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i-rosemarie · 11 months

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Chaos and Order (A perfect balance) - Wanda Maximoff x reader [Part 4 - Training with an annoying ex-spy]

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A/N: have fun reading.

True to your words, you took a quick shower. Put on your new clothes that didn’t smell like smoke, you looked at yourself in the mirror. A simple black, long sleeve shirt. Comfy gray sweatpants. You sighed and started tying the strings. That’s when you heard her sigh in your head. You were spooked and jumped a little.

“Maximoff! What are you doing!?” You squealed and blushed as you turned away from the mirror. She snickered in your head. It was the most adorable sound in the world. You almost smiled along with her, but you couldn’t brush away the thought that she had spied on you when you took a shower. She read your mind and you could practically feel her eye rolled.

“I’m not watching you shower, idiot.” She pouted. God damn it, she pouted! You saw it! “You took forever! I’m just checking.” You grimaced and looked at the clock. It’s been forty minutes. Turned out, a quick shower was not quick enough. No wonder she’s worried. But you still thought in your head, letting her hear easier. “You could have seen me naked!”

She laughed.

“Would it be so bad, detka?”

There was the nickname. You were a shrimp, red all over. Too embarrassed to let her in your head any longer, you snapped at her fondly: “No glimpse for you, Maximoff! No more!” You tried and shut your mind but before it closed off, you still heard her voice playfully taunted you: “Whyyyyy?” She dragged her voice.

“I don’t let pervert get in my mind.” You shot back and shut her out. You still heard her say ‘chicken’, but you brushed her off and tied your strings as fast as you could, afraid she was still lingering. You then raised your hands to rub your face warily. Wanda Maximoff was going to be the death of you. However, her showing up made your guilt dissipate like smoke in the air. She didn’t blame you. She didn’t hate you for what you did. And even though you were still scared out of your mind at the fact that Chthon was trying to take her away, you put yourself together and walked out of your little compartment. Hers was just right across the hall. You had to keep your promise to her.

She was right there, but so far away. You stared at the door, unsure of yourself. Your hands were shaking like they were reflecting your conflicting mind. You regretted it a little. Shutting her out, that was. You paced back and fort in front of her door, never minded that there was someone walking toward you. You almost jumped like a squirrel when a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Why are you being a creep?”

It was Tony Stark. He was wearing the exact same attire as you. The only thing that made the difference was the glowing object in the place of his heart. He looked like he was just napping and went out for a night drink. His hair tousled, and his eyes were surrounded by a dark circle. This man didn’t have an easy life. You could tell, by just looking at him. And yet, he always acted so playful, like he was untouchable. He was just like you, somewhat. Your heart ached for him.

Seeing you didn’t give him an answer, he shuffled his hand in his cashmere cardigan. He was looking for something. You didn’t know. But then, he pulled out a pack of dry blueberries and offered it to you. You frowned at it, like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world, but the billionaire just shoved it in your hand in a weirdly awkward manner. He said: “Take it. The best night snack, kid.” You fiddled with the package in your hand. It was cold to the touch, like it was freshly stolen from the fridge. You hummed.

“Don’t be so grumpy, kid.” He patted your head. Nobody ever did that aside from your parents, and you felt yourself taking a step back away from him. He sighed and withdrawn his hand. You saw him looking at his palms for a moment, like he hated them, like he was in mixed feelings about if he should keep it or not. You wanted to reach out to comfort him, but you thought: who were you? You were not close with him. Did you have the right to comfort him? You didn’t. So, you halted there, with your hand awkwardly stretched out. He tentatively patted your outstretched hand and sighed: “Witchy is waiting. Don’t keep her waiting. It’s never a good thing.”

He shuffled away, down to the hall and disappeared into one of the doors. No doubt, he was wandering to the lab again. You wondered how much did Tony sleep. But you didn’t have time to ponder, for you saw Pietro peeking out of his room, which was right next to Wanda, and glaring at you with his intense, watchful eyes. You frowned at him. Of all the moment, this was one time you regretted saving him. That regret only intensified when he muttered: “Not gonna knock?”

Apparently, you didn’t have to. The door opened itself when you were about to snap at him. With a red wisp. You could realize that red anywhere. Wanda was awake. You tossed him a glare and walked through the door, closing it behind you quietly as you entered. As a good patient as she was, Wanda didn’t get out of bed, she was still laying on the pillow. Her eyes watched your movement. On her face was an amused expression.

You shifted uncomfortably as you stood in the middle of the room, didn’t quite know what you should do next. When she patted the empty space on the bed next to her, you gravitated to her like a puppy. Took the place she offered; you took a closer look at her. She seemed well. Not a bruise spotted on her flawless skin. You breathed out a sigh in relief. She was okay. You reminded yourself. She was okay…

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, you leaned down, had your hands drifted from her neck to her shoulder. Worming your hand under her head and adjusted her position on the pillow, you smiled a little when she let out a happy sigh. What you didn’t notice was the distance between the two of you. You had gotten so close to her that your lips were just inches away from hers. On her face was a pretty shade of pink. Her green eyes looking straight into you with a daze expression, and you reared back, blushing hard. You blubbered out an apology, but she had her hand on the collar of your shirt. You couldn’t shy away if you wished to.

“Hey, stranger.” She mumbled. Her breaths ghosted over your face. The smile on her lips was magnetic, majestic. Your throat suddenly tightened, dry like you had never knew how water tasted like. Her scent invaded your nostrils, making you dizzy. It took every ounce of your self-control to not lean down a bit more and tasted the cherry red that was her inviting lips. The best you could think of at that moment was to croak out a stupid sentence: “You know my name. Technically, we are not stranger… I mean…”

Wanda laughed aloud. She let go of your shirt to cradle your cheek with her soft palm. The tender touch effectively shut your rambling mess. You stared down at her, clearly affected by her presence. “Why so nervous, detka?” She cheekily asked. The light in her eyes danced joyfully, twinkled under the shade of the dimmed bedside lamp. You had to swallow harshly to calm yourself down and detached from her. Being so close to her rendered you thoughtless. She was so dangerous to your little heart. It was beating like it wanted to jump out of your chest and fall into her opened hand.

To save yourself from further embarrassment, you didn’t dare to look at her. You were sure that you were burning up. You were also sure that she saw that, too. She was enjoying it a little bit too much. Her hand drifted from where your face once was, to your sternum, and gave it a gentle tap before the tip of her finger glided up and lifted your chin. You weren’t able to fight her. You let her lift your head and you looked at her.

She was staring deep into your soul. Eyes so soft that they melt your heart like a pool of squishy marshmallow. You got lost in that forest green for what felt like an eternity, and you were not sure if you wanted to escape it. All your anxiety was washed away when you saw her smile. All your sense of space vanished when she let her finger trail down your arm and fidgeted with your sleeve. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and let the closeness with her soak through your bones.

You knew she was trying to comfort you, and it worked wonders.

Took you a full minute to calm down and were able to murmur out: “How are you feeling?”

Your wandering hand, the one that was free and didn’t have to hold the weight of your body slowly engulfed hers and she giggled. Her delicate fingers left your shirt to cling onto your hand. “Perfect.” She said, with a hint of happiness. “I’m perfect. Now that you are here.”

Your heart jumped at her words. It squeaked out of a joy you hadn’t felt in too long. It was like your lungs were filled with butterflies, fluttering softly as if they wanted you to notice. You did notice. Your hand trembled a bit. You tried to regain your composure by clearing your throat. You didn’t understand why, but she always made you feel at ease and restless at the same time. Being next to her was like on the edge of the cliff. You could either fight it or just give in.

Being with her felt so right, so real. Being with her was like finding a missing piece that filled the gaping hole in your chest where it used to be a heart. With her, all thoughts of running, all attempts at dying were pointless. You saw the world in her eyes. You saw an endless, blue, blue sky. You saw a future where it wasn’t all blood, deaths, and tears. With her, you saw the light at the end of the tunnel. With her… You felt like you truly lived.

It was just a few days since you met her. In such a short time, she had slipped into your soul, nested herself in a comfortable space and lived there as a mender of your broken soul. You wished you could do the same to her. You wished you could show her all the greatness you saw in her. You wished to protect her from all the hurt the world might hold. It was an insane thing to ask, but you couldn’t help yourself. A part of your brain was repeating one thing, on repeat, ever since you saw her in Sokovia. It screamed at you to remember how to love, to cherish, to reach out. To shield, to guide, to protect.

You didn’t understand it then, but you saw it now.

You couldn’t stay far away from her if you tried.

She had to see that you were slipping from reality, for she gently tapped on your cheek, making you focused on her once again. You witnessed her loving smile. You witnessed her little grip on your torso, tugging you down with her. Who were you to disobey the request of a goddess?

“Lay with me…” She whispered in your ears. “I have missed you; you know?”

You only let out a small whimper as you let her tug you down. Your head hit the pillow and she snuggled up in the crook of your neck, breathing in your fresh scent. You stayed stiff like a plank of wood when she shifted and draped her arm across your body. Her shape molded yours perfectly as she leaned in closer. You dwelled in her hug, savouring it silently as she mumbled against your skin, hot breaths tickled, teased your control.

“I was so scared…” She began. Her nose nuzzled your neck. You closed your eyes, feared that she was scared of you, of the world in your head, of what you had put her through. You held your breath, waiting for her words like waiting for the blade of a guillotine to drop down, but instead, what she said broke you more than anything could ever: “I was so afraid… When I peeked into your head and saw that you planned on leaving. You know?” She paused. Her fingers danced up and down your side, as if she was making sure that you were real, that you were really there with her.

“I was so scared that you wanted to disappear, again.” Her voice broke. You didn’t see her face, but you tried. She refused to open her eyes, but a lone tear still slipped out, wetting your feverish skin like poison. Your heart suddenly got heavy, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her lithe body, tugged her closer to an impossible distance, driving her flush against your side. You heard her stuttering breaths, but you were determined to show her that you were not going anywhere. That you couldn’t, even if you tried.

She buried her face into your shoulder as she continued, her voice shook slightly; “I was so scared… That I would never have a chance to tell you…” You wrapped her into your embrace, fully now, as she basically laid on top of you. You didn’t mind. Her weight was grounding, like she was the anchor of yours in this surreal world. “I was so scared, that you didn’t know how deeply my heart ached when I first saw you. I was so scared that you didn’t see how much you mean to me. The day I hurt you… The day I saw you free falling, I felt like a part of my soul was ripped, falling with you.” She took a shaky breath. She was shaking.

You didn’t have to look into her head to know that she was reliving the day you two first met.

Her hand tugged at the helm of your shirt, gripping it tightly. “When we were stuck in your mind, it was torturing. The pain… I couldn’t even guess what had happened to you, detka…” You patted her hair, soothed your fingers through her brown locks as she told her story. You didn’t want her to be this upset. You wished she would give you a smile and acted like nothing had happened. But a wish was only a wish. Reality was much harsher than a dream could ever be.

“I don’t know what you have been through, detka, but I know one thing. I know there was something in your head that was, is, telling you to give up on this, on your life, on us. Don’t listen to it.” She lifted her head to look at you with tear-filled eyes. She caressed your face as she looked deep into your soul. “Don’t let it get to you.” She said slowly. Soft but firmed. “I don’t know everything in this world, but I know, you won’t hurt me.”

Wanda placed a small kiss on your throat, and you let out a small sob.

“Don’t let it win. Stay with me…” She peppered kisses across the skin of your neck, making you shiver. You involuntarily gripped her waist as you buried your head into her hair. Her lovely shampoo infiltrated your nose and you let yourself sank into her, trying to quench the fear of Chthon’s threat. She didn’t have to know… she didn’t. You didn’t need to add more stress to her. You would help her deal with her power. You would help her become the one and only person that Chthon feared to overtake.

His voice taunted you in your head, making you wince in pain: “You can’t protect her forever. She will leave you. She will break you. She will abandon you like everyone else.” He seethed. “She is mine for the taking. She’s my chosen vessel. You can’t fight the destiny.”

You didn’t dare to scream. You didn’t even move an inch. You waited until you made sure she had fallen asleep before you slowly replied with a tone so low: “Don’t make me strangle you again, Chthon. Or did you forget how big of a bitch you were when I handed your pathetic arse to you?” You paused to savour his fury as you licked your lips and continued with a sadistic smile: “If we burn, you burn with us. You hear me, luv?” He growled aloud and disappeared. You didn’t let him get far, trapped him in the deepest, darkest part of your brain before letting yourself breathed a little. You let your finger slipped through Wanda’s hair, feeling the coolness and her silky stresses fell across your skin. You would not let him touch her.

Not in your watch.

---

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you opened your eyes, the sun had streamed through the window, dusted Wanda’s bedroom with a shade of gold. The first thing you saw was her, propping up on her elbow, looking at you with a warm smile. You closed your eyes again, trying to force yourself to not give into the comforting sense and smiled back. You muttered out, jokingly: “Didn’t know you are a creep, Maximoff.” You felt her hand ghosted on your face as her finger traced your features, from your forehead to your nose, cheeks and then stopped at your lips. She lingered there for a long time, then decided to press her print on your nose. You heard her voice, light, teasing, when she began: “You are really cute when you sleep, do you know that?”

You grumbled and batted her hand away, crinkled your nose as you turned away from her pivoting body and draped the blanket on your head. “I’m not cute!” You groused out. Your sleep ridden voice made her bit her lips. Fortunately, you didn’t see it. You only felt her laying back down next to you and hugged your middle. “Are we arguing over trivial things, detka?” She husked in your ears, and you shrunk. Your body shook with the impact of her breaths tickling your sensitive part. You pushed yourself up, detached from her and jumped off the bed in the speed of light. That was when you saw her twinkling eyes staring at you, obviously loving the way she made you blushed.

You tugged on the helm of your shirt and looked anywhere but her. You couldn’t face her when she was laughing like she had enjoyed this too much. As you were cornered there, unable to find a way to run, you and Wanda both heard the door cracked opened, revealing a very healthy and amused Natasha Romanoff. Behind her was Wanda’s twin brother, who was eyeing you like he was trying to see if you’re decent or not. His eyes narrowed at you, but you only shrugged. You were embarrassed. It wasn’t like you to have a sleep over. And Pietro was looking at you like you violated his sister.

You swallowed dryly.

Lucky for you, The ex-spy took pity on your state and said: “Glad that you both are awake. Training in ten.” She threw out a sentence and walked away, dragging a very nosy Pietro Maximoff away with her. You grumbled and messed your hair. Your action made Wanda giggled. She got off the bed and stood before you, making you lift your eyes and peered at her through your lashes. She reached up to soothe your frown as she said with a pleasant tone: “Piet is being ridiculous. Don’t murder my brother in broad daylight, please.”

You pouted: “He taunted me all the time!”

“That’s how he is.” Wanda stifled a laugh as she saw your adorable expression. She tickled your side before turning and swaying her hips, strutted to the bathroom. Before she reached the door, she threw her head back to smirk at you: “Go get ready. I will see you at the training centre…” You could actually feel like she held back something, like she wanted to add another word to her sentence, but she stopped herself. You wondered what she was trying to say. You wished for it to be that cute nickname she loved to call you in her mother tongue. Though didn’t know what it meant, you practically could hear the love and affection she hid in that word.

You made it your mission to ask Natasha when the training was over.

Made your way back to your room and performed your daily routine quickly, you didn’t want others to wait for you. Tony had left you a digital map around the tower, helping you with your way around. You followed the trail until you reached the training room. Wanda had already been there. When your eyes landed on her, you suddenly felt like the air left your lungs.

She was in her casual clothes, not fighting suits, or pyjamas whatsoever. Her black top clung on her body, hugging her perfectly as she moved gracefully to dodge Natasha’s attack. Her brown locks swaying in the air. There was a shine of sweat on her skin, covering her and made her glowed like a goddess. You didn’t dare comment about her skin-tight legging, or her soft shoes. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself. But apparently, you didn’t avert your eyes fast enough. A certain speedster had caught you and smiled wickedly as he dashed to where you were standing like a fawn under headlight.

“Enjoying the view?” He grinned charmingly. Well, you supposed it was charming. Had it been other ladies, they would have swooned at his feet, but unfortunately for him, and for you, you had your eyes on another Maximoff to even bat an eyelash at him. You blushed as you glared at him: “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

The older twin smirked: “Yeah, right.” You bunched your hands into a fist, ready to whack him if he tried another word. “Keep THAT image in mind whenever you want to dip.” He taunted and like a wind, he vanished. You saw him appeared next to his sister and pointed at you. You immediately shook away the frown and tugged on your shirt when she turned her head. A bright smile greeted you and you waved back at her meekly.

She was genuinely happy to see you.

She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Natasha’s blow. Your eyes widened as you signed widely for her to look behind. She tilted her head in confusion, unable to understand why you suddenly looked so worried. It was too late. Wanda got decked in the face and stumbled on the ground, moaning in pain. You gasped and tried to run to her, but a hand stopped you. You glared back to see it was Tony Stark. His eyes were dancing with amusement.

Then, you heard both Tony and Natasha said in unison: “Rule number one: Never take your eyes away from your opponent.”

As the ex-spy dragged Wanda up, you focused back on Tony as he spoke to you: “It’s nice of you to join us.” He popped something in his mouth and chewed lazily. You realized that black seeds. It was the blueberries. This man was obsessed with blueberries or something. You thought to yourself. He handed you a fistful of the fruit and you accepted. “Little witch’s hand-to-hand combat is terrible.” He commented. “Romanoff is trying to get her to shape but she’s clearly distracted.” He eyed you up and down and you had the tendency to look ashamed.

“How about yours?”

He asked out of nowhere.

You lifted an eyebrow at him, questioned: “How about my what?”

“Your hand-to-hand combat skills.”

You shrugged: “I’m alright. I learnt self-defence ever since I was a kid. Being the daughter of my parents and all.” A look of lost fleeted across your face. He caught right on. Sadness adorned his features as he lowered his head and looked into his palms. “I remembered your parents.” He said. “We were good friends.” There was something heavy in his tone. You didn’t want to ask. Clearly, lost had been Tony Stark’s best friend. Not so different from you.

“I remember you.” He stared deep into your eyes. And you shuffled away from him. You didn’t want to talk about it. You had met him several times. He was another man back then. Younger, more impulsive. You both had changed so much since the last time you met. “You were barely a teenager…” He stuffed his hand in his pocket and sighed.

“I am a grown up now.” That was the only thing you could say to him.

He nodded. His eyes looked grim. “Yes, you are…”

With a sigh, he lifted his head, and he became a completely different person. He smiled at you. Though it was forced, but it was still a smile, coming from his heart. Though it bore the pain you didn’t understand, you still felt comforted. “I guess we’re both in the orphaned club.” His joke was morbid, but you laughed. You laughed and drew Wanda’s attention. She frowned when she realized you were standing with Tony. Wanda still didn’t like him, even just a bit.

He watched the little exchange of you and Wanda and huffed out a laugh. You didn’t know what was amusing about it, but he patted your shoulder: “Go, train a little, kid. I am heading out. Not going to stand here and suffer witchy’s laser vision on me.” You gawked at him as he walked away. “I ask Romanoff to assess your fighting skill. She will tend to you when she is done with Witchy.”

You remembered something and called after him, making him stopped and looked at you with surprise: “Can I help Wanda with her power?” You asked, a bit unsure of yourself. Stark glanced at Wanda and then back at you. He didn’t say anything. You took that as a sign and tried convincing him: “I can help her harness her power. You know it’s very similar to mine. I can help.” Your words flew out like a stream, and you had to cover your mouth to stop babbling.

“You said you haven’t used your power in a long time. What makes you think you can guide her without you loosing control?” he asked seriously.

“I know my limits.” You answered simply.

He sized you up and down before nodding. You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Do what you want. Don’t blow up the building.”

You huffed and walked away from him. Natasha was waiting for you on the ring, and you swallowed dryly. The redhead didn’t look like she was playing games. Judging by how beaten-up Wanda was right then, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. Taking a pair of gloves, you slithered on to the ring as you faced Natasha Romanoff, but not before you get a gentle tap on the cheek from Wanda. She was making a thumb-up sign with an adorable grin on her lips.

You saw her mouthed: “Go get it, tiger.”

And you couldn’t help but feel a new-found determination. If you didn’t win, then you would manage to not end up on your arse.

“Ready?” The ex-spy didn’t beat around the bush. She confidently faced you as you squared your stance and started warming up. You hadn’t train in a long time, but your muscles memories still remembered the basics. You nodded. “I hope you do better than your girlfriend.” Natasha smirked at how flustered and irritated you were. You casted a quick glance to Wanda and hoped to God she was far enough to not hear. You gritted your teeth: “She’s not my girlfriend!”

The ex-spy rolled her eyes: “Yeah, and I’m not Russian.”

“Are you really Russian?” You bit back. And she smiled at you sarcastically. “Who knows.” She drawled. Moving closer to you, Natasha whispered in your ears: “Deny all you want. See how she will react when you got my legs wraps around your head.” She pushed you playfully and you gaped at her, clearly stunned. You weren’t anticipating that! You stole a glance at Wanda, who looked like she had eaten a whole lemon and felt your stomach dropped. You were dead.

The fight started and you immediately knew that Natasha wasn’t playing around. Her strikes were fast and hard. She was skilful. That’s for sure. You struggled to dodge her punch, never really had an opportunity to hit back. Her movements were smooth and really clean. Sometimes, it felt like a blur in front of you. You were lucky that you didn’t get hit, because if you did, you would have to request porridge for lunch and dinner. You didn’t think your teeth would stay in its place when her fist landed on your mouth.

Sweats began to flow freely from your skin, coating you in a faint cover. You had to swipe your brows as salty droplets started to hurt your eyes. Natasha on the other hand was fine. She was still graceful like a swan. She was toying with you. You knew it. Your laboured breaths were her joy. She taunted: “Not going to impress your girl?” At that, you impulsively swung at her, but got caught mid-air. She twisted your arm backward and snapped your knee, making you kneeled down to the ring. Pain shot through your nerves as you growled out. It coursed through your body like an electric shock, and you heard your bones cracking under her force. She was testing you. You realized. Natasha was trying to push you.

You heard another gasp when you looked outside. Though your eyes were burning with sweat and blurry with the pain, you could somewhat make out Wanda’s form. She had her hand covering her mouth. His brother beside her couldn’t do anything to comfort her. It was clear that she was worried out of her mind.

You didn’t think when you pushed back at Natasha, didn’t think when your arms began to crack loudly. You let the pain flow across your body as you force yourself to stand up. It ended up with Natasha Romanoff holding your broken arm as you sprung up and swiped at her leg. The redhead fell with a thud. She released your arm right after. It flailed on your side, useless. You swallowed down the pain when you took advantage of Natasha’s stunned state and slammed your body down on her.

Another wrong move.

The ex-spy was up in her feet faster than you could think. She kicked you in the chest and you coughed out blood. It would no doubt leave a bruise for days if you didn’t use your power to heal. Your hair was clinging on your forehead as you peered up at Natasha. The redhead was looking at you with a different eye. There was respect and impressed in those darker shade of green. So similar, yet so different from Wanda. She was getting serious. You knew she was now considering you her worthy opponent.

You blocked her punch and landed one on her neck, but it was nothing but a mosquito bite to her. She lurched at you, and you braced yourself for a punch, but you were so wrong. She jumped up. You craned your neck to see what she was about to throw at you, but your reaction was not fast enough. Her long legs woven themselves on your shoulders, gripped tightly as you squared your stance to counter her. But her thighs were so strong. You choked as she slammed you down the mattress again. Her legs around your head and your face nested against her thigh. She twisted until your breaths were cut out and your face turned red. You tried to push her away but it only made her pressed on.

Your ringing ears listened to Wanda’s scream: “Nat, stop!”

You grimace, knew so well that she wouldn’t let go if you didn’t surrender. You tapped vigorously on the mattress, surrendering. She let you go immediately. You gasped for air as you laid there, like a starfish, wailing for water. Natasha sat next to you, panting. You peered up at her and spotted a slowly formed bruise on her cheek. She grinned down, didn’t seem to mind her injury one bit. “That was one hell of a fight, newbie.” And you only could raise your good arm in mock surrender. “Didn’t think you could land a blow on me. Was that a payback for your witch?” She teased and you glared at her.

“If you don’t want a matching black eye, then shut up, Romanoff.” You grumbled. That’s what you said, but you knew she would beat your ass until you couldn’t get up before you could fulfil your threat. She broke out laughing. “No need to be so salty. You did really well.” She swallowed down, like she was so thirsty after the fight. “Have you taken defence class before?” She asked and you nodded. “I did.” You said simply. “My parents didn’t want me to be helpless if I got kidnapped.” You sit up to take the water bottle from her hand and drunk up. The coldness immediately sooth your thirst, but the pain in your arm was a bitch to deal with. You whimpered pathetically as you accidently lifted your broken hand. She frowned.

“You should get that arm checked.” The ex-spy shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that. Not wanting to be embarrassed in front of her that bad?”

Natasha poked right at your sore spot and you glared at her: “Stop it!”

The Russian leaned back and grinned: “Okay, okay.” You two stayed like that for a moment before Natasha said: “You don’t need much training, but you still need to work out a bit more. Your punch can have more force than this.” You nodded. You didn’t have to lift a finger that much when living under HYDRA. It would take a while to get used to this again.

“You can help Wanda, too. She relies on her magic, so her hand-to-hand combat is not very strong.” Natasha pointed at Wanda, who was still stealing a glance at you once in a while, even when she was practicing with her brother. You licked your lips and told Natasha: “Her power is more than enough.” But the redhead shook her head: “It won’t help her when she got detained. She has to be prepared for every scenario. We’re in for a very dangerous life. You and her both need to understand that.”

“You are the one who don’t understand, Natasha.” You faced the Russian and let your power flowed through your veins. Your eyes flashed a shade of red. “You don’t understand that there is nothing, nothing! In this world can stand against us.” You picked up the bottle and it disintegrated into dust right in front of her eyes. “If she understands what she has…” The dust slowly reformed into the water bottle and flew back to your grip. “She will be the ruler of this whole universe.”

A proud smile crept up on your lips as the spy’s hand trembled, indicating her shock. “You look so afraid.” You spoke. “Don’t be. There is no reason to…”

You tilted your head and gave Wanda a wave which she gladly returned.

“I will help her becomes the greatest of all the greats. Do you trust me?”

Natasha sighed and nodded.

“It will be for the best. Your presence here is her gift. I see that now.” The redhead said as she stood up. “She was so meek, so angry when we first met her. But when you came around, she turns a new leaf. She is happy. Protect her. Will you?”

You grinned up at Natasha: “Of course. What else could I do?”

She patted your head and gave you a smile, saying: “Go get that shoulder checked. Wouldn’t want your girl to make a fuzz with me.”

“She is not my girl!”

“Keep denying. Nobody will believe you, kid.”

You bared your teeth: “Not! A! Kid!”

The ex-spy waved you off and called for Wanda. You immediately hid your broken arm behind and wished for the lord that Wanda wouldn’t notice, but no such luck, Natasha with her wicked mouth had already fired away: “Make sure to take care of this asshead. She broke her arm when she tried to act tough.”

You groaned and hid your face in your palm.

Only God could save you now.

As predicted, Wanda rushed to you. She was fuming: “For what reason!? Huh!?” She took your flinging arm, held it carefully in her hand. Her eyes were glassy, like she wanted to cry. You whacked yourself mentally as you sensed her distress. Cursed Natasha Romanoff for not keeping her mouth shut. You tried to tell Wanda: “I.., It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Fuck your ‘fine’!”

Oh, Wanda was mad.

“You have healing ability doesn’t mean it’s okay to do bullshit things!” She chided you.

“Yes ma’am…”

You smiled guiltily as she got you up from the ground. She was still angry, but the way she dabbed away your sweat was gentle and sweet. You smiled at her goofily, didn’t even know that you did so. But she noticed and sighed to suppress a smile breaking from her lips. How could you be that adorable? She asked herself when she pinched your cheek. You let her lead you out of the training room to the hall. You knew this way well. She was taking you to Banner’s lab.

This time, you didn’t complain.

You would follow her anywhere.

#wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #The Avengers

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #naoya x reader #naoya smut #yandere naoya #tw: noncon #tw: abuse

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bunnykawa · 4 years

Text

i’m better than you! (oikawa x f. reader)

summary: If there was one thing Oikawa hated more than geniuses, it was your boyfriend.

a/n: thought about oikawa with a glock and it had me feeling some type of way. so here’s 6.2k words of what’s been in my head. also if you love iwa-chan, i’m deeply sorry. (btw someone replied to my last fic saying they were gonna move to the states with iwa-chan and...yeah that was funny cs this was sitting my drafts)

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, implied character death, mentions of blood/gore, GUNPLAY!!, violence, noncon/dubcon/rape, little bit of exhibitionism?, mentions of cheating, brief mentions of stalking, abusive language/cursing

Oikawa didn’t know when it started.

It could’ve been the first time he ever saw you in school, so quiet and shy, with a pink tinge across your face when you glanced in his direction. Or it could’ve been the first time you spoke to him, with a little tremble to your lips as you struggled to form the right words that would leave a lasting impression. Maybe it was when he started noticing you were always attending his volleyball games, cheering on your school with a big stupid grin on your face.

Or maybe it was a mixture of all these little moments that made Oikawa feel what he felt. It didn’t matter what started it. All Oikawa really knew was that he was so in love with you.

You ended up spending so much time together and blossoming such a beautiful friendship that others didn't expect to happen. It was a dream for him—seeing you smile and laugh, not caring about how you looked. And when you would tease him, it would make him laugh rather than upset him. Yes, he loved you for that. He loves everything about you. From the way you fiddled with your fingers when you had nothing else to do to your weird outbursts when you get excited. You were nothing like the girls who threw themselves at him in hopes of getting his attention.

Often times, after you would hang out, Oikawa would pull down his pants in the privacy of his bedroom and desperately fist his cock until thick spurts of white would shoot onto anything that he was able to steal from your room from all the times he came over to your house. A picture, a shirt, his favorite pair of panties that smelled so deliciously like you, one of your socks that he wrapped around his length as he fucked his hand—absolutely anything he got his hands on that once belonged to you—was enough to have him dizzy with lust, desire, and love.

You became everything to him. If he was ever able to hold you close with his own fingertips, he would be able to die happily. He would even suffice with just a sniff of your hair while you’re actually awake instead of when you’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and he sneaks into your room through the window you always forget to lock. You couldn’t know that, though. Not like he would have been able to make a move on you so soon to make you completely his anyway.

But he would do anything for you. You were his best friend after all.

So when for the first time ever in your close friendship, you suddenly show up to his house unannounced with tears running down your cheeks and shamelessly throwing yourself into his arms, Oikawa was frozen in place for a second.

“He cheated on me, Tooru,” you sobbed into his chest. Oh...all he could do was hold you close, bring you inside, and kiss the top of your head lovingly as your shoulders shook.

“It’s okay, Princess. Let it all out. I’m here,” he cooed.

And, wow...you smelled so good when you were awake. So sweet and pure. Absolutely beautiful...

So why the fuck would he cheat on you?

Oikawa was angry. He was so angry he could laugh at how incredulous the situation was to him. How could he willingly treat you like shit?

After letting him take you away so easily, so Oikawa was forced to resort to pretending that he wasn’t devastatingly in love with you. After being forced to trust him with your heart, convincing himself that he would never hurt you. After having to deal with the fact that every single moment that you shared with Oikawa, that made him fall so deeply for you, was also shared with him. After hearing you scream his name at every single volleyball game you ever attended instead of "Go Tooru!"

It was true—you really were nothing like Oikawa’s fangirls. You didn’t love Oikawa like the fangirls loved him. Never yearned for Oikawa like how his fangirls did.

You loved Iwaizumi, the former ace of Seijoh and the target of most of Oikawa’s sets. And you broke poor Oikawa’s heart every single time he witnessed a loving moment between you and Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand. He was taller, maybe even more cuter, just so much better than Iwaizumi. So why didn’t you choose him?

That’s how you ended up here; shivering in fear on Iwaizumi’s bed as he sat on the swivel chair he usually kept in his bedroom. Iwaizumi's hands and feet were tied together and the ghost of a blue bruise was forming on his right eye. The rest of his face was slightly swollen and there was a smudge of dried blood under his nose. Whenever you glance up at him, he was staring down at his hands in guilt, shame, and maybe anger and pain. But he made no move to try to get out of his restraints. It was no use.

Can we talk? Come over soon.

You received that text from Iwaizumi's number, assuming it was him. Anxiety-ridden and curious, you came to Iwaizumi's house, wondering what he could possibly say after hurting you so bad. The door was unlocked so you let yourself in, but you didn't expect a shirtless Oikawa—your best friend ever since you met him—to be sitting on the couch looking as relaxed as ever with Iwaizumi's phone in his lap. The little dry splatters of crimson liquid that kissed his skin were easy to notice.

As he led you to Iwaizumi's bedroom, your heart was pounding. And when you saw Iwaizumi in such a disheveled state, you were frozen in fear. Oikawa forced you to sit down on the bed, and you would've started screaming for help—you could've, but a metal handle sticking out of Oikawa's pocket caught your eye.

"God, I fucking hate you. Ever since you got with (Y/N), you’ve made it so hard not to rip your skull apart.”

Oikawa was standing a few feet away from Iwaizumi. A million thoughts ran through your head and every single one of them was wondering how this happened.

When did your best friend become so violent?

And when the fuck did he own a gun?

"I know. I made a goddamn mistake," Iwaizumi grunts in pain, "It's over now. We're not together anymore so-...so you don't need to be doing this dumb shit."

Oikawa laughs loudly, "That's not the point, Iwa-chan! The point is you hurt her." He's clenching and unclenching his fists in anger.

"I said I fucking know!" Iwaizumi barks. He was breathing heavily, his chest was rising and falling deeply.

Oikawa's face forms into a deep scowl. Suddenly, he pulls the black pistol out of his pocket and strikes Iwaizumi's cheek with it, making him jerk his face to the side, before pressing it against his temple. Blood drips from the side of his mouth from the sudden impact.

"Tooru," you whimper. You were shaking so bad, trying hard to stay as calm as possible in case he would try to turn the gun on you. The sight of blood made you feel sick. This whole situation was disgusting.

"You're lucky I haven't blown your brains out for stealing my girl. But hurting her, too? I should fucking shoot you right now." Maybe Iwaizumi was scared, just like you. One pull of the trigger and he would be gone in an instant. But he also looked so furious, with his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"Then shoot me, Shittykawa. Fucking do it," Iwaizumi taunts him, "Let (Y/N) see how fucked up you are. Traumatize her."

Oikawa pulls away and presses the pistol underneath his own chin in thought, before he carelessly waves it around as if it was just a toy. Every single time he moved, you jumped in your seat and your heart beat eratically. He was unpredictable. "Fuck that, I don't wanna kill you in front of (Y/N) yet. I'd rather blow her back out than blow your brains out first."

His words send a fearful shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. You’ve never seen this side of him before—never even expected him to be like this.

Iwaizumi growls, "You're sick."

"I'm not sick, Iwa-chan. I'm doing what's right for my girl," he said firmly. He spun the weapon between his fingers.

"She's not 'your girl.' She was never your girl!" Oikawa and Iwaizumi continued to argue, as if one of them wasn't holding a gun capable of killing everyone in the room instantly. “If this is what you consider right, then you’re just a fucking psycho!”

Why did you have to be here? In between this mess?

You cover your face with the collar of your shirt, crying and trembling with your heart threatening to pound until it jumps out of your chest and leaves you dying. The thought of someone just... getting their life stolen in the hands of someone else right in front of you was destroying your mind. Somehow, even if this was all Oikawa's twisted idea, it felt like it was your fault.

"Tooru, I don't wanna be h-here. I... I don't want you to kill him..." you hiccup through your tears. Without you noticing, he slowly walks towards you so that he's directly in front of you, watching you break down. “I wan-wanna go h-home.”

"Put the fucking gun down, dumbass," Iwaizumi warns him.

Looking up from your shirt and desperately brushing away the tears as they fell, you're faced with the muzzle of the barrel pointed straight at you, only a mere few inches away from your terrified face. Behind the pistol was, of course, the man you thought would always protect you.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi snarled, "Don't you dare fucking hurt her. Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Iwa-chan! Since when did you ever care about her like I do?" Oikawa snaps at him. You stay focused on the shiny barrel of the pistol.

You could die right now. Right in front of your ex boyfriend and your soon-to-be ex best friend. Bleeding with your brains on the mattress you once shared with the man you spent a whole year loving.

All because of Oikawa.

"Why, Tooru?" you ask in a cracked voice, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oikawa smiled at you, "I'm gonna make this right, okay? I won't hurt you. I just...follow what I say, okay, Princess?"

“I don’t-” you gulp hard, trying to find your voice, “I really don’t understand any of this. I-...I hate this. I don’t wanna die. Tooru, I’m so-...I-...nng?”

The muzzle is delicately pressed between your lips suddenly, nudging your soft lips apart and cutting you off mid-sentence. You inhale sharply as you stare into Oikawa’s brown eyes, surprised and terrified of his sudden action. It throws you off guard, your body going rigid at the thought of dying at this very second.

What would your parents do? Is anyone even gonna find you? Will Iwaizumi survive? Since when did Oikawa hate you so much that he wanted to stick a gun in your mouth?

“Suck.”

Wait, what?

The fear on your face is instantly replaced with bewilderment. Suck? What does he mean suck? You stare at each other, the confusion evident on your face, but Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling evilly.

“Suck on it, Princess,” Oikawa coos. Is he being serious? Even Iwaizumi, ten feet away and tied up, is looking at him as if he was an alien.

“You heard what I said, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you if you listen to me.” When you don't move, he pulls the gun back only to cock it. Your breath hitches in your throat as he places it back on your lips. "Put those sweet lips around my pistol and suck on it. Make it pretty.”

“What the fuck?” breathes Iwaizumi, gawking at Oikawa’s odd demand.

With the sound of Oikawa cocking the gun fresh in your mind, and fueling your desire to live, you hesitantly wrap your lips around the gun. You start sucking on it, flicking your tongue against the underside of the barrel and slowly bobbing your head around it as you maintain eye contact with Oikawa through your blurry vision. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly, but the feeling of the metal in your mouth made you wince. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, ignoring your tears and trying to think of the weapon as something else.

Oikawa says nothing, his gaze never leaving you while you take his gun as if it was his own cock. The only thing flashing through his mind is that this view is absolutely perfect. Your saliva leaves a thin coating on the barrel every time you pull your head back, just to nibble on the muzzle and swirl your tongue around it, only to let half of the barrel disappear into your mouth again—and it leaves a satisfied feeling in his lower stomach seeing you attempt to submit to him so you could live.

Slowly, he starts pushing it deeper into your mouth, almost to the back of your throat, and you recoil before he can reach that point, grabbing onto his hand that was holding the gun with both of your weak hands. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts in a disappointed tone, “I wanna see you take in more, Princess.” Instantly, you force yourself to relax your throat to let him invade the rest of your mouth. You hold your breath as he hits the back. You’re still trying to bob your head along the weapon, relying on your nose to give you the air that you need.

There was something really fucked up about this whole situation. A red tint is flushed across your face when you glance over at your ex boyfriend, watching you intently. He’s disgusted, that’s for sure—but when you look up to make eye contact with Oikawa, he’s far from disgusted. And it’s easier to tell, because when you trail your gaze to his lower half...

He’s rock hard—bulging from beneath the fabric of his sweats, sweet smile on his perfect face, absolutely no shame in his erection from getting his pistol sucked.

Iwaizumi always knew he was fucking weird.

But there’s an odd, yet familiar sensation, in your lower stomach—a warmth that you know all too well that only happens when Iwaizumi touches you—that makes you clench your thighs and flutter your eyes shut. Looking up at Oikawa, there’s no doubt that he knows what you’re feeling. A small smirk finds its way across his lips.

Iwaizumi didn't know you were fucking weird, either.

Yeah, that’s what’s fucked up about this situation. Why was this turning you on, too?

Oikawa suddenly pulls the gun away, leaving a thin string of saliva following your lips to the harsh metal for a second until it disconnects. He leans in, making you hold your breath, and his lips find yours.

Soft—that’s the first thing you think about when he connects your lips. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs.

So, you do. He feels foreign to you, strange even, and you feel quite awkward kissing him when you never even thought about kissing him before. You were beyond flustered. Despite being in such a stressful situation...he’s gentle. The tip of his tongue trails along the opening of your lips. As a habit, you part your lips and allow him to enter your mouth.

You’re still scared. Your heart is beating so fast. Your breathing is labored from the anxiety sitting heavily on your chest. But Oikawa is strangely calm. In fact, if he wasn’t moving against your lips right now and lapping at your tongue with his, he’d be smiling and laughing at Iwaizumi’s face. I’m kissing your ex girlfriend!

And Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything except stare.

You push your hands against his bare shoulders to pull away. “Tooru, stop it,” you gasp out, “Hajim- Iwaizumi is right there.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t even wanna see him in the first place after coming home to find him with another girl.

With his face close to you, he harbors a blank expression. “So, would you rather...do something else?” You pause for a second, remembering that he has a gun that’s a few inches away from you, and you reluctantly nod your head. His expression changes—a small smirk and softer, relaxed eyes, an indication that he definitely has something else in mind. Regret starts to fog your mind, but you also can’t help but be curious.

“What are you planning, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi asks in an irritated, strained tone. He even sounded a bit...jealous? Was he actually jealous? You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side to shoot Iwaizumi an evil smirk.

“I’m gonna fuck your ex girlfriend, Iwa-chan. Right in front of you.”

You never thought you'd be in this position.

It's hard to fully take in the situation when you literally feel like you're about to pass out from anxiety and all you want is for everything to be calm. At least go back to the way it used to be or how it should be—spending the rest of your time with Oikawa while eating tubs of ice cream and watching movies until you pass out together.

Instead, you're shaking like a leaf while straddling his thighs, fully exposed, soft skin pressing against his. Oikawa is completely bare, too, and while you always admired his athletic ability and perfect body, you didn't wanna see him like this. Not at all. Especially when his finger is still lazily sitting on the trigger of his pistol with it still pointed towards you, challenging you to do something so he can pull it.

It's that mischievous glint in his eyes that make you tense up the most. You want to be angry. You have every right to be, you think, but it's so difficult.

You're trying to cover up your body with your arms, holding onto the small amount of pride you have left, but it's no use when Oikawa is constantly looking you up and down. At the same time, you're trying to avoid looking down—his cock was sitting upright, hard and pulsating and...bigger than you thought he would be.

Way bigger.

"You can give it a little lick, Princess. If it'll make it easy for you."

You bite your trembling lip, shaking your head side to side, "I don't...I don't feel like it, Tooru." Oikawa moves to place his free hand on your waist, trailing his finger tips up and down, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Just try it, baby. I won't bite," he muses, "Or would you rather I-" He picks his gun up higher. That small, annoying smile seemed to never leave his face because he knew the power he had over you at this moment.

"No," you quickly interrupt him. A chuckle vibrates in his chest at your response.

"I think I need to take care of you first, hm?" Before you can disagree with him again, he's sitting up to grab your hips. He flips you both over so he's above you. He opens your legs and lifts them up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, exposing everything to him. You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands.

“Let’s see your face, Princess. Don’t hide,” he insists, “You’re so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen you like this sooner.” You have no choice but to let your hands fall from your face. Oikawa looks so happy. In the corner of the room, Iwaizumi is muttering something under his breath with a flushed, bruised, and bleeding face.

Oikawa runs his fingers along the skin of the underside of your thighs before placing his palms on each. He was still holding onto the weapon. It’s pressing against one of your thighs. Why did everything feel so cold?

You flinch when he leans down towards your heat to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe up your slit. Oikawa stifles a groan at the taste of you. This was what he wanted since the first time he met you—an opportunity to make you his. He wraps his lips around the little sensitive nub at the top of your cunt and sucks on it.

“T-Tooru,” you softly whine in uneasiness. You’re not sure if Oikawa can hear the distaste dripping at your mouth, but he keeps sucking and lapping at you as if you were the last thing he would ever eat. “I really don’t like this, Tooru. This is so embarrassing...”

He looks up at you, locking eyes with you as you silently beg him to stop. He removes one of his hands from your thighs to probe at the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear the familiar slick of your wetness and he spreads it around with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t seem to be that against it, (Y/N).”

Of course you’d be wet—he’s licking and playing with your cunt. When would he understand that?

You gulp nervously, “I don’t want this, Tooru. Please.”

He hums to myself, seeming to be deep in thought as always, before he mutters, “Oh, I know what you want.” You’re confused for a second, but he moves his other hand to hold the pistol at your entrance and...what the fuck?

What the fuck?

“No! Tooru!” you gasp, moving to sit up. Oikawa quickly pushes you back down by your chest. He’s pushing the gun inside you, slowly, but surely—and you feel every single rough patch and texture on the barrel, breaking through the rings of your cunt. “No, no, no!” You’re trying to reach for him, to stop him before he continues, yet he’s able to hold you back with one arm and pushes the pistol inside your pulsing heat, stretching you with the hard metal. It’s an uncomfortable stretch because of how stiff it is. You can already feel the trigger guard pressing at your asshole from how much he filled you up.

You swear Iwaizumi whispers a “holy shit” from his place.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You wanted to get fucked by my pistol?” Oikawa coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. You’re shaking your head, bracing your arms against the bed sheets and chewing on your lip. No. This can’t be happening. “I saw how you reacted when I let you suck on it, Princess. Bet this sweet pussy was already dripping the second I put it in your mouth. I never knew you were so dirty.” He wanted to laugh. The view from between your legs was incredible. He’s glancing at Iwaizumi, who is trying very hard not to look.

“That’s not true!" you gasp. Oikawa continues to pump the gun in and out of you with slow and deliberate strokes. You hate that you feel every single ridge and dent. He leans down to give a few licks at your clit. You’re suppressing a moan in your throat, because this shouldn’t feel good. Every single time he snaps it back into you, you’re gasping for breath. The walls of your cunt are clenching around the thick barrel and it’s hot—you’re heating up from the unfamiliar object forcing its way inside you, forcing you to react. Forcing you to take it in even if your brain is screaming for mercy.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Oikawa mutters, “You’ve been mine since the beginning. I just let him have you.” This time, you’re biting down on your fist as he continues his assault. This wasn’t the Oikawa you met and became best friends with; this was an absolute monster. Maybe this was who he was the whole entire time—a liar, a master manipulator, a delusional psychopath who couldn’t understand the chemicals behind truly loving someone.

But that doesn’t matter right now because fuck—the consistent strokes of Oikawa fucking you with his pistol felt good. The tiny moans you’re letting out proves everything, even as you try to hold them back. It’s so hard to stop your hips from bucking against the hard metal, even harder to stop that stupid fire burning in your pelvis. God, you’re about to fucking explode.

It doesn’t feel good, you’re trying to convince yourself. This is assault. This is rape. This doesn’t feel good. You’re not turned on, you’re just terrified if he pulls the trigger—

“Let it out, baby. The gun’s still fully loaded,” he whispers against your lips with a smirk, suddenly lifting himself up to press his forehead against yours. His words were ringing loudly in your ears, reaching every single nerve in your body. You part your lips in shock, your legs are shaking violently against your chest, and your eyes are finally rolling back into your head. A loud moan erupts from your throat, high-pitched like a scream. Quickly, he connects your lips and forces his tongue inside.

Fuck.

It almost hurts with how tightly you’re clenching onto the gun still inside you. But it’s one of the best feelings that you’ve ever felt because you’re cumming. You’re actually cumming. Your pussy is hot with so much shame, but you’re still gushing juices, soaking Oikawa’s hand.

You’re cumming on a fucking gun.

The room is silent as you’re coming undone. Iwaizumi is dazed, obvious from the look on his face as he’s staring at the place between your legs and the wet spots soaking the sheets. Oikawa stands upright on his knees, and you notice that his pelvis is wet from your juices. How embarrassing. How utterly fucking embarrassing. He’s pulling the gun out of your cunt and raising it up to his face, examining how your cum is running down to the handle.

Oh, that’s really satisfying. He could take a picture right now, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time.

"Cumming just from my pistol?" Oikawa chuckled, "So fucking dirty. I love it. I could get you pregnant right now. Pump you up with my kids, would you like that?"

“Fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi speaks up all of a sudden. Oikawa simply scoffs at the other man before pulling you closer to rest your thighs against his hips.

You wheeze, completely out of breath, “No, Tooru. I’m done. I need to leave.” With the palms of your hands against the mattress, you weakly try to pull yourself up and away from Oikawa’s grasp.

“I said I was gonna fuck you, didn’t I?” Oikawa hums, pulling you back against his hips and placing his tip at your entrance. You wanna move away, and you really try to by moving to scoot away from him, but you feel so weak. He’s still holding onto his disgustingly wet gun—wet from you. Has he even put it down at all?

"I never break promises," Oikawa sighs, with a big smile on his face, "And you’re so beautiful, (Y/N). How did I ever stop myself before? I should've taken you even if that fucker was still with you."

You’re trying to protest. You’ve been trying all night, but Oikawa is so persistent with wanting his revenge—revenge that you never even wanted. But he’s also thinking that this is it—this is the stepping stone of becoming the object of your affection. Not Iwaizumi, the man you loved and who cheated on you. Not anyone else. Just your best friend.

His hands are gripping onto your hips as he arches your back for his hips to meet yours. It’s another uncomfortable stretch as he pushes passed the fleshy walls of your pussy with his throbbing cock. You’re already wet—he has no struggle sinking into your pussy—and the squelching sound your wetness makes and the sharp whine that you let out in response to his movements are music to his ears.

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re tight, Princess. I thought Iwa-chan was fucking this pussy every night before.”

It seemed like Iwaizumi wasn’t in the room at first, even if you were hyper-aware of that fact and it made your whole body become flushed. If you could hear his thoughts right now, he would most definitely be thinking that this fucking sucks. There’s a crack in your voice when you let out a low moan at Oikawa finally sheathing you on his cock.

“How is it? Bigger than Iwa-chan?” he teases you. He pulls back only to dive deeper into your wetness. The feeling of his cock sliding against your walls makes you tremble. You’re so sensitive from how he fucked you with his gun less than five minutes ago, it’s a surprise that you haven’t passed out from the extra simulation he’s giving you.

“Shut up,” you groan, looking off to the side. When Oikawa is comfortably settled between your folds, he leans over you to brace his hands on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your small hands around his biceps as he slides in and out of you, squeezing desperately.

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want to admit it, huh?” He suddenly snaps his hips sharply against yours, jerking your whole body upwards. “You don’t need to say it. I know how you feel, anyway.” It fucking hurts. His cock is longer, thicker, and going deeper than his gun was.

“How would you even know how I feel, Tooru?” you ask in a shaky tone. The anxiety never seemed to go away. Maybe you kept quivering because of your new-found fear of the brown-haired man above you, or maybe it was because you can still feel Iwaizumi burning a hole through you—he probably realized how much he hated you because if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be sitting tied up in his own home witnessing his friend rail his ex girlfriend.

Oikawa knew, though, that it was because you couldn’t fight the way your nerves were responding to how he touched you.

“Because if you didn’t like this, you wouldn't be under me right now,” he says lowly. With his hands gripping the sheets next to your head, he forces you deeper into the mattress with his body weight. The gun next to your head would’ve made you nervous, but you were too focused on the way Oikawa’s cock was drilling into your pussy like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself there for you to remember forever.

Every time he thrusts into you with all his strength, you’re gasping and moaning, gripping onto his biceps that flexed so deliciously as he filled you up completely. Your body was betraying you, writhing beneath him, basically begging for him to give you more. To make you cum one more time from just his cock.

“You really think this is funny, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growls. You tense up at the sound of his voice—the anger dripping in his tone. “Basically raping my ex girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa purrs, “It’s so...satisfying.” He’s building up his pace, and pretty soon he’s pounding into you with such a force that you’re struggling to let out moans and end up up letting out breaths of air and whiny squeaks. “Especially since she likes it so much. Right, (Y/N)?” Your eyes are rolling back at the sensation—you’re not even trying to deny it at this point. No matter how fucked up or disgusting you look right now, you couldn’t escape Oikawa and you couldn’t stop your pussy from sucking in his cock hopelessly like he belonged inside you.

“I fucking hate you.”

The area on your pelvis is undeniably hot now. Sweat was appearing on your skin despite being fully naked and exposed to the cold air in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Oikawa is consistently snapping his hips into yours while you’re trying to control your own hips from trying to buck into his. Trying to hold onto what little sanity you have left before you’re ultimately forced to let go on his veiny cock.

Oikawa is your best friend—was your best friend, you don’t even know anymore. Fuck, he’s evil, giving you a warm, welcoming smile with a gun laying next to your head and ravaging your insides at the same time. This isn’t normal. But damn did this feel so fucking good.

You’re crying now, the tears running down your cheeks in a steady stream. Fuck Iwaizumi. Fuck Oikawa’s gun. Fuck the insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, and guilt that you’ve had inside you for the past few weeks after your failed relationship, crying into Oikawa’s lap every single time. Fuck everything.

Only his name is forming at your lips, accompanied by wails of pleasure. You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Iwaizumi, who you thought would be the only person making you cum until you’re stupid.

“F-fuck, Tooru,” you manage to gasp out. All your muscles are clenching involuntarily. It only makes Oikawa groan, your pussy unbelievably squeezing even tighter around him, pulling him inside you.

“Are you okay, my baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?”

Your head is spinning and you just want it to stop. All you’re thinking about is how roughly Oikawa is fucking into you and the pleasure he’s bringing in waves washing over you. He’s not even touching your clit—the base of his cock is just hitting your swollen nub every time he thrusts inside of you, letting tiny shocks run through you.

“This is my pussy now,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck this. I’m gonna stretch out this little cunt every day and you’re gonna let me, right? You’re gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?”

Let go, every sensor in your body is screaming.

"C'mon, Princess. Tell me. Tell Iwa-chan how much you love my cock inside you. Tell us how much you wanna be filled with my cum," he grins as he shoves his length into you roughly. He nudges your head to the side and attaches his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking and biting at the area. You arch your back off the bed and you don't hold back anymore—you're chanting his name, finally, begging for him.

"Tooru-mmm, please," you plead, "Fuck me, please! I'm...I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum, Tooru!"

Then Oikawa lifts himself up, bracing himself on one of his arms before bringing his gun against your lips again. You don't hesitate to stick your tongue out, letting it in your mouth this time. God, he could fucking cum at the sight of you willingly sucking on his pistol, swirling your tongue over the metal surface. He won't shoot, he just wants to see you submitting to his gun and his cock like he's a king.

It's taking everything within you to not pass out from violently twitching and spasming on his cock, letting your juices squirt all over him once you open your mouth to cry loudly. His gun is still pressing into the base of your throat, so your scream drawls out into a choking noise. Oikawa is letting out a string of curse words—your juices are coating his skin and spraying all over his cock.

Your thighs feel so sore, and you're a sputtering mess as he pulls his gun away from you. It's covered in your saliva. Oikawa is lifting himself up, panting heavily, observing the erratic movement of your chest and the red flush of your body. He doesn't bother to pull out of your convulsing cunt. Why are you still trembling like that?

But it's okay. Oikawa is so happy, so pleased. You were such a good girl—he knows for sure that you finally accept him and want him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sang with delight in his tone to catch Iwaizumi's attention. Damn, you completely forgot he was still there.

Oikawa is finally upright on his knees, leaving you sweating on the bedsheets. Iwaizumi looked up, cringing in disgust and fueled with anger and envy from watching Shittykawa himself take your body so relentlessly as you were cumming beneath him. Oikawa lifts his arm, pointing the shiny metal weapon towards the other man in the room. He was still throbbing inside you, enjoying the feeling of you still twitching gently around his cock from your orgasm. With half-lidded eyes, you look up at him weakly, suddenly admiring his toned, muscular body and the sweat glistening on his abs. You're not sure if he came inside you, but the wetness escaping your hole and the feeling of his length twitching, too, is more than enough proof that he probably did.

"What do you want now, you fucking asshole?" Iwaizumi snarls.

The words that come out next are so snarky, filled with hate and arrogance. "Just wanted to let you know that I’m better than you," Oikawa sneers, "And I don't shoot blanks."

He finally pulls the trigger. The sound of a gunshot is piercing the air and Oikawa jerks slightly from the recoil. Then it's completely silent. Your thighs are still shaking, you’re still struggling to find your voice, and your brain seems to be focusing through the haziness. He leans down to give you the sweetest kiss, as if to say that everything will be okay now. The smell in the air was suddenly pungent—a mixture of sweat, sex, gun powder and...blood? Holy shit. You're screaming now.

Holy shit, Oikawa.

3K notes · View notes

mercurysstars · 3 years

Text

All That Glitters Is Not Gold (part 6)

Summary: Y/n gets hired to be the avengers chief physician and also happens to be an ex assassin.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing, the reader getting angry, violence.

A/N: hope you’re having a better day than Y/n ;)

𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦

𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨?

Y/n's stomach grumbled as she made her way toward the kitchen. Between getting her room organized and training with Peter for 2 hours she didn't get a chance to eat and it was really catching up with her now. She groaned rubbing her face while she yanked the refrigerator door opened. After searching for several minutes she decided to give up and make a sandwich.

Y/n grabbed the bread and a plate out of a cupboard, she returned to the fridge and pulled out meat, cheese, lettuce, and just as she was about to grab a tomato her phone rang. Without checking the caller ID, Y/n answered, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Y/n Y/l/n speaking."

"Hey, doc it's Matt we've got kinda a situation here." Matt hesitated, Y/n could hear muffled yelling in the background.

"Okay? What's up?" She was confused it wasn't like him to call out of the blue and it was especially weird for him to not sound sure of himself, he was a lawyer, and lawyers always put on a confident front even if they weren't. Y/n began to cut the tomato into thin slices.

"So I kinda have one of his men tied to a chair in my living room." He blurted out quickly.

Well, that was unexpected "Are you sure it's one of his?" She asked cautiously.

"Yeah I checked, he has the branding. I normally would have just questioned him and texted you but the thing is he only speaks Latin."

She sighed, all Y/n wanted to do was eat 5 sandwiches, snuggle up in her comfortable bed and binge-watch the umbrella academy "Alright put him on the phone."

Y/n heard what sounded like the phone getting set down and the floorboard squeaking under Matt's weight. She heard a bit of wrestling and the sound of tape getting ripped off of something. She heard a quick shuffling and Matt picked the phone back up "Here he is."

"Sumus iens ut satus off facile. cur in New York." She questioned. Y/n started to make her sandwich again. We are going to start off easy. Why are you in New York?

"Im 'non adnuntiant vobis cacas." He hissed. This man was definitely one of his. Y/n rolled her eyes not in the mood for this. I'm not telling you shit.

"Iniuriam. Te volo experior quod iterum?" She purred. Wrong. You want to try that again?

At that moment Bucky decided to wander into the kitchen he heard someone speaking Latin and his curiosity got the better of him. He saw Y/n leaning against the counter talking to someone on the phone. Her eyes snapped up to meet his 'You want one' she mouthed to him nodding toward her sandwich. He shook his head and she shrugged.

The muffled talking through the phone caused an angry tick to Y/n's jaw "Pone super daredevil." She gritted out through clenched teeth. Put daredevil back on.

Y/n had to take a moment to collect herself before she threw something at the wall "Hey I'll be there in a bit." She hung up and when she turned back to Bucky her face softened.

He didn't know what to say, he's never seen someone 180 that quickly in his long life "Quite the conversation you had going on there." He tried to break the silence.

She chuckled nonchalantly "Oh yeah just some idiot that won't do what he was told."

"I didn't know you knew how to speak other languages." He quipped.

Oh Bucky you only know a part of me, I am a universe full of secrets she thinks. "I don't kiss and tell Sarge." She instead said.

Right after the words left her mouth Tony walked into the kitchen. "Hey, Sunshine I've got a meeting so I'm going to have to cancel for tonight."

Y/n's eyes lingered on Bucky for a few seconds then she turned to Tony "Convenient because I have some business in Hell's Kitchen to take care of."

Tony opened his mouth to press further until she added "Don't ask because you don't want to know."

Bucky ever the curious couldn't help himself or keep his mouth shut and blurted "What if I want to know."

Y/n raised an eyebrow at the super-soldier, amused "Would torturing a man until he confesses answer your question?"

She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Bucky's eyes went comically wide "She's joking right?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose at her recklessness and shook his head "Stay safe." He yelled back to Y/n.

Y/n let herself into Matt's apartment he have given her a key when he moved in. When Y/n was younger her father decided that she needed further training so he hired a blind war vet that specialized in martial arts. There she met Matt they clicked instantly him being only 2 years old, he taught them how to hear things others couldn't smell more things that you wouldn't believe was possible, how to heal faster, and even how to fight without seeing.

Y/n walked down the poorly lit hallway leading to his living room just wanting to get think over with. In the living room, the man had a cloth covering his eyes, hands were tied behind the chair behind his back and each leg was tied to the bottom of the chair. Matt was leaning against the counter already waiting for her arrival, he nodded toward her, acknowledging her presence.

Y/n sauntered over to the man, she lifted up the corner of his shirt and tisked "Mark of Cain, definitely one of his men."

The man began to thrash around hearing her voice, she pulled the eye cover off and smirked "Heu est dere." Hey there hun.

"Pedicabo ego vos bitch." He spat furiously. fuck you bitch.

Y/n frowned at him "Bene quod suus 'non ut salutaret domina." That's no way to greet a lady.

She stood up and patted his cheek giving him a sickening smile that gave him the chill "Sit scriptor committitur. Cur ipse mittet vobis?" Let's start. Why did he send you?

"Irrumabo." He growled, the man jumped at her but the restraints didn't allow him to get far. Suck my dick.

Annoyance began to trickle down her spine and anger rushed through her body. "ego suadeant vos satus loquentes." She snapped in an angry tone. I suggest you start talking.

"Terrebis me non ex vobis, qui non vis tua boyfriend est vulputate." I'm not scared of you or that want to be superhero boyfriend of yours.

No longer being able to control her anger Y/n grabbed him by his hair and tilted his face up "Take a vultus, vultus diu, et bonum dicitur lets videre tua si adhuc durat." She fumed. Take a look, a good long look, and let's see if your statement still stands.

The man studied her face for several moments before recognition flickered through his eyes "Lamia." He breathed. Lilith.

"Nunc autem dic mihi, quid invenerunt in me pater meus!" She shouted her patience ran out long ago and she didn't hesitate to show it. Now tell me how he found me!

"Cur te et ipsum interrogate." The man taunted. Why don't you go and ask him.

The grip on his hair tightened and she lowered down eye level to him "Ego suadeant tu dicas, quod primus est I. cut off vos erant 'iens ut ne nimis" she pulled out her knife and nodded downward. I suggest you tell me because the first thing I cut off you're not going to like very much.

The man's eyes went wide and he attempted to squeeze his legs together. Fear settled into his stomach, he didn't know if she would keep her promise but he also didn't want to find out.

"Hoc tantum scio, aliquem cum Vindices compositis ei" He squeaked out. All I know is someone at the Avengers compound told him.

She didn't let her shook show, she kept her face cold and calculated even though her heart was beating a million miles per minute. "Si igitur deus, auxilium tu mihi mendacem." So help me God if you're lying.

"Im 'non ego promissionem." He exclaimed and Y/n believed him, she tended to have that effect on people. I'm not I promise.

"O Deus, hes 'iens ut interficias me." He muttered shaking his head. Oh god, he's going to kill me.

The man kept whispering to himself and Y/n grew tired and shoved a sock in his mouth. She stood back up and turned to Matt. "Dump him on 23rd street, my father will take care of him soon enough."

Y/n blew on her hot cocoa watching the mini marshmallows swirling around, sure it the middle of September but it was her comfort drink. She tried to go over everyone she knew in the compound. How could she be so dumb? How could she let her guard down? She was trained better than this. It didn't matter now what she did or didn't do, but Y/n knew she wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Y/n could hear the elevator ding from her office and she was confused. All the Avengers were either busy with training or on a mission. She set down her mug on her desk. A blonde head of hair peaked its head in. "Dr. Y/l/n?"

"Teresa how can I help you?" She questioned. Y/n was confused as to why she was up here Teresa shouldn't even be able to get past the 5th floor.

Teresa stepped closer with her hands behind her back "I got a paper cut stapling some papers together and I came up here for a bandaid."

Teresa was looking everywhere but at her. Y/n could tell she was lying but about what? Then it clicked, how he found out where she was, the weird look she gave her, what Sam said about her sudden move down to the front desk, but then the question struck again. Why was she up- she was up here to kill her.

Teresa lunged at Y/n with the knife she had hidden in her hands behind her back. Y/n went to block but she wasn't quick enough and Teresa cut a long strip down her arm and she hissed, it hurt more than she remembered. Teresa went to slash her again but Y/n grabbed her wrist and twisted causing her to drop the knife.

Y/ n grabbed her mug and smashed it over her head, Teresa staggered backward falling into a bookshelf. Teresa cocked her gun and began to fire, Y/n leaped over the table to take cover behind her desk. Her gun was on the other side of the office strapped underneath a chair. Bullets blew past her body, she shielded her head with her arms, the gun clicked signaling it was out of bullets.

She rolled from under her desk onto her feet. This time Y/n rushed toward Teresa, she threw 2 punches which Teresa both blocked, but the 3rd one Y/n got a hit to her cheek. Teresa attempted to throw a kick but failed, she went down and swept her legs. Y/n fell backward, she rolled onto her hands and shoulder, she pushed up causing her to land right side up, Y/n's movements were a bit slower and staggered due to the blood loss.

Teresa went to hit her but then Y/n grabbed her arm and the back of her neck and smashed Teresa's face into a mirror. With a bloody face, Teresa peeled herself off the wall Y/n collapsed feeling lightheaded. Teresa stood over with her knife ready in hand, she brought her hand up into the air, but Y/n grabbed the from under her chair and shot her right between the eyes. Teresa collapsed backward and the knife slide across the floor.

"FRIDAY Initiate the red button protocol." She coughed out.

"Alerting Avengers now."

Y/n grabbed her arm and hissed, she shouldn't have collapsed this soon, even if it was a cut this big, and the sting was worst too, but then she put it together Teresa would have had a better chance to kill her if she laced the knife with something.

She heard Bucky calling out her name "In here." She chocked out. Bucky rounded the corner to her office and ran in, there were papers scattered everywhere, the desks and chairs knocked over, glass broken. He crouched beside Y/n she was fighting consciousness.

"No Y/n don't you fall asleep on me." He demanded putting her head in his lap.

"It'll be okay Buck." She patted his cheek in a comforting manner.

"No, no, no, hold on they will be here in 30 seconds" He pleaded. That was the last thing Y/n heard before everything went dark.

Part 7

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #buck barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #buck fanfic #james buchanan barnes

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Full Disclosure

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

In which Sam and Valerie clear the air between them.

Word count: 5176

READ ON AO3

Before we go in, I just wanted to say that I hope I did the characters justice. Really, it’s all I ask because I’m still fairly recent in the fandom (as in, actively participating rather than fangirling on my own) and I’d hate to make a travesty of characters that mean so much to me. Oh, and this one-shot can take place in whatever timeline you want: you hate PP with a passion? Don’t worry, it didn’t happen. You actually think it’s a good finale? That works too. There shouldn’t be anything that indicates this story takes place in anywhere in particular other than Amity Park, so... All you need to know is that Valerie knows.

Please, enjoy!!

As an intense throb manifested itself in her right side, eliciting an involuntary groan to escape her throat, Sam was more frustrated at herself than aching from the hit. It had been two years already since Danny had the accident that gave him his powers, consequently beginning the constant battles against ghosts that made their teenaged life significantly harder, and, as they came to appreciate their lifestyle, significantly more interesting, too. Once Danny gained his ghost powers, she and Tucker took it to themselves to make sure their friend was always supported and aided when fighting his ghostly adversaries.

And with that came the injuries.

They certainly didn’t get hurt as often or as gravely as Danny, since he was usually the one facing the mischievous spirits head-on, but they still had to get used to their own fair share of beatings. The teachers were understandably surprised when they effortlessly completed their first aid training in Health class.

All in all, Sam was used to getting hurt.

Which made the fact that Valerie had landed such a perfect kick that it literally left her breathless all the more humiliating.

Valerie Gray, a.k.a. the Red Huntress. Danny Phantom’s longtime pursuer and Danny Fenton’s one time girlfriend. The once popular girl was now their trustworthy ally. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was thoroughly kicking her butt. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a ninth degree black belt.

“Had enough, Manson?” Valerie taunted with a raised eyebrow.

Getting up slowly, Sam sent her a smirk alongside a challenging, determined look. “Never.” And with that she leaped on the ghost huntress, using her momentum to connect a punch to her face. But Valerie was faster, blocking the Goth girl’s attack with her forearm before sliding her leg under Sam’s to make her lose her balance. Seeing what her opponent was up to, the violet-eyed girl quickly got out of her way, widening the space between the two to give herself some time to think up a new strategy.

Smirking at Sam’s maneuver, Valerie appraised her with pride. “Not bad, Sam,” she said before changing her stance, ready to pounce, “but the extra space won’t save you from this.” Leaping into the air, the Red Huntress didn’t waste a moment to knock Sam to the floor with a roundhouse kick boosted by her movements.

Even if the Goth blocked the attack by keeping her palms up in front of her face, the sheer force behind it was still enough to knock her down. That was gonna bruise in the morning, she was sure of it. Glancing up she noticed Valerie looking down at her with a smug look on her face and her hands on her hips. Sam barely resisted the urge to scowl darkly at her. Panting, she conceded, “Alright, alright. Maybe now I’ve had enough.”

Chuckling at Sam’s proud nature, the green-eyed girl bent down slightly to offer her friend a hand and lift her up from the floor. Once Sam was at her eye-level, she looked down on her watch, now serving as a chronometre. “Five minutes. That’s a full round! Congratulations, Sam. So far, you’re the one who’s lasted the most against me.” She applauded her, but her face betrayed her. She was about to burst out laughing.

Snorting, the Goth girl elbowed her slightly on the arm. “Knock it off! Even if I lost, I still managed to land a few hits myself.”

“Yeah...Trust me, you don’t have to remind me.” Valerie complained with a pointed look as she rubbed her lower back. Early on in the match, Sam kneed her there. Thank goodness she wasn’t tasked with unloading the Nasty Burger’s products that week. “I’m serious, though. Danny without his powers lasts a minute and a half, tops. And Tucker...well, let’s just say that taking one hit without passing out is already a victory when it comes to him.”

“Yeah, he and Danny really should do more exercise.” The two girls laughed at that. These past two years Danny’s skill when using his powers had skyrocketed. Enemies that used to give him a hard time were now more of a headache. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the fight to get rid of the Ghost Box. Now, as Danny Fenton… He’d gotten taller, that was for sure. But he still had the nasty habit of relying on his powers a little too much, which didn’t do his P.E marks any favours. And Tucker was still far more interested in whatever his PDA had to offer than the wonders of physical exercise.

In truth, everyone had changed during that time, if only a little.

Sam was still as Goth and ultra-recyclo-vegetarian as always. Her raven hair was slightly longer, now reaching her shoulders, but she still wore it mostly loose and framing her face, except for the one strand she kept in a high ponytail. Her fashion sense hadn’t changed much either. She wore a black crop top with Danny’s logo on it instead of the old purple ovalーthe town began selling merchandise of its hero to attract, and basically rob, tourists. Since she created the logo herself, she made her own outfits and nobody was none the wiser. She also stuck with plaid skirts, but this time she favoured a purple and black one instead of her old black and green. But her combat boots, accessories, and make-up were sacred. Everybody knew impending doom was near if Sam ever changed even the tiniest detail in her appearance when it came to that.

She was still outspoken and an avid defender of animal rights, individuality, and most importantly, of Danny Phantom. Even though most people celebrated the boy and thanked him for his services, there were still some who criticised him and believed Amity Park was better off before him. Needless to say, Sam was always at the front of the line in any protest to defend Amity Park’s greatest protector. The fact that he was not only one of her best friends but also her boyfriend may have something to do with it. But even if they weren’t together, Sam knew Danny. She’d always known him. She would always defend him from those who couldn’t even begin to grasp just how noble, responsible, and compassionate he was.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly when she remembered she’d just been sparring with what once was one of Danny Phantom’s greatest detractors.

In a way, Valerie had probably changed the most out of everyone she knew while simultaneously not changing anything at all.

In terms of appearance, just like Sam, she’d only modified her look slightly. She cut her long, dark brown curls so they now barely reached her shoulders instead of cascading down her back. According to her, long hair just got in the way with her suit. She originally wanted to get an undercut, but her dad almost had a cow so they compromised with short hair for now and leaving the undercut for when she was a little older. The huntress still favoured spaghetti-strapped yellow t-shirts, but now she completed her outfit with dark blue jeans or shorts (depending on the temperature) and white sneakers. She also dropped the headband due to her hair, but she kept the earrings.

The most obvious change, though, was that she was now an ally rather than an enemy after Danny Phantom’s head. Sam feared for the worst when Valerie found out her ex boyfriend was the very same ghost she’d vowed to destroy (could she really say she and Danny were exes, though? Sure, they went on a few dates and they genuinely liked each other, but Valerie pseudo-broke up with him right when he was about to ask her to make things official... Ugh, the wonders of the teenaged heart... Always bound to give her a headache. This is why she preferred her Goth indifference...most of the time). As much as they wanted to trust Valerie was going to be sensible about it, her track record wasn’t the best, forcing them to keep an eye out in case she decided to send her more positive opinion of Danny Fenton to Hell and shoot him with her ecto-bazooka.

Thankfully, one day Valerie just sat down with them at lunch, and when Danny tentatively asked her if they were okay, she just smiled and said, “We’re okay.” So they ate lunch in peace...until the Lunch Lady showed up and they had to send her back to the Ghost Zone. At least that time the Red Huntress was there to help them out. Ever since then, the girl sometimes fought alongside them, but for the most part she did her own thing.

And that was something about Valerie that hadn’t changed; her hatred of ghosts. Valerie was still hellbent on getting rid of all the spirits that haunted Amity Park, with half-ghosts being the sole exception ーexcept for Vlad, Valerie held a huge grudge against him for having used her as his pawn; not like the team could complain, they all hated Vlad, after all. And that made her ruthless, determined, brutal… More than once Danny had tried talking her out of her grudge against the paranormal, explaining to her that, albeit not as numerous as the troublemaking ghosts, there were still some that just wanted to be left alone. But Valerie would not budge. She believed all ghosts lacked the humanity and self-control necessary to resist whatever crazy obsession that tied them to our world and would eventually attack.

To Valerie, ghosts were ticking bombs.

Seeing as, so far, most ghosts they faced were malicious or seriously causing trouble, Tucker suggested they just let her be, but the moment she actually targeted an innocent ghost (say, Wulf), then they would have to get serious with her.

All in all, Valerie was their friend. A friend who had agreed to help her train so Danny wouldn’t have to worry so much about her safety when they were out fighting spectres. Not like he really needed to worry, she could take care of herself, but the more prepared they were, the better. And Valerie was helping her with that, and yet, the air still hadn’t been completely cleared between them.

As much as Sam would’ve loved cutting to the chase, a part of her still wasn’t prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Not gonna lie, Valerie, I wiー” she stopped mid-sentence. The last thing they needed was to have Desirée roaming free around Amity Park just because she hadn’t been careful with her words. Clearing her throat, she went on. “I mean, I would do anything for your fighting skills. You must have every ghost shaking in their boots...or whatever they have to shake in.”

As Sam sat down on the floor of her family’s private gym, which Valerie still couldn’t get used to being in, the green-eyed girl made her way to the other side of the room far away from the training tatami, where a middle-sized fridge was located. Pulling the door open, she grabbed two water bottles before going back to Sam. “Yeah, what can I say? I am pretty awesome.”

“And don’t forget modest.” Sam replied sarcastically.

“Girl, when you’re as good as me, you don’t need to pretend to be modest.” She joked as she handed Sam her own water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, before sitting down on the floor next to her. “Believe it or not, though, I became a ninth degree black belt long before I started hunting ghosts.” She looked at the floor, a pensive look on her face, “...we couldn’t have afforded the classes otherwise.”

Sam did her best to suppress the urge to do a spit-take at her words. Valerie almost never brought her financial situation up. The most she used to do was remember Danny why she hated him back when she still was after him, but the topic was dropped altogether once the secret was out. Looking around her ridiculously lavish house, Sam felt like facepalming herself. How could she have been so insensitive as to remind Valerie of the life she lost?!

“Valerie...I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to meet up at the park to train, but I…”

“Sam, don’t.” The huntress cut her off with a stern tone. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“But it was insensitive of me toー” Again, she was interrupted by Valerie, who silenced her by raising her palm up in front of her.

“Please, let me talk. You don’t have to apologise for anything because you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll admit, it’s a bit paradoxical finding out that while I was mourning my losses you’d been hiding the fact that you’re stinking rich all along. But I’m not offended by it. Actually, I think I understand.”

“You do?” The Goth girl asked in disbelief, her eyes wide open.

The African-American girl just shrugged. “I think so. I didn’t realise it until my so-called friends kicked me out of the group, but having money attracts a lot of fakes and shallow people. People who’ll only be there when it’s convenient for them and who’ll throw you away like a used tissue the moment you have nothing else to offer. I know that better than anyone…” When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Sam smiling kindly at her, doing her best to get out of her comfort zone and offer her some comfort. She returned the smile. “Bottom line: you want real friends, so you never talk about your money ‘cause you don’t want to attract the wrong people. I get it.”

“You really do.”

“And I guess I’m also flattered.”

Sam blinked slowly at her. “Wow, Valerie. It usually takes a lot to take me by surpriseーwith the ghost fighting and allーand yet, here we are!”

The huntress just chuckled softly in response. “What I mean is that I understand that it takes you a lot to let people inーand quite literally tooーbut you still invited me. That means you must trust me, if only a bit.”

Sam couldn’t help but blush at her earnest words. It was true, wasn’t it? She trusted Valerie. She would have never invited her to her house if she didn’t. And, now that she thought about it, Valerie had to trust her too if she was willing to show her vulnerable side to her. Somehow, the thought made her smile. Knowing she would have to bring up uncomfortable topics soon, the violet-eyed girl decided to alleviate some of the tension first. “Well, I’m glad you could at least get your black belt first! Otherwise we would be in for a major asskicking from some ghosts.”

That comment actually made Valerie laugh. “Oh, hush, you flatterer! Or I’ll tell Danny his girlfriend has been hitting on me.” She could only snort when Sam gasped in fake shock. “Seriously, though. I personally would love to be as genre savvy as you are. I mean, you always know what to do or have some obscure knowledge about whatever we’re facing. From the Fright Knight’s legend to how to train your dragon ghost.”

Sam merely shrugged with a lazy grin on her face, “What can I say? Obscure knowledge sort of comes with being a Goth.”

The two girls started snickering after that. As their laughter died down, Valerie noticed Sam’s smile fading from the corner of her eye, concerning her. “Sam? Is everything okay?”

“Valerie...I’m sorry.”

That took her by surprise. After a few seconds of shock, the Red Huntress rolled her eyes good-naturedly before gently nudging her friend with her shoulder. “C’mon, Sam. I told you already. You don’t have to feel sorry for inviting meー.”

This time it was Sam who cut her off. She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

One would think that a semi-professional ghost huntress would have seen it all, and honestly, so did Valerie, but she was genuinely shocked at Sam’s apology. The shock didn't last long, though. “Are you seriously apologising for that? Sam, that was two years ago!”

Of all the things she could be apologising for...She just had to pick that one, didn’t she?

Sam groaned, frustrated and clenching her gym shorts with her hands. “I know it’s been two years, but that doesn’t change that I wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world to you for reasons that weren’t...completely pure.”

“So what?” Valerie insisted. “Neither was I for the longest time! You and Tucker were right when you called me out during Pariah Dark’s attack; how could I expect to be treated like one of the group when I used to be such a brat to you? You still eventually forgave me.” She pointed out.

“You don’t understand…” Sam whined as she rubbed her face with her hands. “While it’s true that part of my animosity towards you came from how you used to treat us, and another good chunk came from your eagerness to vaporise one of my best friends,” the Red Huntress actually had the decency to blush embarrassedly at that, “I really, really disliked you because I was...well, I was jealous. Plain and simple.”

There. She’d said it. After years gritting her teeth and burning with envy whenever Danny and Tucker (mostly because of Danny, obviously) drooled over Paulina or any other pretty girl, she had finally admitted she was mostly jealous instead of simply not understanding what the fuss was about. Hanging out with girls more often, namely Valerie and Jazz, instead of only spending her time with the guys had really helped broaden her horizons. Especially when it came to her opinion on other girls. She was proud to say she was finally moving on from her “not like other girls” phase.

Even if Danny’s crush on Paulina had driven her nuts more than once, it was his budding romance with Valerie that truly pushed all her buttons and caused her deepest insecurities to rear their ugly head. Even if dating her was dangerous, Danny still wanted to be with her! He was willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant they could be a couple. And he was so protective of her when Technus attacked… As much as Sam hated to admit it, as much as she wished (to Hell with Desirée) she could ignore it all and just focus on protecting Danny from being hunted by his new girlfriend, that hurt.

That hurt a lot.

Albeit annoying, Danny’s crush on Paulina was safe. Paulina only liked Danny Phantom. Danny couldn’t really get closer to her as his alter-ego without putting her in danger, and Danny would never put an innocent person in danger. And just like that, Paulina became unattainable. But Valerie…

Valerie liked Danny Fenton. She and Danny often just wanted to have a normal life, away from ghosts and burdens that no 14-year-old kid should shoulder. Even if the Red Huntress wanted to kill Danny Phantom, Valerie genuinely liked Danny Fenton. Despite the danger, she was closer than Paulina. And despite their close bond, she was closer to Danny than Sam herself. Because Valerie wasn’t afraid to admit her feelings, unlike her.

In fact, hadn’t Valerie put her job before her love life, Sam knew without an ounce of a doubt that she and Danny would still be together. Because she had been too afraid to tell Danny how much he meant to her sooner.

Yes, she had been jealous of Valerie.

She had been jealous of the attention she received from Danny. She had been jealous of the fact that they went out on several dates and nothing could embarrass them or ruin their little moment. She was jealous because it would’ve meant things would change.

But most importantly, she was jealous of Valerie’s guts.

And she finally confessed it.

...which made what Valerie said next all the more jaw-dropping.

“Yeah, I know.”

Her jaw hanging low and eyes as wide as saucers, Sam slowly turned her head to look the huntress dead in the eye. “You know?” She asked, completely flabbergasted.

Valerie snorted. She actually snorted at her question! And while Sam was looking at her with the most comically astonished expression on the face of the planet, Valerie just regarded her with a coy smile. “No offence, Sam, but it was kinda hard to miss. I think only Danny wasn’t aware of it.”

Sam had nothing to say in response to that.

“Besides, didn’t I tell you before I even started going out with Danny? When you like someone, if you don’t make a move, somebody else will. What did you think I was referring to other than your feelings, chess?”

“That...is true.” The Goth admitted quietly.

Seeing her usually outspoken friend acting so despondent all of a sudden didn’t sit well with the green-eyed teenager. She sighed, “Look, Sam. I understand that you were...difficult because you were jealous. I can’t deny I once or twice acted petty towards you because I was jealous, myself. But even if I hadn’t decided to just stay friends with Danny, I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the end.”

Not for the first time that day, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time either, Valerie had taken her completely aback. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Sam insisted, “What are you talking about? You two are the best ghost hunters in Amity Park, you guys would have been the ultimate power couple!”

Leaning back on her elbows, the Red Huntress sent the Goth a smirk, “Ah, but you’re forgetting I would’ve had to know Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same first. And I…”, for the first time since their sparring lesson began, Valerie found herself hesitating, “I don’t know how I would’ve taken that.

“Sure, I really, really liked Danny, but I had spent far longer hating his ghost half. Ever since the Cujo-related incidents I blamed him for the turn my life had taken. And even when I was growing fond of Danny Fenton, his actions as Danny Phantom still drove me nuts! I mean, he literally unmasked me right before my dad! He forbade me from ghost hunting until I got that upgrade in my suit. Could I really put all that aside in favour of having a relationship with him?

“That’s why it took me so long to face you guys once I learned the truth; I was trying to make peace with it all. I figured I could learn to forgive Danny, maybe even trust him with my life...but never with my heart again. There were too many imbalances between us for me to be comfortable in a relationship with him...and you guys are honestly better together anyways.” She winked at the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.

“You really think so?” Sam could feel the heat making its way to her cheeks the moment Valerie nodded at her question. “I-I mean!”, ugh, how she hated stuttering!, “Danny’s always been super important to me...obviously! And we’ve always done our best to be there for each other and have each other’s backs, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder if perhaps we’re just making a mistake and we were better off as friends…” She finished with a defeated sigh.

At the sensation of an arm wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to look at Valerie. “Sam, trust me. This is no mistake. You’re one of the very few people who understand there’s no difference between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom; they’re both Danny and you’ve always known that and done your best to show him just that. And unlike Paulina or me, even if you hadn’t known his secret from the beginning, I’m willing to bet my right arm that you would’ve accepted both sides of him equally either way.”

At her words, Sam could only smile warmly, “You really think so?”

Valerie returned her smile. “I know so.”

Still replaying Valerie’s words and organising her own thoughts in her head, Sam turned to face her, one hand resting on her lap and the other on Valerie’s shoulder, “For what it’s worth, I still think that after a, very understandable, initial bump in your relationship, you two could’ve made a great couple too. I meant what I said when I told you that, if Danny liked you, then we would only have to make room for you at our table. I can’t think of any girl I would be willing to do that for but you, Val.”

Valerie almost gasped at Sam’s words, but she recovered rather quickly, “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot coming from you.” Resting her own hand on top of the one on her shoulder, she winked mischievously at her, “And don’t worry; I don’t go around stealing my friends’ boyfriends.”

The Goth girl snorted at that. “Glad to hear that.”

They remained like that for a moment, just enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them and their secret understanding. They were friends. They had similarities and differences. But that would never change the respect each felt for the other.

Finally, getting up from the floor and dusting herself off, Valerie broke the silence, “Come on, there’s still many moves I haven’t used to kick your butt.”

Sam smirked at the challenge, “Oh, you’re so on!”

................

The Fentons’ Emergency Ops Centre had, ironically, become their safe haven.

Whenever they wanted to enjoy some alone time before they had to part ways or a ghost attack took place, they would simply climb up the roof and enter through the door leading to it. Although Danny could just phase or fly them there if they were really pressed for time, which was their usual way of getting there because they were always pressed for time.

The Ops Centre was really just an excuse to spend some time together, really.

It didn’t matter what they did. Sometimes they would make out because they were a couple and couples made out with each other, didn’t they? Especially when said couple consisted of two hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe if they’d been a pair of octogenarians, the fuss of the relationship would have been elsewhere. Like how incredible it was that they’d survived that long in the first place.

Other times they just talked about nothing and everything at the same time. Sort of like what they usually did, but without Tucker. Sam would often talk about the latest hideous monstrosity their parents had intended she wore ー”Oh, you’re laughing now! But trust me, Undergrowth had much better fashion sense than my parents!”ー, or how rapidly the poles were melting and nobody was doing anything about it, or how her latest poetry reading went ー“Kwan’s getting better, actually. This time he wrote about the new scabs he got during the last game”ー, and how they could defeat the villain of the week who was somehow harder to beat than the previous one because, really, they always got harder to beat.

And Danny would recall his parents’ latest shenanigans, or Jazz’s newest psychological experiment with ghosts that she was sure was going to work because it was just flawless; or he’d warn her about the food in his house ー”I know you don’t eat meat anyways, but don’t open the fridge. The ecto-weenies are back and this time they’ve brought BBQ sauce.” He would also complain about the workload of homework Mr Lancer had assigned them; sometimes because he didn’t think he’d have the time to finish it all, and sometimes he just didn’t know where to start because what the Heck is irony anyway? Didn’t anyone realise that what they often called irony was actually more of a paradox? How could they be teaching something wrong in English class?! And, sometimes, in those rare moments where Danny finally realised, only to forget his lesson all over again the next day, that he could count on her, Tucker, Jazz, Val ーand his loved ones, damn it!ー and confide his deepest secrets, he would open up about how being Danny Phantom was taking its toll on him. How being famous was more often than not more suffocating than flattering. How he was getting tired that his enemies only ever came back, or became stronger, or multiplied. How he feared, no, how he felt it was never going to end until he was 100% dead and not just 50%... He even still had trouble understanding what truly happened to him the day of the accident.

And maybe they just would never know.

And then, there were days like today. Days where they would just stay in silence, watching Amity Park since the makeshift observatory his zany but genius parents had built all on their own. Because, sometimes, watching the sunset in silence with that special someone was just enough.

While Danny leaned against the railing, Sam was sitting on top of it, enjoying the soft breeze blowing around her and caressing her skin. “Today I trained with Valerie.”

Perking up at the sound of her voice suddenly breaking the silence, Danny turned his head slightly in her direction. “Oh?” He let out, “How did it go?”

“I managed to last a full five minutes and land a few serious hits myself.” She stated proudly.

The ghost boy whistled appreciatively, “Five full minutes! Now that’s impressive.” He sent her a sly look and a smirk, his admiration turning into amusement, “And how many hits did you cushion?”

Curling her lip in annoyance, Sam muttered, “The fact that I’m even sitting here is a miracle in itself.”

That had Danny snickering like crazy, before a sharp pain in his arm stopped him, “Ow!”

To his surprise, instead of a smug Sam as he expected, he found his girlfriend gingerly rubbing her arm, a pained expression on her face. “Okay,” she panted, “that was so not worth it.”

“Here, let me help.” Gently resting his fingers on her arm, he used his ice powers to send a chilly sensation across her limb, effectively alleviating the pain. “Anything else I should know about? Did the training turn into a battle to the death?”

“Actually, we talked things out and we finally buried the hatchet.” She said seriously.

Danny furrowed the brow in confusion. “Uh, Sam? I was kidding. And I thought you already did that when she found out the truth about my powers.”

Chuckling softly, Sam could only roll her eyes with a smile on her face as she leaned close to leave a tender kiss on his lips before whispering, “Clueless.”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #dp fanfic #sam manson #valerie gray #danny fenton #tucker foley #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #paulina sanchez #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #most characters are just mentioned though #amethyst ocean #danny/sam #my fic

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rmg91 · 3 years

Text

Zoe Week; Day 5-ROTT

So I know we got given a free day considered ROTT was...what it was but I decided to still go with the prompt and it turned into more of a small rewrite than just a ‘Let’s slip Zoe into this scene’. Zoe is everyone’s braincell and we know it.

Also I tried writing a fight scene....I donno how well it turned out lol

AO3

~*~*~*~*~*~

“He WHAT?!”

Zoe stared at the assembled guardians, the kids, that had gone up against the demigods bent on restarting the world with that crazy plan to strip them of their powers, only for it to fail. Yes, they were alive. Yes, they had Nari, in spirit, but the Arcane Order had her body, had Douxie, and that was not okay for her! That stupid, self-sacrificing idiot! Of course he'd do something like that! But all it would do would buy them time and just what was going to happen when those power hungry beings found out?! It wasn't going to be good, that was for sure and now Zoe had to hatch a plan to try and save her idiot before something bad happened.

Ignoring the overlapping explanations and assurances they'd come up with a plan, Zoe marched her way out of the ex-throne room and down to what was becoming her studio. Shuffling around the various tomes and grimoires, she searched for the one she was certain had the spell she needed to find him, growling to herself when she couldn't. This is what she got for not sorting through all these yet. Finally, just when she'd been about to say 'fuck it' and do it without the book, she dug up the dusty purple codex of scrying and grinned in victory. Oh, she was finding that idiot of hers and then she was going to give him a piece of her mind once he was safe.

Coming back upstairs, the pinked haired witch flipped through the book, looking for the magic circle that would allow her to find Douxie. Ignoring everyone's voices, she quickly read through the directions, reminding herself how it worked and set to etching runes in the air with her wand. The symbols of power fell to the floor in sparking pink power, forming the necessary element for her spell. “Nari.” She called, “I'm gonna need Archie for a moment.”

The little nature spirit, inhabiting her partners body, let his familiar go from her hold as she finished the magic circle, sending the tomb to rest on the floor outside it. Sitting in the center, Archie crawled into her lap in dragon form, already having a feeling on what she was going to try to do. Normally she could sense Douxie's power, they'd known each other for so after all it was easy, but between distance and most likely being blocked, she couldn't without help. It would be easier if their magic was bonded, tied together for the rest of eternity and the ultimate sign of trust and love between magic users but...they weren't. Not for lack of wanting to but their lives had been pretty hectic and dangerous and bonding their magic came with lots of consequences as well as benefits. If one of them died...it would be the worse kind of hell on the other. And as much as they loved each other they hadn't wanted to have the other suffer so. But maybe, after all this, they'd change that.

“Uh..what are you gonna do?” Toby asked, standing near as he watched the pulsing pink runes.

“I'm going to track Douxie using the bond between him and Archie.” She explained, holding the dragon-cat gently, one hand scratching between his ears, “It should, in theory, help me find where the Order is holding him.” Then they would retrieve him and she was going to kick his ass for putting himself in danger, again.

Everyone took that as the queue to be quiet, to let her work, and Zoe breathed in deeply, letting her magic seep out and take shape. The circle glowed as she let herself fall into a trance, focusing on Archie, who was relaxed in her lap, his own magic open to letting hers in. She found the bond, a shining string of magic that was warm, comforting, powerful, reaching out beyond their little space in search of their missing wizard. She followed it as it swirled, twisting and turning through the space between, searching, searching, searching until-There! It sung brightly, tightening like a perfectly tuned guitar string and humming with life and she knew in that moment just where to find him.

Opening her eyes, a pink glow encompassing them, she grinned sharply. The Order didn't know what was coming to them.

~*~*~*~

The group entered the abandoned train tunnel, sans one Trollhunter, looking for any sign of the Order or Douxie. Zoe knew she had been harsh when she told Jim he needed to stay behind but she was not going to take back what she said. He was injured and therefore a liability and she wasn't going to let him kill himself or any of his friends if things were to go pear shaped. But hopefully they wouldn't and they'd be able to rescue Douxie with minimal trouble.

Her blue eyes roamed over the various crates and scaffolding, sensing him near but unable to see him. But she just knew he was here. Even as the group spread out and looked around old, crumbling crates and rusty metal drums, confused as to why they couldn't find anyone, Zoe was reaching out with her magic, searching for her wayward husband. Frowning down at the tracks, something just wasn't sitting right with her, she tried her best to see and think like Douxie would. There had to be something here she was missing...

She blinked, a thought coming suddenly and could it really be that easy?

Trotting up a staircase to get higher ground, she looked down at the tracks, shaking her head lightly because for some eon's old beings, Skrael and Bellroc really couldn't be original? “Their hiding in plain sight!” She shouted to assembled guardians, flicking her wand out and rearranging the train tracks, “They've made a giant sigil with the tracks!” The tracks moved, soon lighting up and dispelling the room around them, revealing a much darker room and three beings in the center.

She wasn't sure if they were aware they weren't alone anymore but it looked as if the demigods of ice and fire were taunting who they thought were Nari. She, or rather Douxie, was hovering in the air, held aloft by his hands in glowing magic and maybe, possibly keeping quiet as to continuing fooling the gods. But then, as they were staring confusedly as the Genius Seals, wondering why they weren't opening, he opened his big fat mouth.

“Abracadabra, Buttsnacks.”

Zoe groaned, because why had he said that?! But before the Order could do more than threaten him, she raised her wand high and cried, “Hey! Hands off!” She then sent a bolt of pink lighting down, just barely hitting Skreal, and then it was on!

Everyone jumped into action, firing and fighting the two remaining members of the Order. Zoe jumped down, joining the fray, firing spells and shields as she made way to Nari's body. She was put to a stop though as the icy wizard floated in front of her, brandishing his staff. Oh, if he wanted a fight, he was getting a fight. Ignoring Douxie's strained call of her name, the hedge-witch ducked a swing of the staff, dodging to the right and not giving in to Skreal's taunting. Hedge-witch or not, didn't mean she wasn't powerful and she wasn't about to let these bastards win.

Zoe fired spell after spell, wildly missing the floating god as he chuckled darkly at her. But that was okay, all part of the plan because when he least expect it she smirked and performed a round-house kick, planting her foot below his belt with a cry of “Rule Number Three!!”

As Skrael crumpled, she turned back to Douxie in Nari's body, running closer and hoping she could break the spell keeping him in the air. Fire had started to burn everywhere, the old wood catching easily to the spells Bellroc fired off but she ignored all that as she examined the magic around Douxie's wrists. She shushed him as he tried to talk to her, needing to concentrate on what she was doing, hopefully she wouldn't need Claire's help. Then a dark chuckle came from behind her.

“You won't break him free.” She turned to glare at Bellroc, their ever fluctuating voice grating on her nerves, “That magic is too powerful for even a full fledged wizard, let alone a little hedge-witch.” She growled as they laughed at her. And maybe she wouldn't be able to break it herself but if she could break this beings concentration... A wicked grin came to her face, feral as she remembered the chaos she'd wrecked at Killahead, and she began drawing runes behind her back.

“You're right...Guess I'll just have to make you break it.”

And with a flash of pink, twenty more Zoe's surrounded the demigod.

Crying out, Bellroc began to blast away her clones, easily poofing them from existence, which was fine as it was only meant as a distraction. The real Zoe dodged behind him, thankful for the rest of the crew keeping Skrael busy as she charged her magic. She'd only have one shot at this and she hoped it worked. It had been a while since she last did this. Bringing her now brightly flashing hands together, she drew them apart, a glowing, sparking, pink arrow held between them.

“Foolish girl! This won't defeat me!!” Bellroc cried with rage, dispelling the last of her clones.

“It's not meant to!” She yelled back before firing the arrow, sending a million volts through the wizard and causing them to spasm. And it was enough, for the spell holding Douxie up sputtered and died, dropping him to the floor. Zoe dived for his staggering form as Bellroc cried out again, pushing him out of the way of a blast of fire. Of course now she needed a plan to get them out of there...

Just as the fire god was approaching, already up from her attack and ready to end her life, a black portal formed beneath her and Douxie and they dropped away.

~*~*~*~

Zoe groaned as she was dropped onto the floor of Camelot, rolling onto her back. That had been...something. She really needed to practice that attack again, it took far too much out of her but at least now Douxie was safe. And Nari. She heard the rest of the guardians tumble in, shouts from their assembled allies rising and still she laid there, catching her breath.

“Zoe! Zoe, are you alright?!” She looked up at Douxie's voice, finding Nari's face above her looking at her with concern and they were needed to change back because this was just getting too weird. She watched him sag with relief, most likely due to her opening her eyes and he sighed, “You were nuclear, Love.”

“You better switch back before you kiss me, Casperan.” Was her only response.

Chuckling breathlessly, he nodded and she watched him hold out his hand for Nari to take, the goddess now crouching on her other side. A flash of magic and she was then being pulled into Douxie's lap, the wizard now back in his body. She let him nuzzle his face into her neck, still recovering from the adrenaline and almost overuse of her magic as they sat there, friends and allies all around.

“Thank you, Zoe.” Nari said softly, sitting primly in front of her, “You risked so much.”

“It's fine, Nari,” Zoe said, smiling at the forest child, “There was no way I was letting them keep your body and Douxie's mind.” Let alone risk the possibility of them forcing the two back into their proper bodies. Then they really would have been in trouble.

“So what do you do now?” She heard Claire ask because now they were back at square one. Keep Nari out of the grasp.

“I donno,” Zoe sighed, “But the important thing is the Order doesn't have Nari anymore.”

“That's not all they don't have..” The nature goddess smirked shyly before holding up the Genius Seals.

Zoe's eyes widen as cries went up around her, Douxie laughing in surprise, before she grinned wide and shark like. Oh, things were about to get interesting.

~*~*~*~*~*~

How the rest of the movie would play out from here I have no idea but there’s some choice Zouxie protecting each other/Nari/Archie so...there’s that. I hope you all enjoyed!

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #Zoe Week #Zoe #Douxie #Zouxie #Nari #ToA #Tales of Arcadia #Wizards #ROTT #Fanfiction #ROTT rewrite #Yeah Zoe and her arrows returned #heehee

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kozumekenza · 3 years

Text

on my mind :: eight

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 1.6k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: profanity, mentions of sex

author’s note: this is it, the final chapter. i have bonus scenes that i’m planning to write in the future, but this is it for the main story! thank you so much to everyone who has read this and supported it, i appreciate you all so much <3

Team Japan was performing the best they ever had. With Hinata and Kageyama’s freak quick attack, Sakusa’s angled spikes, MSBY’s teamwork, Aran’s powerful serves, and Suna’s intimidating blocks, Japan easily made it past the first few rounds and into the gold match game.

You and the team were lucky; there were no substantial injuries, and even after countless games against some of the best in the world, everyone was still upbeat and energetic. Morale was high, and everyone was excited for the next game: the final gold medal match against Argentina.

You had met Iwaizumi’s fiance, Oikawa Tooru, and immediately understood what Iwaizumi meant. There was, in fact, an “Iwa-chan, I can’t believe you! Rival against your own fiance!” All in all, you thought Oikawa was a good match for Iwaizumi’s impassive nature, and you were happy for both of them. You just hoped Iwaizumi would survive the final game.

Jerseys were put on, water bottles were filled, medical bags were prepared, and soon enough, you were standing next to the bench and watching the National Team practice for their most important match. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Suna, who was donning the jersey you had stolen months ago. You had already expressed your love for Suna in a National Team uniform, jumping him almost immediately after they won their first game.

Practice finished, and both teams were given a short break before the match would start. The arena had a few family members; you could see Osamu and Kita, along with Bokuto’s husband and Hinata’s sister and mom. Once again, you were thrilled that you were able to stand next to the court during the game and not in the bleachers.

Suna approached you where you were next to the bench, and you stood up to give him a good luck kiss.

“I know you’ll do great, Rintarou. I’m so proud of you. Good luck, and make sure to beat Argentina and give Oikawa hell!”

Iwaizumi laughed next to you, earning a glare from Oikawa who was talking to him. You gave Suna a final hug and kiss, then turned away to redo a wrap on Aran’s knee.

You missed Suna handing a tiny black box to Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi subsequently hiding the box in one of his bags.

---

Japan took the first set, a service ace from Kageyama ending it. Argentina took the next, thanks to a surprising setter dump from Oikawa. Sakusa’s final spike gave the third set to Japan, and Oikawa’s service ace gave the fourth to Argentina. With the tie, everyone was nervous approaching the final set. You redid a few wraps, gave encouraging words, and wordlessly threw an ice pack at Hinata, who was acting like he didn’t receive a ball with his face in the fourth set. Oikawa was happily taunting Iwaizumi, who was threatening Oikawa with a pair of tape scissors in hand.

The whistle blew, and the players made their way back onto the court. You watched with bated breath as the set flew by, long rallies and quick movements making your head spin. You were exhausted just watching; the game had been long and hard, but this set was full of back and forth points with neither team getting a clear lead.

Finally, Japan had a break and was in the lead at match point. You could barely breathe, and everything felt like it was in slow motion. You watched as Oikawa served, Komori received, Sakusa spiked, and Argentina’s libero sent the ball towards Oikawa, who set it towards a spiker. The spiker jumped, Suna jumping right in front of him. The ball was hit, and it felt like an eternity as you watched Suna send it back down to the other side, guaranteeing Japan’s victory as the ball hit the floor. A whistle blew, signaling the end of the match and solidifying the final score.

You were shouting, Iwaizumi was shouting, the coach was shouting, everyone was rushing towards the court and Suna. You ran as fast as you could into his arms, laughing as you took his face between your hands and showered him with kisses as he spun you around. Both of you were crying, his teammates circling around you, hugging him (and by proxy, you) and patting him on the back. He finally set you down, grabbing something from Iwaizumi before he was pulled away by a jealous Oikawa.

You watched in awe as Suna Rintarou got down on one knee right after scoring the winning point for Japan’s Olympic gold medal.

“Y/n, I know we’ve been back together for only a few weeks, but in my heart, it’s been over eight years. I’ve loved you since then, and I’ll love you until the day I die. You’re the only one I can picture beside me in the future, and you’re the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I could go on and on for hours, but I also have a medal to get for you. Will you marry me?”

The tears streaming down your face prevented you from properly speaking, but your enthusiastic nod said it all. You threw your arms around Suna, letting him pick you up and spin you around again as everyone in the arena cheered and the cameras picked up the proposal on live television.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Rintarou.” Your voice was breaking, and you could see tears on Suna’s face as well. “I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

---

When Suna crept into your room that night, you welcomed him with open arms, grinning as he placed the gold medal over your naked chest, the cold of the metal seeping into your skin as the bed broke beneath you, again.

---

Los Angeles, August 2028

“We’re gonna be fucking late, Rintarou.”

“No we won’t, calm down.” He tossed you your team jacket, watching as you zipped it fully to cover the bruises blooming on your neck.

You glanced down at your phone. “Fuck, Rin, it’s almost time. Get out.” You pushed him out of the empty training room, grimacing at the clock on the wall. “I’ll see you out there.”

You snatched your bag off of the floor just as your phone began to ring.

“Hey, Osamu, I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Busy banging Sunarin?”

“Shut the fuck up. Are you guys here?”

“Yeah, right behind the bench. She’s asking for you.”

“Be there in a sec.”

You hung up with a click, pushing open the door and walking down the hall to the court. The rest of the team was already there, and you glared at Atsumu as he shot you a smirk. Just like Osamu said, he was seated in the bleachers behind the bench. You dropped your bag down, walking over to him and Suna.

“Hi, baby. Are you being good for uncle ‘Samu?” You cooed at your daughter, who was currently latched onto Suna’s neck.

“Yes, momma.”

“Good girl.” You grabbed her from Suna, bouncing her on your hip as the whistle blew for practice to begin. “Tell your daddy good luck.”

“Good luck!” she giggled, hands reaching out for Suna as he leaned down to hug and kiss you both.

“Make sure you watch me close, baby girl. Not uncle ‘Tsumu.”

Your daughter grinned at her dad, nodding her head and promising him all her attention (which was pretty minimal, for a three year old).

You handed her back up to Osamu, who bounced her on his knee as she waved at you and Suna.

Practice came and went, and another gold medal match for Japan started. Japan had won again at Paris in 2024, and everyone was hoping for another one. You waved to Iwaizumi, who was arguing with Oikawa on the Argentinian side. The two of you stayed in contact after he moved, with him frequently telling you about the most recent stupid things Oikawa had done and you keeping him updated on your life with Suna and EJP.

The game began, and it was close, just as the last two between Japan and Argentina had been. Before the fifth and final set, they were yet again tied, with the previous sets being close as well. The whistle blew, and the final set began.

It was back and forth, as was usual for Japan and Argentina, but a break at the end put Japan at match point, just like the game in Tokyo. With bated breath, you watched Atsumu serve, Argentina receive and spike, and Komori receive. Atsumu set, and time slowed down as the ball flew in an arc, right into Suna’s waiting palm. The ball was slammed down, the echo carrying throughout the silent arena. The final whistle blew, and the gym went up in cheers.

You ran towards Suna, just as you had done at the Tokyo Games, leaping into his arms and showering him with kisses. Osamu approached, handing your daughter off to Suna, as the three of you celebrated in your own little world. A third Olympic gold, an amazing daughter, an incredible husband; everything was perfect.

The next day, you received what was quite possibly the best picture you had ever seen. You, Suna, and your daughter, tears on all of your faces, huddled close together in a tight hug, smiles bright and wide, taken by Osamu.

You had everything you could ever ask for in your family, your friends, and even your job. Still, Suna Rintarou was always on your mind.

taglist: @sunasexual @call-me-lulu @ntimacy @circleglasses @porcolie @keikotaro @rintarovibes @kenmaslov3r

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

Text

love me wilder (love me more) // scenes from Ryan and Sophie’s relationship

about: Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary asks, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

and other questions about Ryan and Sophie's relationship. + you can read this on ao3 too.

Who asks the other on dates? Once they’re dating, it’s pretty even, but Sophie does get the credit for their first official date. It happens on the third time that Ryan bails on plans with Sophie and Jordan. They’re supposed to be seeing an art installation for their self-proclaimed ‘Black girl date night.’ But Sophie shows up to The Hold Up to pick up Ryan, and Ryan’s tending bar with an apologetic and frustrated grin.

Sophie stomps over to the bar. “Again, Ryan?”

Ryan slides a drink to the customer beside Sophie. “Yes, again. Patrice is sick and—”

“And nobody else can cover? You’re the manager.” Sophie says. “Call someone in.”

Ryan takes the credit card from the customer, who unabashedly watches Ryan as she swipes the card in the reader. Her work tank’s tied into a crop top like always, and she’s pulled her hair back in a way that really draws the attention to her neck.

Ryan says, “I don’t abuse my power.” It’s the sort of dig that a few months ago would’ve started a fight, but today it just makes Sophie groan and dig her elbows into the bar top to get closer to Ryan.

“You don’t do anything,” Sophie corrects. At this point, Ryan's either working as Batwoman, or working at the bar. She has no social life, which kind of screws things up for the one person who's actively trying to spend time with her.

Ryan snorts. “Okay, choice words from the lady going on a date with her sister on a Friday night.”

Sophie levels Ryan with a serious stare. “I’d go with you, but you’re too busy.” Ryan rolls her eyes, but Sophie isn’t joking. There’s no hint of a smile, no hitch in her voice. Ryan rewinds the last few minutes in her head.

“Wait —” Ryan circles her hands backwards in front of her. Rewind again. Reprocess the fact that Sophie used date and Ryan in the same context. “—are you serious? You’re... you’re actually—”

Sophie chuckles, and there’s a bit of a nervous shake under it. “And I thought I was the inexperienced one here.”

“You are,” Ryan says. That gets a glare from Sophie. Ryan plucks the receipt for the customer off the printer and slides that to them before turning her focus fully back to Sophie. “But I’m game.”

Sophie grins. “Really?”

Ryan flashes a full smile back. “Yeah. As soon as Patrice gets better.”

“Let me make her some soup then, damn.”

Who is the bigger cuddler?

Ryan. She’s very affectionate, and she loves snuggling up anywhere she can. Mary complains sometimes about how often she comes home to find Ryan and Sophie on the couch.

Luke cringes when Mary says it. His eyes jump from the Bat screens to Mary in the chair beside him. “Like on the couch?” Mid-deed?

“Ugh, I wish.” Mary quickly shakes her head, as a quick disgusted look passes her face. “Not like I wish, just like…. I come home, and they’re not even doing anything. They’re asleep on the couch, just wrapped up in each other’s arms and happy and comfy and….” She sighs.

Luke drums his hands on the keyboard. “And you want that?”

Mary slumps into her chair and lets her head roll onto her shoulder. The lights paint her softer, or maybe it’s the open vulnerability now that she doesn’t have to be the perky sidekick she usually is. It’s actually one of the good things about working with Luke; he doesn’t expect her to be happy, perfect Mary.

“I want something. We spend all day living our normal lives, then rushing away to help save Gotham, and it’s totally worth it. It is. But before, when the work was done, I went home to my best friend in the world.” Mary glances up at the monitors where the two dots tracking Ryan and Sophie rush across the Gotham map. “Now she has someone else. And no offense to you, but we’re not exactly swapping secrets and having sweet potato pancakes.”

Mary does love Sophie and Ryan. She loves that Sophie is moving forward after losing Kate, and she loves that Ryan has someone other than Angelique to care about. But Mary has also spent so much of her life begging people to care about her. It’s hard not to feel like this is Kate and Beth and her dad all over again. She’s getting really tired of being replaced.

Luke clears his throat. He even sits up straighter in his chair when he turns it. The monitors behind him almost make him look like an angel. Or whatever.

He says, “I can’t make sweet potato pancakes,” like it’s an apology, or maybe a concession from someone else who knows what it’s like to be the odd one out. “But I do make a mean crab cake. If you’re in the market for more friends.”

Mary can work with that. But at the risk of this feeling entirely too sentimental for a mid-mission chat, she adds, “Fine, but no cuddling on the couch.”

Luke smiles. “You wish.”

Who initiates holding hands more often?

Ryan cannot get enough of Sophie’s hands. She’s constantly reaching out during team meetings, or across the bar at The Hold Up. She believes in the reassuring squeeze. At the same time, Sophie’s the one who actually initiates the hand holding and interlocking fingers. She claims it’s her way of keeping track of Ryan, reminding her that “you’re stuck with me, and you trust me.”

“There are other ways to show that, Sophie,” Ryan taunts. Sophie uses their linked hands to tug Ryan over to her.

“Show me?”

Who remembers anniversaries?

Ryan smiles up at Sophie on the couch.

“Aww, babe, three years ago, you arrested me for the first time.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “That’s the anniversary you remember?”

Ryan laughs. “It truly changed my life.”

“Okay, well, remember that when you want an anniversary present in three weeks—”

“Four,” Ryan corrects. “Three weeks is when the date should’ve happened, but you got a flat, then Black Mask attacked—”

Sophie nods, “Right, and we didn’t actually go out until after he was in holding. I stand corrected.”

Ryan preens until Sophie pushes her away.

Who is more possessive?

Ryan used to think she was possessive. She would do anything to keep the people she loves by her side. But then Kate Kane comes back into their lives, and suddenly Ryan’s on the verge of losing everything that she’s built for herself. She keeps jumping between being incredibly self-sacrificing and hoarding away her minutes with the rest of the team like Kate’s coming to snatch them away.

One particular night, Ryan drops down onto Sophie’s fire escape in the suit. Her feet barely hit the level before she spots Kate inside Sophie’s apartment.

Sans jacket, Kate’s tattooed arms look great in the moonlight. Her everything looks great. Ryan can’t see everything, but she can see the playful smirk on Kate’s face as she crosses the living room. Sophie’s not visible, which means she must already be in the bedroom. Is she waiting for Kate? Is she --

Ryan stumbles back. Sophie wouldn’t cheat on her. Ryan knows that, but if there was ever a reason to break up, it’s definitely the love of Sophie’s life wanting to start over again. And who is Ryan to stand in the way of that?

So, Ryan grinds her teeth and jumps back off of the balcony.

She gets halfway back to Wayne Tower before the comms buzz in her ear. She pauses on top of a random roof to answer the incoming call.

“Ryan, get back here.”

Of course Sophie saw her. The grappling hook isn’t exactly the quietest way to move either. Though, Sophie had certainly taken her time to reach out.

Ryan lets a bit of bitterness slip out. “Your plans with Kate fall through?”

“I don’t have plans with Kate,” Sophie says. She sounds tired and frustrated, like whatever conversation she’d had probably took a lot out of her. Or maybe just reuniting with her one true love did that. Who’s Ryan to know?

“Sure looked like it to me.”

“And if you’d looked any longer, you would’ve seen her grab her things and go. I don’t want to do this over comms, Ryan.”

“What, break up with me?”

“Why would you even —” Sophie sucks in a deep breath. “Kate was here to clear the air. She wanted to know if there was a chance that we could try again.”

Ryan needs to sit down. She needs to lean against something. Her eyes dart across the roof, but there’s nothing up here but spider webs and deflated balloons.

“Oh.” Ryan circles her jaw to try and stop herself from crying. She’s not going to cry over Sophie. She should’ve known better than to ever think that Kate Kane’s ex would choose her over—

“I told her no.”

What? The air rushes out of Ryan’s lungs.

Sophie repeats herself. “I told her no. Now can you please get back here before I have to drive all the way over to wherever the hell you are?”

“It’s faster by roof.”

“Give me the grappling hook, and I’ll try it out.”

Ryan clicks her tongue. “Can’t do it, that’s mine.”

“And you’re mine, Ryan. Nobody’s changing that, okay? Trust me.”

Ryan glances over at the long way back to Sophie’s place. The trek across the city that they help keep safe. “I do.”

Who gets more jealous?

Sophie really wishes she weren’t this jealous. She’s not super familiar with the feeling. With Tyler, her emotions never went this high. With Kate, there either wasn’t competition, or well, the guilt of how things went overshadowed everything else. But with Ryan — hot, flirty bartender Ryan — the opportunities for jealousy keep building.

It doesn’t help that Imani shows up from time to time for different fundraiser events. Sophie watches Imani and Ryan from across The Hold Up. Her eyes narrow, and she zones out of her conversation with Mary so completely that the young medical professional ends up waving her hand in front of Sophie’s face.

Mary steps over to block Sophie’s view of them. “You do know Imani’s not a threat, right?”

Sophie nods. She taps on the side of her head. “Up here, yes. But in here….” She rubs her hand over her heart.

“Ryan’s so into you, and you know that. Any jealousy is completely ridiculous,” Mary says.

Sophie nods. Again. “I’m gonna go over there.” She knocks back the drink in her hand and hands it to Mary, who mostly just clinks that cup with her own.

Mary mumbles to herself, “’Gee, Mary, thanks for being such a great friend. Let’s keep talking together instead of rushing over like a jealous lunatic.’” Her face perks up as she plays herself. “Of course, Sophie, so glad you’re being super reasonable. Love you too.”

By the time Mary finishes her own drink, Sophie’s leading a very amused Ryan up the stairs towards the loft. Mary sighs. She really may have to move out soon.

Who is more protective?

This one’s a tie. Ryan tries to protect Sophie by sidelining Sophie on the Bat Team. But Sophie is used to being in the field, or at least calling the shots. She doesn’t do well in the Bat Cave where she can’t physically assist. That back and forth goes on for months, but it comes to a head when Ryan needs to get on a plane again to try and catch their latest bad guy of the week.

Sophie hates the idea. She refuses to let Ryan go alone, and the more that Ryan tries to fight it, the more emotional Sophie gets. Ryan assumes that Sophie’s upset because the last private Kane plane ended with Kate in Black Mask’s clutches. But Ryan’s not about to go missing. She doesn’t have enemies like that, and most importantly, as Ryan yells, “Sophie, stop treating me like this! I’m not Kate.”

Sophie sputters before rasping out, “I know that. But the last time you flew, Ryan, you almost died too. In my arms, mind you. Forgive me for not wanting a repeat of that.”

Who is more likely to cheat?

No one’s cheating, but Ryan does have a particularly handsy customer who tries to kiss her once.

Who dislikes PDA the most?

Sophie’s still getting used to the idea of actually having PDA with a woman, but she’s coming around.

Who kills the spider?

Both of them, but Sophie does it more often. Mostly because she doesn’t want to hear Ryan taunting her that “Sophie freaking Moore can’t handle a spider?”

Who asks the other to marry them?

Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary says, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

The question makes Ryan stumble on her landing, and Sophie crashes into her since they didn’t exactly space out on the wire as they slid from one secret warehouse to another.

Sophie catches her footing first and says, “I’m sorry, what?”

Back in the Bat Cave, Mary ignores the glare that Luke gives her. She leans closer to the mic. “Hypothetically. If you two get married, it’d be a really small ceremony. We’re not inviting Alice. And Jordan will probably be Sophie’s Maid of Honor, so I just wanted to make sure that I get to be Ryan’s.”

Luke huffs. “Then why did you ask a question if you’re calling dibs?”

Mary turns to face him. “Because you can’t call dibs. It has to be her choice.”

“But you’re leading her to pick you. It’s not fair. You were already roommates—”

“Which is exactly why it should be me—”

“But we had to work on our relationship. The growth that we had is just—”

“But you had to work on it! We clicked immediately!”

“You click with everyone!”

“I do not!”

“You do—”

Sophie and Ryan yell into the comms, “GUYS!” Mary and Luke freeze.

Ryan chances a glance at Sophie, who has not actually moved since their friends started this conversation. They’ve been together for nearly two years at this point, and honestly, they’ve both been avoiding having to talk about this. Neither of them have their moms — for very different reasons — and Sophie’s already got one failed marriage under her utility belt.

Sophie readjusts the cowl on her super suit. “Could you wait until after we’re engaged to plan a wedding?”

Ryan does a double take. “After we’re what now?”

Sophie freezes. “Well, I just mean — if things keep going well, because they’ve been going really, really well…?” The damn cowl blocks off most of her face, but Ryan knows Sophie well enough to know that her eyebrows are halfway to her hairline. That higher lilt in Sophie’s voice means she’s reaching, and nervous. Ryan’s thankful that her own mask can cover the way her eyebrows drop as her nose scrunches up. Ryan is not about to cry on this roof.

Ryan goes for the joke. Makes her voice as teasing as she can handle. “Aww, you wanna marry me?”

Sophie crosses the few steps between them to take Ryan’s hand. “Are you asking?”

Ryan interlocks their fingers. “Not officially. Luke hasn’t made a Bata-ring yet.”

Everyone groans. The deep one from Luke is enough to get Sophie to smile, and it finally breaks some of the tension in the air. Ryan brings their linked hands to her lips and kisses them. She makes sure that Sophie’s focused on her before mouthing, Marry me.

Sophie leans in to kiss her, and they both get carried away. Lost in this moment of possibility before —

“Um, guys?” It’s Luke. “Are you working or making out?”

Ryan pulls back from the kiss and says, “Just for that, Mary, you’re Maid of Honor.”

“Ha!”

Who buys the other flowers or gifts?

It’s a trade off. Ryan loves bringing back little things from missions. Sophie is the reigning gift champion though. A few weeks after she joins the team, Sophie shows up at the loft with a plant for Ryan.

“It’s no desert rose, but well, Mary said how much you loved taking care of your old one.” Sophie holds it out for Ryan to take, but Ryan just keeps staring at her. Sophie shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She cringes inwardly. She’s probably tipping her hand too much by doing this. She can’t just show up at a cute girl’s place in her casual clothes and give her a plant. It’s… well, very gay, and probably invasive, given the fact that the last plant Ryan cared for was literally the thing to bring Ryan back to life.

Sophie groans. “Please don’t make me take it back.”

“No! You don’t have to.” Ryan reaches out with both hands to take the plant. She curls it to her chest, hugging it close. She stares down at it for a bit, and when she does look back up, a teary rim frames her eyes. “Thank you.”

Who would bring up possibly having kids?

Ryan really wants to be a mom one day. She’s fine not doing it now. But one day, she wants to do for someone else what her mom did for her.

Sophie gets weird about the idea once Ryan brings it up. Like, ducking out of rooms and coming up with all kinds of excuses as to why she can’t go on missions for a week. She even stays at Jordan’s place for a few nights.

Ryan has to go to Jordan’s apartment just to talk to Sophie alone. She barrels straight into the little two bedroom and plants herself next to the kitchen island. Sophie closes the door behind Ryan, but doesn’t step any closer to her fiance.

Ryan says, “I get it. If Batwoman can’t have a girlfriend, then she sure as hell can’t have a kid. But—”

Sophie cuts her off, “It’s not about Batwoman. It’s about me.”

“Oh.” Does Sophie not want kids?

“Before I came out, the thought of having kids and a family, it all felt so… not me. I told Tyler that I didn’t want kids, that I thought having kids in a city like Gotham was irresponsible and not something I would ever want to do.”

Ryan leans back into the island. Closes her eyes and tries to let the cool feel of the granite calm the pain of those words.

Sophie wrings her hands together. “But I honestly didn't want to do any of that, with a man. And you're right. It's completely irresponsible for Batwoman to have a kid. But maybe… maybe Ryan and Sophie Wilder-Moore could consider it. If we can help clean up a city, we can probably raise a pretty cool kid.”

Who is more nervous to meet the parents?

Sophie is literally shaking when they meet up with Diane Moore for the first time.

Thanks to Jordan, Ryan technically met Diane the week before. Ryan and Jordan were hanging out when Diane FaceTimed Jordan. Once Diane saw Ryan in the background, Jordan casually said, “That’s Ryan, Sophie’s girlfriend.” Then Diane’s entire face caught on fire, and she made an excuse to hang up. Fast forward five days, and Diane called Sophie to say she was “stopping by” for brunch. Reservations were made for four, and now Sophie is going to vibrate into another dimension from shaking so much.

Jordan and Ryan split a sympathetic look outside of Grits and Bear It, one of the best brunch places in Gotham.

Jordan tries to help. She says, “Just don’t mention the ex-con thing, and you’ll be fine.”

Sophie groans. Ryan steps up to Sophie and slips her arms around Sophie’s waist. “Babe, chill. I am a successful manager of a great bar—”

“A gay bar,” Sophie corrects.

Jordan winces. “Don’t mention that part either. Or Batwoman.”

Both Sophie and Ryan freeze. Sophie turns wide eyes up at Jordan and asks, “Why would we…?”

Jordan looks back at them like they’re five. “Because all you do is talk about how Batwoman’s the one person doing anything to help Gotham. And Mom still won’t say her name without gagging in her mouth.”

Sophie drops her head back down on top of Ryan’s. With their height difference, she can press her forehead to the crown of Ryan’s head. Hide away from the world for a moment. Whisper, “We should run. Now. Before she sees us.”

Ryan kisses Sophie on the cheek. “Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

(It is.)

(But thankfully Jordan takes one for the team and brings up her graffiti to take some of Diane’s fire. Ryan’s able to get one of very few smiles when she reminds Diane that Jordan’s working at the youth center now. Saving lives and what not. Still, nothing is enough for Diane. Ryan holds Sophie’s hand under the table.)

(Sophie doesn’t relax until they’re back at her place. Until they showered away the tension and curled up on the couch with Sophie wrapped around Ryan and a cheesy action movie playing on the TV.

Sophie holds on a little too tight. Sits a little too stiff. And she sniffles during a chase scene, which is really the final straw.

Ryan has to tuck her head under Sophie’s chin to look up at her girlfriend. “It’s her loss, you know? I’m pretty damn amazing, and you? You’re Sophie freaking Moore, and anyone who chooses not to love you is making the worst mistake of their life.”

Sophie sniffles again. “What if she never comes around?”

“Then you still have me, and Jordan, and Mary and Luke. You can even have Alice if you’re that desperate for a high head count. But you don’t need her to be happy.” Ryan wiggles out of the hold to sit up on her own. “And whenever you start worrying about what your mom thinks, just remember what the great poets once said.”

Sophie’s eyes narrow, and Ryan does her best to keep a serious look on her face.

“‘All I need in this life of sin—’” Sophie shoves Ryan away from her, and Ryan uses all of her strength to pull Sophie into her arms and sing right into her face, “‘is me and my girlfriend.’ Come on, baby, you know it.”

Sophie sings back, “‘It’s me and my girlfriend.’”

“See.” Ryan pecks Sophie on the lips. “That simple. Trust me.”

Sophie says, “I always do.”)

a/n: if only it were actually that sample. but hey, we can hope, and we can keep trying, you know?

so, what'd you think? any other random questions y'all would like answered? any prompts?

#batwoman #ryan x sophie #wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #mine #batwoman fic #headcanon #ship meme #luke and mary are also here because I love them #luke fox #mary hamilton #luke fox x mary hamilton

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hogarthwrites · 3 years

Text

the one

pairing: samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: angst, friends to lovers

warnings: none? (let me know if i should put any)

words: 2,333

summary:

part 1 part 2 Sam looks back on memories, some good, some he wishes he could forget. He feels bad about leaving you behind, but he's scared of confronting his own feelings.

note:

fin.

India

Sam didn't remember the last time he had pizza. Was it a week after he got out of prison? It definitely didn’t taste as good as it did at that moment. They’d saved the city, gave back to the people, and he probably helped Chloe find love. He did good.

But he didn’t feel all that good .

He couldn’t get the way you looked at him before he drove away out of his mind. He should’ve hugged you or said goodbye. Damn it, Samuel .

“So,” Chloe bit into her slice and stretched out the mozzarella. “What’s with you and that doctor?”

“Doctor?” Nadine raised an eyebrow. “Sam Drake has a someone?”

“I know, it’s hard to believe,” Chloe replied, erupting in laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Sam put up his hands in mock defeat.

“But is there anything going on between you two?” Chloe persisted.

“No?” He quickly said, instantly regretting it. “Shit, yes… No… I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“We’re best friends,” Sam shrugged. “Who,” he glanced at Meenu. “Who hold hands.”

“But do you love this doctor?” Meenu piped in.

He looked at the little girl, her big bright eyes looking up at him in amusement and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh.

“That’s a big word,” he finished his pizza. “ Love .”

“Coward,” Nadine taunted.

“When did this become a counseling session? Can’t a man just enjoy his pizza without getting grilled about his love life? Jesus.”

“As a friend , I just don’t want you missing out on a good thing,” Chloe poked him.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m old enough to confront my own feelings.”

“Old enough, but definitely not mature enough,” Meenu muttered.

“Hey, now you’re just hurting my feelings,” he laughed.

“Don’t be a coward, Sam,” the little girl mimicked Chloe and poked him as well.

Chloe gave him a smug look and took another slice of pizza.

1978

“You’re leaving again?” Cassandra followed her husband to the door.

Sam tiptoed to the nursery, where Nathan was left on the rug, playing with blocks. He sat in front of his baby brother and held up his stuffed bear that had an eyepatch to resemble the pirates in his picture books.

“Look at this, Nathan,” he made the bear dance in front of Nathan, who looked nervous as Cassandra and Frank’s voices got louder. “This is Henry. He’s a pirate.”

“Henry!” Nathan reached for the bear.

Sam closed the door to muffle the yelling outside. It was normal now, and even though he was just seven years old, he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

“Why don’t you walk? It’ll be good for you!” Frank was saying.

He knew his mom was sick, but he didn’t know what was wrong. They didn’t ride airplanes or visit the nice lady anymore and Cassandra spent more time asleep than before.

Nathan was preoccupied with Henry when the front door slammed shut and soon after, they heard Cassandra’s footsteps as she ran to her bedroom.

“Mommy?” Sam found her under her blankets, sobbing.

“Oh, come here, honey,” she peered out at him and he crawled in under the blankets with her and Nathan. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby.”

“Are you feeling better, mommy?” Sam whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she sniffled. She stared at her left hand for a while before slipping off her wedding ring. “Love is overrated.”

1987

“Right, so the cash register isn’t too hard to use,” Fred, the manager of the bookstore, led you around the back of the counter. He wasn’t that much older than you – he was probably 18 or 19 – and he stood tall and lanky as he punched buttons on the cash register. “You’ll have accountability for the accuracy of cash and charge transactions.”

“Okay,” you nodded, but you were distracted by a boy and a girl outside the shop. You recognised the boy as your coworker. Sam, was it?

“What’s going on out there?” You gestured towards the couple.

“Ah,” Fred simply glanced up. “Sam’s getting dumped. Again.”

Again? You watched as the girl was visibly upset with Sam while he tried to explain whatever it was he did wrong to her.

“I think you’re all caught up,” Fred gave you a pat on the back. “I have to go back to restocking that Stephen King book. Don’t worry about Sam too, this happens like, once a month.”

“Alright, thanks, Fred,” you busied yourself with rearranging the magazines in front of you, but you couldn’t help but glance up at Sam and the girl.

The conversation seemed to escalate and you clasped your hand against your mouth to suppress a loud gasp when she threw her milkshake at Sam’s face. She walked away in a huff and Sam stood there covered in strawberry milkshake. As he turned back to go inside the store, you looked down at the magazines again, pretending you weren’t just watching him get dumped.

“Shit,” he groaned as he tried to wipe his face clean.

“Geez, that looked rough,” you gave him an apologetic look.

Sam looked at you in confusion, wondering who you were.

“I’m the new hire,” you smiled. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Right…”

“Fred keeps an extra uniform in his locker if you wanna use it,” you shrugged. “I saw it when he gave me mine. Maybe you can ask him.”

“Nah, I’ll just pick it open,” Sam went to the back room.

Minutes later, he was back and clean of the milkshake.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he smiled and nudged you.

“Don’t mention it. You don’t think he’ll notice it’s gone, do you?” You glanced over at Fred, who was assisting an elderly woman.

“Nah, I’ll put it back before he even notices it’s gone.”

“Right,” you chuckled, turning away as a customer placed some books on the counter. Sam sat on a stool nearby and took out a book to read. Treasure Island.

“So, um,” you turned when the customer left. “What was that out there? If you wanna talk about it.”

“That was Mina,” he didn’t look up from his book. “My now ex-girlfriend.”

“Right, I can see that.”

“She was mad about me working too much.”

“Why? How much time do you spend at the bookstore?”

“I don’t,” he flipped a page. “I work part-time at a garage after hours, fixing motorcycles and shit. Employment’s down, I’m barely getting by as it is. Also, I have shit luck when it comes to love.”

“I feel that. I think it runs in my family.”

“Did you just get dumped too?”

“Nah. My mom got tired of my dad so she ran off with a friend to Europe, then my dad fucked off to God-knows-where-ville.”

“Yeah, my dad fucked off too,” Sam laughed. “We have a lot in common, new kid.”

“I guess we do,” you smiled at him.

You and Sam were lying on your stomachs side by side, elbow to elbow on your bed watching the Angel Casas Show where A-Ha played a song.

“He has nice hair,” you pointed at the singer.

“You think I’d look good with longer hair?” Sam ran his hand through his hair.

Your face scrunched up as you tried to imagine his hair longer. “Your hair’s too messy and greasy to look as nice as his. And you're not blond."

“Is it really that greasy? I swear I try to wash it all off after work,” he pouted.

“Hmm,” you reached over and tousled his hair. “On second thought, try growing it out. It might be cute.”

“Why, thank you for finally recognising my good looks.”

“Alright, don’t let it get to you,” you pushed him off the bed and rolled over, laughing.

Arthur appeared at the door with his hands on his hips. “It’s late and I just want some goddamn rest. Time to go home, young man.”

“Hey, how’s it going, Art?” Sam winked.

“Go home,” Arthur sighed and walked away.

“I guess that’s my cue.”

You watched as Sam searched for his jacket and put it on. He stood in front of the mirror and touched his hair again, trying to style it differently.

“You really think I’d look good with longer hair?” He frowned at his reflection, annoyed that he could never get his hair to behave.

“Yeah, I guess so,” a corner of your mouth lifted into a small smile. You liked hanging out with Sam, and you didn’t know why you started thinking about him more whenever you weren’t together anymore.

“Don’t fall in love with me when I become even more irresistible,” Sam laughed as he climbed out of the window. He leaned in again with a lopsided grin on his face. “I mean it.”

You threw a stuffed animal at him. “Dream on, Sam. That’s grody to the max.”

Present Day

Sam ran his fingers through his hair as he stood outside your door. He’s been debating whether he wanted to go through with this and after a lot of failed attempts at calling you, he ended up at your doorstep.

Fuck it , he thought as he knocked. No answer.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Open the damn door.”

“Sam?” You called behind him.

Sam whipped around to see you walking up the steps with another person. Could it be?

“Fred?” He lifted an eyebrow. Fred was still tall and lanky, but his red hair was tied back in a low ponytail.

“If it isn’t Samuel Morgan,” Fred beamed.

“It’s Drake now,” Sam replied under his breath.

“Are you hurt, Sam?” You moved closer, inspecting his face. He had a cut on his nose, his lip, a bruise on his forehead and his hand was bandaged up.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Fred asked.

“I… fell,” Sam gave Fred a dirty look. “I’m fine.”

“Spare me the theatrics, Samuel,” you pushed past him and opened the door. “Come in.”

You grabbed his arm and led him to your sofa where he sat down with a grunt. His jaw clenched and he twiddled with his fingers while you went to grab your first aid kit.

“I have to go get ready,” Fred stood by the door. “Thanks for today. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “See you then.”

“Hope you get better, Sam,” he nodded at the man on your sofa. “I’d like to catch up sometime.”

“Sure, Freddie boy,” Sam faked a smile.

As soon as the front door closed, you angrily turned back to Sam who tried to avoid your eyes. You unwrapped the bandage on his hand and saw that he had a cut on his palm and a bunch of bruises on his knuckles.

“Hold on,” you sighed and got up to put a bag of peas on his hand.

After you’d cleaned his wounds and bandaged his hand up again, you sat back and rubbed your temples. You didn't know how to deal with him anymore.

“Take care of yourself, Sam,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he looked at the bandage on his hand and closed his fist as much as he could. “Thanks again.”

You looked up as Sam stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “This was a mistake. I didn’t mean to barge in on whatever it is you have with Fred.”

“Huh?” You sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“He did have the hots for you back then, I guess it just makes sense.”

“Wait,” you laughed as you stood up. “Do you think Fred and I are a thing?”

“I–” Sam held up a finger to say something, but he bit his lip as realisation dawned on his face.

“Sam, I’m a doctor. His pregnant wife is my patient,” you crossed your arms.

“Oh…”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Sam pressed his lips together as he moved closer to you. “I’m sorry that was stupid.”

You turned away in frustration, doing your best not to just throw Sam out, but he seemed like he wanted to say something.

"Can you at least tell me what's on your mind?"

“God, Sam. Right now I just have all these what ifs playing around in my head, like what if you didn’t disappear, what if we stayed together, what if we didn’t have that fight before you left for India? It might’ve been fun, we might’ve been good together.” You pointed a finger at him. “But that’s all there is with you, is there? What if? ”

“I was scared, okay?” Sam put his hands up. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve never done this before,” he took your hand. “I…”

Sam froze up, his chest rising and falling as he tried to find the words to say. Don’t be such a coward , he told himself. He’s been at the end of the barrel of plenty of guns, nearly died at the hands of so-called “doctors”, lived at the mercy of a rich psychopath, but he couldn’t even say the word love .

“Sam?” Your eyes bore into his.

“I…” He repeated.

Instead, he pulled you in and kissed you. It felt different from the usual, quick kisses he usually gave. It was a soft kiss and he cupped your cheek gently as you melted into his arms. There was an urgency in the kiss, almost like he was desperate to tell you how much he needed this. How much he needed you.

Your eyes were still closed when Sam slowly pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve left well enough alone.”

Before he turned away, you took his hand and he turned back to look at you.

“Don’t go,” you pulled at his hand.

“I’m trying… I want to say it,” he let out a breath.

He kissed you again, hoping you understood the message. I love you, damnit.

“I know, Sam,” you kissed his unbandaged hand. “I know.”

“Friends?” He leaned his forehead on yours and you laughed.

“Forever.”

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake #uncharted fanfiction #friends to lovers #angst #?

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

And They Were Roommates-Pt 5

Before she knew it, Marinette was leaving her last final that Friday, full of excitement. Her parents were coming in a week! She hadn’t seen them since the first week of August when she had made a quick trip home with Chloe and Adrien to see their families before the semester began. Four long months of video chats and the occasional phone call was not enough.

Hopping the shuttle bus, Marinette made her way to the back, blissfully ignoring her surroundings as she plopped on the back row. Pulling out her sketchbook, she began on her third design for Professor Brookes. Somehow in the crowded timespan of finals week, she managed to convince Adrien and Chloe to model some of her older designs for her portfolio. Adrien promised to edit them and have them back to her before tonight when they left for the airport.

“Are you stalking me Marinette?”

Her head whipped up to find Damian turned in his seat, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Wha- I mean- It’s not like that- It’s just- I”

For the first time since she met the man, he did something that scared her. He laughed.

“It was just a joke Angel. No need to get so hot and bothered.”

“Again with the Angel? Can’t you just drop that?��

His widening smirk answered before he could shake his head.

“I have a knack for getting under people’s skin and Angel is the quickest way to get under yours. I wonder, what is so important about that nickname? Ex-boyfriend? Ex-girlfriend?”

She rolled her eyes, doing her best to ignore his taunting. She turned her attention back to her sketch, jotting a few notes on the side before shutting her book tightly.

“What is your tick Damian? You have to have one right?”

He shook his head, a brief look of pride crossing his face.

“I learned from a young age that if you let things tick you off, people will take advantage of it, specifically brothers will take advantage of it.”

“What are your brothers' names?”

It was as if a switch flickered off. His playful expression was gone and instead, the stoic jerk she knew surfaced again. A scowl curled from his lips as he turned back in his seat, leaving her question unanswered. Marinette let out a small sigh, turning her eyes toward the window. She really thought she had made a breakthrough, but it didn’t seem as though she could break through his exterior. Uncapping her pen, she rolled up her sleeve.

“I’m pretty sure I just aced my last final. I hope you’re feeling just as confident.”

A minute had barely passed before the familiar tingle moved through her arm.

“Of course I am. What are you gonna do now?”

“I’m on my way to the workshop. I’m almost finished with my third design which means it’s time to start sewing. I’m hoping to get it done before next Friday.”

She tried her best to write small and legible so that she could continue their conversation without having to switch arms. While she could write with her left hand, it was never determined as to whether that handwriting was legible or not.

“I know you will Angel. You always manage.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw Damian shift in his seat almost as if he wanted to turn around but instead he remained staring forward, ignoring the small girl. Capping her pen, Marinette stood making her way to the front of the bus. She tried to wave at the boy, but he simply turned his head in favor of looking out the window. Shrugging her shoulders, Marinette waited for the bus to screech to a stop before she stepped off, not bothering to look back at the eyes that followed her every step away. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“About time Dupen-Chang. You’re lucky my plane is private, otherwise I would be charging you for missing my flight.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she stepped into the car, shoving the bags monopolizing the backseat to the side.

“Seriously you two? It’s just two weeks. What do you need so much clothes for?”

“It’s the terrible price of being famous.” Adrien threw his hand dramatically across his forehead earning a giggle from the two girls.

“Maman and Papa will be upset they missed you two.”

“Who said they were gonna miss us? They are our first stop when we land.”

“You don’t get to see my parents before I do! That’s not fair!”

Marinette crossed her arms watching her friends burst into fits of borderline maniacal laughter.

“Seriously you guys! What am I going to do on my own for the next week?”

“Maybe you and Damian can hang out?”

Adrien bit his lip trying not to laugh at the scowl he received. It had only been a week, but they were all aware of the mutual distaste between the two.

“You’re so not funny Chat.”

Adrien gasped, clutching his heart as he fell against the window.

“Why must you wound me?”

“Adrikins, if you streak up my windows, you’ll be finding your own way home.”

Adrien sat up quickly, mock saluting Chloe in the process. Pulling onto the airstrip, Chloe caught Marinette’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

“You’re going to take care of my car right Dupen-Chang?”

“I always do Chloe.”

“Good. Then I suppose I could allow your parents to use my private jet to fly into the States for Christmas.”

Marinette’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

“No way, oh my god, Maman is going to freak! Thank you so much Chloe!”

The girl threw her arms around the driver’s seat, doing her best to wrap Chloe into a hug. She felt the push as Chloe tried to untangle herself, pretending to be disgusted but the smile in her rear view mirror gave her away. The car came to a stop a few feet from the plane, a multitude of staff rushed forward to attend to their luggage.

Stepping out of the car, Marinette proceeded to give her friends a proper hug, much to Chloe’s protests.

“It’s just two weeks Dupen-Chang, you don’t have to be so touchy.”

“But I’ll miss you guys alot!”

The two blondes pulled back, both shaking their heads.

“You’re ridiculous Dupen-Chang, utterly ridiculous.”

Marinette waved as she watched her two friends board the plane and with a sigh, she slipped into the driver’s seat. This was going to be a long week. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marinette paced the kitchen, debating on if she should knock on Damian’s door or not. It was 10pm, but she wasn’t sure if he had eaten dinner yet. In Paris, this was close to the time her family usually got to sit down together, but after being here for three years, she learned very quickly that American’s tended to eat earlier than that.

Finding herself in front of his door, she raised her hand hesitantly. They had a semi nice conversation earlier today and even if it ended abruptly, it was a start right?

She never had the chance to decide as his door flung open, leaving her eyes level with his bare chest.

“My God, I’m so sorry. I was-I just- I can’t”

She looked straight up, trying not to think about his abs or his sculpted chest or his nice skin. God, why was it so hard to get that image out of her head?

The door slammed shut giving her the moment she needed to dart back to the kitchen, trying to shake the image out of her head. He’s a jerk. A very hot jerk. A very very very hot jerk.

The sound of his door reopening snapped her out of her trance as she pretended to stir the pot as if nothing had happened.

He cleared his throat, forcing her to turn around and face him. He lifted an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his now covered chest.

“I wasn’t aware you were home.”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted some vegetable soup. Chloe mentioned you were vegetarian and I am trying to cut out meat and I was just wondering if you were hungry and I wasn’t sure if you had eaten yet and-”

She clamped her mouth shut, cutting off her rant as she tried to avoid making eye contact with the boy in front of her. Several agonizing minutes passed before he finally answered.

“Okay.”

He brushed her shoulder as he reached for two bowls from the cabinet. Marinette stood as still as a statue as he spooned out the soup, leaving one bowl on the counter for her as he walked back towards his room. He paused right before his doorway, offering the girl a look she couldn’t decipher. Then, for the second time today, Damian Al Ghul shocked her.

“Thank you.”

And with that, he shut his door leaving the girl to melt into a puddle of embarrassment on the kitchen floor.

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#daminette #maribat #roommates

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