way to undo the hurt, he knows you won't just forgive him with a few worded apologies. he knows he does not deserve it either. it took until your silence for him to finally hear you. it took until you decided to leave, for him to realize he would give up anything to make you stay.

“i don't want your sorry's reo, i'm tired, i — i want to leave.” a shaky exhale leaves you. next you're walking towards the main door instead of the guest bedroom. reo's feet are stuck to the ground. he swallows back the rising bile in his throat.

“no, wait, it — it's midnight, y/n, love, we still need to talk —”

“what's there to talk about now? what can you say besides you're sorry?”

you are leaving, for good. reo knows he cannot stop it.

but still he finds his feet following your steps. he finds his hand grasping your in attempts to get you to just wait, just— just listen. he finds his knees strike the earth, and although he's scared, he looks up at you once more. he finds himself at a loss for words yet with enough urgency to say something — anything — that it scorches his lips.

“please don't— please, i know i fucked up, i know.” he begins, and you're not so cruel as to walk away this time. “i know i can't say anything besides that i'm sorry, i'm so sorry i made you feel like you weren't important. i'm sorry i promised to do something about it and broke it. i'm so sorry i love you so much that i'm still too selfish to let you go—” you shiver with the slightest tremor in his voice, the crack in rushed breaths that's so very uncharacteristic of him. “— but stay. please stay, y/n. let me show you that you deserve better. please. i don't want to lose you, not like this.”

“reo, get up.” you breathe, voice still as shaky. reo's scared. he's scared to have said something wrong, scared that he pushed you even further way. scared that he has already lost you. but he gets on his feet back up.

it takes a few uncounted heartbeats before you speak again, “you promised reo, after you'd barely been home the entire month. and i waited like an idiot— i love you, so much that i don't know what to do with this anymore.”

reo consumes you in his embrace. it is nothing firm or strong, but just something to keep you close. it's grounding. reo feels all your breaths as they come and go, “we can figure it out. we'll talk, about everything. like we always do. you said we make a good team right? we can — we can talk about it in the morning.”

reo is afraid you'll disappear if he lets you go now, and you're finally holding on to him as well.

“i'm exhausted reo,” you whisper this time. but you are holding on to him, with something akin to the sincerity and the hope of being held the same way. so he does.

“i know, i love you. it's okay,” reo hums, he feels breathless. “we'll figure it out in the morning, yeah?”

it takes a weak nod from you to make his shoulders relax, all the worry lines of his forehead unwinding and as he rakes his fingers through your hair — he hopes it does the same for you. it has always calmed you down. he hopes that hasn't changed.

this is where he hooks an arm under your thighs, the other so gently wrapped over your shoulder as he lifts you up in one swift motion. you cling to him. reo is grateful.

he knows you have much to talk about. but when you let your head fall to rest on his chest, when you tell him you like the sound of his heart, when you still say you love him as he lays you down on the bed, the warmth pooling the sheets as much as your eyes — he knows the two of you will be alright.

you stay — and that's all reo cares about.

i don't really like this :D but okay anyway i hope you did + I'm tagging @venusbby @inariezaki @hyomagiri @rinnahhhh @kyoghurts @luvether and i still believe taglists are scary ^_^

#❛ ‧˚🪐 — the dusk renditions.#mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x you #reo mikage x you #blue lock angst #blue lock fluff #reo x reader fluff #reo angst #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #ive decided i hate writing angst for my precious munchkin

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bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!artist!reader

Part 17: A creature of love, I can't be tamed

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, series typical violence, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex with someone other than Eddie and reader, hate-fucking (consensual), oral (m receiving), sexual harassment, biker!steve, biker!billy, protective!eddie, rocker!nancy

word count: 6.4k

songs: I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Wild Child by W.A.S.P. and Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative

The second half of your first night back at the Velvet Hammer heats up with Eddie on stage, Charlene on the premises with Billy, and Steve working through his emotions in a moment of carnal desire.

authors note: It has felt so good to get back to writing this story, I missed our biker boys so much. It will probably be another week or two until the next part, but you won't have to wait too long. Thank you for your patience, I love you.

There came the sound of shrill feedback from the stage, and the drummer twisted his stick around his fingers before clapping the high hat. You took your break and met Eddie over by the carpeted hallway. The two of you huddled together, out of view from the front half of the bar, including Charlene and Billy.

“What’s Steve going to do?” You hushed, feeling the familiar anxiety rise inside of you that someone might get hurt again.

“Nothing for now,” Eddie exhaled. You put your hand on his chest, and he held it there. “You let me worry about Steve and Charlene, you have enough to do. I won’t let anything go sideways in here tonight.”

You told him about what you’d just learned from Shana, about Charlene being part owner of the Velvet Hammer, and he gave a slow blink, dragging out a long, ragged breath. “Why does that not surprise me,” you could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. “She can’t have this place, it’s ours,” he growled, walking you down the hall and clanking open the heavy metal back door to the alley.

“But,” you started. Eddie pulled a pack of smokes out of his front pocket and sparked a flame from his zippo to light the end. “Isn’t it too late for that? It sounds like she already took it?”

You held two fingers like you were making a peace sign for Eddie to pass you a smoke and he raised his eyebrow at you curiously. You gave a nod, answering his unspoken question, and he put a second one between his lips to light it for you before passing it over.

You took a tiny drag and coughed smoke out of your nose at first, but then the second inhale was smoother. Thanks to so many nights at the Hammer, your throat and lungs were sufficiently coated with tar and ready for the challenge.

The other owner of the Hammer was a well known real estate investor and builder named Murray Bauman, and he was a friend of the MC. They’d done several “jobs” for him over the years that were clean by MC standards, but dirty enough to ruin his reputation if they came to light. Murray was also notoriously unfriendly with the Gregson’s, and Eddie wondered how much Charlene had paid, and what kind of scandal she’d dug up on Stephen, to make him give up his share like that.

Eddie tilted his head back, exposing his throat, to take a long, thoughtful drag, looking up at the clear sky that was blinking full of stars. “I wish I could go back in time before I ever met Charlene, and avoid her at all costs.”

“I don’t know,” you looked down and kicked the heel of your shoe against your toe. “She’s awfully determined. I think she would’ve found you anyway. Plus, I don’t think it’s you she wants anymore.”

“I feel responsible though,” Eddie muttered, blowing smoke out through tight lips. “For everything that’s happened to the people around me because of her.”

The sound of Nancy saying something into the mic, followed by the crowd cheering, came muffled through the door, and you really wanted to change the subject, to pull him out of his dark thoughts. “I’d love to see you play tonight,” you told him right before both of your cherries glowed orange at the same time in the dark.

“I don’t have my guitar here,” he stated the obvious, sucking his tongue on the roof on a sharp inhale, angling his head back to blow smoke up while keeping his eyes on you. “But I might sing one or two with her. Just for you.”

“You can sing too?” Your eyes got wide like a little kid watching the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree.

“Hi, baby, have we met?” He scoffed, slipping his bottom lip through his teeth to repress a grin, and then he winked at you and smashed his smoke on the brick wall before throwing it in the dumpster. He caught you by the hips and pulled you flush to him. “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

—--------

Back on his stool, Steve rolled a toothpick between his lips while he scanned the crowd, and did his best not to look over at Billy and Charlene. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him more; the fact that she had the nerve to show up after everything, or that she was there with Billy.

The crew from Lucifer’s Own were known for doing the dirty deeds no other MC would touch. They ran a high-end escort service on the outskirts of town, and did a lot of blow and opiate smuggling over the border. It was also a front for an underground fighting ring that was dirty and rigged, and sometimes, the fools who participated ended up with broken bones, or had their lights turned out completely.

Billy Hargrove and Steve went way back, and they’d actually been friendly acquaintances for a while back in high school, until Billy had pursued a girl Steve liked at the time just to piss him off. Also, to prove to Steve that he could take whoever he wanted. “Nothing wrong with a little competition, right, Harrington?” Is that what this was? Was Billy escorting Charlene around just to rub it in Steve’s face?

“Yeah, well, you can have her,” Steve mumbled to himself under his breath, thoughts racing so fast that he was starting to talk to himself, head bent to work the end of the toothpick with his fingers. “Good luck with that one, buddy, you’ll need it.”

There was more feedback from the speakers. “Hey there Hawkins, who is ready to rock?” Nancy purred into the microphone, one hand gripping the fretboard of her guitar before she slung the strap around her body. People shouted and cheered, and there were a few high-pitched whistles of encouragement.

The bassist with the band looked like a younger version of Eddie, but with a mane of black hair that was thick with tight curls, and the drummer had a black goatee and long, straight hair way past his shoulders. The backup guitarist looked like he was cut right out of the James Hetfeild playbook.

“We’re gonna start out with a little something familiar to get y’all warmed up,” Nancy said into the mic. “This one is called I Hate Myself for Loving You.”

The crowd roared, pounding their fists on the tables. Nancy said a countdown before she began a slow clap to the beat and the drums kicked in, deep bass vibrating in the walls.

When Steve looked up, he saw Charlene making her way across the room, either for the payphone or the restrooms, and Steve straightened up, wondering if he should say something to her. He went up to the bar and patted Thumper on his broad back, asking him to watch the door for a few minutes. Thumper was three beers and several shots in, but was not yet showing any signs of inebriation. He fisted a handful of his graying beard and told Steve it was no problem.

“Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you…”

He followed but he hung back, hiding in the crowd until he saw her go into one of the bathrooms. When you and Eddie came out from the alley, you found Steve leaning against the wall that was heavily papered in band flyers, next to the payphone.

Eddie was walking behind you,his hands firm on your hips, moving his legs in time with yours. You both came to a halt at the sight of Steve, and you had to shove off, back to work, but Eddie took your hand to kiss your knuckles before you walked away.

“Everything cool?” Eddie asked his friend, checking around to make sure no chaos had ensued while he’d been outside with you. There was a huge crowd there, packed in like sardines. All of the tables and bar stools were occupied, and plenty of people were taking advantage of the standing room only, blocking most of the walkways.

“I’m not sure yet, man,” Steve put his head back against the wall, Adam’s apple jutting out. “But I’ll let you know.”

“I called Van and told him to get over here with Devlin,” Eddie let him know. “Just in case more of Lucifer’s Own try to cause trouble.”

Steve only nodded, absently, his eyes twitching to the bathroom door every so often. Eddie clapped Steve a few times on the arm before turning to watch the band as he pushed his way through the crowd. Nancy made her fingers into devil horns in the air at him and Eddie returned the gesture, raising his arm high.

“I think of you every night and day

You took my heart and you took my pride away…”

The crowd was stomping their feet to the rhythm and belting out the chorus. Nancy detached the mic from the stand to make her way across the stage.

The second Steve saw the door open, he took long strides across the hallway to keep Charlene from exiting, pushing her back inside the single-person bathroom. She did not protest as he braced the door and locked it behind him, turning to face her with a tight jaw.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Char?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” She hushed it, dropping her gaze as if suddenly she was afraid to look at him. “I missed you.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlene, you need to stop.” He rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at the hotel, but this needs to end.”

“But what if I don’t want to stop?” She closed in on him, lifting her hands to hold his face, but he blocked the effort, restraining her at the wrists. “What if I want you so bad, it hurts?”

He met her eyes. “You miss me and you thought fucking Billy would be the answer?”

“We’re not fucking, it’s not like that with him. Not like it was with you.” She struggled a little in his grasp just so he would tighten his grip on her.

Steve scoffed. “You mean, not like it was with me and Eddie and your husband and every other dude you’ve spread your legs for in this town?” Steve wasn’t one to judge, not with the amount of pussy he’d run through over the years, but still, showing up with one of his rivals was a low blow.

Charlene slammed forward so that Steve’s back hit the door, her breath hot and urgent on his neck. “No one fills me up like you do. I need your cock to split me open one last time, Stevie, please.”

She sank to her knees, kissing down his chest as she went, and he let her, releasing her wrists so that she could make quick work of unbuttoning his Levi’s. She licked around his balls and nuzzled her face in the hair at the base of his thick shaft, making hungry gasps of need as she did so.

He hissed when the fat head of his cock sank into her mouth. “Juss…just one more time,” he groaned as she lapped him up. She hummed around his length and nodded, looking up at him, agreeing as her lips strained to take the measure of his girth.

“I know you’re angry, Steve,” she flicked her tongue out over the ridge a few times like a poisonous snake about to strike. “I want you to take it out on me.”

He fisted a handful of her hair, tight, so that he controlled the movements of her head, and it made her whimper with pleasure.

—------

The next song Divine Filth sang was an original, a real headbanger that had Nancy growling into the mic and jabbing her devil horn fingers in the air. The bass guitarist’s fingers strummed the keys while the drummer spun his sticks high in the air and caught them. You noticed that a few of the male patrons were choosing to go outside to take a piss, which meant there was another line at the bathrooms again, but you were too busy to go over and check out why.

While Erika was on her break, it was your responsibility to go over and check on Billy, since Jackie was working the other side of the room. Two more of the Coffin Kings had just arrived and Eddie was out in the parking lot having a talk with them, being that it was hard to have a conversation inside with the band playing.

You made your way over to Billy’s table, noticing that Charlene was nowhere to be found. One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin while he watched you approach, and you wondered if he knew who you were and who you belonged to. You also wondered if he gave a shit.

As you got closer, you noticed that he had a pronounced scar from his eye to his jaw, and he didn’t have a ton of tattoos like the other boys, but there was the word “mother” above a heart with a dagger through it just under the sleeve of his t-shirt on his bicep and a Lucifer’s Own insignia on his opposite forearm.

He was slouched down a bit in his seat, knees spread wide, voice raised to be heard over the music. “You must be War Machine’s old lady,” he gave you a lift of his chin.

“You are correct,” you said with your best customer service smile.

“Damn,” his hand made a cage around the pack of smokes on the table so he could pull it toward him. His eyes locked onto your face, unwavering. “That son of a bitch always had good taste.”

“If you say so,” you checked over your shoulder, expecting to see Eddie charging over with that dangerous scowl on his face, but he wasn’t inside yet. You cleared your throat. “Can I get you anything else?”

He ordered another beer for himself and a tequila for Charlene, even though you knew she was much more of a wine drinker.

“Just put it on Charlene’s tab,” he said with a wink, alluding to the fact that she was practically your boss now. “But this is for you,” and before you could reach for the 20 dollar bill he had in his hand, he was stuffing it into the waistband of your shorts, fingers grazing your bare skin, watching the discomfort wash over your face as he did so.

You turned on your heel without another word, bee-lining back to the bar, when Eddie stepped through the main door so abruptly, you almost crashed into him.

Devlin and Van moved around the two of you while Eddie put one hand on your lower back and the other cupped the back of your neck. “You okay, baby?” He mumbled, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, but then Eddie looked over in the direction you had just come and saw Billy there, flicking the flame on his lighter and watching the interaction between the two of you. You knew what Eddie was looking at by the way his body tensed. “Did Billy say something to you?”

“I had to wait on his table while Erika was on her break,” you were pulling your boyfriend away as you were talking, practically dragging him back to his seat at the bar. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. I just missed you.”

On stage, Nancy lit into a mean guitar solo.

“You sure?” Eddie’s stare was hard.

“Hey,” you grabbed Eddie’s face, making him look at you. “Baby, can’t you see? He wants to start trouble. Just ignore him. Please, for me.”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw muscles bulged and a dark fell over his brown eyes, making them almost black.

“No baby,” you hummed the lie. Eddie had quite a bit of common sense, more so than Steve when it came to affairs of the heart, but you knew that someone would get hurt if you told him about the way Billy had slid that money into your shorts. You had no doubt that Eddie could handle himself, but you didn’t want there to be any more fighting; everyone had already been through enough. Plus, Billy was not the first guy at the Hammer to overstep, and he wouldn’t be the last. Sadly, that was the nature of the work, you’d come to realize.

Eddie took a breath and lowered his forehead to yours, slotting his fingers around your ears so that his thumbs grazed your cheeks. “I’ll be good, sweetheart,” he promised.

Everyone clapped at the end of the song and then you heard Eddie’s name being said over the speakers.

“We’re lucky enough to have the frontman for Corroded Coffin here with us tonight,” Nancy started. “And he said he might get up here for a song or two. What do you say, Munson?”

The crowd went wild at that suggestion, and some even chanted his last name, punching fists into the air. Nancy motioned him on stage with a few scoops of her fingers.

“I guess I’m doing this,” he said, parting your lips with his tongue for a brief but firm kiss before he made his way to the stage. The James Hetfield guy was already taking off his guitar to hand it to Eddie before he could protest, and they clapped hands together in greeting. Your “old man” was adjusting the strap over his shoulder when he looked out over the sea of heads and caught your eye.

“I love you,” Eddie mouthed, taking the pic off of the chain that he had dangling around his neck.

—-------

Five minutes earlier, Steve had Charlene bent over the sink in the bathroom, jeans low on his hips, yanking her head back by the throat as he jackhammered himself inside of her.

“Tighter,” she whined, and his fingers closed in on her windpipe. He’d pushed her thong to the side and was spitting every so often so that he could watch it slide down her slit and mix with the frothing wet mess of her arousal where his cock sank into her. He didn’t need the saliva to lube his brutal pace, but he liked the idea of spitting on her, it helped him work through his hatred.

“God Steve, you’re so fucking good, fuckkk,” she dragged the last word out as hips clapped onto her with rapid, forceful grunts, making her whole body jerk each time he made contact.

He slowed the pace for a few thrusts so that he could spit again, and then he used his thumb to rub the saliva around the pink hole that tightened at his touch. He’d never been with a woman who had every inch of hair removed like her, she looked like some kind of porn star. He wanted to be in her ass one last time, but it felt too tight and warm where he was. He was close.

He let go of her throat and clutched her hips on either side in a way that would bruise, angling to finish himself off.

“You’re such a fucking whore for my cock,” he bit out. He wished she didn’t feel so fucking good. He wished that his disgust for her didn’t also turn him on in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Charlene’s eyes rolled back in her head, orgasm mounting rapidly as he buried himself base deep to a point where the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. She knew this was a farewell reminder, and it made her cry out his name.

“Fuck Steve, I’m cumming,” a few more pumps and she was exploding around his length, legs shaking at the way the wave crashed over her, making her see white.

“Get on your knees,” Steve told her, his hips stuttering. When she was down in front of him, he jerked himself the rest of the way off onto her outstretched tongue, ropes of cum painting her chin and dripping down to her cleavage. He made her lick the rest of him clean, and then she sucked her fingers.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, hold your fucking horses,” Steve shouted, pulling his jeans up. He helped Charlene get her bodysuit back on and zipped up. He almost kissed her, but then he remembered who she was.

He checked himself in the mirror and slicked his hair back before letting her know she should wait a minute until after he was gone before she followed him out. She was cleaning the mascara that had leaked down her cheeks, and was about to apply more lipstick, when she caught his eyes on her in the reflection.

“What if I told you I had a gift for you?” Her expression was coy.

Steve sighed. “I don’t want anything from you, Char. This was it, I’m done, I mean it.”

She rolled the red lipstick out of its gold tube. “What if it was something that would change your life?”

He thought about that, wetting his lips. “Listen, we’re never gonna fuck again. I don’t care if you buy me a Ferrari.”

“Well, it’s better than a car,” she huffed a small laugh. “Let’s just call it a…parting gift. A way for me to say sorry for everything I put you and Eddie through.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and put his back against the door. “Yeah, well, if this is about to be some grande gesture from you, I’d like to know what the catch is.”

She turned to him, fixing the ends of her hair around her face. “No catch, not this time,” she took a step forward, holding her black clutch in one hand. “Listen, I know it sounds childish and stupid, but I think I…I think I fell in love with you.” She furrowed her brow as if the sentiment didn’t make sense to her, as if she’d never grasped the weight of the words before.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he rolled his eyes and barked a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“I can’t change the past,” she tried to push her chest out, to get her statuesque posture back. “But I can try to make it up to you. To both of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve gave her a bored shrug. “Personally, I think you’re way past the point of redemption.”

“Maybe,” she pressed her lips together and took hold of the door handle. “I guess we’ll see.”

—------

All of your attention was eyes front on Eddie as he leaned over to discuss something with Nancy, lengthening the strap on his guitar as he spoke. You barely noticed someone trying to make their way through the crowd until Steve bumped into your shoulder, making you sway on your feet.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he caught you and helped you find your balance. “I didn’t see you there.”

Steve looked…disheveled, and his face was flushed, as if he’d just run around the block. There were lines in his hair from raking his fingers through it so many times.

“You good?” You called after him, but all he offered was a “thumbs up” over his shoulder.

It was barely a minute before you caught sight of Charlene coming out of the hallway, following in his wake. She had a pink flush to the pale skin of her throat, almost a perfect handprint impression, and your brain was busy putting the pieces together when Nancy got back on the mic.

“This one is called Wild Child,” Nancy started on the guitar and people in the crowd got crazy again. The Hell’s Belle next to you whistled so loud, it almost blew your eardrum out. You weren’t too familiar with the band W.A.S.P. before Eddie, but you knew the song, and waited eagerly to hear his voice as he leaned in, moving his fingers along the strings.

“I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain

A creature of love, and I can't be tamed

I want you, 'cause I'm gonna take your love from him

And I'll touch your face and hot burning skin

No, he'll never ever touch you like I do…”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sang the first bit, hair hanging down his shoulders, muscles flexing under the ink that covered his forearms and hands. When his eyes opened, he found you in the crowd, and your heart swelled at the way he cracked a smile around the words at the sight of you.

“So look in my eyes and burn alive, the truth

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you…”

God, he was magic up there. He looked like a natural, holding that guitar in his hands, the way his fingers flew deftly to each note.

And he was all yours.

The chorus came and you sang the words, smiling so hard already, your cheeks hurt. You’d never known your eyes to “sparkle” like a cartoon before, but you felt like that’s what they were doing.

“My heart's in exile, I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I want you”

Someone grabbed your elbow, and you spun around to see who it was.

Jackie had a full tray in her hand, trying to balance it amidst the moving bodies. “Hey, are you on the floor right now? Don’t mean to be a bitch, but I need you. A table full of jarheads just showed up.”

“Oh shit, right,” you’d honestly forgot where you were for a moment, you’d been so caught up in that Munson Magic. You took another glance at the stage, wanting to catch Eddie’s eye, but he was looking down at his hands, concentrating on where they worked the guitar.

The table in your section that Jackie mentioned had seven guys in their mid-twenties sporting that type of “high and tight” haircut that you saw almost exclusively with members of military or law enforcement, and you took a deep breath, because you never knew what the vibe would be for those types of men who visited the Hammer. Either they’d be extremely polite like they just came from church, or they’d be vile and disrespectful.

“What’ll it be tonight, boys?” You asked, sidling up to their table. “Buy one pitcher of draft and get the next half off.”

They all turned to appraise you, not caring that the way their lewd stares locking on your body and tits made you uncomfortable.

“See, I told you,” the dark haired one said to the one in the red and white striped polo shirt. “The bitches here are super hot.”

You gulped, doing your best to restrain from looking as disgusted as you felt while they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“How much for you to sit in my lap?” One of them asked.

“How much for you to suck me off?” One of them whispered, and the whole table guffawed into the type of laughter that was not warranted for something that was so not funny.

You checked over your shoulder for Steve, and he appeared to be escorting someone out who’d just been cut off. There was a bench outside, and he always had them wait there while he called a member of their family or a taxi to come pick them up. The guy was having a hard time getting his legs to work, and Steve had to practically carry him out.

You glanced up at the stage when the other song ended, and you could tell Eddie was searching for you, and so you stuck your hand up in the air to catch his attention.

“This one is for my girl,” he pushed hair out of his face and the sentiment made you freeze. A goofy grin stretched across your face and you let out an actual giggle. You were very familiar with the opening notes of Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative.

“So, a pitcher of beer, then?” You asked, distracted, but in a much better mood than you were a few seconds ago. The guys at the table were too busy being crass to decide what they wanted to drink, so you chose for them. They agreed on the pitcher, and ordered a round of shots.

You kept your attention on Eddie as you made your way across the space, and your heart was in your throat at how proud you were to be his. His voice was deep and powerful, and it seemed like no one could pull their eyes away. The air was a bit humid inside, and you could see a sheen of sweat on his skin already glistening, bangs sticking to his forehead. He’d taken off his Coffin Kings cut and shirt, so he was up there in a ribbed, white tank of the Hanes variety, exposing the wash of dark tattoos over his shoulders and arm muscles that bulged from hours upon hours of manual labor.

“I want to live with a cinnamon girl

I could be happy the rest of my life with her

A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night

You see us together, chase the moonlight…”

At the bar, you considered letting Van and Devlin know that there were some guys there who might start trouble now that Steve was distracted, but then you remembered that you were the bad bitch who stabbed Craig in the balls and brought him to his knees—-you could handle a few young douchebags.

You gave Shana the drink order while Eddie’s deep voice bellowed, “my cinnamon girl, my cinnamon girl…” to the collective swooning of the crowd.

You waited on two other couples, lingering in the middle of the room so that you could see Eddie more clearly, dragging your feet before you had to return to the guys with the matching haircuts.

You took a cleansing breath and squared your shoulders before heading back. You tried not to be bothered by the way the dudes checked you out as you put the drinks down. When you were finished, the guy closest to you, with close-set eyes and a thick neck, ran his hand up the back of your leg.

“Hey,” your stare hardened on him and you stepped away, eyebrows pinching together. “No touching.”

The guys all snickered at that, as if it was so funny that they all knew they weren’t supposed to touch the staff, but they still got away with it.

“No he’s sorry, really,” said the tall, skinny one who hadn’t spoken up yet. His face was unreadable, you couldn’t tell if he was being a shitheel or not. The table fell silent for a beat. “But we would really like to know how much it would cost for handjobs, all around. Is there a group price for you girls?”

More idiotic cackling.

You turned to leave them, to go find Steve, to let him know you needed his assistance, but the one with the blonde hair and Limp Bizkit shirt caught you by the arm, digging his fingers in, and yanked you back so that his other hand could roam the curve of your ass. “Just a little feel, baby, we’ll tip good, I promise.”

You pushed him off and were just about to yell for Steve or Thumper when you saw the guy across the round table get his face smashed into the wood, so hard that blood splattered and you could hear the sick crack of breaking bone.

You were surprised to see Billy there, standing behind the one who was clutching his broken nose and wailing. He was smiling, cigarette bobbing between his lips. “I think you bozo’s should apologize to the lady.”

You hadn’t heard the music stop, didn’t realize that the commotion had drawn most of the attention to you.

In a flash, the guy in the Limp Bizkit shirt was ripped from his seat, and there was Eddie, picking him up by the throat to punch him across the face, sending him flying.

The impact made saliva and possibly a tooth go spitting from his mouth and you screamed at the shock of it.

“Eddie look out!” You shouted. The tall one was about to take a cheap shot at Eddie’s ribs while he sank another punch into the guy’s jaw, but you came down with your serving tray as hard as you could and nailed him.

“Holy shit,” Steve cursed when he stuck his head inside to see what the commotion was. Thumper was nowhere to be found, and Steve figured he was taking a piss. Starting brawls inside the Hammer was not protocol. Bouncers were always encouraged to take everything outside, but now it was too late.

“Get her out of here!” you heard Steve’s voice, he was talking to Devlin, and then you were being pulled back by cautious hands, away from the chaos.

One of the jarheads was just about to break a beer glass over Eddie’s head, but Billy showed up out of nowhere and kicked him in the back, sending the asshole flying right into Steve’s awaiting fist. The guy’s body crashed into a table, shattering glasses, and making the other patrons scatter.

“You better leave this one for me, Harrington,” Billy smiled and wiggled his tongue. “Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Billy was helping them, and that was a twist you hadn’t expected. Perhaps it wasn’t so much for them as for himself, since you could tell Billy had been looking for a fight all night.

Steve got one of the other guys in a choke hold and began to drag him outside. Billy made wide eyes at one of the leftover trouble makers and charged after him, making the guy shriek like he was about to pee his pants before running from the building.

While the one Eddie had been punched was babbling at the foot of unconsciousness on the ground, he took hold of the one with the close-set eyes and the thick neck who had rubbed your leg first.

Eddie had been watching, and quick to cut off before the end of the song to jump down from the stage in a blinding rage.

Devlin held you loosely by the arms, but you shook him off, and stood next to Shana and Erika, continuing to keep your distance for the sake of Eddie and Steve’s peace of mind, and wincing each time one of the other dudes took a hard hit from one of the Coffin Kings.

Eddie took the guy by the shirt and sent a punch into his stomach. Mister Thick Neck doubled over but then Eddie took him by the throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. Eddie had his fist winding back for a punch when Steve shouted his name to get his attention.

The rest of the dickheads had been escorted outside by a few Hell’s Belle’s, while the rest of the crowd kept their distance. You saw Charlene in the far corner, touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror, seemingly unphased by it all.

“Not in here,” Steve pleaded with Eddie, breathlessly. “Like you said.”

Eddie’s eyes were black and cold like that of a shark. His mouth trembled with the urge to actually bite into the guy’s face, to mutilate him with his bare teeth and make him beg for mercy.

Eddie banged the guy's body into the brick wall again, locking him there with his forearm. “Apologize to my girl,” he growled.

The buzz cut guy coughed and struggled, having a hard time breathing. “I don’t know who your girl is, man,” he was only able to squeak out a mild protest under the pressure of Eddie’s grip.

“Your waitress,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth.

The guy against the wall tried to turn his head to look for you, but Eddie squeezed his face. “You don’t get to look at her,” Eddie fumed. “Just say you’re sorry.”

Multiple desperate “sorry’s” followed, and then Eddie told Steve to get the guy’s wallet to take all of the cash out. A quick count said there was about a hundred bucks.

“That’ll be her tip,” Eddie announced, dragging him by the shirt collar to take him outside with the rest.

They were all told to empty their wallets of their cash, and Steve made a scene of noting the addresses on their driver’s licenses.

“I have a memory like a steel trap,” Steve lied, pointing to his temple, grabbing the guy in the red and white polo by the side of his neck, getting up in his face. “If you so much as walk by this place ever again, or tell the cops about this, you’ll see me in your nightmares. Now, get the fuck out of here before I call your mommies.”

You sank in next to Eddie’s side just outside the main entrance, and he put his arm around you. “Will things ever calm down around here?” You asked with a heavy sigh, watching the broken group scurry and limp away down the street.

Eddie gave a low laugh and hugged you a bit tighter. “God, I hope so, baby.”

Divine Filth started another song, to try and get things back to normal, and most of the crowd returned to their drinks as if there had not been actual bloodshed just five minutes ago.

No one but Shana heard the phone next to the cash register ring over the sound of the music, but after a few seconds, she shrugged by you and Eddie to stick her head out and scan the sidewalk.

"Steve?" She craned her neck to look for him.

"Yeah, that's me," he came from around the back side of the door, flicking his cigarette, knuckles split and bloody again.

"Some guy named Dustin called," she said, merely passing on a message. "He said Suzie just went into labor."

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Love love you all for cheering this story on, hope you enjoyed this one. Your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated and cherished.

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#I'm on Fire #Eddie munson fic #Eddie Munson series #biker!eddie #biker!steve #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington smut #biker au #90's au #Nancy Wheeler #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Spotify #protective!eddie #jealous!eddie

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

Text

Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! this is a repost because some bitch ass reported my original posting of this fic 🙄

warnings: asshole exes, anxiety, some alcohol

You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you always loved to spend time with him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored.

But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the outfit never meant for his view.

“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality. A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed.

You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”

He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”

A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”

He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text.

As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it.

“Are you sure…” you said, your voice timid. “Is it okay if I wear this?”

Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”

Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”

You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly though you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be.

“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back.

“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”

You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”

The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a group of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar.

But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.

Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your tantalizing, magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.

And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for outsiders and made sure your drinks were safe- nothing felt out of the ordinary.

And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention a creepy stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips.

When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.

“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.

“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.

He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped your foot out of the tight shoe. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?”

A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”

Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek. “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. But he needed to know. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you. He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.”

A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”

“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.

“I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.

He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided.

He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt. To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up?

He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing.

He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.

“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”

“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.

Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t need to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”

You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at.”

Bucky nodded and left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-” He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.

You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”

“But what if-”

“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and came up empty, “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”

“Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.

“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous name. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets or those little pasty things, that’s your choice.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things eased the tension in your shoulders, the apprehension in your chest remained.

“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.

Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”

Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”

Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”

This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting.

But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.

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martinsluvr · 7 months

Text

coffee and basketball

pairing: kate martin x fem reader! 2022-2023 season!

warnings: fluff! friends to lovers trope!? small mention of drinking! mentions of anxiety/fear of love!

authors note: pls be gentle this is my first fic

—

dec 5th 2022 ~ post iowa win against iowa state (dec 4th). score 70-57. kate martin with 13 points.

reader’s pov

the energy in iowa city was booming after last night’s win. i’ve been working at this coffee shop in iowa city since my freshman year of college and i’ve become accustomed to talking “game talk” my entire shift the day after a game, and if any of the players decide to stop in to do homework or for a quick drink, i sympathize as i watch them get trapped into nonstop conversations about basketball. iowa city is extremely proud of and cherishes our women’s basketball team, and quite frankly you never hear the end of it when you’re living here.

our coffee shop gets quite busy everyday, and my shift passes by with ease. as i’m finishing making the last order i took before clocking out, i see two familiar blondes walk in.

“hiiii!!! great game you guys!! your usuals today?”

“hey y/n thank you, yes please! how are you? when are you actually going to come to a game in person!” monika exclaimed. after working here for so long, we’ve developed a genuine friendship, sometimes catching up for a drink or just enjoying each other’s company in our apartments.

“i know, i know.. i promise i will before the season ends!” i laughed as i made their drinks. “kate, you did really good last night, i really wish i could’ve been there”.

i could see kate blushing out of the corner of my eye as I finished making their drinks, and monika nudging her. “y/n i am going to drag you to the next home game myself, kate always looks around and hopes you’re the-“ monika was interrupted by kate obnoxiously faking a cough attack. i laughed, blushing and handed them their drinks. as i handed kate her drink, our fingertips slightly touched and we made eye contact.

“in the meantime maybe we can go to open gym tonight? i can rebound for you and give you time to reenact some of your moves from the game for me” i said as i smiled up at kate with my eyebrows raised. although i was NOT short, yet kate disagrees, she was still 8 inches taller than me as I stood at 5’4. “we can meet at my apartment at 6 if you’re up for it”.

kate knew what i was doing. i knew what i was doing.

kate’s pov

my palms were immediately sweating. i looked down at her and honestly just forgot every single thing she’s said since i walked in because i cannot stop looking at her eyes and how well they compliment her dark hair, she just dyed it - i can tell. My eyes scan over her exposed tattoos on her arm and i quickly look back into her eyes so i don’t look like more of a creep than i already do.

“6pm is good. i’ll be there. at 6”, i tried playing it cool. she laughed, shaking her head and saying her quick goodbyes as she had to rush to her 2 o’clock class.

“you know you said 6 twice. i think she knew what time considering SHE asked YOU” monika explained while almost tumbling over laughing. “i mean kate, you should’ve seen your face. you two have been doing this for a year now. why have you not made a move on her? she’s clearly interested in you”

i sighed, “monika I don’t know. i really do like her but it’s just scary. i don’t know if i can commit to something, especially right now. basketball is our life and how will someone ever be able to fall in love with me if i can only see them for a few hours a week?” monika rubbed my shoulder and brought me in for a hug.

“just because you are a D1 athlete does not mean this is your entire life. you still deserve to have a life outside of basketball, and if anyone, she would be the most understanding” monika said, “you’ve got to make a move before she gives up. i know she’s into you kate. you deserve to feel and be loved”.

she really always was right.

we spent the rest of the day doing homework together and making lunch. as it got closer to 6, i could feel the knots in my stomach getting worse. luckily, we lived in the same apartment complex so it was a quick walk to her apartment.

5:55pm and i’m already at her door. is that too early? too desperate?

i knock a few times to let her know i’m here. i could just say i came early so i could see her cats

i looked down twiddling my thumbs, patiently waiting.

“coming!” i heard faintly from her apartment. she opened the door and quickly embraced me.

“kate hi! i just have to feed my cats before we leave so just come in for a minute” she said while frantically trying to feed her cats before they tried jumping into the food. i stepped into her apartment and patiently waited, laughing as her cats were jumping up her legs and meowing.

“you know, i’ve always been a dog person but i love your cats. they are just so adorable and have such a personality” i remarked.

“hah yeah, you can take them whenever. they are the best for cuddling but feeding them is still terrifying” she laughed.

she collected her bag, which i offered to hold, her water bottle and keys. we locked up her apartment and walked down to her car.

“midnights?” we asked in unison, both laughing after realizing we jinxed each other. i adore that she loves taylor swift almost as much as i do. i plugged in my phone to her aux and shuffled the album. as we started driving to our practice gym, i couldn’t help but steal glances at her, imagining what it would be like if we were more than friends, if i wasn’t so scared, i thought. i wouldn’t be afraid to hold her hand or her thigh while one of us drives. i wouldn’t be afraid to kiss her at every red light. i wouldn’t be afraid of love with her.

we pulled into the parking lot and i quickly grabbed both of our bags, and we made our way inside. no one had the practice gym booked for tonight, so it was just us. i put in my code to enter the gym, and we settled our stuff down.

“so.. what are we doing today coach kate” she smiled widely at me. i grinned and grabbed the rack of basketballs, pulling it next to the free throw line.

“well, let’s work on some free throw shots first”.

reader’s pov

after an hour of rebounding for kate and even taking some shots for myself, i decided to line myself up at the free throw line. i was never one to play sports, but i’ve always loved watching them. i’ve always been so jealous of people’s hand-eye coordination, as it never seemed to work for me which led to me burying myself in studies and clubs for years.

i try to fix my form like kate taught me, then launched it.

miss.

again, i grabbed another ball and launched it.

miss.

and again, and again. miss. miss. miss.

kate stifled a laugh watching me, and as i turned to glare at her she put her arms up in surrender.

“here, let me help you. we’ve already gone over this y/n, are you missing on purpose?” she questioned. i shook my head, my breath getting faster the closer she got to me. i faced the basket with the ball in my hands hoping to hide my blush.

“here, move over a little” kate said as she put her hands on my waist, moving me to the right a little. “now put your right hand here, and your left hand here” she said as she guided my hands from behind. all i could focus on was her breath on my neck and how close our bodies were without touching. “now shoot”

straight net.

“see! you can do it! but, can you guard me?” she questioned as she quickly knocked the new ball out of my hands, dribbling away from me.

“kate, of course i can guard you” i laughed chasing after her. we played 1 on 1 for a few minutes, her scoring on me multiple times and me not even able to keep the ball in my hands for more than a minute. as i jumped up to block her shot, i tumbled over her as we both fell to the ground. her arms were quick to grab my waist to ensure i fell on her instead of the hard wood court.

“kate!” i exclaimed laughing, “you could’ve hurt yourself and lisa would have actually hunted me down and killed me!”

we were both laughing as i rolled off of her and laid next to her on the ground. she turned over to look at me with a wide smile. we grabbed each other’s hands as we helped each other up, yet i stumbled into her again.

“a little clumsy tonight aren’t we?” she teased. her hands hesitant to continue holding my waist as we stood centimeters apart.

“i guess you just make me a little nervous” i confidently stated. our eyes stayed locked in for a minute, and for a split second i swore i saw her look at my lips, until she quickly pulled away almost breaking out in a sprint to our bags.

“we should get going, the janitors will be here soon to start locking up” she hurriedly said.

with a heavy sigh, i walked towards the exit grabbing my keys and water bottle as we made our way to the exit.

the car ride to the apartment complex was silent. i felt uneasy. is it me? is she just not into me? i thought. as i pulled in to my spot, kate offered to walk me back up to my apartment. the walk was long,

and silent. as i got to my door, i pulled out my key as fast as i could to unlock the door. “thank you for walking me kate, goodnight” i said as i tried rushing into my apartment. before i could shut my door, she put her hand out to hold it open”

“wait y/n,” she hesitated, “there’s been something i’ve been meaning to do for a while now”. kate strides towards me, reaching out to put one hand on my hip and one hand on my check, quickly pulling me up towards her and before i knew it, she kissed me.

she really kissed me.

her lips were soft. i could feel our smiles through the kiss and my heart nearly beating out of my chest, i wonder if she felt it too. kate pulled away first, looking down at me smiling, moving both hands to my cheeks.

“goodnight y/n” she said as she kissed my forehead. she backed away towards the door, and left before i could say a word.

i sheepishly slid my back down the cold wooden front door and made my way down to the floor. between the heat on my cheeks, tingling sensation on my lips, and the sound of my heartbeat thumping through my chest, nothing else in the world mattered in that moment. i delicately brought my finger to my lips, trying to relive the feeling through the sensations. my cheeks were hot and hurting. 'have I ever smiled this big in my life?', I thought. my legs slightly shaking as i slowly got up, making my way through my apartment to my bedroom. everything was bright even with all of my lights off. i sat down at my vanity, staring at myself in the mirror. through the slight shine of the exposed moonlight, i could see the red and pink flush all over my face. my phone buzzed in my sweater pocket.

i had a great time, the text read, see you tmrw for my usual? :)

i held the phone to my chest tightly, feeling the coldness of the screen through my clothes, but nothing else was cold. everything was warm because she kissed me.

#kate martin #kate martin imagines #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wcbb

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bugs013 · 5 months

Text

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Fem!Reader

Not my pics/gifs

Warnings- Men. Brief mention of assault, homophobia (if you don’t want to read that part just skip to the end flashback mark!), dyslexic writer lol, i think thats all but correct me if i’m wrong please!

A/N- am i the only one who firmly believes that Janis is a huge softie on the inside? Like in public she plays the big bad bitch but in private she’s an angel, like she’s definitely the type to massage your feet after a long day or switch food with you just because you said hers looks better. Yk what i mean? Anyway I’m completely open to criticism just don’t attack me too hard lol

It all started when Janis helped you get away from one of the creeps at school.

—flashback—

You were just minding your business at your locker when you felt a hand slap your ass, your jaw dropped open and you quickly spun around to see a random guy you didn’t know. You felt so embarrassed and you were speechless, frozen. “Whats up baby girl” he says smugly and you couldn’t do anything but feel disgusted. “Look at you,” He puts an arm around your shoulder. “You’re blushing.” Though your so called blush was from embarrassment and anxiety. You attempted to pull away but he tightened his grip. “So what are you up to tonight princess.” He asks but suddenly a voice responds. “She’ll be with me.” Janis ‘Imi’ike, you didn’t really know her well but you have classes together. “Let her go, she doesn’t want you.” Janis says as she took your hand and tugged you away from him. The guy got annoyed but didn’t do anything but scoff. “Of course, lesbians.” He rolled his eyes and walked away. You let out a breath of relief before turning to Janis and thanking her.

And thats when you become a trio with your best friends.

—flashback end-

“Babe, she likes you, you like her, it’s so painfully obvious!” Damian said to Janis who was rambling about wanting to ask Y/N out on a date. “You don’t know that. I mean she’s never even confirmed if she’s gay or not.” “Oh come on, you really think she’s straight? Have you seen the way she looks at girls? The way she looks at YOU.” He states. “What do you mean the way she looks at me? How does she look at me?” Janis says with confusion. He scrolls through his phone for a moment then turns and shows a photo to her. “Like this.”

Not my pic

“She does not look at me like that.” Janis said tho the thought of you looking at her that way makes her smile. “You’re so oblivious.” Damian rolls his eyes.

~~~~

“Guys! Guys!” You said, running to Janis and Damian in the hall, you immediately ran and hugged Janis, making her stumble backwards. “Oh-” “I passed! I passed the art presentation!” You said excitedly. “What?! I told you you could do it!” Janis said with a smile as she hugged you back, blush creeping up on her cheeks. When you pull back you have the biggest smile on you face. “Yeah because of you! If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have passed!” Janis scoffed though everyone knew it was true. Without the help from Janis you’d have an F in that class. “Good job girl.” Damian chipped in before giving Janis a look and excusing himself, Janis knew she needed to take this as her opponent to ask you on a date. “Hey, uh- are you busy this weekend?” “Hm, not that i remember, why do you have plans?” “Well i was hoping we can hang out…um…just the two of us…” You smile, brows furrowed with curiosity. “Ok, where are we going? Your place?” “Well actually i have plans, but it’s a surprise. Meet me at the park on Saturday, around 10?” Janis say’s anxiously. You grin and nod. “Sounds fun! I’ll be there!”

~~~~

Saturday rolls around and soon you were walking into the park, you look around until you finally spot Janis, you can see she has a blanket laid on the grass with a picnic basket and some flowers sitting on it. You can’t help but smile as you walk over. “No way.” Janis turns and looks at you as she hears your voice, she smiles, a bit of blush growing on her cheeks. “You like it?” “Like it? I love it!” You hug her before the two of you sat down. You look around admiring the nature around you, and Janis. “This is amazing Janis. I’ve never been on a real picnic before.” You said with a excited smile. Janis returned your smile before opening the picnic basket. “I hope you’re hungry, i may have over packed.” She says with a little laugh. “In that case I’m starving!” You say with a giggle. Janis began pulling food from the basket, various finger foods such as; strawberries, cheese, crackers, etc. for drinks she packed some capri suns of multiple different kinds.

~~~~

The two of you ate and talked until it was eventually starting to get dark out. Time really flew by and neither of you noticed.

“Shut up! No you didn’t!” You said through your laughter. You had been sharing random funny stories about yourselves for a while now. Janis nods laughing as well. “It’s true! Ask Damian he was there!” You have been smiling and laughing so much that your cheeks were sore. “I wish i was there! Oh my gosh that killed me, i’ll never forget that!”

When you finally stopped laughing you laid down on the blanket and look up at the sky. Janis does the same, laying next to you but not too close. “The stars are pretty huh?” Janis said “mhm, not as pretty as you though.” You said in a whisper as you glanced over at her. Janis eyes widened a bit, she looks over at you with a confused expression, afraid she heard you wrong somehow. “Huh?” “Huh?” You repeat with a smirk tugging on your lips. Janis rolls her eyes and playfully slaps your leg as she sat up and looks at you. “Come on don’t play dumb. What did you mean by that?” You sat up as well and shrugged. “What do you think i meant?” “You’re calling me pretty but- but are you saying I’m pretty in a way like ‘oh you’re pretty’ or like ‘oh, you’re pretty” or even-” she rambles, You laugh before stopping her. “Janis- Janis stop.” She stops and looks at you. “I’m saying i like you, ok?” Janis felt her heart skip a beat. “You- you mean you like me, like- you like me as in ‘oh you’re my friend, i like you’ or-” you roll you eyes. “Janis!” She froze. “shut up and kiss me.” Janis smiles gently and nods a little and soon your lips met in a gentle, sweet kiss that made butterflies go crazy in both yours and Janis stomachs. The kiss went on for what felt like years until you both pull away slowly, cheeks flushed. “Wow” she muttered, you nod. “I like you Janis, i like you a lot.” You say as you interlocked your fingers with hers, looking down at her hands in yours Janis smiles, she looks at you again. “I like you too Y/N.”

#janis ‘imi’ike #mean girls 2024 #janis ‘imi’ike x reader

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jfleamont · 7 months

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never, sometimes, all the time

a snippet from my upcoming uni/band au - 1701 words

The kitchen is scarcely lit and there's a faint smell of burnt eggs. Someone cooked during the party, probably Marlene. Nevermind that this isn’t her flat; the boys don’t mind. They’ve known her for a couple of months, but they welcomed her with open arms, just like they did with Lily. They’re good, she thinks. These kids are good. They let her smoke inside the house tonight— well, James did. She only smokes every once in a while. Mostly when she’s nervous.

He's sitting across from her, one arm draped across the chair beside him, his head thrown back. His eyes are closed and his lips are slightly upturned; he looks content. Lily thinks he's smiling.

No, he definitely is.

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system. Or the music, which is still playing, though at a much lower volume than before; the others are already in their rooms, passed out, so they don’t care. This is just for the two of them.

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t left.

“You didn't keep your word,” she tells him. He'd promised Sirius he wouldn't get drunk. They hadn't said why, and only exchanged what looked like a meaningful look that she couldn’t decipher. Not yet, at least.

He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “I've only had one drink. And I didn't know you paid so much attention to me.”

“Remind me not to do it again. Also, it was a Long Island Iced Tea. A strong one, from the looks of it.”

He shrugs. “The situation called for it.”

She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice just a little. “Is this about Peter?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

She waits for him to continue. He does. “It's just that we were so close to being great.” A humourless laugh, “Maybe I'm kidding myself. We weren't close at all.”

She notes the perfectly relaxed line of his brows. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but there’s no hint of anger on his face. “You don't seem too bothered by this, though.”

“Oh, well, I'm doing okay now. It's not too bad, I suppose.”

Lily snorts, and knows that he isn’t lying. “Yeah?”

He opens his eyes - they’re tired and soft like she’s never seen them - and fixes them on her.

“Yeah.”

“Always the optimist, you.”

He mirrors her position, resting his chin on his palm. “I had a good night, that's all.”

“I don't think that's all.”

“You’re right, it's not,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. He laughs quietly, a hint of anxiety colours his voice.

“So? Tell me,” she prompts him.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and looks behind her for a moment. “I have a plan. Mind you, not a good one, but it's a plan. It's sort of insane and if I'm being honest, it’s probably the worst idea I've ever had.”

“Are we still talking about the band or…?”

“I found a solution for next week's gig,” he announces grandly, smiling from ear to ear. The only thing that is missing is the jazz hands.

“You found a bassist? That was quick. Who is it?”

“You.”

She blinks. Several times. James’ smile has faded a little, and his expression looks careful.

“You've got to be joking.”

“Told you it was a crazy idea.”

Lily doesn’t want to think about the implications of this. Being friends with the people Severus couldn’t stand was one thing, but actually performing with them? That couldn’t happen. It’s not like she cares about him anymore. No, that’s not it. Maybe a part of her misses him still, and she used to be a people pleaser when she was around him, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s the fact that she has been questioning every single decision she has made ever since she left Severus behind. With him, it felt right… until it didn’t. Who’s to say that this won’t happen again? She doesn’t trust herself anymore, and this is brand new territory.

“You want me to join your band. You?”

James sits up straighter and gives her a funny look. “Why do you sound so surprised? You're brilliant.”

“But… I can't.”

“You can't or you won't?”

“Can't! How am I supposed to learn your entire setlist by next week?” she exclaims. She doesn’t mean to raise her voice, but she can’t help it. The more she thinks about this, the less confident she feels.

“Actually it would be better by Wednesday.”

He doesn’t look apologetic at all. Strange, since he was so worried about asking her a minute ago. Either he’s mad - and this is a very real possibility - or he just believes she can do it, which, really, is another form of insanity.

She tells him so. “You're not right in the head.”

“Evans—”

“I've got two papers to submit by the end of next week! There's no way I can play with you,” she says in a whispered shout, and now she’s the one with her hands in her hair.

He’s grinning. “But you want to.”

She suppresses a smile at his bravado, but he’s right. “I want to help you. But I can't.”

He leans in conspiratorially, and his enthusiasm almost wins her over. Almost. “Come on, it would be fun! And it's just a one time thing, okay? Or at least until we find a new bassist.”

“Can't believe you're asking me this.”

“Please?”

He’s not pouting, but he might as well be, and Lily can’t deny it: she’s thought about this exact scenario. She’s seen them on stage, she knows how good they are: they’re miles better than everyone else in their local music scene, really, and Lily can’t help but wonder if she’ll feel out of place up there. She loves performing, but being in a band with Severus showed her how awful it feels to be overshadowed by someone else, and she doesn’t want a repeat of that.

“… Can I think about it?”

James’ eyes light up. “Is this a yes?”

“It’s a question.”

“Of course you can think about it! Take a couple of days,” he waves a hand around and sits back in his chair, looking triumphant. Lily smiles; she’s about to burst his bubble.

“Hmm,” she rubs her chin contemplatively, “What do I get in return, though?”

He furrows his brows, not expecting her question. “Oh… We're not getting paid for this gig, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know, Potter,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. “I've performed there too. I'm talking about something else.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. Cheeky boy. “Anything in particular?”

“I'll let you know. After the gig,” she adds nonchalantly.

“What if I refuse?”

“These are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

James is thinking hard, by the looks of it. She doesn’t know what kind of favour she’ll ask him, but simply knowing that she has the upper hand in this situation makes her euphoric. He knows he’s signing away his soul if he agrees. She still hasn’t decided if she’s going to mess with him or not. Perhaps she’ll be nice about it.

“Fuck it. It's a deal,” he extends an arm to shake her hand and she’s about to do the same when a thought occurs.

“Hang on, did you say this was the worst idea you’ve ever had? What the fuck?”

“Shot myself in the foot, haven’t I?”

“I’m giving you one chance to recover from this. One.”

“Fuck,” he covers his face with his hands, and she thinks he’s blushing a little but she isn’t sure. “Remus is much better at this. He was supposed to broach the subject but he refused to, thinks I’m mental.”

She drops her smile and freezes. “Is he even okay with this? And Sirius?”

“Don’t worry, they both think you’re great. Sirius says you’re the female Flea.”

She beams at the compliment and relaxes into the seat. “Do you agree?”

His eyes roam around her face and Lily feels warm all over. It only lasts a moment, and then he’s smirking again. “You’re easier on the eyes, so…”

Right. He’s just messing with her.

“Twat,” she responds, and kicks his chair.

His gaze softens. “But to me you’re more Macca than Flea,” James continues, tilting his head to the side as he studies her once again.

“He was fit when he was younger, not going to lie,” she deflects, because she knows she’s talented - she does! - but she feels the impostor syndrome kick in any time she is compared to another great bassist‒ she has a list; Paul McCartney is at the top. Wait, is James aware of this? She hopes not.

He laughs and nods vigorously. “Especially in the late ‘60s with that beard.”

“Shame he never grew it out again after that,” she sighs, and feels the tension dissipate.

James raises an eyebrow. “Wanna watch the Get Back documentary?”

She’s pretty sure he’s joking, but the last time she saw it she cried, and she doesn’t have the strength to hold back the tears in front of him. Besides, her eyelids feel so heavy that she would probably fall asleep ten minutes in, and she’d rather sleep in a bed tonight. “As much as I’d love to, you’re dead on your feet and I’m not doing much better so… I’d better walk home.”

James sits up straight, suddenly very alert. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

He gets up from the chair and grabs the remote. “I don’t want to walk in the cold and neither do you,” he says with his back to her as he turns off the music, “so just do me a favour and use my bed.”

She can’t possibly sleep on James Potter’s bed. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s not up for debate,” his tone is resolute but he’s wagging his finger at her, which makes him look kind of ridiculous. “The sheets are clean, changed them this morning.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’ll take the sofa, goodnight.”

And with that he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

#told you I had a snippet for my uni/band au #I don't have much else written but I have the plotline down lol #this is kinda shit but it'll change the more I work on it #jily #jfleamont rambles #jple #never sometimes all the time #NSATT

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mattyriddlegf · 2 months

Text

The Stupid Closet (6)

happy Sunday release day everyone! Please feel free to comment if you want to be added to the tag list, I really appreciate all of the love on this series so far <3

(it will have about 35 chapters total so there's a lot of more content for you guys!!)

-----------

Two more weeks had passed, meaning you had been with Theo for a month now. Since your conversation with Mattheo, it seemed like you both were avoiding each other. He hadn’t infiltrated any more dreams of yours since then either.

After studying for most of the day on Sunday, you walk back to your dorm to get ready. Theo wanted to have dinner, just the two of you tonight for your guys’ one month.

“Let’s meet at 8 at the bell tower, yeah? We have late quidditch practice today but it’ll be done by 8 for sure.” Theo had said this morning before you split in different ways to go to class.

You put on a white long sleeve bodysuit, adding jeans and black high tops, simple but cute. He had explicitly told you that you didn’t have to dress up because he’d be coming from quidditch practice.

You work on homework for a bit, Pansy coming in and gossiping about the entire school as you try to work. Luckily, she leaves to go to dinner so you’re able to finish your work before you need to head down.

You head to the bell tower, sitting on a bench. The clock reads 7:58pm. The time passes by slowly but no sign of Theo. You check your watch again, 8:37pm. Maybe he was just a little late.

You continue to sit there on the bench, waiting until 9:23pm, still with no sign of Theo. Fuck this.

You start walking back through the castle, the hallways pretty empty this late at night. You could not believe Theo stood you up.

As you’re walking through the hall, you see Mattheo walking up to the astronomy tower. You really shouldn’t follow him but…a cigarette sounded so tempting.

You make your way up to the astronomy tower, walking up to the railing next to Mattheo. He looks over to you and turns back before saying, “What’re you doing up here?”

“I uh…can I have a cigarette?” You ask plainly. This Mattheo felt more like the one you used to hate than he has all year.

He hands you a cigarette, you turn to the side so he can light it. After it’s lit, you turn forward, staring out to the sky.

“Since when do you smoke?” Mattheo asks.

“A while…” You trail off, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Riddle.”

You both go silent for a minute, smoking before Mattheo turns to you again, “What’re you doing up here anyways, didn’t Theo have a whole dinner planned?”

You scoff before turning to Mattheo, “If by planned you mean he stood me up, then yes.”

Mattheo smiles passive aggressively, “Why am I not surprised?” He stares at you for a moment before looking out again.

You see him run his tongue on the inside of his gums, a habit he had when he was upset.

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly.

“Like you care.” Mattheo clenches his jaw before throwing his cigarette down and putting it out.

“You know that’s not true…”

“Then why does it feel like it?” He stares at you. You can see his eyes glistening.

“Mattheo, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that. I do care, I just-”

“Had to tend to Theo. I get it.” Mattheo says before sitting down, leaning his back against the railing. You do the same, sitting up next to him, “I am trying so hard to stay away.”

“I know…” You think for a minute before responding, “what’s really going on Mattheo?”

Mattheo looks at you for a moment before looking the other way, holding back a few tears. You place your hand on his thigh, “Hey you can tell me.”

“I uh- I keep having these anxiety attacks and I don’t know why. They’ve never happened this much before and I can’t stop them and-”

“You ramble when you’re upset” You respond, smiling gently at him. He laughs before you continue, “Mattheo you could’ve told someone. You don’t have to deal with them alone.”

“Who was I supposed to tell? My parents? Theo? You?” He emphasizes the last one.

“You can always tell me anything.” You respond quietly. Mattheo looks at you again and you start to get lost in those big brown doe eyes.

“Theo’s an idiot for standing you up.” Mattheo says with a small smile on his face.

You rest your head on his shoulder, sitting in silence with him. This was where you’re meant to be. This felt right.

“How’d you do on your divination test?” Mattheo asks, messing with the ring on his finger.

“You know Trelawney, she’s insane so-” You pause to look over at him, “Not as well as I wanted to. You?”

“That old bat has it out for me, I swear” You roll your eyes, laughing after his response.

“Ok so it sounds like we need to study?” You stand up, Mattheo following you.

You both start to leave the tower, walking back to the Slytherin house,” If you and Theo are ok with that…”

You stop walking and face Mattheo, “Theo has no control over who I talk to and who I’m friends with. And yes, I’m okay with it so there’s no issue” You smile, trying to be convincing. Mattheo just didn’t want to invade after you had made it clear he needed to stay away just a few weeks ago.

When you reach the Slytherin common room, Theo is sitting in the armchair, bouncing his leg up and down. The moment he sees you, he stands up and walks forward, “Where were you? I was worried”

“Seriously? You don’t get to be worried when I waited there for an hour and a half, Theo.” You spit back. You were beyond pissed at him.

“Practice ran late and-”

“Enough with the excuses mate.” Mattheo speaks up, interrupting Theo’s explanation.

“Mattheo stay out of this.” He points to him before turning back to you, “I’m sorry ok?”

“Sorry isn’t enough Theo. I waited there, alone.” You start walking away but he grabs your arm, holding you back.

“I’m so sorry, just let me-”

“Just let her go Theo.” Mattheo steps forward, reaching his hand out.

Theo looks between you and Mattheo a few times before letting go of your arm, “we’ll just talk later” he says softly.

You walk away towards your dorms, looking back at Mattheo in the process. Once you get in your room, you tell Pansy what Theo had done.

Obviously she was pissed but you begged her not to make it worse by saying anything. She agreed…reluctantly.

You lay in bed, thinking about what went down tonight. Before now, you had always thought your connection to Mattheo was just physical. But after tonight, you felt more deeply emotionally connected to him. You felt like you really knew him for the very first time…and you really adored this Mattheo.

What have you been missing all these years? A piece of you felt like if you hadn’t been so stubborn about hating him in the past, that he would be one you were with, not Theo. But that was bad to think…right?

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel

#hogwarts fanfiction #slytherin #harry potter #theo nott #mattheo riddle #mattheo #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is HEAVILY inspired by the business card scene in American Psycho. (I wrote this back in 2021 for a collab.) [ SYNOPSIS ] Zeke's perceived inadequacy leads him to a situation that only exacerbates his insecurities. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.2k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU (duh), not a big fan of the term "crack fic" but that's basically what this is, Zeke's only a few years older than the rest of the Warriors, sharing nudes without consent, smutty stuff is mentioned, alcohol, marijuana, body horror (Zeke describes scaphism in great detail), Zeke's probably ooc because I basically turned him into Patrick Bateman.

Zeke’s standing in the back of the bar, cornered by his friends. His life is in shambles because you dragged him to a birthday party in the nicest part of the city on the very night he decided to make a major life choice. Tonight was the night he said fuck it and shaved off his beard.

“You look like a baby,” Porco laughs.

“Like an angular baby, like a baby with good cheekbones,” Bertholdt, the birthday boy, mutters to himself.

“Can I touch your face?”

Zeke clenches his jaw and goes to speak only to be interrupted by Reiner's tender touch.

“Wow, that is soft. You got really soft skin. What do you use?”

Zeke smacks Reiner's hand away and uses the sleeve of his flannel to wipe away his residual touch. The meathead’s compliment was sufficient; there was no need to make physical contact.

“Sisley’s Black Rose Skin Infusion Cream.” Zeke sighs, accepting Reiner’s interpersonal failure. “How drunk are you?”

Reiner grins.

“I don’t know but your girlfriend’s the one that’s making them,” Reiner says before dissolving into the crowd.

Zeke questions whether or not Reiner was actually there in the first place. He could have merely been an anxiety induced hallucination.

“I have to… go,” Zeke abruptly blurts out to no one in particular as he pushes himself through his group of friends.

Free from their grasp he kicks himself for being so inarticulate in such a genuine way. Usually his nerves were hidden by a veneer of stoicism, but now he wonders if maybe it was just the beard.

The bar is packed and Zeke stands on his tippy toes trying to see your little head bobbing around somewhere. So many people look like you from this distance. He takes off his glasses and squints but it does little to assist him. He nearly drops them as he maneuvers them back onto his face. Eventually he hears you cackling close by. He sighs heavily once he spots you behind the bar. You look angelic, a beacon of light in a sea of complete fucking bullshit. You look him in the eyes and smile, relief washing over him.

“Don’t you have to have a license or something to be back there?” he asks you, hiding his anxiety behind a facade of smugness.

You shrug and lean over the bar to kiss his forehead.

“They ain’t kicked me out yet so… I guess not.”

Zeke sits down on a bar stool and holds his head in his hands. He remembers that this is a private party and the likelihood of anyone actually giving a shit is slim to none.

“Reiner called you my girlfriend.”

“Ew, why?”

Zeke peers up from his hands, the rest of his face still obscured. Anything to hide his lack of facial hair.

“Because we showed up together and he probably heard us fucking in the bathroom earlier. Can you hold these for me? I almost dropped them.”

Zeke hands you his glasses and you tuck them away in your purse.You pat his head and ruffle his wavy blonde hair. He relishes in the gentle touch of your hand.

“Reiner’s an idiot. Want a shot?”

“Two. You know what I like.”

You grab a bottle of whiskey and overpour two shots. You pass one to him and go grab the other for yourself. Zeke grabs your wrist and stares up at you.

“They’re both for me.”

You shake your head and pour yourself one. Zeke downs the whiskey, savoring the smokey taste it leaves behind on his tongue. Just as he goes to ask you about how your day was Marcel fucking Galliard taps him on the shoulder.

“Buddy, it’s been too long. How ya been?”

Marcel is hammered and he lifts Zeke off the stool into a bear hug. Zeke feels the whiskey crawl up his throat, the most painful tickle he’s been subjected to.

“Ni—nice to see you. It has been awhile,” he chokes out.

Marcel loosens his grip and takes a seat next to Zeke. He looks impeccable, his hair perfectly quaffed. His skin was practically glowing. How could such a drunk guy look so put together and handsome?

“It has been a fucking while!” Marcel exclaims once more.

Zeke scratches his ear and then subtly waves you off. You slowly walk away backwards from the men, bumping into the actual bartender.

“Colt! Coltie Boy!... Damn, dude, you alright? You look tired.”

Marcel has mistaken Zeke for Colt Grice, one of the other tall blonde guys in their friend group. It seems logical because Colt works at the same middle school as Zeke doing the same exact thing he does, teaching language arts to seventh graders. Though Zeke thinks he’s smarter and more relatable to his students. It certainly doesn’t help that he hasn’t seen Marcel in years, who likely has forgotten what he looks like.

“Well I haven’t been getting much sleep. You know me, burning the midnight oil and all.”

Marcel laughs way too hard at Zeke’s joke which wasn’t even a joke in the first place.

He grabs Zeke’s shoulder and continues. “Great, that’s great. Such a hard worker. So uh, shit what’s her name… That girl you’ve been seeing.”

“Pieck.”

Marcel snaps his fingers and grabs Zeke’s shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah, how’s Pieck? She’s a keeper. A great girl.”

“She’s good, couldn’t be happier with her. We’re thinking about getting a dog.”

“Wow, that’s—that’s great. You deserve it, man. You’re a good guy. Not like that dork Zach Yeager.”

“His name is Zeke, Marcel.”

“Who cares? You,” Marcel pokes Zeke in the chest, just barely missing his nipple, “you’re a good guy. You got your life together. Fuck Zach, man.”

Zeke nods in agreement.

“He’s a fucking dick, you know? Sure, yeah, I haven’t seen that weirdo in years, but I don’t even have to see him to know he’s—” Marcel pauses to burp into his hand. “excuse me. To know he’s a piece of shit.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been a fan either.”

“Fucking wears dumb glasses, like dude get a normal pair.”

“I know, right?”

“Grandpas wear those glasses, Coltie. Grand. Pas.”

Just as Zeke feels like he’s going to vomit into his own lap Bertholdt pops up from behind Marcel, eyes full of concern.

“Hey Marcel, Porco’s out back and he’s not looking too good.”

Bertholdt’s a dirty liar and everyone except Marcel knows it. Porco’s tolerance is god-like, an unwavering cognitive marvel. Marcel sighs and stands up, stumbling out the door to the patio, Bertholdt trailing behind. He hits his forehead on the door frame on his way out.

“Are you gonna be okay?” you quietly ask, eating a maraschino cherry you stole from someone’s drink.

Zeke smiles and shakes his head.

“It could’ve been wor—”

“Oh shit! What happened? You kinda look like dad!”

Eren is standing in the doorway with a pair of wayfarers on. He definitely stole them from someone; there was no way he’d drop money on Ray Bans. He comes over and hugs Zeke from behind. Zeke appreciates Eren’s affection but it does nothing to soothe verbal assault he received from Marcel.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know that was fucked up,” Eren coos. “But I am right. I can’t help that.”

It doesn’t matter if Eren is right or not. Zeke’s ego is crushed beyond repair. You shoo his brother away and drag Zeke into one of the booths, sitting across the table from him. He frowns.

“Can you sit next to me?”

The alcohol is taking hold of him. He needs attention and affection, but not too much. Anything beyond you sitting beside him, holding him close, is simply unbearable. You switch sides and scoot close to him.

Zeke notices you staring at him. Your gaze is kind, kinder than a shithead like him deserves. He can’t remember a time in his life where he felt more insecure and unworthy of you. When your soft hand caresses his bare face he is slightly startled. However it’s a welcome gesture.

“I think you look good,” you purr.

He slinks down into his seat, bathing in your praise.

“I’m a little jealous of your jawline too.”

Zeke blushes.

“I look that good, huh?”

“No, you look like shit. I was lying the whole time. You’re the ugliest guy here.”

“Stop you’re going to make me fall in love with y—”

“Colt! The fuck?! What about Pieck, man?!”

You both turn to see a very drunk, very disheveled Marcel being carried out of the bar by Porco and Colt. Colt turns around, looking fresh as daisy, not a single line or wrinkle on his face; his skin smoother than a baby’s ass. He flashes an apologetic grin and lets go of Marcel, walking towards the two of you with utmost confidence. Porco crashes into a table because Marcel might as well be the most cumbersome person on the planet at this moment.

“This is probably the worst time to ask, but do you think I could use your study guides for my class tomorrow? I didn’t have time to throw anything together because Pieck and I were settling into our new apartment.”

Zeke wants to die right then and there. Zeke, who lives in a studio apartment with a chinchilla named Robert. Zeke, who will never own any form of home in his life. Zeke, who’s skincare routine will never make up for years of smoking and sitting in the sun.

“Wow! That’s so cool, Colt!” you pipe up, wrapping an arm around Zeke. He leans into you, desperately trying to disappear. He wants you to make the situation go away, to wrap it up with a little bow and toss it out a window.

“It’s a lot of work getting all that furniture into the penthouse that’s for sure.”

“I can imagine,” you reply eagerly, making up for Zeke’s awkwardness.

Colt just stands there grinning.

The lull in the conversation is too much for Zeke bear. He realizes he needs to open his mouth and speak.

“Uh, you can use my study guides.”

“Oh thank you! You’re a lifesaver.” Colt turns around to see the nuclear disaster that is the Galliard brothers. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to take care of that,” he laughs. “Let’s do dinner sometime!”

Once Colt is out of earshot Zeke falls to pieces.

“Let’s do an execution sometime, Colt. Just boil me alive, send me to the boats.”

Zeke notices the quizzical look you give him and tosses his head back and groans.

“It’s a form of execution where you trap someone between two boats—row boats not ocean liners.” He knows you all too well, your perception prone to the absurd. “And you force feed them milk and honey, and you cover them with it too. And then you leave them to fester and rot in the sun like in a lake or a river.” He coughs. “Death doesn’t come quickly obviously. Flies lay eggs in your wounds, feasting upon your infected flesh. Mosquitos rise from the putrid water and buzz around you. Your body decays right before your eyes.”

“Uh,” is all you can manage to spit out.

He can’t hide his disappointment, and avoids your gaze.

“I know something that’ll cheer you up.”

“What?” he asks.

“Wanna see some dick pics?”

Zeke’s attention is thoroughly piqued. He clears his throat, trying to mask his blatant curiosity.

“Sure. Whose do you have?”

You smirk. “I got everyone.”

“Do you go around showing these to everyone?”

Zeke panics remembering the series of dick pics he sent you one night after smoking two blunts by himself. So many different angles and his face was definitely in a few of them.

“Oh god no, I don’t show them to anyone.”

He bathes in a sea of relief.

“Okay good. Let me see.”

You pull out your phone and go to your hidden photos. A barrage of dicks show up on the screen all in various states of turgidity.

‘Wait, I want to see mine first.”

“Fine. Weirdo.”

You scroll down to find a picture of Zeke’s hard cock. A solid six inches. Circumcised. A few veins running along the length of it, more on the green side. It’s framed by curly, untrimmed, flaxen pubic hair which suddenly Zeke is weirdly self conscious about. He can’t help but wonder if Colt has untamed pubes.

“Should I wax?”

You look at him like he has three heads.

“What? No. I like them even if they get caught in my teeth occasionally.”

You pinch his cheek and Zeke lets out a little “phew”. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you told him otherwise. The idea of ripping out his body hair terrifies him. Shaving’s bad enough, the resulting emotional anguish a burden he struggles to bear. He might die if he added physical pain into the mix.

“I appreciate the angles,” you say. “It’s artistic. The lighting hits the cum dripping off the tip perfectly.”

Zeke basks in the light of your praise.

“Nice and erect, not floppy and flaccid. It’s one of my favorites.”

He shivers at the thought of sending you a photo of his limp dick. He’s a grower, not a shower, a fact that left him feeling inadequate if he thought too hard about it.

It was seemingly unfounded. You never expressed any displeasure when you’d pull his cock out of his pants and see it in its flaccid state. No hint of judgment when you got down on your knees and sucked him off. Just pure, unadulterated joy.

“Gimme a name.”

“Let’s see the birthday boy.”

You pull up a poorly lit photo of an incredibly erect cock. No veins, very smooth with an even coloring. Zeke notices he’s uncircumcised and tries to convince himself that his dick being circumcised makes him a better person than Bertholdt.

“It’s very long,” you say, zooming in on the dick and scrolling down. “Not super thick though.”

“I’m not impressed.”

Zeke takes pride in his cock being thicker than Bertholdt’s.

“Can I ask why you have a pic of his dick?”

“He was drunk and meant to send it to Annie.”

“And you kept it?”

“Hey, whoa. I did ask.”

Zeke gives you a quizzical look. He is having trouble discerning the situation at hand and it makes him feel like he’s dying. You pat his back.

“I was like, ‘Bertl, can I keep this?’ And he was like, ‘If you feel so compelled.’ And let me tell you... I was compelled.”

“Next one,” Zeke says, glaring at the dick on your phone screen.

“Okay,” you flip through your photos, “Porco.”

You hold up your phone, showing Zeke a still image of Porco furiously masturbating on the bathroom floor.

“D—did he set up a timer on his phone?”

“Yeah, grandpa, welcome to the 21st century. We’re happy to have you.”

“You’re two years younger than me, grandma.”

You stick your tongue out at him and zoom in on Porco’s cock. His cock curves upward quite a bit, veiny but not nearly as veiny as Zeke’s. The tip is a pearlescent pink. Porco managed to catch himself in the middle of his orgasm, cum spurting upward like a geyser.

“What do you think?” you ask him.

“Cum looks a little thin, watery even.”

Zeke wants to tack on that his cum is more robust, but he realizes how pathetic it is to brag about.

“I like it when it’s thicker. Like if someone is going to come on me I wanna feel it splatter on my skin, you know?”

Zeke doesn’t know.

“Yeah I get that,” he lies.

“I appreciate the action of the shot, but it’s too busy. I see a bottle of Acqua di Gio on his bathroom counter. His plunger is in the background. I don’t like that his bathroom rug is orange.”

Zeke could hear you talk shit about Porco’s nudes all day.

“You lookin’ at Porco’s nudes?”

Reiner slides into the other side of the booth. He’s pretty drunk, skin a little pink, but he seems mostly there.

“Has everyone seen them?” Zeke asks in a panic.

“No. I overheard you guys talking,” he chastises. “You guys are really harsh critics.”

“I have standards, Reiner.”

“If people can be film critics, why not dick critics?” Zeke asks, genuinely wanting an answer.

“Hey!” You smack Reiner’s arm. “Can I show Zeke your dick?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t. I’m not an artist, but I’ve been told I have an eye for color,” he brags.

Zeke rolls his eyes. “Hush. Let’s see the dick.”

You pull up Reiner’s dick on your phone. It’s a lower body shot, just his torso and cock in view, it’s standing straight up. His body is framed by his earth toned bedding that makes his skin look divine. He’s statuesque, like a Greek god.

“Check out my cum gutters.”

“Reiner,” you exclaim. “Gross!”

“So Zeke, what do you think?” Reiner asks eagerly.

“Impressive,” Zeke chokes out. “Very nice.”

Zeke’s ready to move on. Reiner’s color coordinating bodybuilder nudes make him want to wear clothes for the rest of his life. He pictures himself dressed in his pajamas, standing in the middle of his shower, arms crossed, looking absolutely miserable.

“Hm, I think that’s all I have. Wait. Oh my god, I forgot I have your brother’s.”

Zeke is conflicted. On one hand he feels protective of Eren and wants to destroy your phone, preserving Eren’s honor. But on the other he wants to rip Eren’s head off for sending you a picture of his dick.

“I have one!” Reiner pipes up.

“Whose?” Zeke and you ask in unison.

“Colt’s.”

You start to shake your head. “No, no more dick pics. We’re done for the night.”

“No,” Zeke says, clenching his jaw. “Let’s see Colt Grice’s cock.”

You toss your head back and stare at the ceiling, preparing yourself for Zeke’s reaction. Reiner winces, realizing his mistake. But still he pulls out his phone.

“Why do you have a picture of his dick?” you ask.

“He needed a creative consultant,” he replies plainly.

Reiner goes through his phone and breathes heavily. He looks up from his phone, his lips a flat line, and he holds up Colt’s dick pic.

It’s a full body shot of Colt. His cock is thick and long, the same look and size as Zeke’s. He grabs Reiner’s phone and stares at Colt’s throbbing erection. It’s taken in his bathroom and unlike Porco's, his counter is organized, only a small bottle of expensive hand soap lurking in the corner. His dick is the perfect shade of pink, the head of his cock picturesque. It’s smooth, but not in a creepy way. It’s like it was sculpted by Rodin, rock hard and tremendous.

“Oh my god. His pubes are so trim,” Zeke mutters.

His hand shakes and he drops the phone. Reiner grabs it, slips it into his pocket, and looks away from Zeke. The three of you sit in silence, the only sounds coming from the party.

“Is something wrong, Zeke?” you ask. “You’re sweating.”

Zeke doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say. This isn’t something that can be buffed away with pity. The wounds inflicted are too deep. The pain radiating through his being will never cease. There will be no relief from his festering inadequacy. Happiness and hope for the future are rendered foreign concepts.

The man is irreparably damaged.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke jaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #zeke aot smut #.fics #.aot #.zeke #.reiner #.colt #x reader #reader insert

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enderwoah · 1 year

Text

the other side of the war

summary:

Scott likes to think he is a sensible person. Because of this, he doesn't find it at all unreasonable for him to start freaking out when he catches a glimpse of a Homeworld ship passing over the Crastle. Owen is rather certain that he is a sensible person. Because of this, he feels as if his response of dropping his recording device onto a rock and breaking it instantly upon seeing the sapphire that exits the large castle is entirely reasonable.

or: owen, beks, and eloise go from homeworld to find the deserters on earth. owen very much recognises scott. title from story of tonight (reprise) by lin-manuel miranda. au by @chrisrin. fic is life on earth by @sixteenth-days. read the tags!

(ao3 link)

(2,593 words)

Scott likes to think he is a sensible person. Whether that is true or not is entirely subjective, but he's quite sure he is one of the most level-headed gems currently residing on Life, if not the most.

Because of this, he doesn't find it at all unreasonable for him to start freaking out when he catches a glimpse of a Homeworld ship passing over the Crastle.

"Glimpse" is a loose term—he both sees it in a vision and then sees it out of the corner of the window only a few seconds later, almost too fast to catch and not looking like it was planning to stop. The vessel was yellow in colour and rather small, which at the very least tells him that it's not another colonisation attempt or scouting expedition. His relief from that realisation is very quickly undercut by the strangling anxiety at what it could be instead, and his efforts to try and pry into the future to see what could be on the ship are suddenly interrupted by the knowledge that Jimmy was going to come barreling into the room from the window in a few moments.

He does so with as little grace as Scott saw, his foot catching on the ledge and making him lose his balance on his way inside, all the while yelling, "Scott- Scott, I saw another ship fly by-

"I know," Scott says coolly, pretending like there aren't fractals crawling across the wooden boards around his dress.

Jimmy fixes himself from somehow being tangled up in a stone slab. "You know?"

Scott grips the sides of his dress. "I saw."

"Oh," Jimmy says shortly, shoulders slumping. He looks back out the window as if expecting the ship to come around again—which it very well might- before turning back to Scott. His wings are refracting the light of the sun onto the ground, making their trembles all the more obvious. "What do we do?"

"Tell the others, if they haven't seen already." He kicks his legs to break the ice sticking his dress to the floor before it becomes unbearable. "Hopefully, it'll just pass by without encountering us at all."

Jimmy tilts his head to the side like a bird, which are quickly becoming one of Scott's favourite things on Life. "I don't see why it would fly this close to the surface if it was just passing by."

"'Hopefully,' dear," Scott says with a weary smile. "I said 'hopefully.'"

"Ah."

Scott laughs lightly, the warmth in his chest chasing away his anxiety as Jimmy giggles to himself, face turning a slightly darker shade of blue. He reaches out to lay a hand on Jimmy's arm—

—and then there's a small ship in a forest, there's orange and green and blue, there's weapons and shouting and a lapis falling to pieces in front of his eye—

—and Scott's grip on Jimmy's forearm turns almost violent in its intensity. Jimmy looks down at him, concern preciously obvious in all of his body language. Scott doesn't look up. His hands are shaking.

"You saw something," Jimmy says softly, immediately crouching to be at eye level with Scott.

"I did."

His face is pinched with concern and worry and stubborn, stubborn love, a fierce protectiveness that has lead to his hypothetical death in several timelines in Scott's vision. "Was it about the ship? Was it bad?"

Scott shakes his head on instinct before catching himself and leaning more into a head-tilt, like the birds. "They're coming. They've spotted us. There's only three gems, I think, and they're going to land in the forest in front of the Crastle."

Jimmy's face goes pale. "Could you tell what type of gems they were?" Scott shakes his head, and Jimmy immediately pulls him into a hug, which has been his thing lately. Spontaneous displays of affection—though this one, Scott supposes, is not that spontaneous. He hugs Jimmy back and does his best not to touch his wings so as to not drench his arms. "It's gonna be okay, Scott. We'll be alright. We always end up alright."

Scott simply hums in return. The amount of confidence he speaks with is almost hilarious, considering how many times Scott has saved him from shattering without him even knowing. It would be hilarious if they weren't visions of his flower dying gruesomely branded onto the inside of his eyelid. "I know. Just stay close to me, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

Jimmy pulls back but leaves his hands on Scott's shoulders. "I never do anything stupid."

Scott is not content with giving him a look that he will not be able to see. He pushes his bangs out of the way and fixes Jimmy with the most lightheartedly withering glare he can manage.

Jimmy bursts out laughing. Scott can hardly help himself but follow.

Owen is rather certain that he is a sensible person. If the contrary was true, he is almost certain that he would have been shattered ages ago, or at the very least, reconditioned due to his innate value. He is almost completely positive that he is one of, if not the most level-headed gems that has ever stepped foot into consciousness.

Because of this, he feels as if his response of dropping his recording device onto a rock and breaking it instantly upon seeing the trio of gems that exit the large castle is entirely reasonable.

There is a jasper that positively towers over him, a lapis lazuli that is shooting him and his company a very distasteful look, and a sapphire, front and centre, just like him.

He gazes into Sapphire's bangs, and Sapphire stares right back.

They're both frozen, the plant matter around Sapphire's dress freezing so quickly the lapis begins to try and kick it away and the matter around Owen's dress cooking to a light sear. The vision of El and Beks' confused expressions flashes like a spotlight into the front of his mind, and he can see equally as perplexed looks on Sapphire's friends' faces.

He cannot believe what he is seeing—it shouldn't even be possible for him to be seeing this. This is wrong, this is terrible, this is—

"Owen?" Sapphire says, taking a step forward. Beks immediately matches the step, but Owen holds out his hand to keep her still. "Owen—Padparadscha, is that really you?"

"Yeah," Owen breathes, before clearing his throat and fixing his posture to be more straight. He glances at Beks and she immediately snatches up the pieces of the broken recorder. That was entirely his fault, be will admit—a reasonable response to seeing a friend currently siding with a bunch of deserting rebels he was sent to interrogate, but his fault nonetheless. "Yes, Sapphire, it's me. What are you doing?"

Sapphire's demeanor almost seems to brighten at that. "Oh, Owen, you wouldn't believe the things we have out here—I go by Scott now, by the way."

"'Scott?'" Owen repeats, rolling the name around in his mouth. "Why? That has nothing to do with you or your cut."

"No, no," 'Scott' says, shaking his head. "It's an alien name. I chose it myself, do you like it?"

"Do I like—Sapphire—Scott, whatever, do you realise how serious this is?"

Scott falters a bit, taking a slight step back as the lapis frowns at Owen. Owen stares directly at him, and he shrinks a bit but still asks, "'Serious?' What makes this so much worse than all the other trips out here?"

Scott elbows the lapis in the thigh, and before Owen can really process the fact that this...group of gems have encountered the other missions, El steps forward and clears her throat. She has been furiously tapping on a holographic screen ever since Owen broke the recorder, most likely transcribing the entire conversation. She doesn't even look up as she begins to speak.

"The Great Diamond Authority has recognised the presence of living and functioning gems on this planet that have not returned to Homeworld after several scouting and retrieval missions. The three of us are here as an extension of their luminescent grace and power to decipher and report upon the locations and intentions of these...missing gems."

The word 'missing' is dripping with distaste and scorn, and Owen is rather sure everyone felt it. Scott takes another step back and Owen stamps out the resulting twist in his chest. It isn't his problem if Scott decided to run off onto some planet and desert his home for...whatever reason. It isn't his problem that the sapphire has seen this writhing, damp, cluttered mess of a planet to be worth more than his life and the lives of those that took the mission with him. He is not going to think about it too hard because he is sensible and would prefer to remain that way.

"So what does that...mean?" the lapis asks, fiddling with his fingers.

"It means we're here to get answers, moron," Beks snaps, leaning on the hilt of her greatsword. "Though I honestly think the fact that you're not begging us to take you home is answer enough."

All three of the gems standing across from them (including Sapphire, and Owen really is trying to wrap his head around the idea that Sapphire is over there and he is over here and they are enemies?, he supposes?) make some sort of scowl, and he sees the water in the pond not too far from them start to ripple, except that was about ten seconds ago and now the surface of the water is choppy and the lapis' gem is starting to glow.

"Owen," Scott says quietly.

"Padparadscha," Owen hisses, digging his fingers into his dress and staring down the lapis lazuli. He feels lightheaded. "No deserter is a friend of mine."

"Stars, Homeworld gems," mutters the jasper, who has looked nothing but mildly intrigued this entire time and is now gazing down at Owen with an unidentifiable expression that makes his skin prickle. "So dramatic."

"There's really no need to get overly-hostile, here," El says nervously, though the fact that she actually glances up from her holoscreen is sign enough that she is ready to bolt at any given moment. "We just want to ask some questions."

"No, I think the quartz may have been right," the jasper says, stretching in a way that cracks her knuckles and other assorted joints audibly but plays it off like a normal stretch. "We've given you answer enough."

"Are you suggesting we fight?" Beks asks, though she sounds more like she's gleefully proposing something rather than asking a question. "'Cause we're not leaving until we complete what we've been told to do. Unlike some, we still have a modicum of responsibility left in our rays."

"Beks," El says irritably, shooting the quartz a glare. "Stop antagonising them."

Beks stops leaning back and forth on her sword and instead properly wraps her hand around the hilt, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just talking."

"We'd appreciate it if you stopped," the lapis insists.

"We'd appreciate it if you shut up," Beks snaps back, the tip of her sword digging further into the ground, piecing through the layer beneath their feet. Owen can't stop staring. "Really, I mean—a bloody lapis? And a sapphire? I mean, I wouldn't expect anything more from a jasper, maybe even a lapis under insane circumstances, but a sapphire? For this? This disgusting, pulsing planet?"

Owen blinks, and he can see serrated spikes rising from the water's surface.

Scott blinks, and he can see that same image of a lapis shattering in front of his eyes.

For a moment, the two of them are in sync again.

And then the spikes go flying, and Owen shouts out Beks' name as she lifts her sword to attack and the lapis kicks into the air with his wings. El immediately shrieks and ducks away, dress snagging on the sharp edges of the terrain as Beks' sword goes swinging in a terrifyingly wide arc in front of them. The only thing Owen can do is yell, really, until he realises he can do more and throws himself into Beks' back as hard as physically possible. He lands on top of her, and then falls straight onto the forest floor, something sharp digging into his abdomen.

At the same time, Jimmy's name is torn from Scott's throat as he lunges towards the lapis, attaching himself to his legs and pulling him down, yanking him closer to the ground just as weapons make contact and suddenly, Scott is holding nothing.

Scott snatches Jimmy's gem off the forest floor (thank the stars, thank the stars, that was entirely too close and he can barely breathe and he is shaking so hard he's scared the vibrations might end up shattering Jimmy, anyway) and shouts, "Enough! Enough, please. Cleo, please."

Owen's vision shifts back to reality (after watching three shards of ice go directly through Beks' head as her sword cut clean through the lapis' neck) and he realises that he is at the end of the jasper's weapon—'Cleo's' weapon, apparently. He looks up at her and sits up, scooping Beks' gem into his hands and clutching it close to his chest.

"This...this will get us nowhere," Scott says through ragged breaths, and Owen blinks and he sees a lapis gem shattering from Scott's point of view- a disorienting past-vision of Scott's future-vision that makes him feel dizzy. He hasn't done that in so long. How long has Scott been out here? Owen knew he went on a mission somewhere, but it isn't that uncommon for those to take several months, or even years before becoming a real concern. How long has Scott been missing?

"I—I agree," calls El from several feet away. Her dress is shredded at the bottom and Owen is quite sure this is the first time he has ever seen her legs. He blinks, hard, and sees Scott holding the lapis' hand as they walked out of the castle in front of them. A deep, painful pit settles in his stomach. "Please, let's just sit down and talk."

Owen feels a bit ill. The present and the recent past are often a bit too similar and a bit too frequent for him to properly categorise, and he suddenly fears the idea of getting them very, very badly confused like he has done several times before. For some of those times, Scott was there to help him. He sees Scott pushing his hair back, staring at him, except when Owen actually looks, his hair is down and his hand is hovering by his chest. Around where his heart would be.

"Owen," he says quietly. "Let's go inside."

Owen blinks and sees Scott and this lapis encouraging each other, warning each other just behind the door, hugging each other, Scott standing on his toes while the lapis leans down and—

Oh. His vision shifts focus again. He's too dizzy for this. The sun is going down and the sky is painted in brilliant shades of yellow and orange and red and purple. It's black and tainted with trillions of stars in his vision alone.

"Yeah, alright," Owen whispers, looking down at Beks. He swipes his thumb against the face of the gem and holds her tighter in his hands. Scott is pressing the lapis to his forehead. The lapis is in a blue bubble within Scott's hands. Owen feels dizzy. "Let's go inside."

#enderwails #mcytblr #gemcyt #again i do not know if writing fics of other people's fics is okay anymore so if this is unwanted i will take it down so fast #but #im obsessed w/ this au #and im obsessed with owen #and everything just exploded into me writing this at like 10pm #there will likely be more chapers if i manage to actually write them #we shall see #owengejuicetv #bekyamon #soupforeloise #scott smajor #smajor1995 #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #zombiecleo

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vague-bisexual-crimes · 6 months

Text

The main character of all my iwbft fics isn't actually Jimmy or Lister or Rowan or Angel it's actually insomnia.

Description: This is set slightly after Lister has come home from the hospital and Jimmy and Lister are plagued with insomnia for several different reasons including but not limited to Jimmy's anxiety and Lister's sobriety.

Word count: a little over 2.5k

Rated: G

TWs: canon typical anxiety, nonspecific mentions of withdrawals

Slightly pre-relationship bicci fluff, mostly The Ark fluff, very domestic!

insomniacs

Jimmy rolls over for the billionth time, pissed at his brain and at his clock that keeps incessantly marking the passing of time.

He’s been trying to sleep for four hours now.

First it was that he really wasn’t all that tired. So then he watched TV until his eyes felt heavy, which turned into trying to sleep, which turned into his body refusing to let him sleep, which led to frustration that he wasn’t asleep, and inevitably anxiety over lost sleep.

Jimmy’s brain, everybody. What a wonderful thing to behold.

He’s going to break something. Or scream.

Instead he goes to make a cup of tea.

To Jimmy’s surprise, he is not alone in his 3AM journey to the kitchen.

Standing folded over the kitchen island, deep bags under his eyes, jaw clenched, hands clasped so tight together that his knuckles were white, was Lister.

Jimmy is torn trying to decide a way announce his presence as to not scare the shit out of Lister who’s eyes are glued to the counter while also not initiating any kind of conversation that would lead to Lister asking him why he’s up so late (so early?). Before Jimmy can decide how to do this, Lister’s eyes break away from the countertop and land on him.

“Jimmy!” Lister stands up slightly straighter at the realization that he’s no longer alone in the kitchen, but his hands are still gripped together like he’ll die if he lets go. He sounds like he’s been crying but he doesn’t look it.

Jimmy gives a halfhearted smile to Lister as he turns the teapot on. Jimmy runs a hand over his face, the sleeplessness catching up to him before the night is even over.

Jimmy looks at Lister properly and he finally registers exactly how strange Lister is behaving. “You alright?”

“Peachy,” he says in his Lister Bird voice, the same way he would cheekily reply to a fan or an interviewer who he found particularly boring. It felt wrong in their kitchen.

Jimmy wraps his arms around himself, the kitchen is always colder than the rest of the apartment. “Yeah?”

“Can’t sleep?” Lister asks instead.

Jimmy frowns but answers. “God forbid. I’ll be asleep on the couch by afternoon and up at this time tomorrow.”

“At least it’s pretty at night.” Lister says, sounding more like Lister, Jimmy’s best friend rather than Lister, Calvin Klein model.

Jimmy scrunches his face up. “I hate nighttime. Nothing ever feels real at night and yet everything feels too real.”

“I’ve always loved it. No parents to tell me what to do, no fans to ask for pictures. Just my own little world inside the apartment.”

Jimmy wishes he shared the sentiment.

“What’s keeping you up?” Lister asks.

It’s not always something, more often than not it’s nothing, tonight it’s a bit more complicated than that.

“At first I just couldn’t sleep, and then I convinced myself that the apartment is empty and I’m alone and this is actually a nightmare and I’m just waiting for the bad thing to happen and I know it’s not going to happen but I’m stuck waiting for the other shoe to drop until morning.” He fights to keep his voice level and for the most part he does, but his heart is beating too fast in his chest.

“I’m here,” Lister says. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe he hasn’t.

“Why’re you up?” Jimmy asks.

Lister sort of rolls his eyes and shrugs, his face torn between resentment and exhaustion. “Why am I not up?” Lister answers.

Jimmy catches Lister’s eyes for a moment but not before Lister casts them back down to the counter. “I haven’t really slept since I came home from the hospital.”

Neither had Jimmy. He didn’t say as much.

“Have you slept at all tonight?” Jimmy asks instead.

Lister shakes his head. “I’ve given up on trying. A bit of me is hoping the exhaustion will catch up to me and I’ll just magically fall asleep one of these nights.”

“Or you’ll fuck up your sleep schedule and stress out your body more.”

“My sleep schedules always been fucked.” Lister ignores the latter comment.

Jimmy makes his tea and offers Lister some, who declines.

“Keep me company while we don’t sleep?” Jimmy asks.

Lister smiles, it’s small and directly contrasts the bags under his eyes, but it’s genuine. “‘Course,”

They end up in Jimmy’s room, the TV playing quietly in the background so as to not wake Rowan who had gone to bed at ten.

The light is off, casting the two of them in the faint light of the TV as they sit side by side on Jimmy’s bed, legs under the covers. Jimmy’s holding his cup of hardly drank tea and Lister is holding a pillow against his chest, his head resting against the wall.

“Did you know that screens are bad for falling asleep?” Lister says when Jimmy picks up his phone.

“Fuck off.” Jimmy says though he isn’t really upset. God, he’s tired.

“No, I mean I’ve been reading about sleeping and insomnia and shit—it’s all a lie none of it works—but the light keeps you awake.” Lister says.

Jimmy locks his phone and watches TV for a few minutes. “Did you ever have a normal sleep schedule? When we were teenagers, I mean, before the band.”

“No. And we’re still teenagers.” Lister says, turning to glance at Jimmy.

“We haven’t been teenagers for years.” Jimmy says.

“Amen,” Lister amends. “Did you?”

“Not since I was a little kid.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Jimmy feels like he might possibly feel like he can fall asleep in a few more hours.

“Do you ever wish we were never famous?” Lister asks.

“Yes,” Jimmy answers with little hesitation.

“Do you think we’d all be friends if it weren’t for the band?”

“It’s hard to imagine a world where we aren’t.” Jimmy admits. “You and Rowan are the only reason I haven’t gone entirely off the rails.”

“Only mostly,” Lister says.

“Fuck off.” Jimmy smiles slightly. “Neither of us are entirely on the rails.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on the rails.”

Jimmy lets out a small laugh, like music in the quiet of the dark room. “That makes two of us.”

Jimmy’s silent for a few beats before he asks. “Do you ever wish we were never famous?” Lister has always enjoyed fame. The drumming, the attention, the money, it’s all things he loves. Or maybe it isn’t. Lately Jimmy’s been realizing how little he actually knows about Lister.

He thinks for a moment. “I wish things happened differently.” Another moment. “I wish we were older, I think. Like maybe if the fame was starting now we’d be more ready for it than we were.”

“We weren’t ready for shit back then.” Jimmy says. “It’s a bit of a miracle we didn’t get more fucked over than we did.”

“That’s probably true.”

Jimmy is riding the line between still awake and so tired he’s about to start seeing things when his phone buzzes.

Rowan: Are you awake?

Jimmy: And Lister. We’re in my room

“What’s that?” Lister asks, not moving his eyes from the point on the ceiling he’s been looking at for twenty minutes.

“Rowan’s asking if I was up.”

“God, what is it four in the morning, why’s Rowan up?”

A second later there’s a soft knock and Rowan is pushing the door open before anyone replies.

“Is this the insomniac room?” Rowan asks, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his glasses abandoned.

“You’ve caught our disease.” Lister says as Rowan climbs on the bed to the other side of Jimmy. He wraps an arm around Rowan who rests his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy’s eyes close.

“I can’t sleep either but I don’t get cuddles.” Lister whines.

Jimmy opens his other arm without opening his eyes. “C’mon then,” Jimmy’s about to open his eyes to glare at Lister when he feels him scoot across the mattress and rest his head against Jimmy’s chest, one arm reaching around Jimmy’s back, the other coming to rest on Rowan’s bicep. Jimmy’s cheek comes to rest on the top of Lister’s head, he smells like sandalwood and spices and that kind of vaguely masculine scent that they put in men’s perfume.

Jimmy can’t recall when any of them falls asleep, he just recalls the sense of calm that falls over the room as his two best friends cling and nuzzle against him like kittens and waking up the next morning to the three of them tangled together like three balls of yarn.

Rowan’s insomnia is a one off case, he sleeps the next night in his own room with ease, Jimmy and Lister, however, are still cursed.

They meet earlier this time, having both sat in the living room sometime in the early evening and migrating to Jimmy’s room around eleven.

Jimmy turn’s the TV on again and rests his head on Lister’s shoulder as he watches it. Lister is stiff for a moment before he puts his head on top of Jimmy’s and puts an arm around him. It’s still late when they fall asleep but it’s before 5AM and Jimmy hasn’t felt so well rested in weeks.

This quickly becomes a routine, Jimmy’s not sure if it’s the presence of someone else or the cuddles that soothes his racing mind, but it does, so he tries not to look too deep into it and takes all the sleep he can get.

After a few weeks of this the bags on Lister’s eyes begin to fade slightly and some life comes back to him.

Jimmy supposes he looks less ill than normal but he tries not to pay enough attention to his appearance to notice such things.

It’s Rowan who brings it up to Jimmy, one afternoon where Jimmy is sitting on Rowan’s floor while Rowan fiddles around on his guitar.

“Have you been sleeping? You look better than you’ve been.” If anyone else had said this to Jimmy he may have taken offense, but it's Rowan, so he doesn't.

“Do I?” Jimmy asks.

“You do.” Rowan says, wincing at an out of tune string.

“Lister’s been sleeping in my room.” Jimmy says picking up one of Rowan’s other guitars and tuning it along with Rowan. “It’s helpful, having something living in the same room, I guess.”

Rowan hums but doesn’t look up, his twists hanging in his face as he strums a chord.

“He looks better, too,” Rowan says.

Rowan shows Jimmy the songs he’s been writing against the advice of all of their therapists, but Jimmy’s not sure it counts when he’s just writing for himself and not the band. It’s a different sound than he’s used to from Rowan, but he really likes it, it feels like Rowan.

Jimmy hasn’t written any lyrics in so long, he still needs some time to separate writing from The Ark, every time he sits down to write he worries it’s not good enough, that people will hate it. He’s been advised to not write for other people and just write for himself but he’s finding it difficult. Rowan’s always been a writer though, it would be strange if he stopped.

Jimmy’s not sure his life has ever been so eventless, even before the band. The apartment is quiet and with each passing day Jimmy realizes how big it is for the three of them. He wishes, not for the first time, that they would move out of London. It’s been discussed, but it was decided that it would be worse for the three of them to uproot their lives anymore than they have, so they stay in the London flat.

Lister’s doing better, the withdrawals are noticeable to Jimmy and Rowan but they don’t comment. He hardly ever talks about it, but when he does it’s almost always the day after he has therapy and he still never says much. The two of them are there for Lister and Lister knows that, and that’s enough most of the time.

It’s three months later when the topic of moving comes up again, to Jimmy’s excitement.

It’s a Sunday morning, Jimmy and Lister have been up for a few hours but Rowan has recently joined them, perched on the foot of Jimmy’s bed, legs crossed, glasses hanging on the neck of his shirt.

“I’m sick of this apartment.” Rowan says. “Too…much has happened here.”

“We should get out of London while we’re at it.” Jimmy adds.

“We can’t move back to Kent.” Rowan says.

“Just out of London.” Lister seconds.

“Have you talked to Cecily? She’s not gonna like us being outside London.” Jimmy asks.

“I don’t really care about how convenient where we live is to anyone else. And Cecily said it was fine as long as we didn’t move more than an hour's car ride away unless we want to have to fly into London every time we do pretty much anything.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Despite having moved out of their family’s houses years ago, they are utterly useless at looking for somewhere to live.

Cecily, Bliss, Pierro, and Rowan’s sister Jade are all called about the matter. Bliss and Rowan’s sister aren’t entirely sure how they’re supposed to help but they both send a few listings to Rowan. Pierro hasn’t bought a house since before Jimmy was alive so he isn’t much more help. Cecily takes it upon herself to find the boys a house close enough to London that she doesn’t go insane, and far enough from London that the boys didn’t go insane.

Cecily is surprisingly fruitful in her search and presents them with several options. In the end, it boils down to the one that is midway between London and Kent.

“We have too much shit!” Lister declares as he finishes taping a box shut and sits on top of it.

“Sounds like a you problem, mate, I’ve almost got all my stuff packed.” Rowan calls from down the hall.

“Piss off, you have Bliss helping you!” Lister calls back.

By the time they’ve moved into their new house, Jimmy has sworn off ever moving again and told Rowan and Lister they can never get sick of this house because he is never packing up all their shit again.

It’s smaller than the London flat was, still bigger than the three of them necessarily need. 6 bedrooms, one for each of them, one to be turned into a studio, and two spare bedrooms. Bliss helps them move and resigns herself to one of the spare bedrooms as soon as all of their boxes are inside.

Jimmy's given up on unpacking the rest of his room that night and flops down on his bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. A knock comes on Jimmy’s door and he jumps a bit, he sits up to lean against his headboard, and in a shaky voice says, “Yeah?”

Rowan pushes the door open and lays down, putting his head in Jimmy’s lap. “I’m too tired to unpack tonight but my room feels too clinical without any of my stuff.”

Jimmy hums in agreement and rests a hand on Rowan’s head. Rowan doses off after a little while, but before Jimmy can there’s another knock. “Yeah?”

This time it’s Lister, in boxers and a hoodie that almost swallows him whole. “Welcome to the sleepover,” Jimmy’s voice drips with sarcasm, though he’s secretly glad that he doesn’t have to spend the first night in their new house on his own.

“Can't believe I didn’t get the invite.” Lister says, laying his head on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“I think you’ve just got a standing invite at this point.” Jimmy answers, resting his head on top of Lister’s like he so often does.

“Even better.” Lister says and it doesn’t take much longer before they’re both asleep.

#iwbft #i was born for this #the ark #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #bliss lai #alice oseman #iwbft fanfic #my writing

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

⚡ He's Mine

He’s Mine: You have long since pined over the dark, grumpy, and stoic Harrison Wells from Earth Two, and after a fun round of drinking and a game of truth or dare, you end up stuck between a rock and a hard body er… place, hard place. So after both you and Harry get blackmailed into going to a nightclub party, things heat up when a cupcake meets an early demise at the taloned hands of a barbie wannabe. You do not like sharing your cupcakes with anyone, and you don’t like being challenged, especially by a woman who stole your cupcake, and is now setting her eyes on your object of interest: Harry.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Scenes (Unprotected Sex Is A No No), Drinking (Be Responsible).

To Note: Harry Wells x Female!Reader, Reader Has Extreme Anxiety & Long Hair For Plot Reasons.

Word Count: ~10.0k

Masterlist | I'm Yours

“No, no way. When hell freezes over, nah, nope, nein, nyet, want it in Spanish? Noh! I’ll take a pass on that, Iris.” You said, shaking your head with extended vigor and might. Iris raised an eyebrow at you while crossing her arms.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to tell him.” She replied smugly while Caitlin snickered underneath her breath. Your face flushed with heat as you started to sputter for words. Harry, who had been sitting across the room, looked up curiously at your choking sounds. Your eyes darted to Harry’s curious ones as the two women in front of you smirked in unison.

“Oh, go back to your tinkering,” You snapped at him, your face now sweltering with heat. You turned back to the two cackling hyenas in front of you. Harry huffed in response and the sounds of his tinkering resumed. “NO! Absolutely not! I refuse both!”

“It’s one or the other. We all did our tasks, you have to pick, go to the party, or tell him.” You threw your hands into the air.

“Both of them are terrible!” You exclaimed. “And you know how I feel about those types of things!”

“Okay!” Cisco yelled from where he had been fiddling with his tablet. “I get that you three need female time and all, but I don’t think us men need to hear about your girl problems.”

The three of you turned to Cisco, who was giving you a look, and before you knew it, Iris had your wrist in her grasp and was pulling you along. You nearly tripped over your feet keeping up with her.

“We are going with option one by default.” Iris chirped as she dragged you out of the cortex with Caitlin clicking after you in her heels.

“But I don’t have anything to wear!” You whined, trying to wiggle yourself, and your future self, out of having to go to the party tonight.

“Which is why we enlisted Jesse’s help,” Caitlin said as you neared the elevator. “She managed to get her hands on some outfits that should fit you.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” You muttered lowly.

“To get you and your love life started? Absolutely.” Iris answered, flashing you a brilliant smile. “It’s obvious, and it is time we do something about it.”

“What’s obvious?” You questioned as the elevator started going down. “My ineffaceable love for a man I cannot have or my unrequited love for a man fifteen years my senior?”

The elevator doors dinged open just as you finished your sentence, revealing Jesse who was dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it unrequited, Y/N.” Jesse said, putting her hands on her hips. “I know my dad, and you have no idea how many times I’ve caught him staring at you when he thinks no one is looking. It’s actually kind of funny now that I think about, I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.”

“He does not.” You huffed as you exited the elevator. “And for the record, I do not want to be here, nor do I want to be at that party.”

“Duly noted.”

“Have I told you how much I hate you right now?” You asked as you glared at yourself in the mirror of Iris’s bedroom. You all had gone to a salon, well you had been dragged, and gotten your hair, nails, and faces done up professionally for the night. Pampering they had called it.

In an explanation for why the party was such a big deal, it was basically a party that was held once a year at Central City’s biggest club. It was technically a party for some radical art movement, but pretty much everyone uses it as a chance to get out and party hard.

You’ve never been, and you didn’t want to, but at this point in time, it was either go and suffer for several hours where you at least would have access to alcohol, or tell Harry that you had a thing for him, and have for a while. That was permanent.

Obviously you ended up going with the first option. No need to have your heart torn in half by Harry Wells, a man notorious for not mincing his words.

“Mhm, you’ll thank me when you have men drooling over you.” Iris mused as she played with your hair, adding a few more spritzes of hair glimmer to enhance what the stylist had already done. You had no say in how your hair was done, so your hair was currently curled and gathered into a bun with a silver pin holding everything all together.

The makeup Iris had chosen for you was bold, bright red lipstick, black glittering eyeshadow surrounding your eyes, and highlighter that would make your face glow underneath the club lights… according to Jesse. With your looks so far, it horrified you to think of what they would force you to wear, and even more so now that Caitlin had run off with your glasses.

You’ll just have to bumble around for the night.

Your short-sightedness made things blurry, and since you were most definitely going to have heels shoved on your feet, your balance was going to be terrible. You were not a girly girl, you never dressed like one, wore heels, particularly cared for your looks, and you didn’t have contacts because you always ended up messing with them… and then poking yourself in the eye. Ouch.

You guess the girls just wanted to see you dressed up for once, and this was the perfect chance to do so. Crossing your arms, you kept your red lips pursed and shut as Iris set the glitter spray down and looked over her shoulder.

“Jesse, is everything ready?” Iris asked the speedster. Jesse zipped out of the room for a moment before coming back, a bag in her hands.

“All here,” she said with a smile. “Specially borrowed from a friend of mine who is the same size as Y/N.”

“I’m going to kill multiple people tonight,” You groaned as Jesse bounced over with a big smile. She set the bag down on Iris’s bed and pulled out black fishnet tights, a pair of wicked black heels with a red sole, and a metallic dress, completely covered in square rhinestones. Your eye ticked before you added, “and then myself.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Caitlin said as she walked over, messing with her earrings. “It’s a nightclub, lots of flashing lights, you’ll catch every eye in the venue wearing that, and those heels… even I’m jealous, those are Louboutin.”

You stared blankly at Caitlin.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” The dress was shoved into your hands and they pushed you towards the bathroom. With a defeated whine on your red lips, you sulked into the bathroom to seal your fate.

It was just for one night. It was just for one night. It was just for one night.

Undoing the robe you wore, you held up the dress before sighing. Sans bra it was going to have to be. Unclipping your bra, you let it drop to the floor before balancing on one foot and stepping into the skirt part of the dress. You pulled the clinging material up your hips and over your already scandalous enough thong. The skirt of the dress stopped at your lower back, leaving the front of it with its thin silver straps being the only thing to protect your modesty.

Internally groaning to yourself, you put your arms through the straps and pulled the dress until it was resting on your shoulders. One look at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks were burning and you wanted to rip the damn thing off. The dress did indeed cover your breasts, but only just so much… as for your cleavage? Never before have you had this much. The drape neckline had a pretty good amount of cleavage, the silver fabric draping in just the right place. Everything would be perfect if you didn’t feel like the thong you wore was giving you a wedgie…

You looked pretty, heck you would dare say you even looked hot, but this wasn’t you. This wasn’t Y/N, the generic, average intelligence woman who scraped out a B plus average in college. But you had made a promise to the girls that whatever happened at game night, you would follow through, so you just had to suck this up and wait for the night to end.

A fist banged on the door.

“I know you aren’t hiding out in that bathroom, Y/N!” Caitlin sang from outside the door. “Don’t make me come in there!”

Bending down, you gathered the robe and your discarded bra before standing up and opening the door.

“Believe me,” You stated blandly. “I want this night to end so I’m not dawdling.”

“I’m officially wondering why you are still single,” Caitlin muttered as you passed her and headed back into Iris’s bedroom.

“Alright, what other monstrosities do you want me to put on?” You asked, eyeing the fishnet tights. They were black and occasionally had rhinestones embedded in them to give them an extra sparkle.

Jesse grabbed the tights and swapped them for your bra and robe.

“Put those on, and by the way, they’re stockings, not tights.” She said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “They go up to your thigh. Don’t worry about garters, these have stick adhesive to keep them up.”

“Someone help me,” You moaned as you sat on the edge of Iris’s bed and lifted your right foot. Slipping the first stocking on your foot, you stretched out your leg, pulling the material until it reached your upper thigh and under your dress by about two inches.

“Okay,” Iris said, bounding back into her room with a bright smile. “Barry and Cisco have done their job, and will meet us at the party.”

“What did you do?” You asked as you started working on the next stocking. Iris turned your way, and a large, devious smile slowly stretched across her lips.

“Oh nothing, just asked them to help with a little something the three of us have been working on.” Iris answered cheekily, and it was at that moment a sinking feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. “You look beyond gorgeous. I know a few men who’ll appreciate that tonight.”

You huffed at her before lowering your left leg and looking down at yourself, considering that your dress was one hundred percent comprised of sparkling rhinestones… the occasional few on your fishnet stockings actually worked well with the look. Reluctantly, and with a sigh, you grabbed the insane heels with the red sole and slipped your feet into them. Setting your now heeled feet on the floor, dread filled your body at the notion of having to wear these for the rest of the night.

A promise is a promise, and you didn’t break yours.

“Alright, the woman of the night is dressed, ready to break hearts, and then capture one… everyday else ready?” Jesse asked, now completely dressed up in a modest purple dress.

“Oh, one last thing,” Caitlin said before grabbing a box and opening it, revealing four thin cuffs, all black. “Cisco made these so if we lose anyone, we can track them down… and if anyone comes across a guy who doesn’t understand the word no? Well it also has a panic button that alerts the others and can provide a pretty nasty shock if need be.”

Getting to your feet, you walked over to Caitlin and took one of the bracelets, sliding it around your wrist.

“Glad to know that the boy’s care.” Iris chimed before a honk outside the house could be heard. “And that’s our ride. Come on, we’ve got a night of fun ahead of us.”

Grabbing your small black clutch you had dug out of the bottom of your closet, you checked to make sure you had your driver’s license, cash, one credit card, the ticket to get into the club, and your phone. Everything was there. Slipping it onto your wrist, you followed the others out of Iris’s room.

“So we’re meeting the boys at the club. Where exactly? Since I am assuming that this place will be packed.” You asked as you piled into the taxi Iris had called. “Because it’s going to be dark, crowded, and loud.”

“Barry said he and Ralph would meet us by the south bar, where the desserts will be when it gets past ten thirty.” Caitlin answered as she double checked her lipstick using a compact mirror.

“Dessert?” Your asked, perking up a bit. The three girls smirked at you, knowing full well that you loved to eat all kinds of baked goods, especially cakes and cupcakes.

“Yet another reason to hang around.” Iris grinned. “The food is supposed to be really good, my friend at Jitter’s says that its catered from a bakery here in Central City, and they go all out to keep with the artistic theme.”

“Well, I guess that means I’ll be counting the minutes until ten thirty.”

“At least try to have fun before that, maybe dance with a couple guys, have a drink?” Jesse asked, her eyes turning pleading and big.

“Drink? Yes,” You stated before pressing your lips together. “Dancing? Eh, maybe, depends on the song… and how drunk I am at that point.”

Jesse groaned and shook her head, mumbling about stubborn adults not wanting to let loose and have fun, but didn’t pester you anymore. You decided to get dropped off a block away since the venue would no doubt be swarmed with limos and fancy cars dropping off people who flaunted their money.

So, holding your coat close to your body, you scurried the one block to the nightclub. Or at least Iris, Jesse, and Caitlin scurried. You pretty much wobbled along, your balance not exactly coordinated with your heels yet. Weaving through the throngs of chattering people, you hopping in line to get into the club, holding your ticket close to your body. As you waited, it hit you.

“Wait Caitlin, you said that Barry and Ralph are meeting us at the south bar… what about Cisco? I thought he was coming?” You asked her as you steadily moved up in line.

“He is,” Caitlin replied with a nod of her chin. “He’s just taking care of something for us last minute, he’ll meet up with us when he is done. You know he’d never miss this.”

“Yeah, he’s been talking about this for the last three months.” Jesse added while nodding in agreement. “He’ll be here… hopefully…” She muttered the last part, which you raised your eyebrow at, but didn’t question her.

Turning your head forward, you watched as the group of woman in front of you, scantily clad, even more so than you, giggled as they were let in. Rolling your eyes, you stepped forwards with Jesse, Iris, and Caitlin and handed your ticket over.

The bouncer working the door verified your ticket before putting fresh ink on the stamper and stamping the backs of your right hand with the florescent ink that would glow underneath the club lights.

“Let the party begin,” Iris said happily before taking your wrist and pulling you into the depths of the club.

Walking through the dark club, there was a smell of alcohol, fake smoke, sweat, cologne, and perfume that seemed to follow you wherever you went. The tickling sensation in your nose took at least five minutes to go away, and by then your eyes had adjusted to the dark interior and you could actually see where you were going and what was going on.

The four of you had walked through the throngs of people already gathering and chatting away, heading for the south bar, which would be less crowded at this time. You made it to the bar before Barry and Ralph, not particularly surprising considering Barry is late for everything.

You decided to look at the bar menu while the three women started gossiping together. Your eyes scanned the large list of cocktails and spirits the bars were packed with, and you found yourself impressed with the selection.

Your eyes landed on a drink called the Boulevardier, made with whiskey, Campari, and sweet vermouth. It packs a wallop of alcohol in a dainty cocktail that would be perfect for a night like this. Add an orange twist and you were sold. As soon as you could, you were going to get one in your hand and start slurping up the alcohol.

“Hey!” You heard Barry call, and turning your head, you saw him and Ralph walk over wearing dressed down suits. Barry had a green vest that perfectly matched the sleek dress Iris had squeezed herself into while Ralph had on a black and silver get up, complimenting his alter ego’s suit. “Sorry we’re late, we got caught up in something. Cisco said that he’ll be along shortly, just that one of his projects is being stubborn.”

You raised your eyebrow at the statement, but thought nothing of it. It didn’t surprise you that Cisco was working with his toys right up to the party. Iris smiled before walking up to her boyfriend and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You look rather dashing, Mr. Allen.” Iris said before pulling Barry down to plant one on him. Rolling your eyes, you looked to Ralph, who was still looking around.

“I’m surprised you gave up a night of work to come to this thing.” You commented, your lips twisting into a slight smile. Ralph’s eyes met yours, and he grinned.

“You know I’m not always thinking about work,” He said as he meandered over to where you lounged against the bar top. “You look fantastic. Why don’t you dress up more often?”

“Because I don’t like to.” You answered, blatantly honest. “Not to mention I’m showing so much skin I could be mistaken for a stripper. This is uncomfortable and my feet hurt. Brings a whole new meaning to beauty is pain.”

Ralph snorted and shook his head.

“Believe me, you look far from a stripper.” He said, his smile growing. “We might end up pulling guys off you by the end of the night.”

“Ha!” You puffed out with a small smile on your lips. “Doubtful, but whatever makes you happy Dibny.”

Jesse came bouncing over, latching onto Ralph and pulling him to the half filled dance floor. Iris and Barry were still being lovey dovey with each other so you turned to Caitlin.

“You brought me here so I had to be subjected to those two?” You asked, jerking your thumb at your two lovesick friends. Caitlin snorted before shaking her head at you.

“We all have to deal with it,” she said smartly and with a hint of sass. “We brought you here so we could finally get it in your two heads that you like each other, and stop pining after each other. I mean, do you know how many times we’ve wanted to lock you two in the supply closet and not let you out until you admitted your feelings!? So many times…”

“What?” You asked, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion at her small rant. Caitlin took a deep breath and brushed back her wavy hair from her face.

“Nothing, nothing, everything will work out tonight, everything will work out.” She chanted to herself before looking around. “I need a drink, anyone want a drink?”

With that, she marched off to the other end of the bar, where the bartender was cleaning some glasses. Alright, everyone had been acting weird tonight, and your not just talking about Cisco’s sudden aversion to tacos… something was going on, and you weren’t in on it.

Huffing, you looked down at the bar top and started drumming your red painted fingernails on it. You stared at nothing in particular until Cisco’s voice came chirping from your right.

“I told you I’d convince him! That transmogrification device is amazing!” Cisco exclaimed shortly before there was a frightening familiar disgruntled sigh. Freezing in your seat, your head turned until you saw the man that the disgruntled sigh came from.

Harry freaking Wells. In a freaking suit, that dressed down one Harrison Wells, or Eobard Thawne, wore the night the particle accelerator exploded. Black slacks, white shirt partially open at the top, and a black blazer. His hair was neatened up some from its usual spiky, bedhead mess, and your gut twisted and did flips as you stared at him, almost slack jawed.

The man looked unbelievably divine, albeit irritated that he was here, but nonetheless inhumanely handsome and you felt like melting in his presence. Wait, you think you already were…

“Harry, glad to see you out of the lab!” Iris exclaimed with a broad smile. Harry grunted in return, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking around. His eyes caught yours, and widened slightly as you stared at him with a deer in the headlights look, your entire body now completely frozen. Oh god he probably thought you looked like a skank!

“Well, since we’re all here, let the party start!” Cisco crowed, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together.

It was going to be a long night.

You were on your second pink boulevardier, feeling the effects of the alcohol, and absolutely tired of telling men to leave you the hell alone. Men wanting a dance (mostly the dirty kind) had approached you at least a dozen times, or more, and each and every time you blatantly refused them. There was one thing on your mind, and they weren’t it.

Harry.

Groaning to yourself, you brought your glass back up to your cherry red lips and took another sip of the strong drink. The alcohol hit your tongue; the Compari taking the edge off the hard liquor as it ran down your throat and into your veins.

Well, your drinks had taken the edge off, but you still weren’t entirely comfortable, which is why you had spent nearly the entire three and a half hours since arriving, at the bar. About ten minutes ago the desserts had come out, and that included pink frosted cupcakes. A tier of them had been placed on the bar top a few feet down from you, and naturally, you had been eyeing them since then.

Eyeing them yet again with a hungry expression, the bartender let out a small laugh and took one from the tier, placing it on a napkin before setting it next to your drink with a wink before heading off to help out another customer. Staring at the cupcake, you sighed to myself.

“I’m such a hopeless pig when it comes to deserts,”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Your body perked up at the voice before you were looking over your bare shoulder to see Harry standing behind you, his hands in his slack pockets. “A woman who starves herself for the sake of beauty isn’t attractive at all. It’s rather sickening, actually.”

“I bet you wouldn’t say that when I’m stuffing my face with one of those,” You muttered as you pushed the cupcake aside and turned in your seat so you didn’t have to crane your neck around. Harry’s lips quirked into a rare smile.

“Presumptuous to assume I am that chauvinistic, Miss Y/N.” Harry countered, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You let out a puff of air through your nose.

“What’d they do to get you here?” Your asked before nodding your chin at the suit he wore. “And how the hell did Cisco get you into that and to actually brush your hair for once? You look good.”

Harry briefly closed his eyes as if reliving a bad memory before shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, just below where his glasses rested.

“I could ask you the same. I’ve never seen you in anything more formal than that skirt you wore to Barry’s birthday party.” You remembered that party. Caitlin had convinced you to wear a skirt, something about showing off your legs. You had reluctantly agreed, but not for the leg part.

“I got blackmailed into keeping a promise,” You answered simply. “It was either come here, or tell—ah, never mind, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’m here and upholding my end of the deal.”

“Well, now, my interested is piqued,” Harry said with a slight chuckle. You eyed him before reaching for your drink and taking a sip.

“Well, piqued is all you’re going to remain because my lips are sealed, Dr. Wells.” You coyly responded, a flicker of confidence going through your body. Yep, the alcohol was definitely helping. You exchanged further smiles.

“Regardless of what caused you to be here tonight, you look radiant, and I know everyone here thinks so too, so why are you rejecting all advances?” Harry asked, cocking head to the side. “I mean you have the looks, a gorgeous body, a beautiful smile, why do you keep saying no?”

“Actually, I was telling them to get lost,” You answered dryly before looking down into your drink. “It’s because I am not interested in anything those men have to offer, they only want one thing, a one night fuck, and I’m not willing to give it to them. I have standards.”

“Then what do you want?” Harry asked. Your drink froze half way to your lips. Had he really just asked that? That was a very forward question and not one you ever imagined coming from a man like Harry Wells… and the way he had said it. You took a moment to think about his words, and then worked up the courage to express your thoughts: You wanted something real and long term, something that wouldn’t be fleeting or lack true emotional investment.

“What I want—“ You were cut off by a blonde woman wearing a pink dress two sizes too small, and sporting an overdone face that oozed plastic and botox.

“Excuse me, hot stuff,” she huskily purred, batting her fake eyelashes and running her obnoxiously pink talons up his biceps. Almost instantly you saw Harry shirk from her touch, clearly not liking it and very uncomfortable with the situation. You shifted your eyes back to the woman and narrowed your eyes.

She was looking Harry up and down like he was a piece of meat she wanted to dig her fangs into… much to your annoyance and anger… and much to Harry’s embarrassment and discomfort. Her florescent pink nails snatched the cupcake the bartender had been nice enough to bring over to you, and with one sensuous dart of her tongue, she licked at the frosting.

She did not!

Your jaw went slack momentarily before you bristled at her action and cleared your throat. The harpy’s eyes looked your way and distaste filled her golden brown ones. She sneered for just a millisecond before switching her face to a look of pure innocence.

“Oh! I’m sorry honey, this cupcake was just sitting there, and well, I licked it so it’s mine.” She cooed at you before turning her attention back to Harry. She licked her lips and briefly ran her sharp fingernails down his chest. “And hot stuff, I’ll be on the dance floor.”

Pure rage blazed in your eyes. With rare confidence roaring in your veins, you acted before fully thinking your not so bright plan, through. Slamming your glass on the bar top, you grabbed at the lapel of Harry’s blazer, yanking him towards you. When his head was in you vicinity, and in reach because he was so damn tall, you reached up with your other hand to slide your fingers into his perfectly coiffed hair and dragged his lips to yours.

His lips crashed against yours, and all that dreaming you had about what they felt like became a reality. They were soft, warm, and oh so delicious. Swiping your tongue along the seam of his lips, you was overjoyed when Harry parted his lips and gave your lower lip a sharp nip before sinking just as deeply into the kiss as you were.

Nearly jumping in place when a hand land on your naked side and snaked around to your lower back, your body was pulled slightly out of your seat and into his chest. Your chest pressed against his and you could feel the luxurious material of his suit against your skin. From your toes to your fingers, you felt your muscles go taught with desire. You could feel just exactly what lay beneath this suit, and you wanted it. This was what you wanted. You wanted him. You wanted him and not in a fleeting way.

Harry was quickly taking control from you, taking the lead hungrily, desperately. You knew he liked to be on control and had no issues letting him. Fingers pressed into your skin, sending little tingles outwards like shock waves from each touch. The lips pressing against yours fervently, seeking out a response you were very happily to give back.

Harry Wells’ kisses were not innocent, but hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. They pulled you in, drugged you, left you chasing after more, which you were. Pulling him in closer, you felt Harry lurch for a second before he caught himself with his other hand on the bar counter. Smirking against his dizzying and achingly possessive lips, you gently bit at his lip, your hunger now ravenous and creeping into every bit of your mind and body. You were drunk on endorphins and savored every flick and tease his tongue gave yours. Correction, you were drunk on him.

There was a very obvious grating cough and you reluctantly pulled your mouth from Harry’s red smeared one. But you weren’t completely done with him yet, no, you had one last point to make. You tugged on the hair in your grasp, pulling his head back slightly. Then with blazing confidence, you flicked your tongue up the side of his exposed neck before planting a kiss against his skin that left a very obvious red lipstick mark. Harry let out a strained groan which made you giggle. That should do it.

Keeping your hand still buried in Harry’s hair and your fingers clutching his black blazer, you released the tension on his head and slowly turned to the harpy. She was fuming.

“Oh, well, I licked him so that means he’s mine.” You said loftily, your red lips twisted into a canary smirk. Harry dropped his face to your shoulder, burying his nose against your neck. His body lightly shook against yours and the hand on your back pressed into your bare skin harder. You knew he was just barely managing to contain his laughter so he wouldn’t ruin your smug moment. Rage burned clear as day in her raccoon eyes. You had won and she had lost. With a dramatic sneer of her over inflated lips, she flounced off to the dance floor, shaking her skinny flat ass as she went. You giggled at her response, purely elated that you had one upped her and her fake look.

“Oh, that felt good,” You mused to yourself, your triumphant smirk clear as day on your lips.

Harry raised his head from where it had been pressed against your neck while you were still quietly giggling to yourself. Taking a look at his face you saw his lipstick smeared lips were curled into a devious, delicious smirk. Your giggling quieted as you cocked your head and looked up at him, smugness in your eyes and burning desire in his. Harry pushed away from the bar top, getting his feet under his body once more before shifting his hands to gently cup the side of your face and neck.

“You, Y/N,” He hungrily rasped out as his fingers lightly glided over your tingling skin. “Are a little fiend.”

Your lips, which still held a smirk, curved into a deeper one as you leaned up close to feel the air he breathed out.

“What’re you going to do about it, Dr. Wells?” You queried, your eyes sparkling as you leered at him. “Spank me? I mean I did do us both a favor and got rid of her…”

“Don’t tempt me,” Harry responded, that fire still in his eyes. You let out another snort of laughter before your smile started fading and the brief drunken high faded. What did you just do!?

“I shouldn’t have done that,” You stated, horror slowly seeping in places where desire and want had once reigned. “I should not have done that… I— where’s my drink, I’m not nearly drunk enough to deal with this,” You started twisting back around, looking for your almost gone pink drink that surely would help you drown out the embarrassment rapidly taking over lust. Before you could completely face the bar once more, Harry had you spinning back to face him and was dipping his face back down to yours.

This time it was him initiating the kiss. While Harry didn’t kiss you nearly as long as you had kissed him, you were sure it had his desired effect because you forgot all about your unfinished drink. His tongue flicked across your crimson ones before seeking further reaction from you by weaving with your own. A pitifully soft whimper emerged from your throat and the Wells doppelgänger greedily devoured it, feasting off the taste of your drink and most of all, you. You truly did taste as exquisite as he had imagined nearly a thousand times by now, and the way your mouth effortlessly moved against Harry’s insistent one only had the genius angry at himself for not pursuing you sooner.

Running his lips across yours one last time, Harry swiped his tongue across your lip once more before pulling back to stare into your wide eyes. He left you breathless and reeling in your thoughts. Your mouth opened and closed for a few moments before you figured out what to say.

“You’ve got lipstick all over your mouth,” You whispered, your cheeks now permanently hot. You reached back for your drink napkin, which was damp with condensation from your glass. Your searching fingers found it and you raised it, beginning to wipe it at Harry’s mouth as he stared at you with arched eyebrows and percing eyes. “Well, I can say that was more than enough excitement for the night. I—“

“Y/N,”

“…sorry… that was completely wrong of me…” You continued your bumbling mumbles, high on adrenalin and anxiety.

“Y/N,”

“…shouldn’t have…”

“Y/N!” Harry said forcefully, taking your chin in hand and forcing your eyes back to his. You were quick to advert them. You refused to look at him, guilt and insecurity seeping into your veins. What if he only kissed you back because he thought the blonde harpy was irritating and being in her presence killed his brain cells? But why did he kiss you once more then? What if you— “Y/N, look at me damn it!”

Your eyes automatically darted back to his at his commanding tone as you stiffened in your seat.

“Stop freaking out and breathe.” He told you, his eyes kind and gentle. You nodded obediently before realizing that you had been wheezing slightly, on the verge of a panic attack. “That’s it, deep breaths, babe.”

Oh dear lord, this is why your previous relationships never worked out. Because you are so damn insecure and your past partners always got so irritated with you. You now had medication to help with your anxiety, and it works wonders, but only if you took it in the morning. You had forgotten your dose this morning because of a meeting you had at work. Closing your eyes, your focused on breathing, tuning out the throb of music, the chatter of voices, and the thoughts of Harry holding you close. Well, you couldn’t tune out Harry’s hands, but ever so slowly, your breathing returned to normal.

“Sorry, I forgot to take my anxiety meds this morning and you know how I am when I don’t take them.” You whispered, drooping where you sat. “And I’m really sorry about kissing you, I just—she was there, being a bitch, and my cupcake, she licked my damn cupcake… don’t even get me started on her voice. It was so irritating I just wanted to… and I don’t like to share…“

“Y/N,” Harry spoke softly, cutting off your soft mumbles. “I’m not upset you kissed me. Wouldn’t have kissed you again if I was. You saved me from dealing with a nightmare.”

“Just say no to plastic,” You muttered out, making his eyebrow shoot up once more and his lips twitch into a smile.

“God, you’re adorable,” Harry sighed, brushing his thumb down your cheek as you felt heat burn on your cheeks at his words. “Come on, you’re just going to get yourself worked up sitting at the bar for the rest of the night, and alcohol isn’t going to help either.”

“Well, it sure felt like it was helping, and you’re not the boss of me.” You muttered as Harry pulled you in the direction of the dance floor. “What’re you doing?”

“Jesse’s told me everything about you, including your love for dancing.” Harry grumbled. “And I might hate it, but if it helps you relax and actually enjoy yourself, I will tolerate it.” A few seconds went by and he tacked on one last statement. “For you.”

“But Harry,” You stared to protest, waving at his neck and the big red lipstick mark you had left. “I— I um… kind of left a mark on your…”

“Good, it’ll keep all of the harpies away.” He answered, tightening his hold on your hand. “The only woman I am interested in is you and considering you’ve now staked your claim, no more arguing.”

You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle at his words. He’s mine. God, you had actually said that! When had you gotten that brazen with your feelings?

The current song ended a people started milling around, some leaving the floor to get drinks, others entering the floor after downing one. Harry pulled you right into the thick of it, where you blended in with the suits and dresses. Harry spun you around so you were facing each other in the close quarters you had while you stared wide eyed up at him.

“Yes, I enjoy dancing, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it in front of a bunch of people!” You exclaimed, your eyes darting around to the swaying group as the DJ of the night spoke. Harry rolled his eyes before taking your hands.

He pulled you towards him so your bodies were pressed against each other before keeping his left hand entwined with your right and moving your other hand to his shoulder. When your fingers were resting against his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around your back and placed his hand on the small of your back.

“That’s fine, you just keep looking at me,” Harry said, looking down at you with surprisingly soft eyes. Curling you fingers that were pressed against his blazer, you nodded. He stared at you for a few more moments as the beginning of a romantic slow song started.

His hand briefly left your back to grab the pin in your hair, holding your waves up into a neat updo. In one soft yank, he pulled it free, releasing the sparkling waves around your shoulders. His lips twitched as he tucked the pin into his blazer pocket and returned his hand to your back.

“That’s better. As exquisite as your hair looked up, it looked far to rigid.” Harry said as he started moving your bodies to the rhythm of the song. “Relax, no one is looking at you but me,” He whispered reassuringly. “I’ve been to enough after parties to know that everyone is way too drunk at this point to care or even notice what other people are doing” You took a breath and briefly closed your eyes.

How were you supposed to relax when you knew he was looking?

The party was long forgotten in your minds as you teased each other the entire way back to the lab. After several rounds of dancing against each other, nearly making out on the dance floor, and Harry spending several minutes wrestling another alcoholic beverage from your hands, you had decided it was probably best to head back to the lab before your hands started tugging on clothing. Or at least Harry decided it, apparently you were dangerous when drunk.

At this point, you think the taxi drives were desensitized to couples leaving the nightclub because the one driving you back didn’t bat an eyelash when a brief kiss turned into a one minute passionate kiss. Paying for the ride, you practically stumbled up the pathway to the lab doors, pulling Harry along while giggling. When you made it inside and your stumbling in your heels didn’t cease, Harry simply plucked you off your feet and up into his arms, his long legs taking you into the heart of the lab.

As much as you wanted to attack his face and neck with your lips, feeling his skin underneath them, and sate the burning desire running through your veins, you did not want to have to clean up smeared lipstick from his skin one more time. So you opted to whisk your fingers over his neck, jaw, and occasionally dipped them into the neckline of his open shirt, getting just a hint of taut skin and muscle. Ohoho, someone had been hiding numerous amount of muscle underneath his black sweaters, and you most certainly wanted to explore each and every inch of it.

“Keep that up and we won’t make it to a bed,” Harry rumbled as you travel your finger along his collarbone hidden beneath cloth.

“Well, I certainly won’t complain,” You cooed in his ear, making him sigh in exasperation before turning down the hall where his room was located. Giggling at him, you tucked your head into his shoulder and closed your eyes for the rest of the way.

Harry entered his room and kicked the door shut before gently setting you on your feet. Twisting around, you looked up into his face, your fingers lightly reaching up to brush over his lips.

“Give me a minute to get this makeup off, okay, because as much as I love kissing you, it’ll get messy and I am not sleeping with it on my face…” Harry quirked an eyebrow at you as you extracted yourself, albeit a little unsteadily, from his arms.

Turning around on your heel, you took a wobbling step for the bathroom when a hand darting out and smacking you on your barely covered ass had you jumping with a yelp. Your head swiveled around as you narrowed your eyes at Harry and rubbed your slightly stinging behind with a grumble.

“I’m waiting,” Harry drawled out, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Huffing at him, you tossed my hair over your shoulder. “And you know I’m not a patient man.”

“Good things take time, darling,” You responded airily as you continued on your way to the bathroom. With one last look over your shoulder to see Harry staring at your ass, you entered the bathroom and shut the door.

With the door between you, you had at least hoped the burning sensation rippling across your flushed skin would go away. It did not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” You whispered to yourself before lurching for the sink and fumbling for the bag Caitlin kept under the sink for when she needed to touch up her makeup. Finding it, you pulled out several makeup remover cloths.

What were you doing?

Yeah, you had dreamed about this for months, day dreamed too, had a few wet dreams, but now that you were so close to fulfilling them your anxiety was through the roof and you were second guessing your actions already. Shit, you really should have taken your meds! Feeling somewhat defeated, you started scrubbing at your face.

You broke down the makeup and scrubbed it off in record time before bracing yourself against the sink and running a hand through your wavy, sparkling hair. Your face was slightly red from your scrubbing, your lips were still crimson, stained from the lipstick but at least you wouldn’t be smearing the creamy substance all over Harry’s skin, and your eyes held just a hint of anxiety, bubbling underneath the burning desire. Gone was confident you. What if you weren’t good enough for him now that the magic was gone? Or he was having second thoughts about you?

“Y/N/N, you better not be second guessing yourself again,” Harry’s voice mumbled from the other side of the door as he rapped his knuckles against it. “Because you’re beautiful even before you put on that makeup.”

Drunk you agreed, but anxiety riddled Y/N didn’t, so with a sigh, you turned around and lurched back over to the door. Opening it up, you stared at Harry with a makeup free face, your hair all jumbled over your right shoulder, and your fingers trying not to clench into fists.

“I can’t help it,” You whispered to him. “I mean your you. You know… incredibly hot, drool worthy, you make me all hot and bothered when you talk about science stuff I don’t understand… and then there’s me, a B average college graduate who pays her bills working at a job that may not pay well, but I enjoy.”

“You are also forgetting cynical, impatient, and grumpy. Have you ever considered that maybe that is the very reason why I like you? Because you are passionate about what you love and put so much effort into it?” Harry asked, reaching up and cupping your jaw. “And I’d really like to show you just how much I like you before you run away from me again. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were really trying to do when you said you wanted that lipstick off.”

Your face flushed at his words, caught red-handed as usual…

“I do not run away from you!” You huffed at him. “I just—“

“No more excuses,” Harry said before pulling your body forwards, making your balance get thrown off so you had to rely on him to stay on your feet. You nearly crashed into his chest as he pulled your head forwards to place his lips on your.

Harry kissed you deeply, possessively, and with passion you didn’t expect from him, which prompted your eyelids to flutter shut so you could focus solely on the sensations he was eliciting with his mouth. You hands went up to press against his chest as his arm wrapped around you bare back and his hand slipped underneath the loose fabric of your dress to caress your skin. When Harry started stepping forwards and pivoting your bodies, your fingers dug into the rich material of his blazer as your feet stumbled to keep up. Your back hit the room wall with enough force that your lips detached as you let out an ‘oof’.

Blinking rapidly while you caught your breath, you stared up at Harry with wide eyes as he caged you in with those arms of his you had ogled and drooled over plenty of times.

“Harry,” You breathed out as he loomed over you, a hint of a smirk on his lips, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to get any closer, he did. Leaning forwards, Harry pressed his body against your scantily clad one, pinning you to the wall as he brought his face within centimeters of yours.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N,” Harry said gruffly while you fought the heat creeping up your neck. You sputtered for words while he brushed his nose against the skin of your neck.

“What I do to you?” You sputtered out. “But your—“

You cut yourself off as he thrust his pelvis against yours and made you very aware of just how tight his pants were at the moment. The heat that had been simmering underneath your skin flooded your face.

“Feel that?” Harry asked, his words quiet as his lips brushed against your ear. Your breaths came out in shuddering sighs with every grind of hips against yours, and your mind was consumed by the little zips of heat echoing in your body. “You did this, you and you alone.”

Whimpering from the rush of arousal he was creating in your body, and the fact that it was only building, you dug your fingers into his blazer, wanting nothing more than for the material to disappear so you could flatten your fingers on his skin and soak in his body heat.

“Will you let me show you just how much you’ve made it challenging to not drag you out of the club and fuck you against a wall in some derelict hallway just obscure enough that no one would drunkenly stumble across?”

Dear lord, your pretty sure this man could make you orgasm alone just talking about the things he wanted to do to you, because you were pretty sure the uncomfortable thong you were wearing was now wet.

“Y/N,” Harry said gently, taking you chin and bringing your eyes back up so you were looking in his eyes, your hot face now on display. “You literally have no idea how much I want you right now, but I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s—it’s not that Harry,” You mumbled out. “I just… I’m scared that you’ll change your mind come morning, and I don’t think I could take that.”

“Then let me prove to you that this isn’t a onetime itch, and I doubt I could ever get enough of you.” Harry practically begged. Your mind raced as you made a split second decision. It was now or never.

“Ravage me before I get another chance to second guess myself.” You breathed out. “And don’t let me ever think you want otherwise, and hopefully drunk me will kick in by then, because that bitch is always horny for you.”

“With pleasure,” Harry responded with a smirk before diving back down. Your mouths met half way, slamming together in an open mouthed, need filled, kiss that had you reaching up and digging your fingers into his hair for more.

Tugging at his dark strands, his mouth muted your moan as his fingers traced the lace elastic bands of the fish net hosiery that sparkled underneath the low lighting of the room. With his fingers torturing your thighs, you bit at his lower lip, tugging at it with your teeth.

“Is that how you want it?” Harry asked, his voice husky and his eyes dark.

“Don’t make me beg for it, Harrison,” You whispered against his lips.

“I’ll save that for a later date, then,” Harry responded in a teasing tone. His fingers quickly found the thin back of the thong you wore, and in seconds was tearing it free from your body, allowing the skimpy material to fall to the floor.

While his fingers slid back to cup your ass, your own dropped down and were quickly working his belt loose and unzipping that tight zipper. Soon his own fingers were joining yours, shoving his slacks and briefs down just enough so the erection he had been teasing you with, was free.

“God, you have no idea how much I want you,” You groaned as you pressed your hands into the wall your back was pressed against. “I want you in me so bad, its been driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Harry purred back before his hands reached down and he was shoving them against your hips, sliding the skirt of your dress to reveal the elastic straps of your thigh high hosiery. With your dress bunched up around your waist, you let out a gasp as he all but hoisted you up against the wall, gripping you by your thighs.

Your arms automatically went around his neck, scrambling for something to hold on to while you wrapped your heel clad legs around his waist with a small squeal. Well, this was another admission on Harry’s part, the man was built like a god, and strong like one too.

Staring down into Harry’s eyes, your cheeks long since flushed, you were once against enraptured by his beautiful blue eyes. So enraptured you didn’t even register that he was pushing into you until he was at least halfway there. Sucking in a deep breath, a moan crawled up your throat as you dug one hand into his hair and the other into his shoulder, and when he started to move, oh you were completely gone.

With every even paced thrust and soft grunt, your back and shoulders scraped slightly against the wall of the room, adding just a hint of sting you found you didn’t quite mind. Harry leaned in for more kisses, which you welcome with zero resistance. Your kisses were sloppy at this point, his thrusting throwing your poorly aimed kisses off.

That didn’t matter, you just wanted your hands on each other and your lips working against each other. If you weren’t completely drunk from your drinks at the club, you were now just from the way his mouth twisted with yours. Breaking apart to breathe, you panted for air while trying not to whine from the way Harry managed to hit every spot that brought your body to life.

As your eyes fluttered from the sensation of fullness and pure rapture, your head flopped back against the wall, offering Harry a chance to latch onto pristine, unmarked skin. You marked him, it was only fair that he returned the favor. His mouth started kissing and biting at your skin, inciting you to push his head further into your neck and chest with a groan. You knew just from the way he was sucking and pulling at your skin he was leaving marks of possession, staying true to his words. Your fingers slid through his combed hair, ruffling it back to its perpetually messy state. The intense feeling that was filling your body faster than you could understand, consumed you.

“Jesus,” You gasped out, your hand on his shoulder digging in as your nails scraped his skin, no doubt leaving red marks on his gorgeous skin. You’d never felt so full before, so filled with pleasure and ecstasy, it was almost overwhelming.

“And here I thought you knew better than to call another man’s name while I’m in you,” Harry said against your skin, that teasing tone back in his voice. Breathlessly laughing out loud, you couldn’t help but bury your face into his wild hair.

“Not to worry, Dr. Wells, you do your job and the only name on my tongue will be yours.” You cooed in his ear, which seemed to please him because the next moment he was thrusting at a different angle, harder, and seemed like a man on a mission with his lips against your chest. “Fuck—Harry!”

“That’s it,” Harry said hoarsely as his lips ghosted up your neck and brushed against your ear. “It’s me making you feel this good, not Dibny, not Palmer, me. Say it again.”

“Harry,” You moaned out, your nails digging further into his shoulder. “Harry, Harry, Harry!”

That seemed to make him happy because his head turned and his lips sought out yours once more, capturing them as he relentlessly thrust his hips against your, driving his cock as far as he could go into your body. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lips before he flicked his tongue over the bitten spots.

All it took for you to get pushed over the edge was one placed thrust, and you were screaming his name one last time as your orgasm rushed through your body like a tidal wave. One enormous surge of fire burned through your veins, turning your legs to jello and making them go slack around his waist, his hands and arms now being the only thing holding you up.

Gasping for oxygen, you loosened your tight hold on his hair and removed your nails from his back, your arms trembling as you came down from the high. Harry pulled out as he planted a few delicate kisses on some of you stinging skin. You dropped your shaky legs back to the floor, standing wobbly with the heels and jello legs combined as Harry briefly took a moment to slide himself back into his pants and button them. He was very pleased with himself for finally indulging in you.

Wetness ran down your inner thighs, no doubt ruining the expensive hosiery, and at that moment all you could do was ask yourself if that really just happened. Did grumpy, stoic, yet incredibly handsome Harry Wells just fuck you against a wall? Clothes and all? Yes, he had, and you was surprised to find that you found that a turn on. Drunk you really was a horny bitch… you guess it was a good thing you rarely got drunk then.

Harry moved his face so he was staring into you eyes, and for a few moments all you did was stare at each other and breathe. His hands left your thighs and smoothed out your bunched up dress before one trailed all the way up to rest against your flushed cheek.

“Harry?” You asked in a small voice, not really sure what was going to happen now, and that word being the only one your mind was capable of speaking.

His eyes sparkled in satisfaction for a moment before he was leaning in and pressing his lips back to yours, his hand cradling your head. But rather than an intense, need filled, semi-chaotic kiss, his lips were gentle against yours, like butterfly wings against skin, or snow landing on eyelashes.

“I think I reached optimal satisfaction considering that the only thing coming out of your mouth for the last three minutes has been my name.” Harry mused, his lips still lightly brushing against yours. Your already flushed cheeks blazed with heat at his words, and at your realization that he was one hundred percent correct. You would have continued to softly sputter and blush trapped against the wall if realization hadn’t hit you.

“Harry,” You said, blinking up at him. “You didn’t—“

“Not important,” He responded, cutting you words off with a brush of his thumbs across you sensitive lips.

“But Harry—“ His thumb pressed against your lip, silencing you.

“What’s important is that you are treated like the woman you are, and given exactly what you need.” Your eyes dropped from his in embarrassment.

“I’d say so,” You mumbled quietly, your eyes darting around as heat rushed across your cheeks once more. “I mean I don’t usually… well… I mean…”

“I’m not a particularly selfish man when it comes to my own desires,” Harry spoke after you had trailed off. “But I am selfish about how I treat my woman, and I’d like to have my way with you and your incredible body if you’d allow me.”

“Well, you kind of already did,” You answered shyly, your legs shifting and once again reminding you of the ever present warmth he had caused.

“I told you I wanted to show you that this isn’t a onetime itch, Y/N, and I am only just getting started.”

“Oh,” You breathed out, the buzzing sensation of arousal coming back to life. Your face brightened up with hope. “So does that mean one more round? Because this dress is getting itchy and these heels are killing my feet…”

The smirk that formed on his face told you exactly what he was thinking, and even anxiety riddled Y/N seemed excited about that.

Date Published: Heck if I Know

Last Edit: 6/22/23

Masterlist | I'm Yours

#the flash #the flash x reader #harry wells x reader #harry wells

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