#to lovers fic challenge

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

#suzsblinddatewritingchallenge #targaryenvampireslayer #suz's writing challenge #writing challenge #filthy impetuous souls #jen writes #prompted #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #curvy!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan characters #protective!bucky barnes #sniper!reader #winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes imagines

[samijey]

Sami seemed to strike a big nerve with Jey last night

#jey uso #sami zayn #wwe #the usos #roman reigns #smackdown #this segment was SO IMPORTANT lemme tell you #YES SAMI REMIND EVERYONE WHO THE REAL ENEMY IS #jail for roman #jail for roman for a thousands years #the way jey's frown softens when sami says he loved him URGH I'M SICK #my toxic trait is that i will tear up randomly at work bc i'm thinking about these two and make my coworkers worry about me #yes hello no everything is fine haha just angsting over wet pathetic men and their dramatic 100k enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers fic #jey's character has remained so fucking consistent everything he does makes sense #wwe having years long character development that makes sense??? unfathomable #anyways vince mcmahon die challenge #what is up with this pink ass coloring you might ask #and ill tell you pink is the color of love :))))) #lies i just hate coloring gifs with real people in them oof #stuff i made

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

AO3 DARK FIC BINGO

from the tags I read and write about the most

trigger warnings: non-con, dubcon, s*icide, self-harm, non-con drug use. it’s… all the dark stuff.

#dark fic #ao3 #archive of our own #whump #writing #writer #writeblr #whumpblr #angst #enemies to lovers #writing prompts #whump prompts #writers #blorbo #comfort character #whump prompt #writing inspo #writing inspiration #writing prompt #writing challenge #fanfic #fanfiction #prompts #writing tropes #whump tropes #writing trope #whump trope #prompt #tropes #trope

[steddieunderdogfics]

for monday's challenge to find fics with the letter x in the title:

in Eddie Munson's expert opinion by ColorMeParanoid 💕💕💕

in Eddie Munson's expert opinion by ColorMeParanoid

@color-me-paranoid

Rating: Explicit

10,110 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Getting Together, First Kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, First Time Bottoming, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Steve Harrington Has a Praise Kink, Steve Harrington Has a Big Dick, and it's a problem, Eddie's no doctor but he'll take a look, Coming Untouched, Friends to Lovers

Summary:

“This is something I never thought I’d have to say, but I’m sure your dick is perfectly fine just the way it is,” Eddie tried to reassure him and while Steve appreciated his attempt, it was hard to argue with the overwhelming number of signs that disputed it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about here, Eddie. Trust me.” “I kind of do, though? I wouldn’t call myself like, a dick expert or anything like that, but I have seen more than my fair share of them over the years, in all shapes and colors and sizes,” Eddie insisted. “I can promise you that yours is nothing that I haven’t seen before.” “Why don’t you take a look then?” Steve said before he could stop himself, and nearly slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized it came out sounding a lot more serious rather than sarcastic like he’d originally intended. Or, the one in which Steve has a big dick and it's a problem

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#challenge monday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics #rated e #getting together #first kiss #friends to lovers

[omppupiiras]

stretching my drawing muscles to prepare for tonight's of mayhem 💪✍ jk im just addicted to drawing him actually

#käärijä #my stuff #does my jesse look like jesse at all?? i dunno #always a challenge to try out new faces LOL #jerse #somebody please write an enemies to lovers ice hockey jerse au fic im begging

[edits-art-and-roleplay]

:: Warnings!! The following story is only suitable for people over 18 years old!! It includes sexual acts and a wonderful love story between two men! :: :: Please don't copy nor steal my writing. ::

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'The couch? Seriously?', Gale's mind spoke and his gaze swept across the room, over to the fold-out couch where John could be found sleeping. It could have been much easier. The bed in this hotel room was so big that 4 people could have easily slept in it without getting in the way. Their best friend had been quite generous when he celebrated his big birthday at the fancy hotel, allowing all his friends and family to stay there. Gale and John shared a room, like in the old days when they were roommates. That's exactly how it felt now when Gale took in the distance between them.

His confession a few weeks ago that he had separated from his wife had obviously not changed anything between the two of them. He had confessed to John that he realized why John had kept his distance and it was all the more frightening that he felt exactly the same thing. That was the first time John had admitted that he was in love with Gale either. ‘Then why doesn’t anything change?’, Gale thought and let out a deep, quiet breath. Maybe he needed to make it clearer to John what he wanted.

So Gale slowly and noiselessly pushed himself up off the mattress, slid out of bed and just as noiselessly walked over to the couch. It was so frighteningly quiet that he could clearly hear John's breathing the closer he got. Reaching the edge of the couch, Gale leaned forward and down so he could gently snuggle against John's warm body.

Perhaps it was fate, a premonition or a deep-seated wish on John's part, that he kept the left arm away from the body in such a way that Gale found it comfortable, his right hand resting relaxed on the stomach. John didn't move at first, but looked happy in his sleep and it was definitely three minutes before Gale felt the slight body movement. His best friend was no longer asleep, but wide awake and aware that this was no dream. His head turned to the left, lips touched Gale's smelly and soft hair and a deep breath of contentment was heard. Gale felt it, heard the quiet heartbeat and was quite sure that this was the moment John had been longing for. Still, both of them couldn't stop teasing.

"What are you doing here?", John was heard whispering, lips resting gently against Gale's hair.

"Well, we were at a birthday party and ended up in the hotel room.", Gale smirked even though his Major couldn't see it, but he heard the gentle wheezed laughter.

"I know that. I mean, what are you doing -here-?" He emphasized the last word lovingly and the fingers of his left hand tapped almost tenderly on Gale's hip, which he had grasped from behind and pulled close to him.

"Well - I woke up in that huge and quite comfortable bed over there and couldn't bear to see you here on this rather uncomfortable couch."

"We can swap. - Uuuh ouch.", John added quickly, feeling the playful boxing in the side and that's when his laughter was heard more loudly. To his surprise, he got a kiss on the shoulder joint and grinned happily to himself with his eyes closed.

"Do you feel uncomfortable when I'm lying here?", Gale was heard asking softly and cautiously after a long moment of silence had passed and they just held each other. As if they had never had bad times, never had been separated, never went through a self chosen distance to each other.

"No not at all." The soft and relaxed tone of John's voice encouraged Gale. Not that he didn't have one, but that the closeness between them and in the here and now wasn't a problem gave him the courage to finally say what he wanted to say.

"Then never leave my side again."

"I'm here. I always was."

"But never completely and that's what I want. You by my side, without the limits we have imposed on ourselves, but rather enjoying now that we both love each other." So began a plea of love, which Gale's heart absolutely had to get off his chest. All of that had been building up in him for so long, had had to remain hidden for so long that now as he had spoken the first few sentences, he felt the pressure in his chest really painful. So he sat up, sat on the knees, shoved the slightly trembling hands between his thighs to calm him down and continued to speak with fervor. 

"It took me so long to figure out and realize why you made yourself so rare in our friendship. The worst part was not realizing why you did it, but that I would have had exactly the same reason. Namely, that I love you . And you still love me. So why does it feel like you still like the distance more than being close to me."

"Gale." He heard those whispers very close and looked straight into John's eyes, for he had long since sat up and taken his lover's hands in his own. But Gale's mind still hadn't really realized this.

"No, John. We seriously have to talk about it.", he shook his head, not wanting to interrupt the speech.

"And I want you to stop talking."

"Why? Isn't all that just as important to you anymore?"

"Yes. It is.", John smiled and now Gale finally realized how close they were, because the warm breath carried John's whisper over a very short distance to his lips. Eyes that Gale loved so much couldn't look more directly into his as he then heard. "But I finally want to kiss you."

Such a request had never set Gale's heart pounding so fast. However, when John said those words, his heart pounded so fast against the ribs that the vibration was almost unbearable. Like a newborn that sucked in the first breaths hectically and uncontrollably, his chest moved up and down so quickly and yet it was the most beautiful agony Gale had ever suffered. Their gazes never parted and when John put the warm hands on his cheeks, there was this unspeakably beautiful relief and relaxation on Gale's limbs. That feeling ran down his cheeks, down his jaw, down into his chest where it calmed the excited heart and breathing. But only until the next sensual storm blew up in him.

Magnetically attracted to each other, their faces had moved closer together and when the surfaces of their lips touched, Gale noticed that John had long since closed his eyes. Wanting to enjoy it in the same way, the eyelids drooped, letting the long lashes rest on the silky skin under the eyes, and now the inner explosion felt even more intense. This moment wasn't forced, it wasn't planned or foreseen. No, this moment was simply carried by love and enclosed the two of them like an invisible cage. Not one you were trapped in and wanted to escape as quickly as possible. God no, Gale liked to be trapped in this cage until the end of his life, knowing he was with the man he loved. Knowing he was safe, alive and his love was returned.

But this love was not only reciprocated. That love turned to passion and Gale felt John's body pushing closer and closer against his. He felt the slight twist that pushed him backwards into the pillows, the mattress snuggling up against the back and his front being gently buried beneath John's. However, he also felt the tremor that stirred up the passion and made John's muscles tremble. As soon as he became aware of this, he heard this strained moaning and stopping breathing as if his lover was fighting something.

"Major? What's going on?", Gale whispered, cupping his lover's face in both hands and hoping nothing more than that he would look at him. "Your whole body is shaking."

"I'll be fine in a second.", John muttered haltingly, suppressing the deep groan and everything about him was tense. His forehead rested on Gale's bare chest, next to whose body his hands had gripped the sheets and were tugging at them. And now it dawned on Gale what was going on.

"It's all a bit much at once, isn't it?", he grinned, doing everything he could not hear it. He now knew what was going on in John and how much he fought against lust, because he couldn't do otherwise. Neither of them had been prepared for this explosion of emotions. There was no bootcamp for that.

"A little.", John wheezed laughing, clearing his throat and now having given up the stubbornness not to look at his lover. His head slowly rose, he shifted the body weight slightly to the right forearm and tenderly stroked the side of Gale's face with the left hand. "I've waited for this moment for so long.", he whispered lovingly. "For this moment, for you, for us. Words cannot express how happy I am, Gale."

"We don't need to talk.", he sounded mischievous. "I would be very content to feel you in any sensual way."

He received no verbal reply to this request. Rather, a flood of tender kisses came towards him, which took him by storm again. John's lips were so sensual and beguilingly soft. The flowing movements of his body are so devotedly light, as if small, flat waves were pushing against the shore. It was so easy to let yourself fall into this stream, switch off your head and find relaxation. But Gale wanted more than that. He was overwhelmed with the urge to lose himself completely in John. Not only did he want to be one with him in an act that went with it, no, Gale wanted to disappear body and soul into John. Becoming one with him, sharing the same heart and soul forever.

And that's exactly what happened at that moment. With each caress of the hands, each other removed the last barrier between their bodies. With every kiss that touched the heated skin. With every stroke of the tongue, it tickled errogenic zones and tenderly made you want more. The small flame of passion had long since turned into a firestorm and Gale almost missed the moment, this one important moment, in which he now fully felt John. But John had stopped, forcing him to look at him and realize what was happening. And what happened was the best thing in their lives. Gale was totally relaxed and as they locked eyes, he felt John's hips move closer to his. It was the most beautiful way to be buried under him and to be caught by his waves. Those waves that were no longer small and flat, but that had picked up the storm from far out at sea and whipped against the shore.

Carried away by this storm, Gale's hands were wrapped around John's shoulder blades. Legs had wrapped themselves, like a passionate clamp, around the hips that rocked both their bodies. Why had they waited so long for this? Why had they allowed themselves to stay away from each other, when they really needed each other? Gale didn't know anymore. He didn't want to look back either. He wanted to stay in the here and now. At that moment, when they were finally one and bit by bit the pressure built up in him that he almost got dizzy. And just as that feeling became too aching and strong, Gale could feel their bodies giving in to the need. He could feel John's explosion and just two seconds later his own spreading hotly against their bellies. Gale wanted to scream out loud, but their kisses had muffled any loud gasps and moans before, and still did.

It wasn't until the last wave of their climax that lips parted, but faces stayed close and hectic breath rushed between mouths. Gale's fingers on John's shoulder blades relaxed again and he hadn't noticed that the fingernails had dug into the skin. Very lightly, but he felt the marks as the fingertips caressed tenderly and John seemed to whimper softly. "I'm sorry.", Gale whispered, lifting his eyelids and looking at his lover's overjoyed face.

"I'm not.", John grinned with the lascivious look and small tears had mixed between the beads of sweat on his face. "I'm not sorry for a single damn second.", he whispered, both still struggling to fill their lungs with fresh oxygen. "I love you, Gale. And I swear to you, I'll never let you go again.", he sealed these words with a heartfelt kiss and the night gave the two enough time to enjoy their togetherness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

:: Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you liked it, please tell me, share the post and/or leave a heart. If you didn't like it and you don't have anything nice to say, I'll be grateful if you don't say anything at all. God bless you all! ::

#fanfiction #fanfic #roleplay #rp writing #austin butler #callum turner #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #masters of the air #au version #gay romance #love story #romance #lovers #fantastic beasts #austin butler elvis #dune part 2 #mota fic challenge #mota #mota fanfic #writers on tumblr #writers #writings #clegan #buck x bucky #bucky x buck #mota au

[pintsizemama]

Chestnuts

Day 4

Summary: Marcus & Peanut roast chestnuts with Grandma.

Pairings: Marcus Pike x You, Marcus Pike x Female Reader (Peanut)

Fandom: The Mentalist

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, discussions of sex and blow jobs

Word Count: 1,027

Marcus & Peanut Masterlist

Day 3 Day 5 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“Is this too many?” You asked your grandmother, gesturing to the vast amount of chestnuts on the kitchen counter.

“Might not be enough,” Grandma replied. ‘This has always been a family favorite—for both families.” She looked at Marcus who nodded in agreement. A couple hours ago you and Marcus had ”come out” to your families about your new relationship. Needing a break from all the questions and advice, you both had volunteered to help Grandma make her famous roasted chestnuts. She added butter and honey to them which made it an irresistible holiday snack. The three of you sat together at the kitchen island and worked in quiet peace. It was a nice change from all the chatter you had to deal with today.

“I think the first two batches are ready to go in,” Grandma told Marcus. He dutifully stood up and carried two trays to the oven. You couldn’t help but stare at him in awe. He was so beautiful and finally all yours.

“You’re drooling, dear,” Grandma said with a chuckle. You rolled tour eyes at her playfully. Marcus placed a kiss on the top of your head just before retaking his seat next to you.

“How’d you know about us, Grandma?” You asked. “The other day when we were baking cookies…you already knew we were together. How?’”

“It was very clear,” Grandma answered. “The two of you have always been obvious in your ‘secret’ feelings for each other, but there was always a…tension there. Something missing. Like two magnets being forced apart even though all they wanted, their entire purpose in life was to be together. The other day, that tension wasn’t there anymore. So, I knew you had finally admitted your love for each other.”

“Wow,” you whispered.

“I didn’t realize how transparent we were,” Marcus said quietly.

“Apparently not to each other,” you laughed.

“True,” Marcus agreed. “I’m just glad we finally got on the same page.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Me too,” Grandma chimed in. “Now make me the happiest old lady in Seattle and give me some great-grand babies!”

“Gonna need some time before that, Grandma,” you chided playfully.

“Yeah, but we can definitely practice until we’re ready…a lot,” Marcus added.

“Marcus Pike!” You scolded. He just smiled and kissed you softly.

“Ugh! Gross!” John shouted as he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please refrain from mauling my baby sister when I’m in the house?” Marcus pulled away and laughed.

“John, you are such a fucking cock block!” You groaned at him.

“Just payback for that time I snuck Janie Stevens over the night Mom and Dad were out of town,” John said with an evil grin.

“That was years ago!” You scoffed. “You were in high school You can’t still be pissed about that!”

“Yes I can!” John argued. “She refused to go out with me again after that! I only ever got to second base with her, and the rumor was she gave the best head in school.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I stopped your oversexed teenage self from getting into yet another girl’s pants in high school,” you said sarcastically. “It’s not like she was the only girl willing to sleep with you. You were—and still are—a massive manwhore.”

“If I remember correctly,” Marcus chimed in, “you did sleep with Janie our first summer home from college. Even got her to give you one of her famously great blow jobs.”

“Ha!” You shouted. “Look at that. No need to be pissed at me since you did get—wait, Marcus.” You turned to your boyfriend. “How do you know her blow jobs are great? Have you slept with Janie?” Marcus’s eyes widened. John laughed at his friend’s discomfort.

“No, Peanut, I never slept with Janie,” Marcus said. You knew he was feeling the truth, but it was slightly off.

“What about a blow job?” You pressed.

“Huh?” Marcus dodged the question.

“Ok, let me rephrase that,” you said. “Has Janie Stevens’ nasty lips been anywhere near your cock?”

“Oh man,” John couldn’t stop laughing. “This is so much better than stopping you two from kissing.”

“Sweetheart,” Marcus began.

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Marcus Pike,” you said sternly. You were trying hard not to laugh at the panic in his eyes. You wouldn’t be able to keep up this angry facade long. “Did you let her blow you?”

“We were teenagers!” Marcus said defensively. “It meant nothing. She blew everyone!” You burst out laughing. John fell to the ground he was laughing so hard. Even Grandma was chuckling.

“What the hell?” Marcus asked in shock. “You were fucking with me?”

“Of course I was!” You laughed. “Marcus, you’ve been married and engaged. Obviously you’ve had sex with women other than me. I’m well aware you have a past. Just like me.” He scowled at that.

“I don’t wanna think about that, Peanut,” he said darkly. You just smiled.

“The past doesn’t matter, my sweet Marcus,” you said softly, cupping his face. “All that matters is our present and future, my love.” He smiled and kissed your palm.

“For the record,” Marcus told you, “you give way better head than Janie Stevens.” You ignored the gagging sounds John was making and blushed as you remembered the quick blow job you had given him last night when you both managed to sneak away after midnight mass. That wasn’t even close to your best work. You looked forward to showing him just how talented you were once you got back to DC. Just then the timer dinged.

“First batch is done!” Grandma announced.

“Yes!” John cheered. “That’s why I came in here. To beat everyone else to the chestnuts. Didn’t expect to get an x-rated comedy show out of it.”

“X-rated?” Marcus laughed. “That wasn’t even close to how x-rated we can get.”

“I do NOT want to hear that,” John said immediately.

“Then don’t piss me off, or I’ll tell you exactly what I do to your baby sister!” Marcus countered.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“Boys never really do grow up, do they dear?” Grandma said fondly.

“I guess not,” you agreed.

Day 5

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@alexxavicry @amneris21 @awhitewyvern @burrito-stuffs @dreedhudson @emilianamason @fatimaisabelpascal @greeneyedblondie44 @harriedandharassed @hayley-the-comet @hnt-escape @holb32 @just-here-for-the-moment @kirsteng42 @loompyinaway @maxwell--lord @mishasminion360 @mswarriorbabe80 @my-sweetheart1776 @peach-child @pedrostories @sherala007 @thevoiceinyourheadx @wildmoonflower @xocalliexo

#pedro pascal #Marcus pike #the mentalist #Marcus and peanut #christmas writing challenge #fluff #brother’s best friend #friends to lovers #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[tinyluminaryzombie]

Tried and True

@jilychallenge2023 @jilychallenge | Partner: @abihastastybeans | Winter in June (word count: 1,785)

Prompt: My friends dared me to jump in the pool/beach/lake/river in the middle of winter and those suckers took away the towel and only left my clothes and oh my god you’re standing nearby looking all beautiful and oh god, you’ve also seen me getting out of the water body naked

Good news: Lily finally has a few days off since she joined the Order. Bad news: She's spending her days off in a remote cabin with her ex and their friends. (Or: In which Lily grapples with ~feelings~, James gets some answers, and Wolfstar just gets some)

Read it on AO3

#jily challenge #winter in june #jily #low key inspired by Emily Henry's Happy Place #and boygenuis's True Blue #friends to lovers to exes to lovers #james potter #lily evans #remus lupin #sirius black #mauraders #my fic #my jily fic

[ginnyw-potter]

Chapter 8: Diagon Alley

Ginny plopped down beside Harry on his couch.

“Have you recovered from your memory embarrassment?” Harry asked with a small smile.

She nodded, looking at him. “Mostly.” She cut to the chase. “Did your management also talk to you?”

“Due to unseen record ticket sales, we have decided you shall maintain your relationship with Miss Weasley for a longer period,” Harry quoted. “Yeah.” His expression was unreadable.

“If we both win our next game, we will be up against each other again,” she mused. “I am willing to bet they want to see how that plays out.” She shook her head.

Harry folded his hands together. “Apparently people are already placing bets on the outcome of the game if we’re up against each other.”

Ginny blew air out of her mouth. “Are we that interesting?”

Harry shrugged and turned to her. He looked rather solemn. “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked down for a moment. “If we are keeping this up for a longer time, possibly until the end of the season, we have to consider dating.”

Full chapter: AO3/Fanfiction.net

#hinny #love i like a challenge #lilac #update #fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #rivals to fake dating to lovers #fake dating #mutual pining #oblivious pining

[the-darklings]

What is he if not Lord of unanswered dreams and hopes?

Honestly, it pains me so much that Dream always fails to recognise his own value. That he knows his meaning to the Dreaming, but can’t he see his worth apart from his function. That killed me in the TV series and it kills me here. How often had somebody said something like “you have to do this” or “you don’t have a saying in this” for him to only believe himself worthy as a king for those who sleep instead for a being that deserves to love and dream as well.

I agree, and it's one of the first things I truly appreciated about his characterisation.

To be honest, it's a question that could be argued in many different ways. Past experiences are the first point that pops into my mind. The idea that all past attempts to have something more, to live for something other than his function, is beyond his grasp. Yet, more often than not, if you analyse Dream's pattern, the relationship is either doomed from the start (and he fails to see it/accept it), or he is entirely incompatible with the individual, to begin with. Dream's own inability to form meaningful change is, arguably, half the issue here, if not most of it.

It's clear that Dream is lonely. That he dearly desires something more but has been burned too many times to try and shoulder the potentially another failure. He has such responsibility placed on him that he instead chooses to - as Corinthian aptly puts it - "feel nothing". I think it's easier for him to focus on his duty because the depth of his own loneliness might undo him. Again, it's not a lack of love or even care. It's too much love. Dream is cold not because he doesn't feel but because he loves too much, too quickly, too intensely.

But he is also oh so proud. All those failed relationships and connections are felt so much deeper, even if he's not verbal about them.

#this is why with tibyim i took such slowburn/platonic focus #half the fic is arguably platonic. there are no concrete romantic feelings between them at least until 5. #that thousand years was both about them mutually having a constant but also learning to value of connection #when you really analyse dream's past relationship they were all very sudden and intense #wanderer and dream /grow/ together. they are there for each other without need for anything physical. they learn to care #about each other as people first and foremost. love grows from that care/trust/connection #that's why it simmers so deeply. because it's been nurtured. bruised. then grows stronger with each test. #dream doesn't need another lover just for the sake of having something physical. he needs someone who would love him #for him. but also not be afraid to challenge him. like wanderer says in 10 /because of respect/ not from lack of it. #when i was trying to really analyse them as individuals and potential couple it was important to me that they could stand individually #but make each other better when together. and I don't mean erases each other's flaws but inspire the other to best version #of themselves #byeee sorry about the rant sdjghsdg #asks #fic: today i bury you in me

[enigmatic-mystery-777]

The Witch's Brew

You and Daniel have been best friends since college. He is quite honestly your most favorite human on the planet, and you cherish your friendship with him. So why is it you're suddenly starting to get feelings for him that you REALLY shouldn't be having? Where are they coming from? What do they mean? And if he ever finds out, how will he react?

*Strongly OOC for Daniel, very AU-type one-shot

Taglist: @cuillere @geekygumiho @stargaterevival @jgem87 @riverageleis @frostysfrenzy

(If you want added on ^ just let me know!)

#terr's fics #one shot #stargate sg1 #stargate sg1 au #daniel jackson #daniel jackson x reader #gn!reader #angst #fluff #emotional #friends to lovers trope #3.6k word count #october writing challenge #day 8: brew

[filet-o-feelings]

Thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @mammameesh @jesuisici33 and @welcometololaland 💛

So I don't have any fresh words today, it's been too hot to think and it's been all I can do to get through work this week lol, so instead, have the beginning of the fic I'm creating from the poll I made many months ago, because I'm actually very excited about the plans I made for it and it's the next thing I plan to focus on once I finish the epilogue of Library Boy.

Stevie had been the one to introduce David to Patrick, and the three of them had quickly become the best of friends, spending most of their free time together. Stevie’s aunt Maureen didn’t like her spending so much time with the boys, but Stevie did what she wanted to, and not even Maureen could stop her.   She rolled her eyes as they danced around each other whenever the three of them were together; David too shy to make the first move, Patrick too afraid of being attracted to another man. Stevie was anything but shy about her relationship with Twyla, so she knew when they were ready to admit their obvious feelings for each other, they would be open with her. At least, she hoped they would be. She made it clear, anyway, that they could trust her. The day everything happened, they had been lounging around the Rose estate all that afternoon, Stevie’s legs draped over the arm of the elegant sofa while she played dumb as usual, letting them think she hadn’t noticed them flirting with each other at every possible opportunity.  She was facing the ceiling, so if they had been paying any attention to her, they would have assumed she was paying them no attention, lost in a daydream as she often was. She had her doubts they even remembered she was there, though. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as David, in an impressive show of bravery, reached out and grabbed at the back of Patrick’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. It would be sweet, if it weren’t so nauseating. She chose to let them have their moment, closing her eyes and imagining Twyla’s lips on her own, instead.

It's getting late but I'll tag @statueinthestonetoo @treluna4 @lizzie-bennetdarcy and anyone else who sees this while it's still Wednesday where you are (or if you wanna be a rebel and do this if it's Thursday for you, I'll respect that choice and would love to read your words because time is fake but fanfic is timeless, or whatever)

#wip wednesday #build-a-fic #I don't do outlines but this required a vague outline at least #do you know how difficult it is to do equal parts enemies to lovers and friends to lovers? #plus only a hint of historical au (I don't know what I was thinking when I made that poll) #it's been a fun challenge and I'm really excited to get back to working on it

[steddieunderdogfics]

In the Garden, Under Your Hand by ParadimeShifts

@paradimeshifts7

Rating: Explicit

23,315 words, 4/4 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Community Garden AU, 90s romcom vibes if you squint, background ronance, Blood and injury of the garden variety, Enemies to Lovers, Dom/sub Undertones, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Brat Eddie Munson, Splash of subspace, Grinding, Spanking, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Flower Imagery, Bad dad Al Munson, wayne munson the man that you are, Personal Growth, growing together, Scent Kink, Crying During Sex, Semi-Public Sex

Summary:

Thrown into community service after a bad run-in with his dad, Eddie is hardly expecting the next few months to be anything of note. That is, until Steve Harrington emerges from behind a patch of sunflowers at the community garden, claiming to be his supervisor

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was FICS WITH 4 CHAPTERS.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#challenge monday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #no upside down #gardening au #enemies to lovers

[shylilbunny15]

Prompt #2 pt 2

Writing Prompts

.

.

.

    ・┆✦ʚStormed By Odssɞ✦ ┆・

Bang

Villain jolted awake, sitting up to glance where the sound had came from. An exhausted sigh escaped Villain's lips as to no surprise, the sound had been another log hitting the door. Villian took a mental note of the storm's progress. Probably not stopping yet. No matter, still had a plan to come up with.

Feeling much better, Villian ran a hand over his forehead, noticing his fever was practically gone. 'I don't remember taking anything..'. Biting his lip in discomfort, Villain beared mind to his messy clothes. Noticing Hero asleep against the couch beside him. Her state, no better. Both were sweaty, covered in nature's own debris, as well as completely soaked from the rain.

Villain, placed a hand on Hero's forehead, noticing the red blush on her face. She was fiery. 'Did she not treat herself'?  Villain knelt beside Hero, lightly shaking her. "Hero...Hero, wake up"!

Hero's eyes fluttered open, looking up at Villain through half lidded eyes. "Mm...good...you're awake". Hero gave a weak smile.

Villian looked away, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. "D-Did you not treat yourself, Idiot"?..

"Mm...I suppose I f..forgot." Hero's words started to slur.

Villain took in her current state. "Come on..get up, we need to get cleaned. That's the reason we're suffering from fever".

Villain pulled Hero up, holding her up, leaning the smaller being against himself.

"Haa... let's go..you can shower then rest."

"C-Couldn't....I couldn't..m' sorry." Hero wailed. Villain looked at Hero, surprise exhibit on his face.

"W-what are you spouting about"?!

"Can't lose you, too. S' my fault, but not losing this time." Hero let out a shaky breath as Villain led her to his bedroom and into the bathroom, sitting her on the counter.

.

.

.

"Just clean up and I'll be ba-" Villain turned to leave, only to have Hero grab the cuff of his sleeve. Villian looked back, before turning himself to face her. Surprised was an understatement. Yet, Villian couldn't exactly tell himself what he was feeling. Perhaps concern?

Hero's head hung low, face as red as beets. Her cheeks were stained with tears, glistening as more flowed from her eyes and off her lashes. Hero seemed to be fighting back the urge to say something, but what put her in such a mood? Did calling her an idiot hurt her feelings? That was only meant to put the mood at easy.

"D-Don't go" Hero's voice cracked. "Please" Hero looked up at Villain, before slumping off of the counter, right into Villain's arms. Hero buried her head into Villain's lower chest, gripping his shirt. "M' sorry okie?...M' sorry"

Villain felt himself tense up at the sudden outburst. He'd never seen Hero in such a state. Not that she was always sunshine and rainbows. No, Villain knew Hero was human. He'd seen her get upset from time to time. This however, was a side he'd never seen. Hero was often playful, and bratty. It's how they were with one another. It made the days easier to pass. Villain and Hero, both nemesis. They knew they were enemy, however, their relationship was less than that. Rivals...frenemies? Of course, they knew that they disliked one another, but nothing to the point of having a vendetta against one another. Just a simple dislike that had sprouted from their first fight, and over the years.

"What's gotten into you Her-"

"I know m' messed up....but I couldn't lose you, too... couldn't just sit...let you die...need you here.. n-not alone." Hero slurred, shaking, and trembling against Villian.

"Hero... it's fine... I forgive you, okie?.." Villain cupped Hero's face, making her look up at him. "I forgive you..I'm not sure what this is, but don't beat yourself up about it"

Hero gave a slight nod, before crumbling into Villain, leaving him to hold her up again.

"I wish I could help you, but I don't think it would be very appropriate" Villian sighed.

"Hero.. you'll have to muster up some strength, and at least clean yourself in the shower a bit, I think it's best you take a bath."

Hero only gave an exhausted "mm".

Villain, reached for a large white towel, before throwing it over Hero, watching as it draped down to her legs. "Sigh...forgive me..."

Hero looked up at Villain like a ghost in a sheet.

"Strip" Villain ordered.

Hero obeyed, relieving her body of the dirty clothing, until all that was left was the towel engulfing her from her head to legs.

"Alright, just hold on to me" Villain murmured. 

Hero leaned her head again his shoulder, grabbing Villain's wrist, as he guided her into the shower, turning it on before closing the glass door behind himself, back turned from the view. Villain ran a hand through his wet hair..."Definitely a lot of history she's hiding..".

Moments later, Hero turned the water off, before knocking on the glass door, Villain leaned against. Villain moved to the side, allowing hero to emerge from the shower, with the towel once again engulfing her from her head to her legs. Hero leaned against Villain, wobbling in the process.

.

.

.

"Gosh...you're not getting any better.." Villain led Hero over to a fairly large undermount tub. Turning his back once more, as Hero slipped herself into the steaming hot water, completely engulfed to her shoulders.

"Alright...I'll leave you here for a while...when you're ready, just knock again. I'll go find something for you to wear" Villain  left the bathroom, hearing Hero respond with an "okie".

The fever was definitely taking one hell of a toll on her. Villian knew there was no way Hero would be acting so calmly. Hopefully she would not remember this. Resting against the wardrobe, Villian ran a hand through his jet black hair, attempting to release bad nerves through a sigh. "Idiot... should have taken the medicine first instead of worrying about me..". 

Facing the wardrobe, Villain started his search for Hero's clothing. Realizing that it would prove to be a bit of a task, given that it was Hero who was staying here. "Shit, just my luck". Villain pulled garb after garb out of the wardrobe. The clothing was either too exposing or too big which Villain was sure would fall right off of Hero's frame.

Finally settling for a dress, Villain quickly grabbed a fresh towel and spare undergarments, before knocking on the door, and entering the bathroom. "Your clothes are here on the counter".

"I nee..mm" Hero whined, slurring as she looked out of the window.

"I'm not helping you". Villain snapped. "You'll have to manage on your own".

Quickly leaving the bathroom, Villain sat himself on the foot of the king sized bed. "What kind of Hero gets themselves caught in a Shadow Storm..pathetic". Villain found himself growing flustered, as he continued to think of the given conflict. Covering his mouth, Villian distracted himself with thoughts on their next move for the mission at hand. The mission was starting to prove more problematic than he'd assumed it would be.

Hearing a bit of shuffling, before the sound of a door opening, Villain looked up to see Hero leaning against the door, face flushed with fever. Hero's breathing had definitely grown to wheezing. Her movements were rather uncoordinated, as she tried to stand straight.  She looked completely vulnerable.  Villain wondered if he flicked her would she simply crumble.

However, Villain's attention was quickly drawing from Hero's state, to her attire.

It definitely was a good pick.

The dress was almost a perfect fit, if not a little short. It snugged Hero's form quite well. Falling loose in all the perfect places, stopping at Hero's mid-thigh. Truly a sight for Villain. How unlucky his rival be so tempting. Hero's wet hair, framing her face. Water droplets traveling from her roots, down lush locks, dropping onto Hero's chest, and attire.

Villain fell back onto the bed, arm resting over his eyes, as he tried to divert both his eyes and mind away from the sight before him.  Villain blamed his thoughts on his feverish state. However, Villain knew the truth. Hero, in sooth, was ravishing. How troublesome that they turned out to be enemies. Villain would definitely have trouble keeping himself from thinking about their issue at hand once this was all over.

"Feel weird.." Hero mumbled, through half lidded eyes.

Villain sat up abruptly, supporting Hero, as he guided her to the large bed, laying her down, under the blankets. "One moment". Villian rushed to the bathroom, cleaning up Hero's clothing, before grabbing a fever reducer, and returning to Hero's side. "I'll give you two tabs" Villain opened the pill bottle, before slipping two between Hero's lips, handing her a glass of water. Villain's eyes didn't leave Hero's form until he was sure she swallowed the medicine.

"Alright" Villian averted his gaze, setting the pill bottle on the bedside table. " Rest, I'll check on you in a bit".

Hero gave a small groan of protest, before giving in to sleep. "I want 4 times the payment for this trouble" Villain stood, grabbing his own change of clothes and towel, before going into the bathroom, closing the door. Villain allowed his thoughts to wander as he stripped himself, and went into the shower.

"Seems like there's a lot Hero isn't saying".

Villian recalled Hero's behavior and small breakdown. Maybe Hero was holding in a lot more than she showed. If so, it definitely taxed her mentality. Hero seemed broken, almost regretful in the moment of her outburst. "Hiding from secrets are we?.." Villain vacated himself from the shower, before sinking himself into the undermount bath.

Villain felt a smirk exhibit on his face. "Well Hero, let's see just how long you can hide, before I find every inch of  enigma"~

           ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Villain sat himself on the lounge couch positioned near the corner of the bedroom. Notebook in hand, Villian looked over the ideas in which Hero wrote down before falling unconscious. "Going in with just the two of us could work... however there are a few flaws". Villain took a sip of his hot tea, relishing in the warmth it brought to his chest. "No backup, we'll both be at a higher risk of getting caught...maybe we'll meet up with Task Force 114 and Faccina' Squad- if they stick to the mission." Villian listed as he wrote pros and cons.

Villain's eyes scanned over Hero's form, as she stirred in her sleep. 'perhaps with more rest she would be better by tomorrow '. Villain stood, stretching, before placing the notebook on the bedside table. Hero's hand reached out, grabbing Villain's sleeve, leaving to meet Hero's sleepy eyes...pleading.

"Jeez Hero... you're honestly rash when you're sick. Villian slipped himself into the other side of the bed.

"Can't fail the mission..do whatever it takes"

Hero mumbled.

"What if you need something I can't provide? I suppose this is fine, as I would like to keep an eye on your recovery as well as make sure you're not snooping around."

"M' okie...I'll tough it out ".

'I knew it. Hero's definitely got a lot of history'.

"You're lucky I managed to pull some strength together, otherwise you'd probably be spiraling into the highest fever you've ever had. What kind of idiot doesn't take medicine for a Shadow Storm?"

"Sh... Shadow Storm"? Hero turned on her side, facing Villain.

"Yes..please tell me you know that's what's out there.."

Hero only shook her head.

"Hero! What the heck! You do know what it is, no?"

"..."

"Of course. I should have noticed. A Shadow Storm isn't just any regular storm. It's often formed by the negative emotions of a person depending on the severity it can be fatal to anyone in its path. Many people have negative emotions, yes. However, not always to the extent that it forms a Shadow Storm. It tends to take quite a lot, also the reason many people like to be alone when they're" upset" . 

Hero gave a soft nod, blinking lazily.

"It can also be done manually, many steely castors tend to do so when trying to catch someone or fight on a large mass of land. I believe that's how we got split up from our teams. I'm not sure if it was a castor however I have reason to believe so do it the Strom following us. Had it been aimlessly roaming, I'd have assumed someone nearby was in a rather sour mood.  Anyway, like any storm you could get sick by it, however it's much more severe and often disorients the affected person. The fever tends to sneak up on you, and the storm itself tends to follow, and eventually fade away. You may or may not experience the castor's mood, or dramatically changing your mood which is where it gets it's name "Shadow Storm".

"Right"..

"Rest up, Hero". Villian laid on his back, closing his eyes.

Hero gave a quiet "Kay" before swiftly falling into slumber.

.

.

.

Honestly, the worst fever I ever had, I couldn't move, I was delirious, and I was stressed so bad.

Aside from that...part 3 may be soon. Until then Sweet Dreams ~ 🖤🐇🖤

#writing prompts #writing snippet #writing things #fic prompt #writing challenges and prompts #writing prompt #hero and villain prompts #hero x villain #hero x villain community #heroes and villains community #creative writers #villain and hero #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers prompts #oblivious enemies to lovers

[sparxaf]

The Sweetest Sting Ch 8

MC/Lewie/Marshall/Ozzy villa smut fic

AO3 | Wattpad

In which the boys get their Magic Mike on, Grace definitely has pirate fantasies, there's excessive use of the word shawty, and Amelia remains the worst.

#litg fanfic #love island the game #litg fanfic writer #litg double trouble #litg s6 #litg lewie #litg marshall #litg ozzy #not for ozzy girlies #he does not come out of this looking good #fine for amelia haters #friends to lovers #villa fic #love triangle #eventual threesome?! #Sort of a foursome? #The Sweetest Sting #litg heart rate challenge #sick of writing dancing #this is gonna hurt #you knew what this was

[acatalystrising]

And for my next oneshot, the lovely prompt from @spooky-karl: enemies to lovers with Boba! Now this was so, so much fun to write! This one’s SFW but with a LOTTTT of angsty goodness, enjoy!

(And it’s ROTJ Boba since I’ve been writing Consequences hehehe)

Oneshot: Crossed Wires

This wasn’t the first time Boba Fett had beat you to a bounty.

You had a rivalry, after all. He was the best, and you wanted to be better. That meant your inevitable clashes were frequent and intense. But this was the first time that neither of you had yet succeeded in bringing the bounty down.

Blaster fire sailed overhead, the plasma bolts too heavy for you to move to a better position in the dark cantina-turned-battlefield. Pinned behind a fallen table, you fired shots of your own, but judging from the lack of screams, you hadn’t hit anyone. This was bad - bounties often did desperate things to try to get away, but hiring a hit squad as bodyguards? Not cool. This one would definitely be leaving in a body bag if you had any say.

You heard a loud clang followed by a frustrated grunt, and you flinched when a body slammed into the opposite side of table, nearly knocking over your cover. You heard bolts ricocheting off metal, and couldn’t help but roll your eyes, frown deepening, as a familiar form crawled behind the table.

“Find your own cover, Fett.” You barely spared him a glance, angling your blaster and firing, striking one of the hired guns in the upper arm.

Fett didn’t even acknowledge you, his silent demeanor cold as ever. You wanted to tear off his fancy helmet and beat his brains out with it. That would teach him a thing or two.

“You’re never gonna get him pinned like this.” Boba’s voice was cutting, calculating. Bored.

“Kriffing bastard.” You unclipped your second blaster from your holster and didn’t even acknowledge his words.

The last thing you needed was to be schooled by him. Especially because he WAS good. He knew it. You knew it. And you hated him for it.

You knew you’d have to drop the cover to make any headway. The only reason he hadn’t already demolished them all was due to the heavy fire and overwhelming numbers. And he was in armor. The kriffing jerk was now in your way, and you couldn’t loose to him again. Couldn’t let him walk away with all the glory. If you didn’t get your big break, your career as a bounty hunter would be over before it barely started.

And so you took a risk.

You holstered your blasters and reached for your bowstaff, the weapon forged from high compact durasteel and tipped with a sharpened spear-like point.

“Don’t bring a stick to a gun fight, kid.” Fett’s voice seared like an iron, and for a brief moment, you thought about attacking him instead of the bounty.

Who was he calling kid? Kriffing hell, he couldn’t be much older than you. You swore, turning away from him with a scowl. The man had a unique way of getting under your skin. And what was worse? You hated it. You’d wanted to get along with him. Had even idolized him. But he clearly wasn’t worth the admiration.

So you ignored him when you threw the flash bombs over the table, not bothering to warn him as you flipped down your thermal visor, shielding your eyes from the flash.

You were moving before the bombs had fully gone off, lunging toward your blinded foes before they had a chance to recover. You were quick, efficient, slicing their legs with your poison-tipped blade, moving from target to target. Three down, four to go. One shouted, pointing his blaster at you, firing a shot that you barely managed to block with your staff. You threw the weapon with a cry, the blade piercing his throat. You tucked in a roll and landed on top of his body, pulling the staff free and lunging to the next.

The firing resumed, blasters now all aimed at you, and you twirled the staff before you, doing your best to block the concentrated fire.

Don’t bring a stick to a gun fight huh? Jerk.

You heard him fighting more bodyguards behind you, the pained screams indicating that he was winning. Kriff, you had to keep going.

You moved with calculated precision, slicing another one down before turning on the remaining two: one hit man, and the bounty himself.

“You’re gonna die, girlie.” The bounty, a gaudily dressed Klatooinian, sneered at you even as you rushed them, staff ready to strike.

No, you weren’t. You could do this. Would do this. For once, you’d be ahead. You’d be able to eat more than scraps. You’d finally find some respect.

You saw the flash of a muzzle from the corner of your eye and you cursed, dropping toward the ground as another volley of blaster fire cut through the darkness.

Kriff. You felt a stinging burn strike your side but ignored the pain, lunging anyway, tackling the last bodyguard with a frustrated cry. He struggled against you, nearly overpowering you as he tried to grip your neck, but you twisted around him and pressed your staff up against his throat, suffocating him. You turned, sweat beading on your brow, as the bounty tried to make a run for it.

You tried to stand, but felt another blaster bolt glance off your shoulder, then one to your right side, the sniper clearly waiting to pick you off. Before you could turn to face them, another volley of shots cut through the hazy air, one striking the unseen sniper, the other into the bounty’s back, dropping him to the ground.

Silence fell, and you winced, tears nearly pricking your eyes when you heard the first spurred footstep. No, no, no. Not again. Dammit…you tried to stand, to keep fighting, but your body had reached its limit.

You managed to pull yourself to your feet with the help of your staff as Fett walked by, armored figure cutting through the haze of blaster fire, silent and victorious.

And yet again, you’d lost.

Rage welled in your chest, rising higher then your embarrassment, and you found yourself stomping after him before you could process the action.

“Wait just one minute, Fett.”

He didn’t stop walking until he was kneeling beside the bounty, checking for a pulse. You stood before him, arms crossed over your chest, too angry to feel your wounds.

“I just took down all those men by myself.” You shot him a dark glare, you jaw clenched, hands shaking. “He’s mine.”

“This job isn’t easy, killing a couple thugs doesn’t guarantee you anything.” He calmly turned the body over, aiming his gauntlet to disintegrate it. “Find a different occupation, girl. You’re not cut out for this.”

“I’ve just as much a right to be here as you, you asshole!” You hated that you felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but you were beyond pissed. “This is the seventh time you’ve done this.”

“Someone has the clean up the mess.” His voice was curt, detached. He didn’t even bother to look your direction.

You stood there, too stunned to move, as you watched him fire, turning the body to ash. You hated the tears that slipped down your cheeks as he bent to collect the ashes that hadn’t scattered, silent, cold. When he stood, he didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked past.

What. A. Jerk.

You spun on your heels, tears dripping to the floor, fists shaking, as you gripped your staff to support yourself and glared daggers at his back. At this point, you were too frustrated to be afraid of him. Damn his reputation. He was an asshole.

“Why are you so mean? I get that this is your job, but you don’t have to treat others like they’re mud on your boots.” Your vision sparked and faded for a moment, and you frowned, pushing on anyway, even though your words were emitted with choked sobs. “I admired you, you know. Really did. But for such a talented hunter, you’re just a vulture. Stay away from me.”

A bolt of pain jabbed down your side and you winced, crumpling to your knees. Blast it, you were hurt worse than you’d realized, the adrenaline finally wearing off. You were in too much agony to realize Fett had turned around until he was standing before you, silent as death.

“You’re wounded.”

“I’m shocked you noticed,” you winced, lifting a hand from your side and finding it coated with dark blood. “Considering that you only care about yourself.”

Honestly you wouldn’t care if he killed you at this point. You couldn’t keep going back to the guild asking for another chance. You’d already been the laughing stock of many hunters, and despite it all, you were too stubborn to give up. That was, if you didn’t die here.

He knelt before you so fast you didn’t have a chance to blink.

“You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t treat those,” his helmet tilted slightly to the side, but you noted there was less bite in his tone. You were probably imagining it.

“Yeah, sure thing,” you gripped the staff with shaking fists and tried to move to stand. “I’ll just…”

Your knees gave out from beneath you, and you collapsed back to the ground with a string of curses, and embarrassingly enough, more tears. Maker above, you hoped he’d just put you out of your misery at this point. Because deep down, you knew the truth. It wasn’t him you were truly angry at, nor was it him that you really hated.

You hated yourself. Hated that you felt like such a failure. Were angry at your lot in life. You scratched and clawed and scraped and for what? More failure.

“Just…leave. I’ll be fine…” you felt your consciousness slipping, aware enough to feel a surge of alarm flare in your chest when you saw your own blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

Perhaps you’d always meant to die on some dirty cantina floor after a final failed mission. Sounded appropriate, right? You heard the creaking of shoes as Boba went to stand, and you closed your eyes, feeling more tears slip down your cheeks. You were so damn useless, and now you’d die alone because he’d been right all along.

You just hoped your death would be quick.

Suddenly, you felt gloved hands curling under you, gathering you into strong arms. You mumbled, flinching as you were held against an armored chest, far too securely for a rival hunter. You tried to open your eyes, too weak and hurting to fully understand what was happening, but you managed to catch a glimpse of Fett’s helmet before your vision faded to black.

-

When you finally came to, you had no idea where you were.

You slowly stirred, the room around you dark, surroundings indiscernible. All you knew was that this definitely wasn’t your ship. You winced, looking around at your foreign surroundings, dull pain cording down your spine. Panic flared in your chest when you realized you were laying on a small bed.

Spurred footsteps broke the silence, and your glaze flicked to the room’s entrance, falling on none other than Boba Fett.

The hell? You instantly stiffened, slowly sitting up and looking down for your weapons, fear thrumming in your chest. He was still in his armor, helmet dark and imposing, and you were alone.

“I didn’t take your weapons.” His deep voice broke the tense silence, and you looked up at the T-visored helm, dread twisting in your gut.

“What do you want?” You tried your best to sound brave, confident. Definitely not terrified. “Why am I here?”

Wherever ‘here’ was.

He didn’t respond, instead he walked inside the room and sat in a chair across from the bed, watching you intently.

“You’re aboard my ship.” He paused, flicking his helmet back toward the door. “I saved your life.”

Oh.

You frowned, noting that you did indeed have bacta patches over your wounds, which meant…

“You’re safe. I didn’t hurt you.” He regarded you with a tilted helm, and you once again noted his voice lacked that sharp, cold tone. It was weird.

“Thanks…” you frowned, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Why did you help me? I’m a rival hunter. What’s in it for you? Do I have a bounty or something?”

He was silent, giving a small shrug that was disarmingly human. You watched him closely, ready for a trap, an angle…

“You…aren’t what I expected.” His voice rolled through you, not altogether unpleasant, much to your dismay.

Maker, you had to hate him. He was an asshole, he’d made your life a living hell…it was weird, just…talking to him.

“The feeling is mutual.” You tried to cross your arms to enforce your attempt at an insult but grimaced when pain arced across your shoulder blades.

Great, just great. You wouldn’t be able to just walk this off. You’d gotten hurt…badly. And you were now at his mercy.

“I hadn’t realized how desperate you were.” He leaned forward, the gesture almost curious.

You raised your brows with a huff.

“Wow, thanks.” You dared to shoot him a glare, that feeling more normal, safe… “You’ve got a great bedside manner, Fett.”

To your surprise, he chuckled, shaking his helmet lightly. You squinted when you sensed humor in his tone. He was acting too human, nearly bearable, really. You didn’t trust it.

“Listen. I intervened with your hunts because you would’ve been killed.” He shifted, lifting a leg and crossing it over his knee. “Why do you want to be a bounty hunter anyway? You’re far too pretty for this line of work, little one.”

Pretty? You blinked, regarding him with a frown. Was Boba Fett…flirting? Maker this was too confusing. Now he was saying he’d been helping you?

“I don’t have much of a choice. My father was one up until he was killed, my mom died of a broken heart, and I didn’t want to die forgotten like they were.” You shrugged weakly, trying your best to sound calm and collected despite the pain in your chest. “I dunno, just wanted to make them proud, you know?”

He was silent, as if in thought. You felt more pain radiating from your wounds and sighed, discouragement crashing in your chest. You’d still failed. You would be the laughingstock of the guild for sure, now. It was over. Even if Fett had spared your life, that didn’t spare you at all from your fate.

“I have a proposition for you.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and for some reason, it made you feel at ease. His helmet tilted toward you. “I’ve got some big jobs ahead. Work with me, and I’ll give you half the cut. I owe you one.”

You blinked, confusion rolling through you.

“What? Why? You said yourself I’m not cut out for this.” You regarded him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “What’s the angle? Why would you want to help me?”

“I said you weren’t cut out for this, but I didn’t say you don’t have promise.” He stood, and to your shock, slowly pulled off his helmet. “I’d hoped to discourage you, make you rethink your life. But you kept coming back, kept fighting…I respect that.”

Oh kriff. Of course he had to be attractive.

Dark eyes met yours with enough depth to swim in. Black short-cut hair, angular brows, and tan skin that made him blend all the better in the shadows. And yet he stood out, striking in his arrogant humanness. Damn, he was broad too…

He quirked a brow at you with a small smirk, and to your embarrassment, you blushed.

“I…alright. Fine. I’ll do it.” You finally managed to cross your arms despite the pain, feeling trapped in his gaze…and surprisingly not hating it. Perhaps you’d be able to stand him, after all. Or more… “Okay Fett, I’m in.”

Boba Fett, the asshole he was, had the audacity to wink.

“Call me Boba, princess.”

-

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