#And how much does he get paid? Because that man is practically carrying their fucking empire on his back

[infriga]

What's interesting about House of Usher is that Flannigan usually has likeable protagonists, at least in my experience. Granted I haven't seen all of his works, but I've seen several (Bly Manor, Hill House, Midnight Mass, and I've heard summaries of others) and most of them are generally pretty sympathetic from my understanding, even the ones with more blood on their hands, so to speak.

In House of Usher however, almost none of the main characters are good or likeable people to much, if any, degree. Their spouses/partners are decent people, for the most part (dunno how the siblings landed such nice SOs despite being so nasty), and the granddaughter seems alright (I'm only on episode 5 btw so idk if anything happens regarding her or the other non-siblings, no spoilers pls), and Auguste seems like a decent person (maybe not the best family man, but he at has his heart in the right place especially compared to the Ushers), but all the siblings, and Roderick and Madeline themselves, are pretty horrible people.

But like, they're not one dimensional bad people, they're complex, they feel emotions, they care about people in their lives even if they don't tend to treat those people well, they have fears and insecurities and passions and hangups just like regular people do. So while usually I dislike when the protagonists of a show like this are unlikable, in this show it's actually quite fascinating because like I can't say I hate them either, they feel like they could be good people if they really wanted to be. Especially if they had better influences and were taught better lessons by their father and aunt. They feel human, not evil, but I'm also not rooting for them either. I don't know who to root for tbh, except maybe people like Julius, Tammy's husband, and the granddaughter, who are all side characters lol. Idk who the weird supernatural lady is (death? The devil? God? A witch? No idea) so I don't know her motivations or what kinda person she is, she seems to be collecting on some sort of debt but that's the best I've got on her. I do think it's interesting how she tried to spare Morrie from the acid by telling her to go like she did with the wait staff, but she didn't do anything to help Ali later when she was killed, so was it strategic or does this lady have some sort of code of morals? Does she care about whether people are innocent or not? Why spare the wait staff from death by acid shower but not the other party goers? Is sparing Morrie more about the potential role she'll play in Freddy's death? I guess I'll find out.

But I do think it's interesting that we start off the show knowing who's going to die already, since usually stakes in this genre come from wanting characters to survive (hence why I usually prefer likable protags in horror/suspense media), but it makes sense that since none of these people are very likable, the suspense needs to mostly come from something else on that front, such as wondering how they're going to die or which innocent people they might take with them in the process, as well as wanting to know what caused all this.

Roderick, ironically, is probably the most sympathetic member of the family aside from his granddaughter, which doesn't mean much but I mean, I wouldn't begrudge anyone going through what he witnessed in episode 5. Like gaddamn that's fucked up. He seems like someone who deep down has the potential and even the buried desire or instinct to be a good person, but was too much of a coward to put in the work it would take to be good and stay good in a harsh world when he wants so badly to be someone big and successful and important just like, well, his father. But ultimately he does obviously love his children so I do sympathize with him in that regard.

But the show is making the unlikable protagonists thing work for it, somehow. I don't like most of these people, but I am fascinated by them and what's going down and how they got here. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion.

#the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #tv show thoughts #Random #I do find their attorney Arthur Pym to be a really interesting character #How does one get so close to a family like this #And how much does he get paid? Because that man is practically carrying their fucking empire on his back #So I imagine he gets paid a fuck of a lot #Dude is good at his job #Long post #To be clear I know it's entirely possible the show will somehow have me liking and caring about these people by the end #But as of episode 5 they're certainly interesting but not what I'd call likable lol

[randomprose]

"You're more important than god." "You paid attention." "To you? Always."

anyway, that marvelous mrs. maisel scene (s04e08) where bruce tells midge she’s more important than god but make it satosugu.

now posted on ao3!

—

Satoru is monologuing again. 

It’s not something new. Satoru ha sthe inane talent to talk for hours on end when left to it—of which Shoko and Suguru often lets him otherwise…they think he’ll burst? To this day they haven’t really thought about interrupting him. Mostly because they realize early on it’s futile but also because…it would just require too much effort to engage and most of the time they’re exhausted from all the shit Jujutsu Tech makes them do. 

The monologues are usually of the mundane. Often word vomits and infodumps of things Satoru has fallen into a rabbit hole (the history of fastfood, the mating practices of otters, the statistical probability of getting killed by lightning, the rise and fall of cults, and the list goes on and on — last week, it was about genetic mutation and “Suguru, did you know that humans share about 50% of our genes with plants—”) or petty complaints about school, the mission, or how the corner store stopped carrying his favorite flavor of Hi-Chew.

But sometimes the monologues get deep, more academic, and less fun facts-y. It’s usually after a long solo mission. Satoru’s monologues gets philosophical, getting more on more political lately, little existentialistic, rarely nihilistic — those are Suguru’s favorite actually, something about Satoru spitting cynicism just tickles Suguru because it directly contradicts Satoru’s actions and he doesn’t realize it. Or he does and he just wants to run his mouth. Still, it’s honestly hilarious to Suguru. 

Today, it’s about the existence of god and whether or not they are real or man-made and—

“—do you think there really is a god, Suguru? Like just one to rule all? Or are there gods, plural, and factions of people are just stupidly insisting their god is the right god and do you think—”

Suguru, bone-deep exhausted from his own long solo mission and immediately jumping back to teaching his students and also tending to Nanako and Mimiko, is just humming along until something Satoru says catches his attention (something about gods and mortals and “...isn’t being a sorcerer kind of like being a god? If I’m the strongest then I’m—”) and annoys him more than the rest of his drivel does.

“You’re not a god,” Suguru says, annoyed, and Satoru immediately looks like he’s got a retort to that (of course he does, he always does) but then Suguru’s face shifts into something fond, eyes gentle and soft (always so soft when he’s looking at Satoru), and in a tone wholly reverent he says, “You are more important than god.”

“You—” Satoru chokes, entirely unsure how to respond and completely caught off guard at being on the receiving end of such tenderness. “Suguru, you…you paid attention.”

“To you?” The question comes out in a huff, a tiny laugh like Suguru finds Satoru’s surprise ridiculous because the answer is so obvious, it’s a no-brainer. As if there’s anyone else Suguru pays all his attention to.  “Always.”

Satoru, speechless once again, feels heat creep up his spine, his neck, his ears, and—oh, shit. He has to say something before it reaches his cheeks—ah, too late! Suguru’s already laughing, teasing him about being embarassed as he pokes Satoru’s pink and very hot cheeks. Why couldn’t Infinite’s shield be opaque?

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not embarassed! It’s just hot here.”

“It’s autumn, Satoru.”

“Whatever! It’s hot with you all over me like this—I mean! You’re hot—! I mean—Shut up! Get off me!”

Suguru laughs but doesn’t let go of him and Satoru lets him because what else is he supposed to do? Suguru has an arm over his shoulder pressing him to his side in an almost possessive hold that he does not mind in the slightest. 

In this angle, Satoru is free to look at Suguru’s delighted face. He’s still got black circles under his eyes but they’re not as deep or dark as they were compared to the past couple of months. Suguru still looks a little gaunt and his cheeks still looks a bit hollow but nothing Satoru couldn’t fix with his slowly but surely improving cooking skills. He gets lost counting the crinkles in Suguru’s eyes, still shut close as he’s laughing, and the dimples in his cheeks, and Satoru thinks he’ll gladly suffer any humiliation at his expense if it means Suguru can keep laughing so freely.

And what did Suguru say about Satoru not paying attention to him?

“You’re wrong, you know,” Satoru says as Suguru’s laughter dies down. “I do pay attention to you. All the time.” 

Getou Suguru has held Gojo Satoru’s attention since their first meeting in Jujutsu Tech’s first year classroom. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Haaah?” How dare him? What does Satoru have to do, to say, to get it into his thick skull? How can Suguru not know that he basically occupies Satoru’s every waking thought. “Say that again you—”

“You don’t.” Suguru’s tone is light but firm, and it’s not an accusation, but Satoru hears it as one because he’s still guilty about that summer before their third year. He’ll probably be guilty about it forever. “Not the way I do to you.”

It’s not an accusation, but Satoru hears it as if it is and wishes that Suguru will mean it like it is. 

Lost in his soul crushing guilt and remorse, it completely goes over his head that this is, for all intents and purposes, a confession.

“After all, how can someone expect to hold the attention of someone more important than god?” 

Satoru hates that Suguru sounds like he thinks his devotion is a one-sided thing. Shouldn’t he know better by now?

“I should already consider myself to be so luck as to even get a modicum of the great Gojo Satoru’s time.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru mumbles in response because he’s eloquent like that. He sags against him, lets his whole weight slump against Suguru’s and revels at the feeling of his strong built. He remembers a time when Suguru felt too brittle to even touch. Satoru turns to rest his chin on top of a bony shoulder. “You’re wrong, you know? You’re so wrong you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Suguru’s head is turned to him. If he angles just right and lifts himself a little he could easily kiss him. Satoru wants to kiss him so badly.

“You really don’t.” 

Suguru just hums in that way of his that means his indulging Satoru. Always indulging Satoru

“But that’s okay, you know? That you don’t pay attention to me as much as I do you.” 

‘No, it’s not,’ Satoru thinks and resolves to remedy that immediately, mind already whirring thinking up of over a hundred thousand ways to prove to Suguru how wrong he is. Satoru likes being right after all, especially when it’s against Suguru.

And then Suguru hits him with—

“That just means I get to look at you more without you being annoyingly smug about it,” Suguru finishes with that stupidly devastating pretty boy smile of his. He’s so, so pretty Satoru wants to fucking die.

“That’s—” Satoru clears his throat and narrows his eyes into a glare. He refuses to be rendered speechless by this oblivious fool once more in just a span of roughly ten minutes. “Skill-issue. It’s not my fault you get shy and can’t handle me in all my dazzling glory, but do feel free to indulge.” He lets out a put-upon sigh. “I promise to not be too smug about it when I catch you looking I guess.”

“Why, thank you, oh gracious honored one.”

The problem with Suguru, much to Satoru’s eternal chagrin, is that he doesn’t know that he can look at him wherever, whenever, and Satoru honestly wouldn't ever mind. Not even the slightest. And of course he’d be smug about it, but Suguru should know he shouldn’t be deterred by that! What was he supposed to do? Not bask in the warm glow of Suguru’s attention? When he’s fussing and fretting over him, does he expect Satoru to bat him away and tell him to stop?  

“You know I’m just thinking aloud, right?” Satoru says after awhile of just sitting together. “As in, I’m just making conversations. I don’t actually think I’m more important than god, or any god for that matter, you know.”

“To me you are,” Suguru responds without missing a beat.

Fuck him. Truly. He’s just full of lines today, huh? Satoru expected him to respond in jest. Something along the lines of ‘Oh? So, what? You were just talking out of your ass?’ and then they’ll return to ribbing each other because Satoru knows how to reply to that. It’s easy, it’s routine, it’s what they do. But Suguru today seems hell bent on making Satoru’s heart jump out of his chest because what was he even supposed to say to that? When someone tells you that you’re more important than god to them, what do you even say? Does anyone know?!

“I—Shit. Wait. Let me just—” Satoru turns his head the other way and tries to pull away to try and collect his thoughts but Suguru’s arm around his waist won’t let him. “Fucking hell, man. What was that all about?”

Fuck. Shit. Whose idea was it for them to sit outside in the field? And why is it so damn hot suddenly? It’s fucking autumn and it looked like it was going to rain when they first sat. Suguru’s heavy arm around him and the way he’s closing in is definitely not helping. 

“What was what?”

“That!” Indignation is clear and high in Satoru’s voice and no he did not keen when Suguru pulls him back to his side and bends down to peer at Satoru’s now clearly red face. “Will you stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Being all smooth and shit!”

“You think I’m being smooth?”

Suguru smirks, all boyish charm and—oh, mmm, fuck. Satoru thinks his heart just skipped a beat. Godfucking damn him.

“Stop fucking with me, Suguru.” Satoryu lets his glasses slip down his nose to level Suguru with a glare. “I mean it.”

“Are you kidding?” Sugura laughs—the damn fucker laughs! “Why would I stop when that’s all I’ve been wanting to do since we first met!”

His words don’t sink in at first and Satoru’s first reaction was anger as he tries to get away from Suguru’s hold for real this time.

“Hah? You trying to pick a fight now? What the fu—”

But Suguru just keeps him in place, waits for the moment his words finally register, and watches as Satoru’s brain short circuit in real time.

“Wait. What do you—Are you—?”

“I’m not trying to be smooth, Satoru.” The hand on his waist feels like a vice grip and Satoru swallows the embarrassing sound he nearly lets out when Suguru’s grip tightens. “I meant every word I said.”

“What the—Are you saying you—me?” Suguru is being so intense right now, it’s messing all of Satoru’s higher brain capacities. He’s in so much disbelief he can’t even say the word. “You—me?”

“Yes. Me. You. You and me. Us.” Suguru rolls his eyes and his voice is exasperated but fond. Always so fond when it comes to Satoru. “What part of me saying you’re more important to me than god did you not understand?”

“I—” Satoru looks down at his hands. He feels his glasses slipping further but it doesn’t cross his mind to push it back up. Suguru’s words are ringing in his head, and like the first time he said it, he still doesn’t know what to say to that. He says this as much. “I…I really don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I feel like I should though. Say something. Or…or like…do something.”

“Well, since you don’t know what to say, what do you want to do then?”

Satoru looks up—at Suguru’s boyishly handsome face, his gentle eyes patiently waiting for Satoru’s next move, at his lips that are just…there, arched in a soft smile, wry and quirked up unevenly just a little to the right, and knows immediately what he wants to do.

“This.” 

And he leans in for a kiss.

He could feel Suguru smiling against his lips. Warm and soft and sweet because he’s been using the lip balm Satoru had bought for the twins in one of his trips but they said they didn’t like the flavor (who doesn’t like coconut? Suguru is not raising does kids right—). And it’s like Suguru just feels he’s thinking of something else because he licks at the seam of Satoru’s lips, bringing up a hand up to cup at his cheek. Satoru opens up easily and his tongue immediately tastes coffee, mint, and tobacco—a flavor profile distinctly Suguru—and he knows that Suguru is tasting the watermelon lollipop he’s just been sucking on earlier.

Ever the one with better self-control, Suguru is the one who pulls away first, but he makes up for it by planting one, two, three chaste kisses on Satoru to chase away his pouting.

“Ah, good response. Perfect even. A+ overall. Ten over ten.”

“Oh, shut up.” Satoru drops his forehead on Suguru’s shoulder, hits him weakly on the chest, and smiles when he feels his shoulder shake in laughter. “You know you’re important to me too, right? My one and only. I don’t want anyone else but you, Suguru. You’re it for me. I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

“So. Can I kiss you again?” Satoru lifts his head up, hopeful. 

“Satoru,” Suguru sighs and Satoru marvels at how his name sounds like something holy coming from his lips. “You don’t ever have to ask.”

--

edit: now posted on ao3! i did some editing and added some more dialogues at the end hehe

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #stsg #gojo satoru #geto suguru #writing #i wrote this instead of my thesis

[cheekygreenty]

A Little Death - The Darkling x Reader

Enemies-to-lovers, one bed trope AND smut. You’re welcome 🖤

The mission went terribly, just as you said it would. You were always known to voice your concerns during meetings and this one was no different but he hadn't bothered to take your criticism into account.

The big bad Darkling couldn't stand you for that very reason or so he told himself. You were loud, outspoken, rude, and a control freak. You clashed and fought but he kept you there for perspective reasons, even though he never listened to you, like ever.

You laughed when the mission turned sour, earning yourself a glare from everybody, including him. If it wasn't the hours of sleep you lost to carry out the stupid mission in the first place, you would be heading toward Os Alta by now, but no. Everyone was tired and hungry and practically begging for a proper bed and not a makeshift cot in a tent, you included.

Vacancy was lit, the guests were checking in

You waited as the colorful keftas dispersed into the inn and as you approached the innkeeper to grab your keys, he hesitated.

'Only one room left.' He looked afraid to say it, does he think I need more than one? The confused look on your face kept until you saw General Kirigan appear out of the corner of your eye, looking right at you with a displeased look.

'Will it fit two people?'

'Yes Sir'

'Alright then, Y/L/N you're with me.' He took the keys and gestured for you to walk through the archway but you couldn't believe your ears. This man was the General of the Second-Army, almost as rich as the King but he had to share a room, with me no less?! Of all the bloody people on this journey, it obviously has to be me.

You bit back the rude remark that sat at the tip of your tongue and gave a curt nod. It's just one night and I'm ready to pass out.

'After you General' You forced a smile and watched as his irritation grew. Although you hated the man, you had to admit he was incredibly handsome, you weren’t blind. His dark onyx eyes always stood out against the pale of his skin, and the perfectly quiffed jet-black hair practically begged to have your fingers running through it.

His cape whirled around him as he walked past you, breaking you out of your trance. You guessed he knew where he was going as he ascended the wooden stairs and climbed to the top. Out of boredom, you counted the room numbers you passed not paying attention to him and stopped when you walked right into his rock-solid back. 'Saints- I'm sorry.' You blundered. I think that's the first time I've ever said sorry to him. He ignored you and walked into the room, inspecting it closely. You did too, but were cut short when you noticed the absence of another bed.

The room was fit for two

'There's only one bed' You dead-panned. You thought for a moment, looking around for a couch, an armchair, anything, but came up empty-handed. 'This is just great.' You sighed and looked to him. He had shed his heavy cape and donned his black kefta, staring at the one bed the same way you did.

'Well? What are we going to do?' You threw your hands up in exasperation 'Perhaps they have a tub I can-'

'Don't be ridiculous Y/N.' Y/N? I think that's the first time he's called me by my name.

'I meant to go wash, General. It's been a long week.' As opposed to some of the others, including the General, you had stayed in a tent over the past 2 days to gather intel. He and his flock stayed in inns and hotels, bathing in luxury and warmth.

'Yes, of course.' He stared into your eyes, holding your gaze for a hot minute before you looked away, suddenly feeling shy.

You put the bed situation at the back of your mind as you fetched some warm water and washed the grime of failed missions off. So much wasted time, all because nobody would listen to you, he wouldn't listen to me. If he weren't so gorgeous, I would kill him in his sleep.

Once you felt clean enough and your hair began to dry, you walked out of the washroom, enveloped by a towel as you searched your pack for anything you could sleep in. Perhaps the bath fogged up your mind, for you completely forgot the General was sharing the small space with you.

'You know you talk to yourself?' His voice scared the living daylights out of you. He was sitting back lazily against the headboard of the bed in his shirt and breeches smirking to himself. 'I think conspiring my death is reason enough for prison, is it not?' You couldn't tell if he was joking.

'I never said I would.' You bit back, grasp tightening around the flimsy towel.

'Because I'm too gorgeous?' He stood up from the bed and walked over to you. You never registered how much taller he was than you as his eyes scanned you up and down, like a predator hunting its prey.

'I need to get dressed, General'

'Hmmm, yes I can tell.' He took a bit of hair that hung in front of your face and held it between his fingers, the action sending waves of arousal through you, What- No. He was dangerously close, you could feel his breath tickle your ear and he was bound to hear your pounding heartbeat. But alas he moved away, sashaying into the washroom leaving you alone. I need a cold bath.

***

You were dressed for bed now, curled up on the left side of the bed. You were trying to sleep, really trying, but knowing he was laying right next to you only heightened your insomnia.

You knew he was awake too and he did little to hide it amongst the deafening silence of the room. You could feel the heat coming from his body, radiating an invitation for you to join him. You huffed loudly and turned again for the umpteenth time that hour, attempting to escape the weird tension in the room.

'Can't sleep?'

'Obviously.' Even in the dark, you knew he was smirking.

'I know something that would help.' Suddenly he was on top of you, caging you in with a hand at the sides of your head. You could feel the bare skin of his arm and chest as he slightly pressed down onto you, signaling that he wasn't wearing the black silk shirt anymore. Wherever his skin brushed against yours, it ignited that longing and need in you and it felt addictive.

I want you to touch me

'What are you doing? I thought you hate me.' Your proximity allowed for you to see the slight glistening of his eyes. They had an edge to them, a darkness you'd never seen before or never paid attention to.

'You're one to speak.' Taking one hand from beside your head, he so very slowly traced the side of your face, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued his way down your neck and further, stopping at your thigh where your nightgown had bunched up. 'I think it's time we stop this charade of ours.' As you concentrated on the feel of his fingers against your burning skin, he moved his head into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and exhilarating as he spoke.

'What charade' Your words came out with a deep exhale in anticipation of his actions.

'The one where we both pretend we don't want to fuck each other's brains out.'

Your eyes flew open at his crude remark but shut right back again as his lips gently kissed your collarbone and made their way up to your jaw, getting increasingly rough as he traveled. His hand at your thigh sneaked its way under the gown and now gripped your bare hip in a tight hold. 'What do you say?' His lips were now at yours, touching them as he spoke. All your logic flew out the window of the dingy inn. You didn't care that this was your General, or that he could kill you in an instant, all that mattered was that you needed him, and he wanted you.

'Ye-'

Before you even finished, his lips were hot on yours, devouring you in a bruising kiss. He pressed into you harder and if you had any reservations about his feeling towards you, they were flushed away as he made his arousal for you obvious. It fueled you, awoke your need to control with a jolt.

You fought for dominance, letting your mouth duel for any scrap of authority you could have over the man, but he kept you wrapped around his finger, tightening his grasp on you while simultaneously letting your mind run free with thoughts of him and only him. He was dangerous; intimidating.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed.

He began to pull away but to your surprise he only hauled you up with him, taking your thighs and forcing you into a straddle around his lap, not once letting his lips leave your body.

'You do it on purpose, don't you? Vexing and riling me up in front of others-' He took hold of the nightgown and pulled it up over your head before roughly grabbing your chin and letting his lips brush against your now swollen ones '-I swore to myself if you did it again, I would've thought you a lesson right before their very eyes.'

The General was quick to pull you back into him, bare chests pressed together and heartbeats merging into one. Your hips moved on their own accord, slowly drawing circles around his bulge.

'General I didn't take you for a man that stalled.' You spoke against his lips. You were done with his words, you needed his actions.

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

At that, his hand let go of its deathly grip on your waist and quickly went to your core. Letting a deep growl out at your dripping wetness, he plunged a finger deep into you as his palm stroked your clit at an excruciatingly painful pace, too slow for your liking. You couldn't help keep the whimper down and he had the audacity to chuckle at your neediness.

'And I didn't take you to be so impatient.' He nipped at your shoulder as he picked up his pace, earning a series of moans from you. It was like music to his ears.

With your head against his chest, you rode your wave of pleasure out with his fingers still inside you, milking your first orgasm of the night.

Almost immediately he had you under him again and before you could register with your eyes, you felt the head of his cock nudging at your sensitive bud, as if begging for entry. It sent shivers up your spine, seeing him there at your mercy. He ran across your wet folds again and a throaty moan echoed around the room. Are you sure he's at your mercy?

You coaxed him to enter and once he did you felt euphoria. He stretched you out to your limits, filled you until you bottomed out. His eyes were tightly shut as he basked in the comfort of you. It felt just as good to be buried in you as it did to kiss you. You enveloped his senses and his mind. You were the only thing that mattered to him at that very moment.

'Saints Y/N.' His forehead fell against yours as he thrust in and out of you, bearing his weight on the arm not holding your thigh up.

Despite the pleasure clouding your mind and vision, you managed to grab at his vulnerability and flip you both around. He didn't fight back, only grabbed hold of the back of your neck to kiss you deeply as you pounded down onto him. His hold on your hip was deadly, bound to bruise. He liked the thought of marking you as his.

You came with a strangled cry, the pulsing around his length sending him into a frenzy of his own as your name spilled out like a prayer from his lips. It took a while for you to catch your breath and return to your natural state. But it didn't last long before the events of the night were repeated and more marks were littered across your body.

It was only then that you fell asleep, thoroughly spent and exhausted, awaiting the next time you could defy him.

_______

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl

#shadow and bone #the darkling #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #grisha #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #kefta #series #shadow summoner #black general #aleksander morozova x reader #little palace #one shot #keftas

[linorachas]

sunday's best. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff and smut ⁍ word count — 11.2k words ⁍ details — established relationship, domesticity, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing (again), you're both really in love (again), hard smut | details under the cut ⁍ notes — part 2 of for the weekend is here! thank you so much to everyone who supported part 1 and asked for more. it gave me so much motivation to start and finish this one and i maaay have gotten a little bit carried away considering it's almost triple the size. and the smut... yea.... this could be read as a one-shot, but there’s a lot of elements from pt. 1 that i referenced in here, so please check that one out first! and also please please lmk if you enjoyed! ♥️  ⁍ summary —  Day 2. Holding up your end of the deal, strawberry ice cream, and Ugly Cat bowls.

⁍ smut specifics — dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, one mention of the word "daddy", possessiveness on chan’s part (but not the asshole kind), a smidge of oral (f. receiving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking (but not really? just hand on throat), reader talks about liking the pain a lot, dry humping, slightest bit of cum play ⁍ little side note — please practice safe sex u guys. wrap it up. these guys are not good role models at all. be safe. also always pee after sex. plz. also this isn't proofread god bless

Saturday, 3:20 pm

“Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

You hold your breath, stunned at the determination in Chan’s eyes. You’re distracted at the way his lips curl and at how his dimples pop out, your eyes following the line of his broad shoulders. You eye the ridges of his arms, down to the veins in his hands, parched throat swallowing when you get to his defined abs.

God, he was sexy.

You follow his happy trail, down and down until-- ah. Right. He was still naked. In the kitchen.

Your face scrunches up comically, desire disappearing as you hop off the counter and shoo him away.

“Go get some clothes, what the hell. Do you know how unsanitary it is to be naked in here? Gross, Chan.”

Staring at you in disbelief, Chan gapes, “after you just blatantly checked me out? I saw that!”

You walk past him, rummaging through the cupboards for food. “Unless you want me to come near you with a pair of scissors close to your-”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Chan shouts, as he rushes back to the bedroom, the panic in his voice making you laugh.

You’re just starting to fill up a pot with water when arms sneak around your waist and a very clingy but now fully dressed Bang Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, humming.

“What do you want me to cook for you, baby?” He asks excitedly, ready to do anything.

You snort. “Unless you can magically conjure up some groceries, I don’t think you can cook me anything at all.”

Chan freezes at that, releasing his hold on you so he could open the refrigerator and cupboards, mouth dropping in shock when he sees that there really was no food. You’ve both been so busy this week, spending most of your meals at that company, that you both probably forgot to do mini-grocery runs.

“Though we do have like, 4 packs of ramen left and half a can of spam.” You call Chan’s attention back to you, gesturing towards the food on the counter. Chan, the big eater that he was, deflates at the sight, looking exactly like a kicked puppy.

“Aw, I know that’s not enough for you, baby.” You coo, shuffling over to Chan to pinch his cheek. It starts gentle at first, but then you put a bit of pressure, narrowing your eyes. “But if you eat more than your share, I’m biting you.”

Chan yelps, nodding rapidly as your pinch his cheek harder, “okay! Okay! I won’t steal from your share, I promise, baby- ow!”

You relent soon after, pressing a sweet kiss to Chan’s reddened cheek as he scowls at you. “Good. Now let’s get cooking, because if I don’t have food in me in the next 3 minutes I really might start biting you.”

Chan jumps out of your reach at that, and you watch him with a smile as he bustles around to prepare your food. You get a bowl each after it cooks, perfectly equal in portion size. There aren’t any words being shared as you both settle on the couch, your thighs pressed together as you slurp on your noodles, putting on a drama you were both invested in. Chan doesn’t notice when you slip your one last remaining piece of spam into his bowl, too busy berating a main character for being stupid, but he does let you finish off the soup in his bowl.

You and Chan start working on chores after that, because when you were looking for the remote control under the couch, you’re greeted with a cloud of dust, making you sneeze thrice.

Chan laughs at you, but then he’s cut off by his own sneeze too. You share one look before you’re both scrambling towards the cleaning supplies.

It takes you both hours just to clean the whole apartment and do some laundry, the sky already dark when you settle back down on the couch.

Considering you literally had no ingredients to cook with, you decide to order for dinner, and there’s a small dispute as to who has to get up to accept the food and pay the delivery man. The fight is resolved with a quick game of rock, paper, scissors; Chan winning fairly, but you still complain on your way to the door.

“We should work out,” Chan pipes up suddenly when you’re both lying on your sides on the couch, him being the little spoon. Dinner was a quick affair, and now you’re both just basking in the happiness of having a full stomach.

You make a face. “Was that not enough of a workout?” you ask, referring to your spotless apartment.

Chan snorts, turning around so his front was facing you. But he slides down, making a sound akin to purr as he buries his face in your neck. “I mean, like. Yoga. Leg day reps. Jogging?”

You groan, pinching his side. “I dance for a living. You go work out. Let me rot on this couch for tonight.”

Chan laughs at that, but doesn’t pester you about it anymore. You let him rest on your clavicle as you focus on your attention to the drama that was currently airing on the TV, slightly interested now.

You’d have thought Chan was asleep if it wasn’t for the kisses that he presses on your neck, harmless little pecks that soon have a bit of teeth in them. You lean your head back, finding the action more comforting than anything, but then Chan’s tongue suddenly darts out to lick at a spot near your jaw, and you shiver.

You sigh, but you don’t push him away. Instead, your fingers card through his hair, making Chan groan happily. He stops pestering your neck then, enjoying your fingers massaging and scratching at his scalp.

But your first mistake was thinking you were safe, because suddenly, there’s a thigh slipping in between your legs, pressing against your covered mound.

“Ah,” you moan, surprised, but Chan doesn’t do anything else after that, just lets his thigh rest there. You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “I thought you were going to work out.”

“This is my workout.” Chan whispers, and when you feel his devilish smile against your skin, you knew you were doomed.

Chan presses his thigh against your clothed pussy more insistently, making you squirm. The thin material of your panties and sleep shorts barely provided any layers between you, heightening the pleasure.

His thigh flexes, and the feeling of your clit grinding down on the hardened muscle was simply too good to ignore, and you’re humping Chan’s thigh before you could even think twice about it.

“Good girl,” Chan praises when he notices your hips gyrating, leaning up for a second to press a sweet kiss to your lips. He continues to adjust, helping you find the best position for your pleasure. “Keep rubbing that pretty pussy on me, baby, that’s it.”

You moan when a hand slides under your shirt and brushes against one of your nipples, Chan rolling the slowly hardening nub between his fingers. You feel yourself getting wet embarrassingly quick, and you knew you could cum like this. Chan has made you cum multiple times before just from clitoral stimulation alone, and dry humping was no exception to that.

You’re just about to ask if he was really going to let you cum, but then Chan pulls his thigh away, and the knot in your stomach disappears.

You groan for an entirely different reason now, upset at your orgasm being taken away from you. But Chan busies himself with tugging at your shirt until you get the idea and take it off, and he immediately latches his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking.

You suck in a breath through gritted teeth, pressing his head closer to your chest as he paid attention to both your nipples, licking and sucking and biting. You were getting uncomfortably wet now, your panties damp, and you convey this to Chan in hopes that he would speed things up.

You should have known that it would just spur him on.

“You wet for me already?” Chan asks once he stops marking your breasts, facing you with a grin.

You nod rapidly. “Yes, so if you could fuck m-”

“Ah,” Chan tuts, “let me feel first.”

You don’t even get a chance to protest because Chan’s hand is already disappearing, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties to slide two of his fingers between your folds. You jolt at the contact, moaning as he uses those two fingers to rub circles on your clit gently.

“Chan,” you moan and he hums distractedly, leaning down to suck more marks on your skin. He slips in a finger without warning, but since you were so wet and ready for him, you took his finger in easily.

Chan curses, testing the waters by slipping in a second finger slowly, and though there was a bit of a sting this time, his second finger slides in just as easily.

“God, baby, you’re soaking.”

Chan crooks his fingers, brushing against your g-spot almost immediately, making you jolt and whine. He picks up the pace, fingers fucking in and out you fast despite your underwear and shorts restricting most of his hand movement.

He comes up for a kiss, your mouth opening automatically for him to slip his tongue in. He groans into your mouth at your obedience, free hand gripping your jaw tight. He sucks on your tongue just as he adds a third finger, and you pull away to hiss.

Chan’s fingers were long and filled you up nicely, and with how he was rubbing at your g-spot insistently, it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm climbing up again.

“I’m prepping you, but it looks like you don’t need it with how you’re sucking my fingers in, baby.” Chan shakes his head, playful disbelief coloring his tone. “Did you think about my cock in you all day? Wanted me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yeah, yes, I- ah,” you gasp, nodding at his words rapidly. Chan leans in to kiss you again, but you manage to stop him with a shaky hand pressed to his chest, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“You held up your end of the deal,” you whisper, already breathless, “it’s time I hold up mine.”

Chan’s eyes darken, and you squeak when he suddenly sits up on his knees, free hand yanking your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion. He leans back down to get the kiss you stopped at before, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and making you moan.

“But first,” Chan murmurs against your lips, voice leaving no room for discussion. “You cum for me now.”

Now that there was no clothing to restrict his hand movements, the pace of Chan’s fingers picked up faster, driving you crazy and making you squirm on the couch. Chan pins your hips down with his other hand so he could drive his fingers into you easily, and the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting inside your cunt was so lewd you felt yourself blushing.

It only takes a quick brush of Chan’s thumb against your clit to have your body snapping, trembling in Chan’s arms as your hole convulses against his fingers. Chan groans like he was the one having an orgasm, eyes appreciatively staring at the way your head was thrown back, chest heaving up and down.

Chan pulls his fingers out carefully, planning to just wipe them on his shirt, but then you make a noise, catching his attention. He looks up, confused, but then sees the way your gaze was trained on his fingers— which were slicked with your juices— and his cock got so hard, it started to hurt.

“Fuck, you’re filthy.” Chan whispers, but he brings his fingers up to your lips, letting you lick and suck to your heart’s content. Chan swallows as you look up at him through your lashes, cleaning his fingers thoroughly with long swipes of your tongue. For each glimpse he sees of the wet appendage around his finger, his dick jumps in his sweatpants.

You pull off slowly when you finish, eyes still locked with Chan’s. The both of you were breathing hard now, gazes intense as you stared each other down. At first, you felt like both the predator and the prey. Chan could destroy you with his fingers alone if he wanted to, but he was easy to fluster as well.

But then Chan tilts your head up with a single finger, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips, a kiss so full of intent, lust and— love, that it leaves you breathless, eyes wide.

Chan lips quirk. “Bedroom?”

Saturday, 10:41 pm.

“Arch for me, baby.” Chan orders, breathless, hand smoothing down your lower back. You were truthfully too weak to hold yourself up already, mind numbed with pleasure, but you do your best, legs shaking with the effort to present yourself. But the pleased grumble that immediately comes out of Chan definitely makes the grueling position worth it.

You were both naked now, having shed Chan’s clothes as soon as you stumbled through the bedroom door, after you spent a good ten minutes just making out against it. Chan had shut the door with a quick kick, carrying you on the way to the bed even though it was only a few steps away.

But you didn’t complain, not when he dropped you in the middle and immediately manhandled you to your hand and knees, tugging your hips close to him with a grunt.

“That’s my good girl,” Chan leans down, whispering the words against the nape of your neck as the tip of his cock slid between your folds.

You start whining, because you were much more exposed in this position and you were being good but Chan wasn’t doing anything about it and you just wanted to be fucked. You convey your displeasure by pushing back against Chan’s cock, trying to get it to slip in you without his help.

“Want it inside, sweetheart? Hm?” Chan mumbles against your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe teasingly. “I can feel your greedy little hole twitching against me. Shit, you want it that bad?”

You nod rapidly, uncaring of how desperate you looked. Mostly because Chan liked that look on you. He liked knowing that you let your guard down around him, that nobody in the world could bring you to your knees and have you begging to be filled like he does.

Chan never explicitly shows how much he likes thinking that you belong to him, because he really does believe you’re your own person and not an object to be owned. But here, like this, with your throbbing pussy against this cock and your teary eyes pitifully looking up at him to do something, anything— it brought out a sense of possessiveness in Chan that he never knew he had.

These were the kind of feelings that only you could bring out of him. You were the only one who ever made him feel like this, and the rush of both excitement and fear over it admittedly has him going crazy at times.

But there’s nothing in the world he loves more than knowing you feel exactly the same.

He sees this in the way you tilt your head up, begging for a kiss. It has him breaking out of character, lips tugging up into a fond smile, since he’d planned to be mean and tease you for a bit. But he doesn’t resist when he leans down to kiss you, not when the urge is so strong. Especially not when your smile against his lips felt like the world’s most addicting drug.

Ah, how lucky was he to have fallen in love with you?

“Channie,” you hiccup once he pulls away, and he presses kisses down your shoulder, hiding a smile. This is why he could never be a hard dom with you. One kiss and he’s weak.

“Mhm, I got it, I got it. Just relax for me, yeah? I’ll fill you up real good, sweetheart. Just relax for me.” Chan soothes, pulling back to sit up on his knees.

He grabs a hold of his cock so he could line it up and push in, but then he can’t stop the groan that comes out his throat when the contact eases the pressure on his cock. He hasn’t been touched since you started, and with how wet you were when he pressed against you, he didn’t even need lube. His hand slid up and down easily.

You bit your lip. You were torn between enjoying the godly image of Chan jerking off to the sight of you bent over for him or finally enjoying the feeling of being filled up. Chan pleasuring himself was always a sight to see, veiny arms flexing every time his hand moved.

His eyes fluttered close, and your eyes greedily followed the line of his jaw and the long column of his throat, mouth dry with how much you wanted to suck marks on it.

But you were once again reminded why you can’t, and you were in this position for a reason.

“My end of the deal,” you start, catching your boyfriend’s attention, “was to let myself be fucked six ways to sunday.”

You pause, your hand sliding behind you to slip your own fingers into your soaking pussy. You moan when one finger slips right in, bright eyes meeting Chan’s dark ones.

“Should I have just done that myself?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the way Chan yanked your finger out, gaze hard as he locked both your arms behind you back. He was only holding your arms back with one of his hands, but the grip felt as tight as a rope.

You shiver in anticipation.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.” Chan hisses, finally pushing his cock inside, easily slipping in with how wet and stretched you were from his fingers.

He moves slowly, determined to make you feel every inch and ridge and vein of his cock against your clenching walls. You squirm and gasp as he pushes and pushes, filling you up so well until his hips are finally flushed against your ass.

“I’ll fuck you so well you’ll feel it here,” he slides his free hand down to your lower stomach, pressing down until he almost feels his cock bulging in you, “and you’ll feel it until next weekend.”

Then he pulls back and thrusts inside again, this time slamming in hard.

You choke on a breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Chan goes in deep and fast. The position allowed him to reach inside you deeper than ever, and you almost swear you feel him in your stomach.

He finds your g-spot again in no time, knowing your body better than you do. You jerk in his hold when he does and a scream gets stuck in your throat, and the fact that you could feel Chan’s amusement from your reaction just made it even hotter. You had no time to breath from how hard and fast Chan was fucking you, let alone make a sound.

God, you loved it.

It’s what has you cumming in no more than three more thrusts, mouth gaping like a fish out of water as the knot in your stomach finally snapped. Chan seems to have noticed, given that you were clenching around him like crazy, and the laugh he lets out is so attractive that you feel yourself clench again.

“Aww, already, Y/N?” He teases, making you flush. He sounded smug, and you made a mental note to kick him for it later.

And though he seemed to have noticed your orgasm, Chan doesn’t stop. In fact, he shifts his position and somehow finds a way to push himself in deeper, forcefully pushing a long, drawn out moan from your throat. He makes you ride out your orgasm, eyes staring intently at the way his cock slid in out of you, covered in your juices.

“Shit, Channn,” you groan out his name, voice breaking as he continues to drive his cock into you. “I- ah, ah, Channie, please, I can’t-“

“You can,” Chan grunts out simply, as if he knew your core was already tightening for your second orgasm in a row.

You open your mouth again to plead— for him to stop or keep going? you didn’t know— but then Chan slows down, and you finally manage to suck in the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Keeping his cock in you, Chan lets go of your arms, both of his hands now sliding under your torso to pull you up. You gasp at the sudden change in position, now sitting back on your knees as Chan’s arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

“Fuck,” Chan grunts in your ear, inhaling through gritted teeth as he thrusts into you again properly. His fingers trail down your hips and up your stomach, hands brushing up and down your skin like he was mapping it out. It tickled, and with every brush of Chan’s hand against a sensitive part of your body, you clench.

He moans lowly, the sound right by your ear and making you shiver. “You open up so well for me. You always do. So perfect for me, beautiful.”

Chan presses heated kisses on your shoulder, hands now gripping your waist tight so he could position you in a way that was pleasurable for both of you. When Chan’s lips trail higher, you subconsciously bear your neck to him, making him smile.

“Please,” you breathe out, your eyes stinging from the almost painful knot in your stomach, back so soon even though you’ve just calmed down.

“Again.” Chan exhales against your ear, hips picking up that demonic pace again. “Cum for me again.”

You moan, nodding mindlessly as Chan pulls you back onto his cock at the same time he thrusts forward. His big cock fills you up in all the right places, brushing against your sweet spot constantly and driving you crazy each time.

Since you were now being held up by Chan himself, you didn’t know what to do with your hands at this point, nails digging into your palms and creating indents.

But Chan, as attentive as ever even when he’s fucking you into oblivion, notices your hand situation and guides your arms upwards, pushing them back until your hands tangle in his hair instead.

The new position worked well for the both of you, because your back was arched to accommodate your arms, and Chan could drive his cock in that good kind of deep again.

Chan’s grunts by your ear just get you even hotter, along with his hisses every time you clench around him. He murmurs dirty praises in your ear, telling you over and over again how good your cunt felt around him and how you were taking him so well and how he’d love nothing more to be buried in you forever, so you’d never feel empty again.

The last straw is when his free hand comes up to your neck, fingers closing around your jaw so he could tilt your head up. You gasps noisily at that, tugging on his hair in surprise. You and Chan have talked about choking before, and though he wasn’t really cutting off your air, the feeling of his hand around your throat was more than enough to get you locking up around him.

Chan coos, lips brushing against your cheek as he talked you towards your orgasm. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me feel you cream around my cock again,” he grunts, pushing through the tight vice-like grip your walls had around him, “Come on, gorgeous. Let me feel it. Want you to cum for me again.”

You sob out Chan’s name, unaware of the tears slipping down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and came for the second time in a matter of minutes. It was too fast, too sudden, still too sensitive from your last orgasm—

—and it was everything you ever wanted.

Chan immediately slows down when you start spasming around him, letting you ride out your orgasm slowly this time. He continues to murmur praises in your ear, pressing open mouthed kisses on the shoulder nearest to him.

You’re hiccuping and gasping his name, fingers tugging on his hair desperately. You were so lost in pleasure that you don’t notice him slowly pulling out and sitting back on his knees, pulling you back with him. He untangles your hands from his hair gently, and your arms limp at your sides now that you’re slumped over.

Chan brushes your hair back from your sweaty face when your head lolls back, and you easily accept the searing kiss that he presses on your lips. Though you were barely kissing back, breathing too hard to move your lips, you refused to let him pull away.

Chan’s kisses were like air for you during times like this, and you drink them in greedily.

“You were so good for me.” Chan praises once he pulls away, eyes bright as he stares down at you lovingly, thumb brushing against the tear tracks on your cheeks. “My good girl.”

Slipping an arm under your knees, he rearranges your positions so you could lie down on the middle of the bed. Chan lies on his side next to you, one hand propping his head up while the other hand intertwines with yours, squeezing every few seconds.

You were in a limbo, somewhere between still being conscious of your surroundings and feeling floaty, but Chan’s murmured praises and constant touches bring you back to the ground fully.

“Good?” Chan asks, sounding genuine, but you catch the smug look in his eyes.

You laugh quietly in response, eyes rolling good-naturedly, hand coming up to punch him playfully. Chan grins wide, leaning down so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

And when he pulls away, he brings your intertwined hands up to his face so he could place a kiss on the back of your hand too. You shudder from the sudden wave of affection going through you, feeling so lucky to be taken care of by someone as caring as Chan.

But. There was one issue.

“Channie,” you exhale, shifting to your side so you could plaster your sweaty body close to his, burying your face in his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Hmm?” He lets go of your hand so he could tuck your hair behind your ear, wanting to see your face.

“You didn’t-“ you start, indicating to the hard-on pressed against your thigh. You hear the breath he sucks in when you grind against it, but then there’s a hand stopping your hips from moving any more.

“We don’t have to.” Chan reassures, referring to your fucked out state as nicely as he could. It made you chuckle, until— “I already made you cry, anyway.”

You swat at his stomach, making him groan and laugh at the same time. He falls back onto the mattress, giggling as he shielded his torso away from your hands.

He was right, though. Your legs were already shaking, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how sore you would be tomorrow. Not to mention the different bite marks around your body. You look like you’ve just been mauled by a wild animal.

But—

“I want more.” You whine softly, knowing it got to Chan whenever you vocalized what you wanted. You crawl up his body slowly, watching as he licked his lips. You hips lower, sitting right on Chan’s cock and grinding, and you relish in the way his teeth grits.

You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear before whispering, “Want you to cum in me.”

“Shit,” Chan curses, hands coming up to catch your hips in a bruising grip, halting your movements again. He was definitely holding back for your sake, but you didn’t want that. You had a deal to uphold.

“Come on, daddy.” You purr in his ear, grinning when he tenses again. “Don’t you want to fuck me full of your cum?”

You squeak when Chan flips your positions, him now on top of you and your arms pinned above your head. You breathe heavily, watching as his glazed eyes rake over your marked form, like he was taking you in. Carving the way you look into his memories.

He leans down then, arms caging the sides of your head. “You drive me crazy.” He admits, voice fond despite his heated look, and you blush all the way to the tip of your ears.

“Crazy enough for you to fuck me into the mattress?” You ask, voice tilting up hopefully as you flush, but you’re cut off by your own moan when Chan suddenly spreads your legs and ducks down, tongue licking a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the sudden attack to your sensitive pussy, head throwing back and hands immediately coming down to grip Chan’s hair. “You- what are you- oh, fuck me.”

You could feel the puffs of breath against your clit as Chan laughed, and you hit him on the back using your foot, annoyed that he was laughing as you lost your mind. He ignores you, swirling and flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub, before continuing to dip his tongue inside you.

The moan he lets out rivals your own, and you gasp as Chan eats pussy like he’s a starved man and it's his first meal, the slurping noises he makes sounding lewd even to your own ears.

You chant his name like a prayer, squirming on the bed as you tug on his hair hard. That only serves to make him moan, which in turn also made you clench again.

“Baby,” you sob, “please. If I don’t get your cock in me, I’ll- I- please.”

Chan finally lets up at that, pressing one last kiss to your swollen clit before he kisses his way up your body.

“Yeah? You need it?” He asks, breathless, but it was clear he wasn’t waiting for an answer. He must be as worked up as you are, because there was no more teasing this time, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit.

“What the hell was that,” you demand, voice clipped because Chan was pushing inside you again, testing the waters with miniscule thrusts. You jerk each time.

“Wanted you to shut up.” Chan chuckles, but he’s cut off by his own groan when he feels your hot, velvety walls clamp around him in response. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling how wet you were from both your juices and his spit.

“Shit, baby, how are you still so tight?” Chan sighs contentedly, pressing open mouthed kisses to your cheek. He’s got his upper arms on either side of your head, and you’re so close together that your breasts press against his chest, making you jolt with every brush of your nipples against his pecs. “You fit my cock so well, got me so hard-“

“It’s cause- ah, I’m made for you, shit, right there-” you slur mindlessly, head thrown back from the pleasure as Chan drove straight into your g-spot again and again. The way he hit it so precisely each time should have freaked you out, but you were far too out of your mind with pleasure to think about it.

Chan’s hips falter at the words.

“What did you say, baby? Say that again.” Chan demands, sounding desperate, and you gather all the strength you had left to pick your head up and look up at him. With how close you were, you were pressed nose to nose, Chan leaning down even further so your forehead pressed together. You meet eyes, and you shudder at the intensity of his gaze, suddenly looking much more animalistic than before. Ah.

Bullseye.

“Was made for you.” You murmur again, clearer now, arms coming up to wrap around Chan’s shoulders for leverage as he used you to get to his own orgasm. “I take your cock well because you’ve ruined me for anybody else, Chan,” you admit, eyes shaking. “Nobody’s ever— ever going to make me feel like this. Like you do- oh, fuck!”

You feel Chan bristling at the mention of someone else, and despite your fuzzy mind, you rush to placate him. “I’m yours, baby. Just yours.” you swear, cupping his cheek and forcing him to focus his gaze on you. You needed him to understand. “Any way you want. All of me. I’m all yours.”

Chan’s hips stutter, and he leans down to press your mouths together again. He’s moving too much to have your lips locked in a proper kiss, but he nibbles your lips, breathing heavily as he whispers, “Mine.” over and over again against your jaw.

Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him. The pleasure and pain was so blurred that it was making you tear up again, but you pull him closer and beg him to go harder.

There’s a certain urgency to his thrusts now, more frantic and more desperate now that he’s let himself go, and you relish in his unrestrained groans and moans mixing with your own.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice guttural, and just the sounds of his fucked out voice saying your name has you tightening immediately again, making both you and Chan gasp. “Shit, baby, wait, I’m close- where-“

“Inside.” You beg, now nose to nose to Chan as he leaned his forehead on top of yours, eyes searching frantically. “Inside. I told you earlier, didn’t I?”

Chan groans, a loud and raw sound that vibrates against your chest, especially when he ducks his head down to the side so you were cheek to cheek now. You feel his teeth nip at your earlobe, low moans loud in your ear as his thrusts get more sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Y/N, are you-“

“I’m sure, Chan.” You turn your head, and your lips brush against his ear when you beg, “cum inside me. I want to feel it, want you to fuck your cum back into me. Please.”

Chan grunts, cock pulsing inside you at the thought. He was so close— teetering right at the edge as you continued to clench around him and whisper filthy things in his ear.

The last straw is when you tug his head back just in time, forcibly making your gazes meet when you whisper,

“Please, baby. Remind me that I’m yours.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as he finally stills and pumps his cum into you. The first spurt has you gasping noisily, clutching onto Chan tightly as he fills you up. You maintain eye contact for one glorious moment, but Chan’s eyes eventually flutter shut due to the overwhelming pleasure. You watch as his head lolls back, throat working out grunts and moans, complete bliss on his face.

The look is what triggers your fourth and final orgasm; dry and painfully, painfully good.

When he picks his head back up, your lips meet in a bruising kiss, tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking as you both ride out your orgasm, him milking his cock inside you.

If you were filled before, you were bursting at the seams now.

Chan doesn’t pull out for a couple of minutes, the both of you catching your breath. But when he does finally pull out you immediately hiss, clearly oversensitive.

You clench unconsciously, but it’s no use, because you’re already shuddering from the feeling of Chan’s cum trailing out your hole.

Chan swallows, eyes staring intently at the way you clenched and unclenched with his cum dripping out of you, and he curses when his spent dick gives an interested twitch.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you croak out, shaking as you stretch your legs out. “If you so much as touch me right now, I might pass out.”

Chan’s lips quirk at the playfulness in your tone, but he knew there was some truth to your words. So he asks you if he can go get something to clean you up, only moving when you give him a clear response of yes. He’s back with a clean, damp cotton towel a minute later, as well as a bottle of water.

You groan in thanks when he makes you drink, patiently waiting until you’re finished to call your attention.

“Baby,” he calls, and you turn your head to face him. He holds the towel up as a form of a question, and you sigh, knowing it was better than nothing. You weren’t in any position to shower right now.

“Be careful, pl-“

“Shh.” Chan smoothes, starting by rubbing a thumb on your thigh. You were so high-strung that even that simple touch startled you, but Chan takes his sweet time and doesn’t rush you, distracting you with kisses every time you spasm.

He finishes cleaning you up soon enough, doing all the work and refusing to let you lift even a finger. You end up cuddled together after, just basking in each other’s warmth and your post-orgasm glows.

Sex with Chan was always amazing, because no matter how slow or how hard and fast you two went, it always ended in sweet kisses and cuddling. Chan never takes his hands off you, not even for a second, always attentive to your needs and wants. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the whole wide world.

In the background, a phone pings, jolting you out of your daze.

“Babe,” Chan calls when he unlocks his phone, chuckling under his breath. “I really did fuck you six ways to sunday.”

You prop your head up on his arm, peering up at his phone lazily. The first thing you see is a picture of you on the lockscreen, taken from when you were napping on his studio couch. The second thing you see is the time and date.

Sunday, 1:34 am.

You snort, turning away from the harsh glare of his phone to bury your face in his bicep. “That wasn’t even six. That was like— three. Or four at most. I don’t know. I blacked out.”

Chan snickers, locking his phone and tossing it on the nightstand. He’ll deal with the notifications tomorrow. For now...

He turns back to you, lips tugging into a smirk as he trails the tip of his fingers down your back, making you shudder.

“Wanna make it six, then? We still have time.”

You immediately yelp, slapping his hand away and rolling off him. You wiggle under the covers, tucking it around you to shield your body away from Chan’s hands.

“Are you crazy?! I can’t even feel my lower half!” You squawk, glaring at him from where you’re peeking behind the covers.

Chan laughs, that squeaky loud laugh you love that has his whole body shaking and eyes crinkling. He crawls over to you and nuzzles his face on top of your head, giggles pressing against your hair.

“Babyyy,” he whines, still laughing. “Let me in. I’m cold.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “What will you trade me?”

Chan’s eyebrows wiggle. “Your blanket for my body.”

You groan in disgust, turning your body away from your laughing boyfriend. Chan usually thinks he’s soooo hilarious, and he believes you do too.

Hiding, you bite back a smile.

“Yah,” he complains now, wrapping his lanky limbs around your burrito looking form from behind. “Come out already. I wanna cuddle.”

You wiggle out the covers soon enough, because you truthfully wanted to cuddle too, and plus, Chan’s pecs were nice to lie on. He welcomes you in his arms easy, huffing out a laugh when you smooch one of his pecs lovingly.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You admit after a few minutes, making Chan groan in disbelief.

“You’re insatiable. There’s no end to that stomach, is there?” Chan asks rhetorically, and you open your mouth to answer because you want to annoy him, but Chan catches you before you could. His hand comes up to cover your mouth, though his hand was so big that he ends up covering your nose as well. “Nope. Shut up. Quiet now.”

You laugh behind his hand, squirming and struggling until he finally relents when you lick his palm. And as if he didn’t just fuck his cum into you earlier, Chan scrunches his face and says, “Gross.”

You scoff. “You fuck me well into the next day and you’re expecting me not to get hungry?!”

“But this kitchen is so far,” Chan whines, even though you didn’t really ask him to get food for you. You’re just about to tell him that, when he adds, “-but fine. I’ll miss you for all the time that it takes you to get food.”

Chan flops back on the bed, eyes shut and clearly expecting you to leave. You squawk, pretending to be offended and swatting at his chest. “You’re just going to let your girlfriend go out into the night like that?! When I can’t even walk?!”

Chan opens one eye, amused. “The night is just 15 steps away.”

“Fine.” you huff, scooting back to your position. You drop your head down on Chan’s chest-- hard-- making him yelp. “I wasn’t even that hungry anyway. And we don’t even have food.”

He laughs, hand automatically finding its way to your hair. “I’ll get you whatever you want tomorrow, I promise. We’ll get brunch on the way to getting groceries, okay? How about that?”

You sniffle. “I want chicken.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it, just fondness. “Then we’ll get chicken.”

“‘kay.”

You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Chan’s fingers carding through your hair. His pecs were the perfect pillows, and combined with your post-sex exhaustion and Chan’s warmth, you were sure you were about to fall sleep. Dreamland was one step away, and you’re just about to fall into the waiting arms of a deep sleep when suddenly--

Chan’s stomach growls. Loud.

You burst out laughing, body curling up and shaking as you turn to Chan, who was hiding his face behind his arms in embarrassment.

“And I’m the insatiable one?”

“Not one word.” Chan huffs, refusing to meet your eyes as he grabs some clothes to throw at you. They land on your face, a move you knew was deliberate because you were still giggling.

Chan was the cutest when he was flustered, and even in the dim lighting of your room, you could see how red his ears were.

So you both bundle up— in only a few articles of clothing since it was an unusually hot night— just for the sake of looking decent. Chan wiggles in some sweatpants, and you slip on his shirt and boxers.

When you get up from the bed, Chan-- ever the gentleman that he is-- genuinely panics when you flail due to your legs buckling, and his arms are around you holding you up before you could even blink.

“You really can’t walk?” Chan asks, sounding hilariously horrified.

“No-” you laugh, “don’t look so scared. You didn’t break me, idiot. I can definitely still walk, just let me get used to it.”

But Chan seemed to think otherwise, because suddenly, your feet are off the ground and you’re being carried bridal style. You yelp, arms coming up to lock around Chan’s neck so you don’t fall.

“What.” This is the second time you’ve been carried to the kitchen in under a day, courtesy of your muscly boyfriend who seemed to think picking people up was something you can do casually.

“It’d take too long. I’m hungry.” Chan huffs, and you roll your eyes, amused. Chan could be a baby when he was hungry, and this was evident in how he rummages through the fridge with little huffs after he sets you down.

“There’s nothing to eat.” He sighs, as if the both of you didn’t already know that.

You groan, leaning against the counter. “I’m pretty sure we have ice cream?”

“That’s not very healthy.” Chan frowns, but opens the freezer door anyway and grabs the tub when he sees it.

You only turn around for a second to get a spoon, but when you face Chan again, he’s already sitting cross-legged on the floor, brows furrowed as he attempts to use the lid to scoop out some ice cream. You huff out a breath, exasperated and fond at the same time.

He looks up at the sound, then grins when you meet eyes. He opens his arms then, beckoning you over, and you carefully sit between his legs. Chan shifts a little bit to the side, hooking his chin on your shoulder. You move your hair to the other side so it won’t bother Chan, and he presses a quick peck to your now exposed cheek in thanks.

You yelp when Chan places the icy tub on your bare thighs, then glare when he just giggles. Chan’s shirt was huge on you, so he pulled it over your knees, giving the tub of ice cream a blanket of sorts to sit on and sparing your thighs.

Then, he takes the spoon from your hand, stabbing it through the iced treat with all the strength of a man who works out.

It barely pokes through. The ice cream was too frozen.

But you still wow exaggeratedly in an attempt to boost his ego, squealing when Chan digs his free hand on your side and tickles you. The spoon still gets a tiny, tiny bit of ice cream though, and you hate that you still blush when Chan feeds it to you.

“I think we have to wait for this to melt.” Chan says, blowing on the tub. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, giggling.

“Why are you blowing on it, then?”

“Why am I- oh.”

You laugh at the dumbstruck expression on Chan’s face, finally realizing he was unconsciously blowing on frozen ice cream. Your laugh echoes throughout the apartment, and it’s only at that moment that you realized how quiet it was. The refrigerator hums beside you two, but other than that and some cars passing by outside, it was complete silence.

You realize how dark it was too, the only light sources coming from the refrigerator, and your bedroom.

“Shouldn’t we turn on the light?” You ask, and Chan looks up from where he’s violently stabbing the ice cream.

“Eh. Fridge works. Plus it’s hot, so I’m not closing this.” Chan shrugs, then pauses when he sees the look on your face. He chuckles, pulling you closer to him by the waist. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’m right here, remember?”

“I’m not scared,” you scoff, but scoot closer to Chan anyway.

The ice cream eventually melts enough for the spoon to dig in, and you and Chan take turns feeding each other. Chan had his back against some drawers, while you were tucked between Chan’s legs, head on his shoulder and ice cream tub on your stomach. The condensation was wetting your shirt and making the cold seep to your stomach, but you didn’t mind. You were too comfortable to move.

Chan was making a habit of kissing you after he fed you a spoon, and you liked the feeling of his cold lips tasting like strawberries more than you’d like to admit. Some tongue slips in after a while, but it doesn’t go any further than that, both of you too exhausted.

The dim light of the fridge casts a yellowish hue on yours and Chan’s lower halves, creating shadows. You play with that for a moment, wiggling your legs and making shadow puppets of animals with your hands. Chan watches you silently, so silent that you think for a moment that he’d fallen asleep.

But then he drops the spoon into the tub— and all while keeping his other arm around your waist— reaches a hand out to the light so it creates a shadow, and shapes his hand into…

...half of a heart.

You grin stupidly, and the way your heart rattles inside your chest shouldn’t be normal. At all. You had to get checked out. This was the type of cheesy things Chan loved to do daily, yet you reacted to each and every one of them like it’s his first time doing so.

He loved leaving heart doodles on the whiteboard by the fridge that had your schedules in it, particularly hearts that were next to your name. He dedicates songs to you, writes about you, and even sings to you when you want him to. He stops by the practice room when he knows you’re inside, slipping in quickly to say hello and kiss your forehead, uncaring of the loud teasing from trainees.

But if you couldn’t say hello, if you were in the middle of something, he always, always made sure to leave a heart on the mirrors that were fogged up from intense dancing. Sometimes it would just be a heart, sometimes it was a doodle. Other times it was a message like; good luck, or see you at lunch, or hey sexy with a winking face.

Most of the time, it’s three simple words.

I love you, it would read.

“Yah,” Chan complains, jolting you out of your sappy stupor. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

He’s frowning now, wiggling the little half heart around impatiently. You grin at that, muttering about how he was being a baby and making him huff. But then you finally reach forward, painfully aware of how your heart jumped from doing this one simple action.

You complete the heart, and you both watch the shadow that it forms.

Chan sighs happily, turning his head to press a quick, cold kiss to your cheek. You knew the heart wasn’t going to stay for long, since your arms would get tired, but Chan doesn’t break the heart to pull away.

Instead, he intertwines your fingers, letting the shadow from some weird version of your hands together, and it’s only then that he brings your hands back. You grin as you lean back against him again, Chan wrapping both arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

At 2:04 am, you sit with Chan on the kitchen floor, the refrigerator both illuminating and cooling your bodies, empty ice cream tub beside you.

2:08 am, Chan carries you back to your bedroom. Not because you couldn’t walk still, but because he loved the feeling of you in his arms, head tucked safely into the crook of his neck.

2:09 am, you and Chan slip under the covers, and you giggle when he scolds you about kicking off the blanket in your sleep. You placate him with a kiss and a promise to keep him warm.

And at 2:16 am on a Sunday, after a couple more kisses and hushed sweet nothings, you end up with your ear pressed against Chan’s chest, the beating of his heart combined with his quiet breathing lulling you sleep.

Chan stays awake for a couple minutes more, ensuring you were comfortable and finally resting. He wraps his around you when you shift in your sleep, hand automatically cupping the back of your head. Keeping you close, right where his heart was. He knew you weren’t going anywhere, but every second with you was something he knew he had to treasure.

“Y/N,” he sighed, burying his face in your hair. “I love you. So much. Too much, I think. Sometimes I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” he pauses, swallowing. “Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you? At this point, I want to grab every person in the street and list out all the reasons why.”

He snorts at the mental image, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “That sounds a bit crazy, isn’t it? I have an infinite number of reasons… so if I do that to every single person, how long would that take me? Huh. Should I really do the math on that?” he pauses, then: “God, even in your sleep you’re driving me crazy.”

You murmur something in your sleep, catching his attention. You were mumbling nonsense, but when his hand cups your cheek, you quiet down.

Smiling wistfully, he adds, “but... I don’t care. Really, Y/N, I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.”

Pressing one last kiss to your forehead, Chan finally gets comfortable and closes his eyes.

He’s much more vulnerable when he knows you’re asleep because he’d be too flustered if you replied, but the responding snore you give him a few seconds later makes him laugh again. Maybe you were unconsciously trying to respond to him, maybe you were just really deep in dreamland.

Either way, Chan falls asleep with a smile on his face, and the love of his life in his arms.

Sunday, 12:47 pm.

The brunch Chan had promised turns into a late lunch, because by the time you both woke up the next-- the same?-- day, it was already quarter past noon.

True to your predictions last night, you were sore. Chan runs you a hot bath, genuinely looking worried now, but you assure him that it wasn’t something that a few painkillers couldn’t fix. But he still looked uneasy, so you raised an eyebrow.

“What, you’re gonna regret the way you fucked me until I cried?”

Chan turns as red as a tomato, and you laugh as he spins on his heel and leaves you in the bathroom, shouting something about getting the medicine.

It did hurt, but you kind of liked it, considering the reason why you were sore. Chan frowns and questions why you were red in the face when he gets back, worried you were getting a fever, but you just flush even more and shoo him away.

When you get out of the bath, the first thing that greets you is the smell of chicken. Chan must have ordered while you bathed, and your heart warms at the thought of your boyfriend remembering your hunger and craving for chicken.

That is, until you find Chan on the couch already munching on a drumstick. He looks up at you in alarm when you walk in, face guilty.

“God, you’re insatiable.” You mock with your best impression of Chan’s voice, and the attempt makes him laugh too much to be mad about it.

You gorge yourselves on chicken and soda, some reruns of an anime you both love playing on the TV. You’re barely paying attention, more focused on the fan you had turned on blowing cool air on your face and the feeling of Chan massaging your feet.

You don’t even notice that you drifted off, jolting awake to the sound of an explosion coming from the TV. You must have been asleep for a while, because the table was clear of any takeout boxes and soda cans. At that moment, Chan comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He smiles when he sees you squinting at him, disoriented and half awake.

“Come on, baby. Time to get groceries.”

You didn’t bother to dress up much, considering it was hot out and you were not about to put fashion first and experience a possible heat stroke. So you steal another one of Chan’s shirts, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

He had plenty of other shirts. He could use those.

Chan gives you a look when you come bounding out of the bedroom in his shirt, but you knew he liked his clothes on you. The pink tinging his cheeks was more than enough proof. Plus, you had a diversion.

“Help me?” You ask, and Chan tilts his head, confused. But then you bring out a box, velvet and rectangular and blue.

It was the box that holds the necklace Chan gifted you for your birthday, and considering your profession, you couldn’t wear it everyday, hating the thought of it being drenched in sweat or god forbid, breaking while you dance.

So you wear it on your off days, keeping it in the box most of the time to be safe. Chan chuckles, smiling stupidly as he takes the necklace out the box, snorting when you scold him to be careful with it.

“Alright, alright. Just turn around, will you?” You huff, but turn around obediently, moving your hair away so Chan could do it easily. The cool metal of the necklace settling against your neck has you shivering, but so does the soft kiss that Chan presses on your exposed nape and shoulder. The pendant— a compass— sits between your collarbones, and you hold it between your fingers gently, feeling giddy.

Chan watches you with a soft smile for a few seconds, taking you in. It’s only when he notices the time that he regretfully bursts your bubble, grabbing your attention with a kiss to your cheek and taking your free hand in his.

“Ready?” he asks, eyes shining, and your heart flutters.

“Yeah.” You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.”

And though your diversion had worked for a moment, you knew yourself that it wouldn’t last. Chan still complains as you walk down the street, intertwined hands swinging between you, talking about how he had nothing to wear.

“You should just walk around shirtless then.” You suggest, winking, and you barely manage to stop an embarrassing shriek when Chan pretends to trip you. There was no way you were going to fall though, because Chan had a tight grip on your arms, but you still punch him on the shoulder for it.

Chan reacts dramatically, exaggerating his yelp of pain, as if he didn’t have hard muscle surrounding his entire body. You roll your eyes, leaving him on the sidewalk, ignoring his calls of your name mixed with his laughter.

You laugh and stumble on the way to the grocery store like idiots, and the time it took for you to get there probably took twice the time than it originally would, with how much you two were goofing off. But you do eventually get there in one piece, albeit breathless and giggly.

You guys had no specific routine for grocery shopping, just that there was a limit to snacks, and it was 5 for each of you. No more than that.

(This rule is usually never followed, but you guys keep it and remind each other of it at the entrance, just for the sake of acting like you were responsible adults who could control their cravings and knew how to stick to their budget.)

Thus, grocery shopping with you was always an experience, because you and Chan were both very passionate about food and would sometimes have different opinions. It would end in tiny fights, but it gets resolved just as quickly as it starts.

Either Chan relents because you looked cute and he secretly wants it, or you relent because Chan looked cute and you secretly want it.

So more often than not, other shoppers would find two people disputing in the middle of some aisle, and it’s just the two of you hissing back and forth about the pros and cons of a certain product.

Like now.

“We don’t eat that cereal. You don’t even like how it tastes.”

“You don’t like how it tastes. I ate the entire bag when we last bought this.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “And did you do that willingly?”

“Well, no, but-” You stomp your foot, frustrated. All the tantrum does is bring a smile to Chan’s face, which wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t being cute. You needed him to understand. “Ah, you know I don’t like wasting food!”

“So, why, pray tell, do you want to buy that?”

“Because-” you start, and Chan flicks his gaze down to the cereal in your hands, confused. But then you turn the box around and-

Ah.

“Look,” you point at the bowl stuck on the back of the box, grinning excitedly. “They have an ugly black cat now.”

Simply put, the box that you were holding was a brand of cereal that was for kids, and the taste of the actual cereal was too medicine-y for you and Chan. However, the sole reason you had bought one before is because of the freebie the cereal came with, a small plastic bowl with a white cat painted on it.

To be honest, the cat was kind of ugly and terrifying looking, but you were drawn to it for inexplicable reasons. Chan, who was unknowing of the taste of the cereal at that time, simply nodded and let you take the box home.

The cereal itself was crossed out from the very first taste, but you’ve both grown fond of the ugly white cat bowl, sometimes using it for non-cereal things.

(Like wine, after a long, long day at work. It typically consists of the bowl being passed back and forth between you two, instead of just chugging the entire bottle down like animals. You both had too much class for that.)

Chan sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. But your excitement was infectious, and he finds himself smiling at the ugly little thing too.

Still, he tries to be the responsible adult and reasons, “you’re already 3 snacks past the limit. Plus, don’t we already have a bowl at home?”

“I know we do! But look at this black cat, Channie. Ugly White Cat can get a friend, plus if we get another bowl, that means we can match. Matching ugly cat bowls.” You explain, holding the box up to his face and wiggling it. “Think about it.”

And Chan did think about it for a moment. You really didn’t need another bowl, having plenty enough for the two of you and possible guests, but the prospect of matching with you…

And ugly white cat did look kind of lonely...

Fuck. He was getting too weak for this. You look at him with wide eyes, pleading and seemingly innocent, but you knew what effect that had on him.

He sighs, but there’s a smile on his face when he grumbles. “Fine.”

You cheer, pressing a long kiss to his cheek before you scramble away again, mentioning something about juice boxes.

Chan watches you skip down the aisle, grinning at the way your arms clutched the cereal box close to your chest, as if someone was going to take it away from you. He watches until you reach the end, crouching down at the selection of juice boxes.

He knew you took your juice box selection very seriously, evident in the way you were frowning and reading label packages. You looked kind of ridiculous, Chan’s old shirt bunched around your waist and a cereal box with some toy for kids tucked in your arms.

His shirt, which was entirely too big for you, starts sliding down your shoulders due to your crouched position. This reveals your neck, and he flushes when he sees memories of last night blooming on your skin.

And even from this distance, he sees the necklace and the way it glints, making you look much more ethereal.

After a few seconds, you apparently read something you didn’t like, because your head snaps up suddenly, catching Chan’s attention just so you could point at a box and make a disgusted face.

Chan laughs, despite not knowing what the hell you just pointed to. But you seem to be satisfied by his response, because you grace him with the prettiest smile, the one that he loved among your many other smiles— the one that makes your eyes crinkle and your cheeks bigger.

Chan’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. Something in his heart sings.

He loves you. He was so in love with you that it hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side. To sleep with you, wake up with you, argue about groceries in pajamas with you, have matching ugly cat bowls with you, and come home with you— all of that. Always.

So when you turn back to your juice boxes, Chan hurriedly pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list quickly and tapping the call button on a familiar name.

Chan and you meet eyes again when you hold up two juice boxes of different flavors for him to pick. He knows immediately that you picked the orange one because he likes it, but Chan also knows that you couldn’t stand the orange flavor. So he tilts his head to the right, choosing apple.

You blink in surprise, but he could tell you were trying to hide the fact that you were giddy he picked apple. He smiles softly, heart singing again.

On his phone, the call he made finally picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey, Bin? You busy? No, no, we’re fine. Yeah, I just-- remember the jewellery shop we went to last month? Do you still have their address? Yeah, that one. I threw mine out because I didn’t want Y/N to suspect anything.”

A pause, then he snorts, “I’m aware I just bought her a necklace, yes. But I’m not buying a necklace this time. Really. Yeah, um. Well, I think I—“ Chan swallows, eyes nervously going back to you.

You had both the cereal and juice box in your arms now, seemingly on your way back to Chan, but then you get distracted by free samples of cheese. You pretend to reject the offer for a moment, but falter in your step when the saleslady tries again. Chan snorts softly when you take five samples unashamedly, heart singing louder.

Will you wait for me? / Of course. You know I always will.

You were the only one who ever made him feel like this.

Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you?

I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.

Your eyes meet again. You’ve balanced the plate of cheese on top of your boxes, face looking all too proud and excited as you gestured to the cheese, beckoning him over. He nods, indicating he’ll be there, and you go back to talking animatedly with the saleslady.

“Hyung?” Changbin’s voice on the other line calls, waiting for him to continue. “You think...?”

“Ah, no… I’m sure.” Chan smiles giddily, heart now creating symphonies in his chest. He’s never been more sure in his life.

All of this. Always.

“A ring. I’m buying a ring.”

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #storiesatsea #me: scared of commitment #also me: indicates a wedding in 2/4 of my fics #chan i have feelings for u #stray kids #bang chan as a boyfriend #stray kids as boyfriends #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #skz au #skz imagines

[heavymetalchemist]

I think it’s easy to forget that Wei Wuxian is strongly villain-coded. We see the story from his perspective, we know his reasons and justifications, if you’re watching CQL and paying attention you can figure out the core transfer before the reveal. We know that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are good guys. We know that the Burial Mounds gang is a bunch of tired uncle/aunts trying to grow some stupid radishes, a four year old, and the Disaster Bi Gang (none of whom have swords, even!) We know that Wei Wuxian has his heart in the right place, that he feels an incredibly strong debt to the Wen Siblings and by extension their remaining family, that he has no golden core and has no choice but to forsake the sword and cultivate the demonic path, that he defects from the Jiang sect in a fake fight with his brother so that the Jiang sect won’t suffer the consequences of his actions, even though they have Secret Soup later.

But if you’re not us, the audience? If you’re, for example, Sect Leader Yao?

Hey did you all hear about how Wei Wuxian got kicked out of the Cloud Recesses for violently lashing out at the Jin sect heir?

Hey did you all see how he doesn’t carry his sword any more and claims it’s because he’s so badass that he doesn’t need it? And he has that Stygian tiger seal, so maybe it’s not bullshit? Can you even fight against that with a sword?

What kind of power does this guy even have? He’s a teenager! He drinks all the time and he’s moody and surly and holy shit did you hear what he did at that Wen outpost? He tortured all of them to death! Ugly stuff, man. Gruesome way to go. Maybe even worse than what Wen Ruohan did, at least a hot poker doesn’t make you claw your own eyes out.

Oh shit, he just stormed into this banquet and just SAID “if I want to kill someone who can stop me” and he still has that tiger seal I think we should be worried???

He just busted a bunch of Wen cultivators out of prison! And then he ran off to the Burial Mounds??? And his sect leader didn’t even know anything about it? Is he going rogue? Is he starting an uprising? This demonic cultivation stuff really seems to be corrupting him!

Oh man he got kicked out of the Jiang sect? You mean even the man he grew up with, who he was raised with practically as a brother, can’t control him any more? Did you hear about his fierce corpse? They call him the Ghost General! He’s unstoppable! What are we going to do if he comes for us?

He could be building a whole army in there, Sect Leader Jin said so! Who knows what kind of sick, twisted stuff he’s getting up to! Don’t forget all that horrible shit in the Sunshot Campaign, remember when he was raising the Wens’ own dead to turn against them? He could do that to us! He’s working with the Wens now, even! He’s gone totally crazy!

We can’t let some outlaw have all this power. It’s putting the safety of all of us at risk. What if it’s just another Wen Ruohan waiting to happen? (especially applicable if you’re thinking he’s using Yin iron as in CQL!) If we let him consolidate his power too much, then he’ll be unstoppable!

HOLY SHIT he murdered the Jin sect heir and his cousin with his fierce corpse! That’s the man his former shijie married! The one he punched in the Cloud Recesses, remember when the Lans kicked him out because he was so unruly and disrespectful? Yeah! It was probably revenge! Have we done anything to him? Oh gods what if we’re next???

A major point of MDZS/CQL is how important reputation is, and how that affects everything. Wei Wuxian’s reputation is straight-up villainous. We, the audience, know that he’s trying his best, that he’s a traumatized teenager with a shitload of emotional baggage trying to do the right thing and repay a colossal debt, that he’s made choices that he now has to try and live with, etc. But to the rest of the world this guy has fucking lost it, he’s gone off the deep end and he has an incredibly powerful weapon and a mode of cultivation that seems to corrupt you and turn you into a monster, and frankly, they’re not wrong! It does affect his temperament and he does end up killing a lot of people and he is out of control!

MDZS/CQL is interesting precisely because we’re getting an entire Villain Apology Story. A long time ago I read a post by someone on here saying they find Jiang Cheng challenging to write about because he’s the protagonist of a different story, and he really is. He’s the guy whose former shixiong turns into a villain in pursuit of power, the Obi-Wan to WWX’s Anakin, the one who sees how incredible power corrupts and is obligated to fight against it. Having to fight against a former ally who was seduced by “the dark side” (in this case, demonic cultivation) is a story that gets told over and over, but always condemning the one who went to the dark side. He’s the blackened protagonist, the aren’t you tired of being nice, don’t you want to go ape shit power fantasy, where we as the audience can justify his actions because we know he did it to save his brother, his sister, the Wen remnants he owes a debt to. He isolates himself from the people who love him to protect them, he refuses Lan Wangji’s help because he’s convinced he just wants to lock him up and stop him from using demonic cultivation because he’s a righteous upstanding Lan (totally unaware of LWJ’s intense crush, obviously). He jokes about it but he knows he’s being painted as the villain, and he’s in denial about how much that will affect him, because after all… he’s the Yiling Laozu, and he knows his power. But so does everyone else, and they’re rightfully terrified!

And yet? When he comes back, LWJ still wants him, still cares for him, will move heaven and earth to protect him. JC cares about him so much he’s having a Constant Crisis about it. And WWX has not forgotten his shijie or shidi, immediately cares about Jin Ling, and still is the man who really just wanted to be free and grow some goddamn radishes. He accepts that he paid for what he’s done with his death, and just wants to start over.

It just drives me nuts when people pretend like WWX was an angel who did nothing wrong because the whole POINT is that he was a villain-coded gay (well, bi) and the man you had to really watch out for was the polite, thoughtful, soft-spoken one that worked his way up from a tragic backstory. It’s a whole subversion and it’s awesome!

#mdzs meta #wei wuxian #yiling laozu #of course wwx has a good heart but remember when that kid shot an arrow at him and he threw it right back through his heart? #remember when JC and LWJ walked into that Wen outpost and were like oh fuck oh man what the fuck? #remember when he almost busted out chenqing to murder JZX over a SOUP MISUNDERSTANDING? #this is not a wwx hate post this is a pls understand complex characters and nuance post #that audience knowledge is NOT character knowledge #is this a lowkey NMJ defense post? yes.

[robininthelabyrinth]

for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️

Compliments - ao3

It started in anger, out of spite.

Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.

What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.

He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”

Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”

Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.

Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.

“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”

Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?

Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.

They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.

Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.

Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.

Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.

What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.

Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

He couldn’t say that, of course.

So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”

Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.

“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”

Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.

It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.

Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.

Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…

“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”

Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.

“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”

“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”

“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”

“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”

“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”

Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.

Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”

Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.

Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”

“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”

“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”

“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”

Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?

“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”

She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.

In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.

He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.

(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)

He didn’t think much of it.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.

“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”

“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”

“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”

When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.

“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”

Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.

It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”

“You – you said – about me…!”

Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”

Yeah, it was probably that one.

“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”

“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”

He had in fact done that.

“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”

Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”

“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.

Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.

“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.

Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.

“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.

“You’re going to do what?!”

“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”

The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.

Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.

“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.

Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”

“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”

Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”

“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”

Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”

“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.

After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #lan qiren #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #compliments

[dejwrites]

don’t hurt yourself headcanons — pre-cheating !!

hottest assassin couple ever !! could you imagine being paid money to get kill some sorcerer but somebody else already beat you to the punch. yup that’s how toji & you met. he killed your target and stole your money, so you already hate the man because he stole your bag !!

but it’s one thing toji fushiguro know how to do and that’s sweet talk a woman out their panties. two bottles of alcohol later the two of you are in your apartment fucking from the window to the wall.

obviously when you wake up, that man is gone. like a ghost in the night. not him getting some pussy and leaving, complete asshole.

two weeks pass and you hear a knock on your door. opening it, there’s toji. blood staining his shirt and he’s giving you a sluggish smile. “hello doll.” “please don’t leak any blood on my rug you asshole.”

so here you are cursing and fussing while stitching this man up. he’s just smiling so hard while listening to you chew his damn head up. just heart eyes and all staring at you

think of you two like the sorcerer assassins from the movie mr & mrs smith

joint missions together cause now toji stuck with you forever ! cause he highkey growing a lil crush on you.

toji: *misses a shot while hunting down you two next target* don’t even think about saying it

[y/n]: *snickers* how’d you even miss that, move let me do it!

awkward first meeting of his other children at a restaurant so awkward until you cussed toji ( (mind you it was toji idea to have a fancy little dinner) out for being late, now all of you are talking shit about him.

so fast forward, you’re now mrs.fushiguro and so quick to take pride of the last name considering the circumstances of how toji got the last name in the first place

toji love language is physical touch. that man practically melt in your damn arms when you touch him both sexually and non-sexually. while when it comes to your love language, he basically does it all. gift giving, physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch. he adores his little doll so much.

another fushiguro child running around here. you gave toji another son. mitsuo fushiguro. you carried that little boy for 9 months and a long ass labor….that boy came out the splitting image of his damn daddy.

mistuo is literally a sweetheart. it balances the hard personality that toji have in your household.

toji literally hogs the bed, like he’ll have his side and you’ll have your side…morning come and he’s on your side. actually that man is on you not wanting to let you go. his head facepalming your boobs and he’s snoring a little.

mitsuo fushiguro facts….he’s blind, due to an eye disease that runs in your family. it was quite scary for you and toji, but you two handled it very well. anyway, like i said mitsuo is a splitting image of his daddy. like toji can’t even deny that’s his kid. mitsuo favorite foods consist of miso soup, ramen, & dumplings. he wants to become a sorcerer!!

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro headcanons #jjk x reader #char: toji fushiguro #series: don’t hurt yourself #i’m up with such a bad stomach ache right now #so here you guys go…don’t hurt yourself headcanons

[its-deputy-caleb]

If you're feeling up to writing a bit of Mikey, could I please request him being an asshat to everyone and being told off by his S/O after he asks Jack if he wants to earn a dollar?

(You know the part where he says to ask Arthur about the stick up his butt?)

He's such a dickhead and I find myself telling the screen off when he does it! 😂

OR

His S/O giving him a slap and a bollocking after he kicks Cain, then they fuss over Cain and force Micah to make friends with him.

I dunno, it's up to you 😂 You could write any scenario you want, I'll still love it 😘😘

i am always up to writing for a bit of mikey (that nickname is so cute) but ngl i had no idea how to write this or put this together. I watched the clips again so i could get it accurate but i changed it bc i didn't know if u wanted a happy ending or not but i hope i delivered <33 also u asked for either and i gave u both :)

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

Clemens Point was a strange place with even stranger people. After leaving valentine in a hurry it seems the entire gang was on edge and ready to blow like a stick of dynamite. It seems having to act like upstanding heartfelt citizens to the Grays and the Braithwaites has meant everyone is that aggravated and pent up.

On more than one occasion you’d seen Sadie lose it when Pearson got to pushy with chores and it seems Abigail and John couldn’t stand to have a normal conversation for five minutes before one of them broke. It wasn’t much better with Dutch and Hosea who were constantly disagreeing on the right moves for the gang, although they were much more civil about it.

You did your best to keep out of everyone’s way, to avoid the confrontation but knowing your luck you’d end up getting involved one way or another.

You were returning to camp one sweltering hot afternoon with Sadie after you finished collecting the gang’s weekly stock from the general store. You were only half listening to the hustle around the camp as you were too busy listening to Sadie tell you all about Pearson’s dear aunt Cathy. You stepped off the wagon and headed to the back to start unloading some of the supplies when the sound of Micah’s voice could be heard talking to Jack.

“How’d ya like to earn a dollar?”

His voice with thick with malice as he hunched over the wooden table. In Micah’s hands was a silver nickel that he fiddled with between his fingers, much like you’d seen of him do with his knife. Your eyes found Jack who was almost reluctant to get anywhere near the man who you knew scared him. However, being the innocent child that he was his eyes lit up at the sight of something shiny.

“A dollar? Sure.”

You carried the heavy bag of potatoes over to Pearson’s wagon as you went back for another round of supplies but you kept the boy in the corner of your eye.

“Well…go on up to old Arthur Morgan, ask him about the pole he’s got stuck up his ass and I’ll give ya a dollar.”

Micah’s face lit up in a smirk, his accent thick and his typical evil giggle falling from his mouth. He sat back on the chair, satisfied at the mischief he’s caused.

Before you could get anywhere Jack had run off to where Arthur was sitting in his tent, reading over a letter. You placed another round of ammunition into Strauss’ wagon, dropping it hastily and running as you saw Arthur walk right up to Micah with a murderous look in his eye.

“I’ll give you a dollar if you shut your—“

Arthur didn’t get to finish his insult before you stepped in front of him with a soft hand on his shoulder. You gave him a soft smile and a nod, quietly saying to your dear friend that you’d handle this.

With that you turned with your own look of anger directed to Micah. Everyone knew you loved him but they also knew you didn’t hesitate to call him out and get him to behave when you had to.

“Micah leave the damn boy alone!”

He scoffed like he wasn’t offended you didn’t defend him and instead chose to call him out. Micah’s hands came up in his signal of fake defeat as he slowly backed away from his place at the table, acting as if he was nothing more than the innocent bystander and not the one who nearly ended up on the ground with a broken nose for starting it.

You watched as Micah lingered around the edge of the camp, his eyes trained to yours as he lit a cigarette but you ignored him. Instead you walked over to Jack, smiling softly and taking his hand to lead him to the river’s edge.

“Common, why don’t we go see if we can find any beautiful rock on the sand, hmm? I’m sure your mother would love such a beautiful gift.”

-

Of course, it wasn’t more than a few days later when you ran into trouble again with Micah. You’d spent your time ignoring him mostly, instead choosing to go hunting with Charles and Arthur, practice your throwing knives with Javier and help teach Jack to read. You knew how badly it pissed Micah off to do things without him but he needed to understand that there was a way to treat people, especially with people you considered family.

You rolled up your sleeves, using your forearm to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you picked up the knife and started cutting carrots and potatoes for tonights stew.

“Are you a good boy? Yes you are! The best boy”

Your head came up to notice bill sitting against the log by the campfire, scratching under Cain’s chin and giving the energetic dog pats along the back. You couldn’t help but smile at the new addition to the gang and how happy it made you to see Bill less stressed. It seemed that having Cain made everyone feel more caring and loving.

All except Micah.

“You’re the fool that feed’s him Marion. He ain’t nothing more than a filthy mongrel and an extra mouth to feed.”

Micah had stood from his place on the opposite side of the campfire to antagonise Bill. A frustrated noise leaves you as you slam the knife down on the wooden bench, ready to storm over there and chew Micah’s ear off. You take a step forward only for Miss Grimshaw, who was working next to you, to grab your arm and stop you before you get any further.

“There is a time and a place dear, don’t make it worse.”

Of course you knew Susan was just trying to keep another argument from happening but you push past her when you see Micah inching towards Cain who had left his spot at Bill’s feet to hide by a wagon. In a split second decision you pick the knife you’re cooking with and use it like a throwing knife to get his attention. The knife swings through the air, not getting near anyone, it wasn’t like you actually wanted to stab Micah no matter how badly he could get on your nerves and watched as it got wedged into the tree behind him.

Micah’s head shot up, his foot moving away from Cain and stared dumbfounded and shocked, unused to seeing you so skilfully throw a knife but your practices paid off. You walked right into his personal space, taping your finger against his chest.

“Don’t. You. Dare”

Micah’s first response was to try and sweet-talk his way out of it like he always does but you were in no mood to deal with his slyness.

“Dare to do what sweetheart? Common now… weren’t gonna do nothin—“

Your hand came to give Micah a crisp slap across the cheek, apart of you was shocked that you’d even do such a thing but the other half of you was furious.

“Don’t underestimate for a minute that I won’t dump you right now and throw you out of camp Micah. I’m not some stranger you can sweet-talk when you get in trouble. I swear, if I see you go anywhere near Cain the knife isn’t going to hit the tree next time.”

Micah’s eyebrows shoot up in shock as you lecture him in front of almost the entire gang. Even Dutch put his book down when he heard your slap. He was lost for words, truely, having now other thought as he watched you walk away back to preparing tonights stew. He didn’t move from his place until he heard you whistle for Cain to sit by your feet, where he went and meandered off into the forest to give you space. All he knew was that he must have fucked up bad if you threatened to leave him.

-

A few hours later you’d managed to calm down, watching the sunset after Ms Grimshaw gave you the rest of the night off to relax at how pent up you were. Now sitting here you couldn’t help but feel like you may have over reacted but Micah had pushed your buttons one too many times and if Micah was going to listen to anyone it would be you. You let out a soft but hearty sigh as the tension and stress from your shoulders left with your breath. Your body relaxed against the tree and you watched the sun gently dip below the horizon.

It was well and truely dark before you heard the rustling of grass and the thud of someone sitting next to you. You thought it may have been Arthur coming to check on you but that thought died when arms wrapped around your waist and you felt Micah rest his chin on your shoulder, his stringy hair tickling your face at the gentle breeze.

“…M’ sorry…”

A very quiet and forced apology was pulled from Micah as he cuddled into you, mumbling it into your shoulder at the pain of actually having to apologise.

“Sorry won’t cut it Micah. You have to stop treating people that I care about— people that are family better.”

Micah sighs, the defeated, tired one that shows he’s willing to listen because no matter how badly he stirs up trouble, the thought of losing you is enough to have him turn his mind around.

“I know…gonna make it up to ya I promise.”

A soft and very cautious kiss is placed on your shoulder with Micah knowing he’s still not forgiven by you yet.

“You’re damn well gonna make it up to me. Firstly you’re apologising to Jack first thing tomorrow and secondly you need to pull your weight for this gang— and no I’m not talking about robbing another coach. To start you can sit on guard duty with me and you can wash my clothes.”

“I’ll just buy you new clothes”

You give Micah a death glare as you tilt your head to look at him. Instantly his teasing smirk leaves and his arms come to wrap tighter around your body, resting his hands on your stomach and intertwining your fingers.

“Alright, alright… guard duty ain’t so bad.”

You sit together for a while in a comfortable silence. All the energy from today had left you and you no longer had it in you to keep arguing. You’d hold Micah to his promise to do better but for now you leant back into his embrace and rested your head against his.

“Can I at least sleep in the tent tonight?”

You smiled softly as you hummed in contemplation just to tease him. Micah hadn’t come to sleep in your shared tent since the day he messed with Jack and both of you had missed each other despite the frustration and anger you had.

“Hmm, we’ll see.”

Micah thinks you’ve said no, panicking internally but is stopped when you turn your head and place a soft kiss to his cheek over the mark from where you’d slapped him not so long ago. It wasn’t the kiss that he wanted but he still needed to make it up to you before you gave him what he wanted.

You reached a soft hand up behind you, cradling his head and rubbing your thumb over his sore cheek.

“Is your cheek okay?”

Micah let out a gravelly noise, deep from his chest as he leaned into your hand.

“Ain’t gotta worry sweetheart, I’ve survived much worse”

You don’t get to reply when a tentative and cautious Cain makes his way over to the two of you. You pat your leg and he curls up beside you with his head resting on your leg and his tail thumbing, relaxed and happy.

Micah on the other hand was not relaxed or happy as he tensed up and moved away from the dog and you. If it wasn’t for your hand holding the back of his head he probably would’ve jumped away.

“Micah Cain isn’t going to hurt you, he just wants attention like you. See? No need to be afraid.”

To prove your point you reach a hand out and gently brush over his short, grey fur, watching as he perks up.

“I ain’t afraid!”

You would’ve believed him if you didn’t catch the waver in his voice but you knew. You knew after seeing him be spooked by the animal more than once around camp.

The hand that was still intertwined with his gently guided his hand pat Cain, letting him slowly get comfortable to him.

It took some time but finally Micah had gotten used to Cain enough to realise he was clearly not a threat. At some point Cain had moved over to Micah’s side, resting beside him as the night became later.

A yawn left you and you slowly sank into Micah’s embrace, your eyelids falling shut as you dozed, clearly exhausted.

Holding Micah to his promise was a job for tomorrow, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms, the tent be damned.

#in the video micah is totally scared of cain #the man is terrified lmao #im also addicted to the nickname mikey now #adroable #and ignore the errors i have not edited this #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing. 

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh. 

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7​ @fanfic-love-show​ @gabycamargo22​ @fckdeusername​

#steve x reader #mafia!Steve x mafia!reader #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve x reader #mob!boss steve #mob boss steve rogers #mob!boss au #mob!boss #mafia!reader #mafia!au #mafia series #enemies to lovers #platonic relationships #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #mafia!bucky #mob!boss bucky #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #MCU #MCU fic #marvel #mcu fanfiction #marvel series #faniction #fanfic #fanfiction series #mob!steve x mob!reader

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Can’t get over her

Word count: 5010     

Genre: A little angst with a little fluff

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader 

Warnings: Little bit of swearing (let me know if I need to add more)

Summary: Reader has always had a bit of a crush on Natasha but it’s unrequited. She lets Tony and Wanda take her to a club and Nat starts acting differently.

A/N: This is not a request, I just felt like writing this story. I’m super nervous about this because I’m not sure if it’s very good but I thought I would post it in case anyone is interested. This is my first x reader fic and first Natasha/Marvel fic so I wasn’t sure how to write it. That being said I hope you enjoy, and if you do, I’m always open to take requests! Btw this is completely unimportant but even though this fic is a medium length, it’s the longest story I’ve actually completed so I feel proud of myself for that!

“Y/n!” A voice rang out loudly disrupting your sleep. 

“Ughhhh,” you groaned, “what do you want?” Instead of an answer the door to your room gets thrown open loudly, allowing all the light to come in. You bury yourself under the blankets, partly to stop your eyes from seeing the light and partly to hide the fact that you were wearing Avengers themed pyjamas. 

“Rise and shine sweetheart!” You hear Tony’s voice mock. Reluctantly you poke your head out of the blankets just enough so you can see and squint at your best friend/mentor just in time to see him rush off, probably to wake up another unfortunate avenger. When you first joined you never expected to like Tony at all, much less consider him your best friend or look up to him. You had heard rumors of him being inappropriate with women and while his jokes most certainly were and you did occasionally catch him staring at your boobs he never did anything creepy to make you uncomfortable and inside he was a good man, way more so than you expected.

All that in mind you decide to get out of bed to see why Tony woke you up because he (probably) wouldn’t wake you up for no reason. Taking a minute to change out of the avenger pyjamas and into some clothes as well as brush your hair you wander downstairs. On the way down you bump into Clint who unlike you has made absolutely no effort to look presentable and looks like he just rolled out of bed. You say a quick hello but he just grunts in return, not even looking at you. Inwardly laughing about how much Clint hates to be awake in the morning you continue downstairs to meet up with the rest of the avengers who are varying degrees of awake. Most seemed to be like you; awake and fairly alert but not happy about it. Clint was probably the most asleep and Tony the most awake considering he was practically bouncing off the walls. Looking around you see everyone except for Thor and Natasha. Thor wasn’t there very often because he wasn’t from earth and Natasha usually avoided group activities at all costs to your displeasure since you had a secret (not very secret) crush on the assassin. 

“So why did you wake us up, at an ungodly hour may I add, and bring us down here?” You ask Tony, curious.

“That information is above your clearance level.” He replies somewhat sarcastically. 

“Does anybody else know what is going on?” you ask. “Or did Tony wake me up for no reason, in which case I’m going back to bed.” They all shift guiltily on their feet except for Clint who seems to be still too tired to pay attention leading you to believe they are all up to something you wouldn’t like. Nobody answers your question so you glare around the room, your eyes landing on Steve. He almost squirms under your gaze and eventually seems to give in.

“I’m sorry Y/N, this wasn’t my idea and thinking back on it we probably shouldn’t-”

“We are giving you a makeover and finding you a date.” Tony cuts Steve off.

“Seriously??!??!??” You half shout. “What makes you think I want to go on some random date you guys set up? If I want to go on a date I can find one myself.”

“Y/N…” Wanda says softly, reminding you to stay calm.

“Don’t Y/n me,” you say, still angrily yet quieter, “I can find my own dates, thank you very much.” Tony gives a small snort of laughter in response to this.

“Sure you can kid. I mean it’s not like you haven’t been on a date in over two years. Or that you’re harboring a crush for our resident scary assassin that prevents you from dating others.” You glare at him but stay silent because all of what he said is true. In your head you excuse the not dating off as being busy because you are a hero yet almost everybody on the team is dating someone and it all seems to be working out fine.

“Look Y/n,” Tony says softly which is a rarity for him, “I know you wish something could happen between you and Romanoff but it hasn’t happened yet and likely never will. You need to get over her and back out there. Besides we weren’t planning on choosing your date for you, we were just planning to go clubbing later with you.”

“Ok,” you agree begrudgingly, “I’ll do it, I just don’t see the need to wake me up at 7 in the morning if we aren’t going out until tonight. Also does everybody need to be here right now?” 

“I second that,” Clint says in a voice still rough from sleep, “just because I helped planning a little bit does not mean I had to wake up early to have this conversation. I’m going back to bed.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes at him before turning to you, “No not everyone has to be here right now, Tony just got a little over excited. As for you, as we said we are giving you a makeover which means we have to go to the hair appointment I set up plus I was thinking we could go shopping since we almost never have time to. Besides Natasha gets back from her solo mission sometime later today, so we wanted to talk with you when she wasn’t around.”

“Ok,” you respond with a little bit of excitement, “when do we leave?”

“Right now! We can have brunch while we’re out!” 

“Yes and then we can go get our nails done and gossip!” Tony says in a fake voice. Both you and Wanda turn to look at him exasperated. “Ok fine, maybe not but I am coming and we are gossiping. Also I need to find a good birthday present for Pepper’s birthday next week.”

“Well that’s good you’re coming because unless you want the same reaction as last year, you’re going to need a lot of help.” Wanda replies. You laugh a little as the three of you leave the tower, Wanda and Tony continuing their mock argument about Tony’s gift giving skills. 

Five hours later and you severely regretted going along with their plan. You were already exhausted and still had so much to do before going clubbing. You had already bought an outfit plus a few others which wouldn’t be so bad except Wanda and Tony made you try on what you believed to be the whole store before they seemed satisfied with your look. You had also gotten your nails done and were currently finishing up a lovely brunch which consisted of waffles, maple syrup and some fruits. That would have been enjoyable if not for the fact that Tony and Wanda alternated between nagging you about not chipping a nail and teasing you about your pathetic love life. It was a well known fact in the tower that while they didn’t hate each other, Tony and Wanda didn’t usually get along well but that was probably for the best since together they were ruthless. They seemed to have decided that the time for brunch was over so sighing you followed them out of the restaurant after Tony paid the bill. That’s the one positive at least, all of it was free for you thanks to Tony. 

Another five hours later and you could honestly say you were looking forward to the night more than you thought you would. You were currently looking in the mirror in your room and although usually you tended to be indifferent towards your body, sometimes even insecure, you had to admit that you looked pretty hot. The dress was in the perfect colour to bring out your eyes according to Wanda and although it was the perfect balance between classy and slutty, revealing a bit of skin and showing off your assets while still leaving it to the imagination. You also were carrying a black purse which matched your nails and shoes. Your makeup was perfectly done, naturally showing you beauty but adding a little extra glimmer. The thing you were most proud of however and the most noticeable change you had made was your hair. Before you had hair that when completely straight could reach your waist but now it was barely long enough to tuck behind your ears. When you first got to the hair salon you were planning on just trimming it and straightening in it but when you got in the chair something came over you and you just decided to chop it all off. 

BANG! The door to your room barges open and Wanda comes flying in. 

“Damn girl! You look hot as fuck!” You blush profusely at her words managing to stammer out a thank you. You have never been good at taking compliments because you always get a little shy and awkward. 

Tony pokes his head around the doorframe and gives a whistle. “You are smoking hot Y/n, I mean if I didn’t have Pepper I would be all over you. You ready to go?” Not waiting for an answer he turns and starts towards the elevator. You follow but not before exchanging an eye roll with Wanda about Tony’s words. The elevator ride is short and smooth thanks to Tony’s engineering so you don’t have enough time to succumb to the urge of placing your hands on the bars and pushing while lifting your feet. The elevator beeps, Jarvis informing  you that you’ve reached the ground level and the doors open. You step out ready to get on with your night but the sight of Natasha just back from a mission freezes you in your tracks. 

“Hi,” you say lamely, “I thought you were supposed to get back earlier today?”

“We had some intel that wasn’t fully correct but luckily it didn’t take too long to fix. You look different, where are you heading off to?”

You glance at Tony and Wanda for help because for some reason you feel awkward telling her but they don’t seem to know what you want so you answer anyways. “We’re going clubbing, I’m kinda nervous since I haven’t been in awhile but Wanda helped me get ready-”

“Hey I helped too!”

You ignore Tony’s protest and continue to speak. “-and I think it should be fun. Also there will for sure be hot girls there which is always a plus.”  

“Seems like it should be fun,” she responds in her monotone ‘I don’t care’ voice that you hate, “Good luck with the girls though, because your hair looked better long, I don’t like it like this.” You don’t usually get offended easily but you feel tears spring to your eyes at her comment. The only good part is that she doesn’t notice because she’s already walking away, swaying her hips, either not knowing or caring that she hurt you.

Tony and Wanda rush over to you. “Oh sweetie,” Wanda comforts while wrapping an arm around you, “don’t listen to her, that’s not true at all!”

“Then why would she say it?” You ask, careful to keep your voice from cracking because you hated showing when you were upset.

“I don’t know and honestly I don’t give a fuck.” Tony replies. “Just don’t think about it too much, the whole point of this night is to get over her anyways.” You give him a small smile at that. Tony is good with words which translates into being good at comforting people. You know he’s right so although the comment is still upsetting you do your best to push it out of your mind. Locking arms with both Tony and Wanda you pull them towards the door and into the waiting limo. You couldn’t help but smile at the way Tony ruffled your hair as you stepped in or how Wanda kept running her fingers over her arm in an attempt to be reassuring. You had the best friends. 

The ride over seemed way shorter than it was supposed to be and before you knew it the limo was stopped to let the three of you out. You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty palms on your dress before smiling and stepping out after Tony and Wanda. Nobody seems to have noticed the three of you yet which was a good thing. Being Avengers Tony and Wanda were pretty much celebrities and often got swarmed by groups of fans. Technically you were an avenger as well but like Natasha and Clint it was only because you were a Shield so while you did get recognized it wasn’t as often and only tended to happen if you were with other avengers. You make your way inside, splitting from Tony and Wanda at the door. The plan was for them to go to the bar and look over you from there while you went straight to the dance floor because you preferred to be anonymous tonight and they would ruin that and also you didn’t feel like getting drunk. That was the plan at least but you suspected that they would get too drunk to continue watching over you because it had been stressful lately with a lot of paperwork and they needed to unwind. Wanda had practically confirmed that fact when she gave you permission to leave without them. 

You step over to the dance floor glancing around to see if there looked to be any single women already there. The reason you had chosen this club was because although it wasn’t lgbtq+ exclusive, it was open to everybody and therefore frequented by many members of the community. 

Just as you were glancing around you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Wanna dance?” You spin around to find the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, apart from Natasha. It bothers you that you’re using Natasha as your standard and comparing other girls to her but you brush that off. 

“I would love to!” At your response she takes your hand, pulling you into the crowd and starts to dance. You dance as well and slowly you lose track of time as you loosen up and your dancing with the girl becomes less and less innocent. You can feel yourself caring less about what Natasha thought although as great as this girl seemed to be you knew you weren’t ready for a relationship so you hoped she wasn’t looking for one. After what could be a couple of hours because you’ve completely lost track of time, you and the girl whose name you still don’t know head over to a corner of the room and take a seat on two of the stools that were provided. 

“Hi, I feel like I should know your name by now, I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself. 

“Wait I thought you looked familiar!” She exclaims. “You’re the Y/n that’s a part of the avengers right?” 

You awkwardly give a nod and gesture towards the bar where you can see Tony and Wanda who have obviously had at least a few drinks each. “Tony and Wanda came with me. They are just over there but I didn’t particularly want the spotlight tonight so I split from them at the door.” 

“I understand, I must admit I have no desire to be famous. I’m Jamie by the way” She says with a cute little giggle before her mood seems to be more solemn. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to a literal avenger and if my friends find out they are going to kill me but I’m sorry if you’re looking for a relationship but I just got out of a serious relationship and am not ready for another one quite yet.” 

You let out a relieved sigh. “I’m not looking for a relationship either, because I’m trying to get over my feelings for a friend.” 

“Phew!” She replies. “But tell me more about this ‘friend’ of yours.” You take a minute to think before deciding that Jamie could be trusted. You begin to spill all about your feelings for Natasha and how she didn’t seem interested and what she said to you on your way here. Jamie listens sympathetically the entire time before telling you all about how she thought her ex was the one but it turns out she was emotionally abusive. Even though you just met you talk like old friends, offering advice on serious topics but also chatting about random things. You have 3 more drinks each and after every drink your barriers crumble more and more. Eventually you exchange numbers so you can meet up again although you both agreed it would be a platonic meetup. Just as you were giggling about a joke you couldn’t even remember, you saw Jamie tense up and a second later you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn your head in anger expecting it to be some creepy guy trying to hit on you but it turns to confusion when you see Natasha. 

“Can we talk?” She asks, giving Jamie a dirty look. “At the tower. Without her.” 

“Why?” You ask. “I’m having fun here Nat.” You specifically say her name as you speak so Jamie knows who you’re talking to. 

“Just come home.” She says not answering your question, instead tugging at your wrist lightly. You sigh not knowing what to do so you glance at Jamie for help. 

She shrugs and then says, “I have a ride home planned if you want to leave, but I wouldn’t mind staying longer if that’s what you want.”

You make a quick decision in your head before responding, “Ok, we’ll go back to the tower but there better be a good reason.” You then turn to Jamie, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, and then we can figure out when to hang out.”

“Of course,” she agrees leaning forwards to hug you while whispering in your ear, “good luck but remember not to let her treat you badly just because you’re in love with her.” You pull back from the hug and smile at her as Natasha’s hand moves down to your own as she starts walking, pulling you along with her. You can barely think straight, you have no idea what is going on with Natasha or why she’s acting so weirdly. You glance over to Tony and Wanda to see if they’ve noticed what’s going on but just as you suspected they were drunk out of their minds. If they were normal friends you would have worried about them but you knew Tony’s drivers would get them home safe because although Tony was more responsible with Pepper around this was not the first time they’ve had to haul his drunk ass back to the tower. 

Natasha continues to pull you out the door and over to her parked motorcycle where she hands you a helmet and one of her leather jackets. Still not speaking she hops on and motions for you to get on behind her. You swing your leg over the side somewhat awkwardly and scoot forwards so you can grab onto her waist. Once she’s sure you’re secured properly she hits the gas, the motorcycle roaring as it starts. You’ve never been on her motorcycle before so at first you are a bit nervous but after a couple of minutes you start to feel more comfortable. At this point your only nerves come from holding Natasha and wondering what she wants to talk to you about and not the motorcycle ride. Compared to the ride over to the club, this ride feels like it’s taking forever as you start to go over all the important reasons Nat would want to talk to you. You still didn’t know how to feel about everything because she insulted you earlier and now is making you feel important. To protect your feelings you tell yourself that there is probably a mission or a meeting that came up last minute and this isn’t just Natasha wanting to talk. It’s improbable because if that was the case she would have outright said so but you can’t think of any more plausible reasons off the top of your head. Luckily before you can analyze her strange behavior anymore you reach the tower and after parking underground you follow Natasha upstairs into the main living area which is obviously deserted as it is now between 3 and 4 am. 

“So why did you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the silence as you take a seat on the couch. 

“Why did you go to a club?” She asks, also sitting down on the other end of the couch, avoiding your question. 

A surge of anger floods through you and while you don’t shout, you raise your voice a little. “Answer the fucking question Nat. Or did you bring me all the way back just to ask that?” 

She looks somewhat surprised that you raised your voice but she keeps hers even. “I just wanted to know. It looked like you were having fun with whoever that girl is.” 

“Yeah I was.” You respond, still confused. “But how do you know that?” 

Natasha avoids eye contact looking everywhere but you. “I was watching you.” 

“YOU WERE WHAT?” You shout before lowering your voice to avoid waking up the whole tower. “Why the fuck were you spying on me?”  

“I- I wasn’t.” She replies seemingly caught off guard by your tone of voice. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.” 

“Tony and Wanda were with me.” You respond confused. There’s something she’s not telling you that’s making her act weird. She knew you could handle yourself so she obviously was not telling the truth, or at least omitting details. She hasn’t responded to your last statement, instead choosing to look at you in the weird way she does that makes you feel like you’re being interrogated. You decide that if she isn’t going to talk, you won’t either so you pull your phone out of your jacket to check it. You see a text from Jamie saying she got home ok with a little smiley face at the end that causes you to smile. You type back a quick reply, just saying you’re glad she’s safe and that you were with Natasha right now and were probably going to bed soon so you’d text her tomorrow. She wished you luck and goodnight with another little smiley face that made you smile again. Putting your phone away you look back up at Natasha only to find out she’s glaring at you. 

Unsure of what could have changed her attitude towards you, you ask, “What?”

“Who were you talking to?” She asks ignoring your question for the second time tonight. 

You sigh, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business but if you really must know I was just saying goodnight to the girl from the club, Jamie.”

“So that’s her name.” She says wrinkling her nose. Now you’re really confused as to what Natasha is thinking. You couldn’t tell on normal days but usually she acted rationally and never was like this. 

“Why do you say it like that?” You ask. 

“I don’t like her.”

“Why don’t you like her?” 

“I just don’t.” She answers, offering no explanation. Although you do want to find out why Natasha doesn’t like her you’re too tired to spend the time asking questions so you stand up to go to bed. 

“Where are you going?” She demands. 

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time of the night. “I’m going to bed. You wanted to talk to me but won’t actually talk, and when I ask you questions, instead of responding you insult my new friend.”

“Friend?” She questions.

“Jamie.” You say confused because you thought the answer was obvious. 

“Oh.” She responds, “I’m sorry, please stay.” You think about it for a second, deciding to stay so you go to sit down again, but before you do Natasha scoots over to your end of the couch pulling you down into her side. Your entire body freezes up because you’re so unsure of what to do. Natasha never initiated physical contact of any kind but now she was practically hugging you. Seeming to realize how uncomfortable you were, she quickly moves away.

“Sorry,” she mutters, “That was stupid.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you can come back.” You respond quickly. As much as you were uncomfortable, it felt really nice to have her by your side. She somewhat shyly shifts back over to you but this time instead of wrapping her arm around your shoulders she nuzzles into your side, maneuvering your arms so they wrap around her. You have no idea what’s going on right now but you can’t help but smile as you look down at her. She looks cute and relaxed, with her hair covering parts of her face. Thinking about her hair reminds you of her opinion of your new haircut. You bite your lip nervously as you debate asking her about that or not. You definitely don’t want to ruin the cuddly mood that she’s in now but the comment still bothers you, not to mention you never actually found out why she took you home from the club.

“Um Natasha?” You ask in a timid voice. “Is my haircut really that bad?” 

“Of course not, I think it suits you.” She responds smoothly. “I lied to you earlier.”

You smile at that. “Thank you but why?”

She takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “Promise this won’t change anything between us first, that we will stay friends.” 

“Ok,” You respond, earnest but confused, “I promise.”

“I didn’t like the idea of you going clubbing and coming home with some one night stand or even worse a girlfriend because I have feelings for you. So I was childish and took out my frustrations on you by pretending I didn’t like you. I’m sorry.” She’s looking up at you now, the most nervous you’ve ever seen her. Your mind is exploding with this new information and your heart feels so happy you can’t even believe what is going on. 

“Is that why you were watching me with Jamie at the club and then told me you had to talk to me?”

“Yeah”

After a few more seconds of shocked silence that feels like hours to Natasha you finally speak. “I know I promised that this wouldn’t change anything between us but I don’t think it can be the same.” She starts to pull away from your side but before she can you lean over and press your lips against hers. At first you are hesitant but once she starts kissing back you gain confidence, the kiss getting more heated. After a minute or two you both pull away to catch your breath, smiling at each other. 

Natasha lightly swats you on the arm. “You’re evil.” You giggle a little in response. “I was so worried for a second there, I thought you would be weirded out by that.” She continues also giggling slightly. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t know that I had feelings for you,” you confess to her, “it was actually Tony and Wanda’s idea for me to go out because we all thought you didn’t like me so they thought it was a good idea to get over you.”

“Well that plan failed,” she says smirking, “I guess you can’t get over me.” 

You look at her and yawn. “No I guess I can’t.” 

At your yawn she glances at the clock. “We better get you to bed, it’s almost the time Steve wakes up for training.” You would like to spend more time with Natasha but you’re too tired to argue so you just nod and follow her as she pulls you up and leads you to your room, holding your hand the whole way. Inside your room she sits on your bed while you change, politely looking away. Once you’re in pyjamas you hold a pair out to her and she looks at you confused. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” You ask her. She eagerly nods, accepting the pyjamas as you open your covers and crawl into bed. As soon as she’s done she turns off the lights and hops in behind you, spooning you. You sigh as you feel her plant a kiss on the back of your head. You can barely keep your eyes open and although you still haven’t talked about exactly what your new relationship with Natasha was yet, you were excited for what was to come. Your last thought before you drifted off to sleep was complete bliss as Natasha kept planting soft kisses on the back of your neck, head and shoulders. 

The next morning you hear a loud pounding at your door. You groan and slowly gain consciousness, smiling as you remember last night and the redhead still cuddling you. Just like yesterday Tony doesn’t bother to wait for you to answer and instead barges straight in. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you spooning and he starts to splutter. You laugh at him with Natasha until he shouts for the other avengers to come. Multiple pairs of footsteps make your way to your bedroom and you see the shocked faces of a few of the other avengers, including Wanda, Steve and Clint. 

“What,” Natasha says speaking up, “can’t a girl cuddle with her girlfriend in peace?” Steve immediately apologizes, ushering everyone out of the room and closing the door. 

You raise your eyebrow. “Girlfriends?”

“I assumed so, if you want.” She responds. 

“I like the sound of that...girlfriend.” You both smile at each other. You definitely did not complete your goal of getting over Natasha and instead fell further in love but you were totally ok with that.

#marvel #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fic #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #wanda maximoff #clint barton #orignial character

[moonbaby26]

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.”

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

#quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #deadpool #shadowcat #colossus #kitty pryde #x men #x men x reader #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic #x men fanfiction #xmen #peter rasputin #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[tennessoui]

Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.���

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

#asks #prompt fill #lets be real these havent been ficlets for months let alone snippets #these are just. fics lmao #anyway i couldnt choose who to hurt/comfort with this prompt so ii actually went with both haha #very on brand #anakin's pov would of course contain the famous 'oh. OH.' of realization #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #i have so many amazing asks to respond to and im going to do it tonight #i just wanted to post this and then spend like a solid eight hours on my paintings because they have a really real and fast approaching #deadline #cw: cheating #married with a twist au

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 2 (6-14): Undercover | Sibling rivalry | Damian having a nice day

Warnings: Mentions of trafficking, threats, violence, attempted kidnapping, injuries, healthy doses of angst

Note: hahahahaha once again I'm begging you all to pretend I posted this when it's still the 14th somewhere in the world. Please enjoy.

---

Damian didn't mean to get caught. Honest. As annoying as it is, he understands that there are certain parts of their nightlife that have to be handled by an adult. Going undercover, for one, is usually something that's left to Grayson. It's easier for adults to blend into some things than it is for... well... Teenagers.

Children, as Grayson would say. Even though Damian is not a child.

Not that it matters, however. Grayson, for the past week, has been putting off their normal patrols to get insider information on a recent underground trafficking scheme. Grayson has been working hard to find the people responsible for this and get on the inside to find where the victims are being kept and Damian had respected that. He's kept to the sidelines and worked on other cases that don't require so much adult delicacy.

The only issue was that tonight he ended up getting bored. There wasn't anything for him to do, and that butler wasn't giving him any useful suggestions to fill his time. He wasn't allowed to patrol alone while Grayson was undercover, but escaping through his bedroom window in a dark hoodie was simple enough.

One thing leads to another. He ended up walking into an alleyway where a man was getting rather forceful with a drunk woman. Damian was jogging forward and calling him out on the disgusting behavior before he even realized he recognized the profile of the man.

Grayson turned from the woman with wide, horrified eyes, not moving a muscle even as the woman slipped from beside him and rushed back into the bar's side door.

"Shit," is all Grayson said before more people came out from the shadows, and Damian realizes he's just stumbled upon Grayson's undercover work.

Damian, for all of his training, has no idea what to do as he's suddenly grabbed by one of the newcomers. He's just witnessed Grayson in his undercover work... attempting to kidnap a woman... and he shouldn't be here.

"The fuck did this brat come from," the man grabbing Damian sneers.

Damian reacts instinctively now, slamming his elbow back into their gut. The man wheezes and weakens his hold. Damian then ducks under a new pair of arms making a mad grab for him and is sure to trip them over onto the cement ground as they stumble past.

A beefier man charges at Damian like a bull, and he prepares to retaliate... only for Grayson to grab him by his arm and shove Damian behind his back.

"Wait," Grayson gasps, bringing his free hand up in front of him. The man stops in his tracks, as do all the others. "It's my... brother."

"Your brother?" A woman scoffs, and Grayson gives her a hard look.

A mean looking man steps forward, glaring daggers at Grayson. "What's he doin' here Malone? Thought'chu said you weren't followed."

"I'm sorry," Grayson says, sounding panicked. Damian wants to jump out from behind Grayson and give these kidnappers a piece of his mind. There can't be more than seven of them. Damian can take them with his hands tied behind his back. Grayson must sense this, because he tightens his hold on his arm. "I thought he was at home."

"Well, he wasn't," the man snarls. "And now that bitch is probably in there telling the barkeep some guy got handsy with her."

Grayson shakes his head. "She isn't. I paid off the barkeep. If we calm down, I can go back in there and finish the job. Danny here won't say anything, he knows what we have to do to survive these streets. Right, Danny?"

Damian's lips thin, but he nods. Damian doesn't know why Richard is acting all frightful right now. Has he forgotten the legacy of Damian's father that he holds? He carries the name of Batman, yet here he is looking like a frightened animal in front of these low-lives. He wants to argue and take down these imbeciles... but if there's one thing he's learned while in his ever lengthening stay in Gotham, Grayson usually has a reason for everything he does. If he thinks they need to act like they're frightened, then Damian will humor him. For now.

The man looks down from Grayson and gives Damian a narrowed look. It lasts only a moment before he looks at the bar side-door and... smirks?

He looks back at Grayson, keeping that smirk. "Alright, Malone. I'll take you up on that offer. You get the bitch, and we'll take care of Danny."

A bad feeling settles in Damian's gut. The hand on his arm tightens even more, proof that Grayson has the same bad feeling. They don't have a chance to say anything about it, however, before the man strides forward and grabs Damian by his other arm; yanking him away from Grayson and towards the big man.

Grayson shoots them a murderous glare, but doesn't come to Damian's aid as the big man tightens both of his hands on Damian's biceps. His pointer fingers press just under his shoulders, and he swears his pinkies wrap close to Damian's elbows.

"Go on," the talkative man says, jerking his head to the door, showing his rotting teeth in a grin. "Get the bitch."

Grayson shoots a look Damian's way, then nods. "Okay," he says placidly. "Okay." He turns his back and starts towards the door.

Then, the man looks at another in their group and nods his head. The man's cheeks rise like a Cheshire cat before he starts towards Grayson, raising a fist.

"Grayson! Look out!" Damian shouts. Grayson, for his part, reacts immediately. He ducks under the blow and side steps his attacker.

However, that's all Damian sees before the man that has him in his grasp changes position quite suddenly so that Damian is practically hanging in his grasp—an arm the size of a log wrapped around his neck. Damian's hands fly to the arm and he attempts to kick his feet for purchase. His air is already cut off, and he curses himself for getting in a situation like this.

He stills, however, when something cold and metal is pressed against his head by the man's free hand. Through blurry eyes and choking gasps, he notices Grayson has gone still too.

"I knew you were fishy," the man from before cackled. "Grayson? That your real name?"

Grayson glares, but doesn't move.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you're gon let us do whatever we want wit'cha, and maybe we'll let the kid live after."

And just like that, Grayson is at the receiving end of a savage blow to his jaw from another member of the group. Grayson stumbles and clutches his jaw, but he doesn't fight back even as another jumps in and throws their own punch. Damian can already see blood dripping down his cheek from a cut in the skin.

He's hit again, and he continues to not fight back. Damian knows he'll take the beating, even though he can easily take them down. He won't risk the gun pressed against Damian's head. He won't risk the arm wrapped so right around Damian's neck it feels like he's breathing through a coffee straw.

A particularly savage punch has Grayson falling to the floor, scraping his hands, elbows, and knees on the rough and suspiciously wet asphalt. Damian growls and digs his nails into the arms of his captor, but they tighten the grip threateningly and his struggles are forced to come to a stop.

Pathetic. Idiotic. Childish. This is Damian's fault. Every blow that hits Grayson's body as punches are replaced by kicks might as well be dealt by Damian himself.

He argues with Grayson. Calls him out on not acting how his father would. He calls him incompetent, insignificant, idiotic... but some time these past few weeks the bite he means to carry with those words have turned fond.

He... He likes Grayson. He's the first person to show Damian unconditional kindness... other than his own mother. While being stuck here with him rather than his own father had, at first, been miserable and annoying... it's turned out to be... fun. For the first time in his life, he almost feels like a normal kid with Grayson here to lead him along the way.

Damian wonders at night if that's what his mother intended. Why she hasn't taken him back yet.

He doesn't mind it. He likes the time that he spends with Grayson now, even if he would never admit it. And here he is, helpless and unarmed as Grayson is being beaten to a bloody pulp all because Damian couldn't listen to instructions and snuck out when he shouldn't have.

For a moment, pure terror fills Damian's veins that he's most likely going to witness the death of Grayson tonight. If he tries to fight his captor, he'll get a bullet in his brain. If Grayson decides to fight back, then Damian would die anyways. Grayson wouldn't do that. He would rather die himself.

Another blow hits Grayson's body, and he lays on the ground and groans, unmoving for a worrying few seconds.

Then, the bar door slams open and the woman from before runs out with fire in her dark eyes. No one has a chance to do anything before she kicks the main guy in the jaw, sending him down to the floor with more force than any woman... or man... should have.

Damian doesn't question it. The rest of them are distracted by her sudden entrance, and Damian uses that to his advantage. He throws his hands up and grabs at his captor's distracted face and claws at his eyes. The man yowls and drops Damian, leaving Damian completely free to make his own attack. He easily disarms him and jumps onto his back, wrapping his own arms around the man's neck and squeezing as tightly as he can.

It's all over in a matter of seconds. The man falls unconscious in Damian's grasp, and the woman finishes taking out the others.

She was in on this whole thing too, Damian realizes as she rushes towards Grayson's still form and grabs his arm.

Grayson blinking slowly at her through already bruising eyes and whispering "Donna..." is all the proof Damian needs to confirm his suspicion.

"I got you, boy wonder," Donna says fondly. She helps him to his feet and wraps his arm firmly around her shoulders, helping him stand. She looks at Damian. "You got a way to get us out of here, squirt? The cops are gonna be on their way any minute."

"What-" Damian starts, then pauses. Shame fills his gut. "What about the mission?"

"It's fine," Grayson says with a pained strain in his voice. "They're low in the chain. Won't be missed in prison. Can't give much away. I'll-" he cuts off to gasp as Donna shifts her hold on him. "I'll just try again later."

Damian nods, but the guilt doesn't leave. He looks away from Grayson and Donna to pull out his phone and request Pennyworth send the Batmobile to their position.

The entire way back to the manor is filled with tense silence, broken only by Grayson's hissed curses and groans as Donna helps give immediate first aid to the worst of the bruises and cuts.

Damian... he messed up. He disobeyed Richard and ruined the mission. This woman, Donna, is a better companion to Grayson than Damian ever was. Or will be. They get along. She's kind. She was trusted enough by Grayson to bring her in on his solo mission, and she clearly trusted him enough to go along with it and let herself be captured.

Grayson will never trust him as much as her. He's... He's fucked it all up. He won't want Damian around anymore. He'll want to send him back to the League, and if his mother and grandfather don't take him then his suit and the name of Robin must surely now be forfeit.

Drake will take back the suit, and Damian will forever be left behind by the man he thought... He hoped...

Sitting by his bedside after assisting Pennyworth in dressing Grayson's wounds... he mulls these thoughts over in his head. Grayson is fast asleep, and Donna has retreated upstairs for a shower and dinner by Pennyworth's insistence.

Then, as he's considering leaving so he's not the first thing Grayson sees when he wakes up, a hand grabs hold onto his.

"Don't blame yourself," Grayson whispers, blinking through his puffed up and exhausted eyes. Damian wonders how long he's been sitting here with his thoughts and when Grayson started to awaken without him noticing. "You have the same look in your eyes... That B always did..."

Heat flairs behind Damian's eyelids. He bursts. "But this is my fault. If I hadn't gone out- if I had listened-"

Suddenly, his hand is jerked, and Damian is dragged onto the cot and into Grayson's arms. He attempts to fight the hold, but Grayson holds tight despite his injuries.

"Mistakes happen," Grayson says, "they always do. I will never give up on you, Dames. No matter how many you make. Trust me on that."

He sounds so very much in pain, but he's relentless in his hold. All Damian can do is stop his struggling and lay in Grayson's grasp. His brain studies the words said to him, and his heart wants to believe him. Guilt pools to his throat and he opens his mouth to let it out before he can stop himself.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. He doesn't know when he started to return the hold Grayson had him in. His hands are bunched in the material of Grayson's shirt.

Grayson shushes him. "It's okay," he says. "What's done is done, and we've learned. We're okay. I got you."

And perhaps it's the moment of weakness, but Damian can't help but believe him.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #kidnapping tw #held at gunpoint #guns tw #im just in the mood for batman!dick and robin!damian angst this week huh? #hopefully donna being here made sense lmao

[awkwards]

Kinktober Day 5. Aphrodisiac : Pleasurable Test | Overhaul

Day 5: Aphrodisiac

Title: Pleasurable Test

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Count: 2.2k

Summary: You needed to make ends meet, and so you go to subject yourself to a testing center that will pay. Turns out, you’ve signed yourself up for way more than you expected. You should really read the fine print.

Warnings: Noncon, syringe, aphrodisiac, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yandere, sadist overhaul

Note: It’s finals week and definitely starting to hit me. Also, thanks for all of the support! If you’d like to be tagged for my kinktober fics, dm me! My inbox is open~

You snarled behind your gag at the man in the lab coat, who was currently coming at you with another needle. When he stepped close, you managed to kick the shot away.

“You can’t even handle one little girl. Pathetic.” A voice you haven’t heard before chides. A man wearing a plague mask and rather large coat with purple feathers stepped in. You could barely see him from where you’re restrained on the operating table. He snaps gloves onto his his, his eyes glaring at the subordinate. “And now that needle is filthy.”

“I’m so sorry sir!” you could see the sweat from the doctor, his face pailing. “She kicked me and it went flying!”

“Begone. I do not wish to hear your excuses.”

“Yes sir.” The guy practically runs from the room.

The man levels his gaze on you, judging.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, challengingly.

You’ve been here for a week. It was supposed to be one test, in which you got paid for. You took it because money was tight and you needed to pay rent. Little did you realize they would keep you kidnapped and subject to their devices because you were the “perfect candidate”.  Your fear has practically been pushed aside by your anger. For a week they’ve been sticking you with needles, running “tests”, keeping you on the edge of functioning. All you had left was your anger and attitude.

“What a nuisance.” The man sighs. His dark eyes scan your barely clothed body.

Quicker than you can move, the man has your legs pinned down, fastened in place just like your arms and neck are. A gasp of shock careens past your lips, silenced by the gag.

“That’s better.” He moves over to the counter where the equipment lays. He turns his back towards you. “Do you know who I am?”

“Well, I assume you’re the one in charge of these monkeys. Do you know who I am?” You bite at him.

“I am Kai Chisaki. You will address me as Overhaul.” He turns slowly, an intense look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. “I know plenty about you. You are a quirkless individual. Your blood type is AB negative. You’re allergic to penicillin. You’ve lived in this city your whole life. I know you were adopted at the age 5. You had a kidney transplant at the age 12.”

“Your parents were brutally murdered when you were in high school by a villain attack. I know that the villain attack was actually a target for your father’s brother because he made some bad deals with the yakuza.” He grabs a needle and begins to mix a mystery pink liquid into it. You’re shaking by now. How does he know so much?  “You dropped out of high school quickly after, and less than two years later sold most of your adoptive parent’s belongings, and then the house.”

Overhaul takes deliberate and slow steps towards you, tapping the air bubbles out of the needle. “You moved into a seedy little apartment in the middle of town. You work at a small bar across from the noodle shop in the bad part of town because it was the only place that would hire you. This month you couldn’t make ends meet so you showed up here.”

A gloved hand drops onto your arm, thumb soothing over the prominent vein of yours. “And most importantly, I know your name isn’t actually Nakaya Kosuke. You, Miss (y/n), have quite the extensive history.”

You jerk hard at hearing your birth name. No one should know! Only your adoptive parents, who as he stated were dead, and the lawyer that erased your identity knew.

You try to speak through the gag, your words hushed.

An amused dark chuckle falls from him. “Oh, my apologies, did you want to speak?”

You nod your head.

His eyebrows raise, as if debating it. Finally, he unties the back of your gag. You spit it out, breathing in deeply. “Careful now, say something I don’t like and I’ll put it back on. Or I’ll remove your tongue.”

“Why am I here?”

He hums. “You are special. Did you know that your blood type is extremely rare?”

You clench your teeth, glaring at this cocky son-of-a-bitch. “I did.”

“Well, fortunately for us, your blood type was exactly what we’ve been looking for in our experiment. It’s extremely hard to come by a willing participant, too.”

“I’m not willing. I signed up for a test. One.”

His chuckle is light, and his eyes are wide with sadistic mirth. “No. You actually signed up until there was one successful test. So far, none of them have been such. It would appear someone didn’t read the fine print.”

Oh. Oh god. Did you really?

“No worries. You will be fully compensated. Well-” His eyes narrow. “If you live.”

Overhaul begins to prep the vein in your arm. “See, quirks are filthy. Those heroes parading around their quirks are but vermin on this earth. Pathetic. But you - no, you’re corrupted like those who roam the streets. Your blood is pure. Your genes are clean. You and I are far more similar than you might think, y/n.“

“What are you going to do to me?” Fear is fully controlling your mouth now. You shiver as he sanitizes the area he plans on injecting you.

“I have reason to believe that your blood will be the perfect capsule to carry my new invention. It’s a device that will remove the quirks of those who come in contact with it.” The look in his eyes turned wild, excited. You shiver. “My parents were ripped away from me, too. Those heroes did nothing to save them. Yet, they parade around the world as if we, the common folk, owe them. Not for long. Now, don’t make too much of a noise; I’d rather not have to remove your tongue.”

The prepped needle’s cap comes off, and the metal slides into your skin. You whimper, looking away as Overhaul begins to press its contents into your bloodstream. As quick as it began, it ended. He wipes away the lone blood drop before pressing a bandaid against you.

“Normally I would never dream of coming so close to an individual. But you are different from the filth filling this world.” Gloved hands grab your chin, turning you to look into his eyes. “You’re pure. Perfect. And I plan on taking full advantage of that, my sweet Y/N.”

Tears burn your eyes, your lip trembling. You finally let your body relax. This time you were truly fucked. He pulls his hand away, throwing away the needle tip of the syringe. You watch him walk away, back to the counter where he removes his gloves and washes his hands and arms.

A warmth began to fill your system. You shoot a concerned look at Overhaul. It was like your body was warming up from the inside out, your blood beginning to boil. A feverish sweat was spreading over every inch of you. “Something’s wrong.” You croak out.

Overhaul turns back to glance at you, sweaty and blushed. A mild look of intrigue covers his face. “Oh?”

“It’s burning me.” You whine.

Your body is completely uncomfortable now. The warmth feels … different. Wrong even.

“Explain to me what is happening.” He dries his hands leisurely, watching you from across the room before putting on a new, clean pair of rubber gloves.

“I’m hot. It feels like my blood is boiling. I -” you whimper as the slightest movement of your head increases the feeling tenfold. “Please make it stop.”

Overhaul takes his time as he walks back over to you. He runs a finger over your pulsepoint. The single touch sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, a moan following. “How interesting.”

You’re mortified and confused. You wish you could rub your thighs together at the uncomfortable feeling between them.

“I see now. The molecular constructs of those two vials creates an aphrodisiac.”

You pinch your eyes shut as his single digit drags down your arm, over the hospital gown you have. The thin fabric is too much. It feels as if it’s weighing you down and making it that much harder to breathe.

“I suppose I should relieve you. It’ll be the only way to collect your blood at the right molecular compounds,” He muses to himself, talking out loud as if you’re not there.

Overhaul pulls off the glove on his left hand. “If I hadn’t reassembled you already, I would let you suffer until the side effects wear off. But, because of me, you really are clean. You should thank me.”

Not knowing what to say, you watch the man through your watery tears. He presses his bare hand on your stomach. If you weren’t being restrained, you would have arched into his hand, moaning loud as pleasure floods your core.

When he removes his hand, your whole body shivers as air nips your bare skin. How? “Wh-what?”

He chuckles. “My quirk.”

You watch as Overhaul steps around your pinned body, coming close to your wet sex.

“What a mess you’ve made. Disgusting.” Despite his words, he runs his gloved hand up your right leg, stopping at the stop below your belly button. You can feel your walls flutter.

A choked out “Please,” tumbles from your lips. You’re so turned on it hurts. Your brain can’t think straight anymore.

You moan loudly as a single finger strokes your dripping lips. You roll your hips as best as you can to get more friction. He lets out a proper laugh at your discomfort, sliding his single digit past your folds.

“So needy. What would you do without me? If I wasn’t here to relieve you?”

Your walls flutter around his digit as he runs his finger against your inside. The burning in your blood only seems to increase at the slight relief. “Please, Overhaul please!”

At your pitiful begging, he slides another finger in, stretching your walls. He works the two digits in a slow and methodical pace, scissoring you. You whine and cry, grinding your hips into his fingers. When he curls the two fingers and strokes the spongy spot inside you, a coil snaps, and you cum hard around him.

He doesn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers inside you. You moan as you come down from your high.

The heat inside dims for the barest of moments before firing back up with a vengeance.

“Did that make you feel better?” He mocks, putting more force behind his motions.

You gasp as the coil of pleasure begins again. “It hurts! I need more, please!”

“Patience, little one. You’ll get your release. Soon, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

As if to prove his point, he uses his thumb to stroke your clit hard. Your walls flutter and drip around his gloved fingers as you feel yourself close to the crest again. “Oh - Oh, oh please!” You wail.

“Cum again, pet.”

You do. Your walls spasm as you tip over, shaking in your restraints as a sigh leaves you.

He doesn’t stop. The fire inside is rapidly dwindling, and you flinch at the touch.

“Oh, are you sensitive already?” He muses. “It won’t last long.”

True to your words, the fire picks up again. You sob as his touch hurts. It hurts yet is relieving you too. Tears stream down your face as you’re overstimulated, but the heat is still there.

“It's almost over. Hold on just a bit longer.”

Overhaul fingers you faster, making the coil of pleasure twist quicker and harder than the last two orgasms. You sob as you near the edge again.

“Last one. Give me one more. Cum over my fingers.”

“I can’t!” You cry out, rocking your hips into his fingers despite what you say.

“You can. And you will.” You can hear the squelching as his fingers target your g-spot, his thumb rolling your clit hard. “Cum again y/n.”

A scream rips from your throat as you’re forced over the edge of another orgasm. Your entire body tenses, and white fills your eyes. Overhaul drags his fingers out of you slowly, making you wince from the overstimulation. He tears the glove covered in cum off of his hand before sliding a new set on.

Panting hard, you come down again, body relaxing. Your blood no longer feels like you’re being boiled alive.

You flinch as a syringe is forced into your arm, and watch in sick curiosity as he draws blood from you. Even the touch of the needle makes you quiver, your entire body too sensitive for touch.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. You did so well.”

You moan, shaking as he places a bandage over your skin again. Your head swims as black dots at the edge of your vision.

You look up at him, and can tell even from behind his mask that he’s smiling. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Rest well, pet.”

Tag list:

@ofthedewthesunlight​ 

#kinktober 2020 #awkwards kinktober #bnha #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha overhaul #yandere overhaul #sadist overhaul #tw : noncon #tw : needles #tw : aphrodisiac #tw : overstimulation #tw : multiple orgasms #tw : yandere

[jeonqquk]

BTS reacting to their S/O being on her period

This is how I imagine the BTS members would react to you being on your period for the first time since getting together with them <3

JUNGKOOK

He'd have everything ready

And I mean everything- pads, tampons, your favourite chocolates, tissue paper boxes, all his large shirts and sweatpants ready for you to use, ice cream tubs, blankets

You name it, he has it

Would make sure every single one of his streaming service subscription had been paid up to date, so you wouldn't have any problem binging any show

He'd get worried when you're having normal cramps, "Are you dying?" because of your extraness

Would practically be living at your house for that week

"I'll sleep on the couch, baby, don't worry."

He'd giggle at your whining and random complaints

TAEHYUNG

Upon getting to know, he'd immediately call his elder sister

"I think she's on her red flag days.." Would be told to not make a big deal out of it because it would upset you and just stay away for the most part

"Y/n, do you want these cookies I made?"

You'd laugh at how scared he'd be, "Don't be scared, Tae. I'm not gonna bite you or anything."

His smile would do wonders in comforting you and making you forget about the pain in your abdomen

Tae would always be there for you, either in the next room or just one phone call away

JIMIN

It would be terrible for him

Because Park Jimin was a constantly horny, always going through his heat and in dire need of physical affection man

"Oh my gosh, the week is going by so slowly."

You'd suggest the bathroom, but he'd immediately reject the offer, "No! What if I hurt you and don't realise it?"

Your heart would melt at his worry

He'd buy the entire 'candies' section of the shops for you, and maybe some for himself

"When your period is over I swear I'll fold yo-" "Shut the fuck up!"

NAMJOON

Your very loving boyfriend would call up the hospital

Would get scolded by you for making it seem like such a big thing, "I've been having my periods since I was 13."

In apology, he'd get you everything you needed, constantly checking up on you

He'd buy bandages for unknown reasons

He knows you're a sucker for cuddles and will use that to comfort you

Would make sure your heating pad is in place and then hug you

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

HOSEOK

Would be shocked when you'd tell him

"Does it, like, hurt?"

He'd gently caress your stomach, murmuring sweet things

His curiousness would get the better of him and he'd ask you to enlighten him about these kinds of girl things

Would start crying himself when you'd begin sobbing for no reason

Doesn't know that it's the hormones acting up and would move away, "Did I hurt you?"

Anxious eyes would stare at you

Fucking jovial when it'd be over

YOONGI

Even more prepared than you

Has pads, tampons, chocolates, baby wipes, your favourite shows ready and his gummy smile

"It's okay, I'm here." Would softly pat your head and kiss your forehead

Sweetness overload

Will completely disconnect the two of you from the world

Serves you hot chocolate every hour

Won't let you move out of your bed and carry you to the bathroom when you need to shower

SEOKJIN

Like Yoongi, prepared as fuck

Will flaunt his cooking abilities and make you the most delicious food for every meal

Will be the spooner and let you be the spoonee

Won't be annoyed at all when you wake up in the middle of the night to go check for any leaks

"Any help needed?"

Always there for you and that makes you tear up

Shushing you with soft kisses

Being the perfect husband

____________________________________________________

thanks for reading! feedback is much appreciated <3

____________________________________________________

taglist: @cosplay-snow-white @neoculturedtrash @bluejaem @orange-lemon-cross @thatonemultistan @multi–kpop–fanfics @whiteprincessofnohr @chittaslee @multifandomnet @jaeminpeachy @jaeminpeachy-reblogs @kyuwoyo @i-have-no-jams-yuh @cupidluvstarrz @thats-a-jen-no-no @johnyusangel @guksauce @tokyohobi @crazyboutjooni @trashlord-007 @masterninjacow @kpop-and-anime-for-me @madotae @minblank @byeolhyesisi @gustingirl @twilightkoo-bangtan @ethereal-eirene @bbyjjaeng @kookcvlt @coco-riki @yuniixoxo @neovisiontechnology​ @yutahoes​ @elcie-chxn​ @vera-liscious​ @electronicgentlemencrusade @pjmschlatsend an ask or dm to be added!

#bts #kpop #bts reaction #bts drabble #bts ff #bangtan ff #bangtan #jungkook #jungkook ff #taehyung #taehyung ff #jimin #jimin ff #namjoon #namjoon ff #hoseok #hobi #hoseok ff #suga #yoongi #yoongi ff #suga ff #jin #seokjin #jin ff #v #v ff #bts fanfic #kpop reactions #jjk

[yeojaa]

finders keep hers.

reads part two and three.  a drabble about idiots in love because it is literally my favourite trope in the world and also, who can resist a fuck boy!jk and a won't-tell-him!best friend?  c'mon!  also, big thanks to @hobi-gif​ for being the best beta reader i could ever ask for.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  ... explicit.  tags.  smut with idiots!  big fucking idiots who do dumb things!  but yeah, unprotected sex (please wrap the willy and don’t be silly), a lil bit of dirty talk, some angst if you squint at the right times.  wc.  2.2k.

“Baby.”  It comes out whiny and breathless, a world away from the usual confidence that spills off of his tongue.  He’s half delirious, grip imprinting itself into the yielding flesh of your thighs.  Each noise he makes sounds like it’s about to fully form before dropping off, stolen by some bliss that seems to reside back behind his eyelids.  It splits and breaks over and over, murmurs of your name and affection and whatever else he can think of in the moment.

You love when he’s like this.  Love that you can bring him to this - a man on his knees (or, more literally, on his back).

“Hm?”  Laughter crawls off your tongue, slinking into the heavy air and dripping into the spaces between you, like the sweat that creeps down your neck and beads at his temples. You punctuate the question with a deliberate roll of your hips, single hand splayed out across the delightfully firm expanse of his chest. 

The noise he makes is sinful - almost beguiling enough for you to stop the slow torture - but you think better of it when he meets your motion with one of his own.  It’s disjointed, far less measured than yours, and driven by a need he can barely articulate.

“Use your words, Kookie.”  

His childhood nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does - like fucking in powder rooms and secluded cabanas.  It should spring forward light and airy, more childhood friendship than unbridled twenty-something year old lust.  

You don’t think he minds, though.  He certainly doesn’t look like he minds.  

“Baby, please.”  He moans it so prettily - like he’s begging for all the stars in the sky - that you want to give it to him.  Want to, but won’t, because that’s not how this goes and you know he’ll thank you for it later.  He always does.

“Please what, Bunny ?”  You’re really teasing now.  You wonder if he’ll hold it against you when he’s back to his senses. 

Back to being Jeon Jungkook, the man with everything. 

“You’re being mean.”  How he manages to huff it when he’s hardly lucid, you’re not sure.  You have to applaud him - reward him - so you do, dragging your fluttering walls off his cock, and all but dropping yourself back upon it.  It’s the first inch you’ve given all afternoon - the first taste of anything other than slow and steady wins the race. 

The grip on your hips borders on painful, the neatly trimmed edges of his nails digging into the pliant tanned skin.  Your own fingers readjust, tweaking his nipple in the way you know he loves, and he nearly flinches away before leaning heavily into your touch, entire chest heaving.

“Fuck me,”  he whines, again, in that voice.  You snicker above him, soothing the red assault lines you’ve left across his torso with sweet brushes of your fingertips and the occasional graze of your lips.

“I am, honey.”

You know he tries to hold in the pent-up energy that radiates through his entire body, buzzing from his toes all the way up his spine.  He bucks beneath you, seeking more, more, more like the greedy brat he is.  

“Nuh uh,”  you repeat, like a scolding school teacher.  “You take what I give - or I’m going home.”

The threat is very real - you’ve done it before - and he immediately stills, eyes flashing wide and earnest up at you.  His thumb rubs soothing circles across your hip bone - right where he’d dug his fingers in only moments earlier.  

“I’m sorry,”  he croaks and you know he means it.  You can hear it in the way he can hardly speak.  He tries again, softer now, with his charm turned up to eleven, tongue swiping over the spit-slicked edge of his bottom lip.  “Please, angel?”  

One hand is halfway up your side, moving with purpose until he finds the sensitive edge of your ribs, touch trailing over where he can feel each individual bone.  He repeats the motion once, twice, before pressing the broad palm of his hand over your right shoulder blade, splaying digits across your back.  You both know how easy it would be for him to drag you chest-to-chest, but he refrains - just looks up at you with those big doe eyes of his.

“Give me what I want, princess.”  He’s pulling out all the stops - dressing you in every pet name imaginable.  “I’ll make it worth your while - make that pretty pussy all messy for me.”

You don’t miss how he’s slowly grinding into you, the friction against your aching clit buzzing in the back of your mind as he whispers his sweet nothings.  

“I don’t know, Bunny.”  You’re playing a very specific role now.  The role of aloof prey-turned-hunter, not a care in the world in sight.  It doesn’t matter that maybe - just maybe, it’s all a very carefully practiced facade.  It’s what he - and you - both need.

Each time you don’t flat out deny him, he’s emboldened.  He ruts his hips into you a little more firmly, fucks himself into you with a little more intention.  You hardly even notice the coil of his hand until the heat from his palm is searing through the delicate skin of your neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear. 

You want to rebuff him a bit longer but Jungkook knows all of your weaknesses and exploits them like a power hungry tyrant.  “I don’t hear a ‘no’ , baby.”  

Not like you can say much of anything when he’s got his hand around your throat.  He knows that just as well as you.  

“Tell me you want this, too.”  He doesn’t need the affirmation but he craves it from you - demandsit by dropping his other hand from your waist to the apex of your thighs.  He repeats himself as he swirls his thumb over your clit, circling it with the lightest of pressure.

His grip on your neck even relents enough to allow an answer to slip past your lips.  In his mind, he’s being very, very lenient. 

You do your best to refrain.  Frankly, you think you do better than most women would.  But there’s still only so much you can take and a sharp, tantalizing pinch to your most sensitive bundle of nerves is not one of them. 

It sparks an inferno through you, heat devouring every ounce of sensibility.  

“Okay, okay!”  You’re matching him in tone, petulence tearing off your tongue.  “I give.”  

He grins - that slow, cat-ate-the-canary thing that demands attention and steals hearts.  The same smile he’s carried his entire life, buck-toothed and adorable.  “That’s right, baby.  I always win.”  Triumph colours his words and you almost roll your eyes;  he stops you with an abrupt repositioning, your sweat-slicked frame pushed off him in a single fluid motion.  You feel like a ragdoll. 

You don’t have time to reprimand him before he’s got you, crowded against your back with his face buried against your nape and his cock brushing through your folds.  Your knees are kicked apart, spread obscenely around him.  His favourite position, you think, though he’d claim otherwise. 

“Jungkook!”  You snarl, growing impatient with how he teases you, forearm caged right beneath your breasts and the other resting against the mattress. 

For all his bitching and complaining, he’s being a real big asshole now.

“What - no more Bunny?”  The words roll hotly into your ear, followed by the sharp edge of enamel as he nips at the delicate cartilage and tongues right below your lobe at the spot that makes you keen.  He’s mocking you, dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit over and over but never giving you more - never taking you in the way he’d begged to do.

“If you don’t smarten up right now—”  It’s a hiss that leaves no room for argument.  “—get the hell off me.”

Maybe it’s sixteen years of friendship or maybe it’s how hot you sound when you’re pissed off.  Either way, it’s the last straw and he’s burying himself to the hilt, filling you up so well that you can’t help the way you moan, lewd like a well-paid pornstar.  

“Better?”  He huffs, somehow, in between his hard unrelenting thrusts that bounce you across his thousand thread count sheets.  

His lips find a spot right between your neck and shoulder and he mouths greedily over it, saliva soothing the roses that bloom beneath his teeth.  He does this every time - marking you in ways you can’t stop, placing a glaring neon sign that reads JEON JUNGKOOK . 

“Stop talking.”  Not that you don’t love his voice - not that you don’t love him, deep down - but because you can’t focus.  You’re far too tightly strung from your earlier activities and your insides feel like they’re melting, molten lava seeping through your system each time he presses back into you.

You can feel every ridge and vein, anchored with nowhere to go by his weight.  It’s absurd how he stretches and fills you - like you can feel him all the way in your throat.  It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Don’t get mouthy,”  he returns, playful as ever.  A small part of you wonders how he looks - if he’s got that stupid grin on his face - but you know you can’t turn.  He’s calling all the shoots now, just like he loves to do.  “C’mere, angel.”  You’re up and back in the next instant;  he’s holding you flush against his chest with ease, hips hardly missing a beat as he pulls you upright.  

Damn him and his strength.

The sound you make when his cock drags against that particular spot inside you is almost laughable.  “Kook .”  His name is hardly that - more of a garbled plea.  You briefly wonder if you look as stupid as you suddenly sound.  

Satisfaction practically rolls off him in waves, suffocating you just as his right hand does, the left darting to focus on your clit.  “That’s right.”  He’s saccharine sweet, nipping and nibbling at your pulse as he feels it jump beneath his tongue.

You’ve done this enough times that he knows you’re close and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t, too.

“Come on, baby.  Let go - I know you want to.”  You can’t stop yourself when he’s whispering so nicely, coaxing you into a state of euphoria with his hand and his cock and his goddamn good-for-nothing mouth.  You’re mewling nonsense, meeting his every movement like your life depends on it.  You’re so close, tittering on the edge of an impossibly dark abyss;  you think you might cry.  

Then all at once, with a particularly rough snap of his hips and just a bit more pressure on your clit, white hot heat sears through you.  It starts in your core and pulls through your limbs, dissolving your bones into nothingness as you reach your long-awaited high.  

Tears are spilling over before you can register it, wetness heavy in your throat and the line of your lashes. 

“That’s right.  Cream all over this cock, baby.  Good girl.”  Jungkook never ceases his quiet words of encouragement or how he rocks against you, your name rolling off his tongue like a balm to soothe the burns he’s left behind.  

Even while he’s chasing his own release, he never forgets about you, humming reassurances into your curtain of dark hair.

You try to return the favour - it’s an almost impossible feat - when his hips stutter and he loses his rhythm.  Fisted into the sheets, your hand finds his, thin fingers coiling around knuckles that strain white beneath permanent ink.  

“Kook.  Kook.  Please cum for me.”  

You’re begging him in a way he can’t resist and he spills inside of you then, filling you so well you can feel it slick down your thighs as he rides out his high.  

When he’s spent and satisfied, he breaks away and tosses himself at your side, rolling onto his back.  He sounds like he’s run a marathon when he speaks, out of breath and giddy.  “God - you’re so good for me.”  He says it almost like he means it as more than it is - more than a casual fuck on a Friday night.

You’re up before he has a chance to pull you to him, picking up your discarded clothes as you move towards his bathroom.    

“You’re leaving?”  Why he sounds so surprised, you’re not sure but you’re grateful for the closed door and the inability to see his face.  You can only imagine how it looks, framed by his just-fucked mess of hair and bathed in the afternoon light.  

You emerge from the bathroom fully clothed, strands of your own swept into a haphazard braid that hides the mosaic he’d painted with his mouth.  You’re careful not to meet his stare as you retrieve your bag from his immaculately kept desk, sliding it over your shoulder.  “I have a report I need to submit tonight.”

“You can do it here.”  He’s not wrong - you’d done most of your university coursework in his living room. 

But that was then and this is now and it’s hard enough sleeping with your best friend without feelings getting in the way so you shake your head and laugh, nonchalant as you can manage.  “You have coffee with that girl from Wednesday at 8 AM and I’m definitely not in the mood for an early morning tomorrow.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head - the proverbial gun he’s about to use to riddle your reasoning with holes - and raise a hand to silence him before he can begin.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”  Then you’re gone, half your heart in your chest and the other in the hands of your stupid, oblivious best friend.

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