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LOVE AND ACES | Art Donaldson

Summary ⇝ Art is mesmerised by your skill, and when you and Tashi agree to spend time with him and Patrick at their room, things get heated, to the point where he’s utterly infatuated by you.

Warnings ⇝ mentions of slight tashi x reader x patrick, swearing, drinking, smoking, kissing, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f), handjob, early orgasm, orgasm in clothing, cum eating, mentions of foursome, fingering, hair pulling, praise—ART IS A SCHLUT FOR PRAISES.

note: there will be a somewhat part 2 in the future

"No, don't even worry about it girl, you beat me fair and square," Tashi Duncan said to you, tight lipped smile. You had recently qualified for the finals of the your schools tennis tournament. You remember how the ball managed to skim her racquet making you the winner. You knew she was happy for you but you also knew how important tennis is to her.

"I know how much this meant to you though," You sigh. The two of you were currently in her dorm room, sitting crossed legged and facing each other.

Tashi let out a soft exhale before meeting your gaze, the pain evident across her face. She pushed a smile onto her features, "Yeah... It did," she began, her words slow as if choosing each one with care. "But hey," Tashi reached out, gently grabbing your hand. "I'm happy you won," she said genuinely.

"Thank you, Tash," You grab her slender hand ad give it a gentle squeeze before letting it fall back to its place.

"I mean it," she said, her words soft as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The two of you had spent countless hours practicing together, supporting each other through both wins and losses.

"Yeah, welp I better go and get rest. Game is tomorrow," You pat your lap, swinging your legs to your side to stand up from her bed.

Tashi watched as you got up from the bed, her eyes studying you closely. There was a hint of disappointment in her expression, but it vanished quickly as she smiled. "Alright, sleep tight," she said, her voice neutral.

"You too, and also, you're coming to watch, right?"

Tashi chuckled, her expression lightening, "Of course I am, wouldn't miss it for the world," she assured you, a smile forming on her face. "You better bring your A game," she teased, a small smirk on her face. Her words were light, but you could tell there was still a hint of upset lingering in her eyes.

"You got it boss," You look at her once more before leaving her dorm. You gently shut the door behind you before walking down the passage to your room.

You opened the door, immediately going to your bed and flopping on it. You didn't bother changing from your hoodie and cotton shorts before drifting to sleep.

The sun intruded your curtains before anything else did. You stirred from your sleep before hazily getting up. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed in your tennis uniform, grabbed everything you needed before making your way down to the tennis court.

No matter how well you did, you always got nervous. Tashi made sure to tell you that every time you played a match. You loved the girl but sometimes all she did was point out flaws that perhaps were not of your interest.

The hairband in your hair suddenly felt too tight, and your shoelaces were tied too tightly, the racquet in its sling felt too heavy on your arm and your palms too sweaty.

It wasn't like this was your first time ever playing, yet it felt like it was. You didn't know what you were more scared of. Losing and not qualifying for the cup, or disappointing Tashi.

Tashi arrived early, of course she did, finding a good seat to watch the match from.

The grandstands filled with people, Tashi could feel her heart beating faster, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh. She had already gone over every possible outcome in her head; you break a bone or twist an ankle; you miss one too many balls; or worse.

"I cannot believe it, dude. I mean, I for sure thought it would be Tashi Duncan playing, but not her!" Tashi overhears some loud voice mention her and your names, she has the urge to turn to look but ignores it. "She's in another league, she's beautiful!"

"And now entering the court, the girls singles world number 1 and winner of the Junior French Open..." The commentator says your name and majority of the crowd blister in cheers.

Tashi sees the way you smile too big to hide your nerves as you step onto the court, waving at the crowd, eyes immediately looking for her. When you do make eye contact, she sees your shoulders relax a little.

Art has heard Patrick pine and want Tashi, but he's heard him rant and rave about you, last night he would not shut up about how you beat Tashi by the skin of your teeth.

You took a sip from your bottle as you set it down on the floor next to the chair, slinging your racquet off and unzipping it.

You stuck out a leg and did last minute stretching, allowing for your muscles to ease and thankfully, your nerves dissipating.

Then the match began and you were all over the court. Your shots were precise, your movement nimble, and your concentration unwavering. Your Russian opponent, Irina Petrovska , couldn't quite keep up, struggling to return each of your powerful serves and shots.

Shared grunts emitted from the both of you, your shoes squeezing against the tar. Sweat dribbling down your temples.

Art and Patrick sat watching, their jaws practically on the floor. The ease in which you were demolishing Petrovska was incredible. They tried to come up with words to describe your performance but found themselves at a loss.

One second you were in the farthest corner on the baseline and the next, soaring through the air as the ball slammed from your racquet, you positioned a meter above the service line.

Tashi sat there, watching every move you made on the court with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Your game was flawless and it was clear that you were dominating the match.

Minutes ticked by, a short interlude and then it continued. Everyone was on the edge of their seat. With one last toss up of the ball, you won an ace, and victory was yours.

Pride swelled in your chest as you were looking at Tashi who gave you a smile and clapped. You did it, securing another win in your name. Petrovska has an absolute meltdown, cursing at herself in Russian, smashing her racquet to the ground.

Tashi made sure you had a small party to celebrate your win. Your family was there, the people who watched the game, other friends and your fans. It was nighttime, supposed to be cold but the twinkling fairy lights managed to emit the tiniest bit of warmth, the alcohol in your system definitely helped as you and Tashi danced to Nelly.

You tap Tashi on the shoulder. "I'm thirsty, come with me?" You asked, she simply nodded as she followed you to the table, both of you grabbing your drinks.

"Come, let's sit down over there," She points to some loungers off by a wall where it's more quiet. "Just want to get away from all the busy."

You follow suit before plonking yourself on the one to the left. "Ugh, my feet hurt," You complain, Tashi nodding next to you. You let your eyes momentarily flutter closed before voices interrupt.

"I'm Patrick Zweig—."

"Art Donaldson."

You open your eyes to see two males dressed in jeans and pale coloured button ups. One has curly black hair and the other, slightly longer blonde hair. Both of their eyes flitting between you and Tashi.

Tashi is the first to speak. "I know who you are, you're fire and ice, right?"

You let out a giggle through your nose, drawing both their attentions. The blonde one flushed as pink as his shirt while the one with the black hair grinned. "Hm, so which ones which?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The darker haired one winked.

"You were fucking incredible today," The other male spoke, looking straight at you. "I mean, it wasn't even tennis, it was something entirely different."

"Thank you," You give him a smile which he mirrored.

"I felt bad for Ilina."

"Don't be, she's a sore loser," You scoffed, taking a sip from your drink.

"And a racist bitch, she's constantly say bad things under her breath in Russian at half time," Tashi said. "Hey, you're going to Stanford, right?" Tashi asked the blonde who looked slightly surprised at her question.

"Uh yeah, how'd you know that?" He questioned.

"I just accepted their offer and they mentioned you," Tashi replied.

"You're not going pro? You're going to a college?" The one with the dark hair asked.

"Yeah, we both are," Tashi jabbed a thumb in your direction and you nodded.

"Yup, I mean I still wanna keep up my education and not flunk only to be sleeping in my car after school," you chuckled.

"Girls! Come to the trophy stand, I want to take pics of the both of you!" Your mother ushered with a big smile, holding up her well expired phone. "And the photographers want some of my baby as well!"

"Right, coming mom!" You yell, "C'mon," you motion for Tashi to follow.

"Let's go," She turns to the two boys. "Gotta go..."

"Yeah, bye!" You wave one last time before disappearing into the crowd of people. The two boys watched as you and Tashi plastered on massive smiles in front of the pristine trophy you won as a photographer snapped photos.

During which, you had learnt that Patrick was the one with the black hair and Art was the one with the blonde hair when you asked Tashi who was who.

Your cheeks ached and your eyes burned when the camera was going off, a multitude of people standing next to you at different times. You even stood next to Tashi while either of your families stood around you two.

"You ready to leave?" Tashi asked, her thumb flicking off some dried mascara that had fallen from your lashes and onto your cheek while you thanked her.

"Absolutely," She tugged on your wrist towards the pathway between the bushes, having both to stop and say your last goodbyes to everyone.

It was quieter as the two of you walked before voices cut through the silence. "Hey!" You looked up to where the voice came from to see Art and Patrick, lounging by some benches in a tucked away corner.

"Guess we should see what they want," Tashi mumbled.

Getting closer, you noticed the two of them smoking cigarettes, both immediately standing up when you and Tashi approached. The smell of tobacco hung in the air, mingling with the cool evening breeze. "Hi," you greeted them, your voice breaking the silence. Patrick glanced at you, then quickly turned his gaze to Tashi, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Don't you guys have a final tomorrow?" you asked, genuinely curious about their casual demeanor.

"It's just juniors, so nothing to worry about," Patrick confirmed, his tone dismissive. He looked bashful as he stared at your best friend, his cheeks reddening slightly under her gaze. It was clear he was more interested in her than in any exam.

You nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "Okay, well um, it's cool how you two stayed," you said with a smile, feeling a bit awkward.

"Do you two smoke?" Patrick asked, his own cigarette bouncing against his bottom lip when he spoke, drawing your attention briefly there.

"No," Tashi replied faster than you did, shaking her head vehemently. Her long hair swayed gently as she did, catching the fading light of the day.

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no, we don't smoke," you said, watching as Patrick slipped the cigarettes back into his pocket.

Patrick nodded while Art sucked on his cigarette. "Do you guys wanna go to the beach?"

You agreed and Tashi did once you did, and so now the four of you were walking to the hill that was actually above the beach, you sat on a rock while Tashi sat on a discarded tree stump, the boys sitting on chairs.

Tashi spoke about tennis— she always spoke about tennis, you sat and listened to her getting appraisal, you got complimented on your game and your skills, but you just smiled in response where as Tashi would talk about how tennis was like a relationship.

You weren't really paying much attention, instead choosing to look over your shoulder at the glistening waves of the ocean, reflecting the moon's edge. The rhythmic sound of the waves was almost hypnotic, drawing you into a tranquil state.

"And you?" Your name was called, snapping your attention away from nature. You turned to find the blonde staring at you intently, a curious look in his eyes.

"Huh?" you responded, a bit startled and disoriented from being pulled out of your reverie. The question hung in the air, and you realized you had missed something important in the conversation.

"Tashi was explaining what tennis is to her, so I asked you what tennis is to you," He continued, finishing off his cigarette.

"Oh, uh, a sport I guess," You shrugged. "It's great and all but..." Tennis wasn't your first choice, nor your second, yet the weight of your future was not dependent on your hands. It was on your father's, and after he saw what Tashi could do and the success that lies in the sport, you were ripped away from your passion and plonked in the middle of the court. It wasn't that you didn't like tennis, you just didn't love it.

"What?!" Patrick's eyes bulged out his head as he sat up. "Just a sport?! Surely you're joking?"

You shook your head earning a scoff from him. Tashi went quiet, looking at her lap. A gentle smile on her face, somehow gif answer struck a little bit of shame in her.

"Hey, um, I think I should go. My dad's probably gonna come looking for me," Tashi spoke, standing up from her seat.

"Oh yeah, hold up. I'll walk you to yours," you said, also standing and dusting the back of your pants, trying to brush off any dirt that might have clung to you. You glanced back at the ocean one last time, the waves still shimmering under the moonlight.

"You have Facebook?"

"What?"

Art tilted his head towards Patrick. "He's asking for your numbers, and so am I."

"Not a home-wrecker," you muttered under your breath, your eyes darting between the two of them. Patrick shook his head at your response with a small smile.

"We don't live together, so it's barely a home," Art nodded at his words, agreeing.

"Yeah, and Patrick has a girlfriend," At this response your eyebrows raised, Patrick's expression fell.

"It's barely a relationship," He excused.

"Sure. They put you two in the hotel in Flushing, right?" Tashi asked them with her arms draped across her chest, shielding her from the chilly night air.

"Room 206."

You let out a short giggle through your nose, softly nudging Tashi with your elbow. "They want you to go tuck them in."

"Not just her, and no, we wanna keep talking..." Art cocked his head, blonde locks falling over his brown as he did as such. "...about tennis."

"Okay," you shook your head, urging Tashi to continue walking. She thankfully did.

"We have beer!" you heard one yell after the two of you, making you laugh. You glanced back over your shoulder with a playful smirk, catching a glimpse of their hopeful faces before they were both covered by the thick bushy arch-way.

You were always in Tashi's dorm, the two of you out of your dresses and into something more comfortable. You chose black cotton shorts and a white Nike hoodie. "I think it'll be fun, don't you?" She asked as she sprayed some deodorant over herself.

"Yeah,but they also seem like two die hard virgins," You snickered. "But shame, they were sweet," Your chin was nestled in the palm of your hand as you silently watched her.

"Or maybe they're secretly sex gods," Tashi shrieked when you threw a pillow in her direction, laughter bubbling from her lips. "What? I'm just saying! The blonde one was totally into you!"

"We had minimal conversation," you playfully rolled your eyes, getting up from the bed as Tashi made her way to the door.

"Yeah, but you didn't see the way he was looking at you when you weren’t looking," She said in a sing-song voice, opening the door and shutting it behind you, the two of you walking down the passage together.

"Okay, sure Tashi."

"Do you think they're actually coming?" Art, who was laying on his back on the bed, asked. Legs leaning against the wall as a cigarette dangled from his lips, tossing a ball up and down.

"They might," Patrick groaned when the AC didn't work, even after he had banged on it multiple times.

"Dude, you made it sound like we wanted to fuck them in here."

"...we do."

"And if they do, then what's your plan?"

"We each have one, or worse, they both have one, while the other sits in the bathroom."

"Just face it, they're not coming," and then, there was a knock on the door, both boys went stock still and rigid, a second knock brought them out of their shock before they were hurriedly stumping out their cigarettes and throwing on shirts. The door before you ripped open, revealing the two who looked out of breath and flushed. "Hey."

"Hi."

So now the four of you ended up sitting on the floor, sporting one beer can between you all, and a deck of cards as you guys were in the middle of Go Fish. "You guys went to boarding school."

"Mhm, we've been bunk mates since we were twelve."

"That's cute," You said before taking a swig from the chilled can of beer, before placing it down in front of you.

The conversations switched between different topics. "So what about the two of you?" Tashi asked, gesturing between the two of them. It took a solid minute before they realised what she was insinuating.

"No."

"Well..."

"No, don't."

"What? It’s a sweet story," Patrick giggled as he recalled it, Art went a brilliant shade of red as he hid his face behind his shirt, hiding his embarrassment.

"Well go on, let's hear it," You leant backwards, leaning against your hands as you watched Art turn even more red before he threw his hands up in defeat. Patrick nodded.

"I taught Art how to jerk off," Patrick said, watching Art's head hang in embarrassment. You couldn't fight off the grin that made way on your face.

"Okay. Patrick was an early bloomer, and I think I was on time," Patrick said. "And one time, I thought he was asleep but he was, y'know... jerking off—."

"Jerking off. And, yeah..." Patrick butted in.

"And I asked him, "What are you doing?"And he told me; He's jerking off." Patrick again jabbed in with the 'jerking off' part. "He asked me if I've ever done it before and I said no, so he just...showed me."

"What do you mean he showed you how?" Tashi laughed, she had been sitting with her legs pressed against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees.

"No I mean...he did it on his bed and I did it on mine. We did it together but like, on opposite sides...in the room," Art looked like he wanted to die, to have the earth split open in two and swallow him.

"Silently?"

"Hmm? No, no. I was think of Kat Zimmerman and so..." Patrick explained.

"So I was thinking about her too."

"Because it's always better to have someone in mind, y'know?"

"So who finished first?" Tashi asked, you turned your head to look at her with a raised brow, wondering why she was asking all these questions.

"I don't remember..."

"I think it was him," Patrick pointed at Art. Art tried to deny but Patrick wasn't hearing it. "No... it definitely was. I remember," He began to chuckle. "I remember how he was just sitting there, like some kid who had spilt milk all over his lap. I knew enough to have a sock nearby. Forgot to tell Art so..."

"Oh Jesus, Patrick!" Art sighed, skin hot and pink from how much Patrick was letting on.

"No, I think it's a cute story," You giggled while Art looked at you distraught before running a hand over his face muttering things under his breath.

Tashi took a sip of beer before she shook the can. "We're out of beer.”

She said that before standing up, you watched as she looked around the room before deciding to sit on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap. Her eyes cast down on the three of you as you still sat on the floor.

With a jut of her head, she said; "Come here,"

"Which one—?" Patrick was already pushing off the floor and sitting down next to her, Art following suit, while you decided to stay seated on the floor, turning to look at them.

Tashi sat on the bed with Art and Patrick next to her while you sat on the floor, in the boy's shared room. It took you by surprise when she leant closer to Patrick, almost as if she was going to kiss him before tilting her chin away and pressing her lips against Art's. Patrick looked butt-hurt to say the least.

Her lips mingled against Arts in a steamy kiss, Patrick's shoulders sagged and you, all you could do was watch. She then broke the kiss and kissed Patrick, Art watching their lips move together, mesmerised.

What shocked you the most after she had finished kissing Patrick, was when she bent at the waist to look at you. "Come here," Tashi instructed.

You blinked up at her before standing up from the ground and walking towards her. She grabbed the front of your hoodie and pulled you onto Art, whose hands had to grip your waist to prevent you from falling, your hands on his shoulders.

"Go on..." She instructed, gesturing between you and Art. Your lips parted to say something but closed as you turned to look over at Art.

Slowly, you brought your face to kiss, lips brushing his, which had a thin layer of saliva on them, and pressed them together. Arts hands moved from your hips to your lower back, lips moving increasingly faster and harder against each other.

Tashi watched as you kissed the boy, Patrick watched her. Her brown eyes blown with lust as she slowly brought her lips to Patrick's, eyes prying off of you before fluttering shut.

You leant closer, lifting your legs up to straddle him, his hands immediately going to cup your ass, to hold you firm in place. Art would let out small whimpers and whines against your lips, turning into putty when your fingers thread through his locks, the boy almost came in his pants when you tugged in his air.

It really didn't help when he felt your hips dip, as you began to grind your hips against his lap, his pyjama shorts were so thin, and your cotton shorts were just as, he could feel the heat of you against his aching erection.

Art gave up and lay back, having you still cage him in, hips relentless. You could feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your clothed arousal, which was dripping into your panties.

Art's lips broke away from yours, allowing for your lips to kiss down his jaw and suck purple and red bruises on his neck. His mouth lax, letting out whimpers of your name. "Aw, fuck...shit..." He'd moan, his strong hands gripped at the flesh of your hips, his own hips kept rocking up against you.

You were well aware of the scene next to you, Tashi and Patrick who's lips were locked together, Patrick was more rough with Tashi than Art was with you, but he wasn't as talkative or loud than Art.

"Please?" Art didn't know what he was begging for, but he needed something. The small patch of wetness in his underwear from his pre-cum was seeping through to your own wet patch of arousal.

"You like this, Art?" You asked against his skin, Art nodded, his larger hand finding the ends of your hair and tugging at it, you could only let out a moan of your own. You moaned his name, and that was Art's end game as he spilled his hot cum in his shorts, moaning out your name.

You couldn't enjoy it any longer, the way you felt your own high near, the way you felt wet and sticky down there, desperate for release before you were yanked backwards by Tashi, who gripped your hoodie. "Come on, it's time to go."

"W-What?" You asked in disbelief, back on your feet. Art had sat up and grabbed a pillow, hiding the massive spill in his shorts with a face as red as a turnip. "But I was...we were just—."

"Ah, ah, ah, it's past one. Bed time, missy." Tashi let go of your hoodie and began to walk towards the door. You could tell she enjoyed her kiss, with her messy hair and the dark marks that began to darken against her skin, but clearly that's all it was for her and Patrick—a kiss.

You had no choice but to follow, turning to look over at Art who watched you, like a kicked puppy, leave. "I'm not done with you," you pointed to him before you were out of sight.

Patrick waited until you were guaranteed to be out of ear shot before turning and grabbing Art by the shoulders and ferociously shake him. "Dude! Look at you! Almost banged one of the hottest chick ever!" He exclaimed. "You should totally go for her, she was definitely into you."

"You think?" Art got a little too excited and stood up, pillow slipping from his lap, exposing his semi-boner he got from recalling the events.

"Yeah," Patrick slapped Art's boner, who doubled over in pain. "Go for it."

A week had passed, Tashi and Patrick were somewhat a thing, as for you and Art, well, he thought you were ignoring him. Anytime he saw Tashi, you weren't with, you were always with Tashi. The one time he asked her where you were and she said practicing on the courts, when he got there, there was no sign of you.

Art wondered if he did anything wrong, if you regretted the kiss. Since the kiss, Art hadn't been able to get you off his mind, he knew of you before and thought you were brilliant and was somewhat attracted, but now? He's utterly infatuated with you, and you... are no where to be seen.

You had been so caught up in your studies, you had one last final to write before you were done. You had spent most of your days harbouring knowledge in your room or practicing for shorter periods than what you perhaps should have, it was an ongoing cycle.

Thankfully all that stress was gone into this air when you walked out the exam venue, immediately going to the small vending machine. "God damn it," You sighed, your foot digging into the metal box when it swallowed up your five dollar bill and refused to give you your snack. "Why?"

Your name was called, you look at the directions to see Art jogging over to you. The closer he got, the more sheepish he became. "There you are, I haven't seen you all week."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I've just been studying for my final finals, between that and tennis I've just lost track of time," You told him honestly. You watched as his shoulders relaxed and he suddenly became embarrassed.

"Oh. I thought you were avoiding me," His hand rubbed the back of his neck, skin burning under his touch. "I'm sorry."

"Avoiding you?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Why would I do that?"

"I...I don't know. I just thought that you didn't like the kiss we had, and got weirded out when I, y'know..." Art stared at his shoes, they were pearly white and brand new. "I didn't know, now I sound stupid."

"Pfft, no you don't," You let out a breath of a laugh. "And no, I did very much enjoy our kiss, and I kinda liked it when you came in your pants."

Art let out a groan of embarrassment, big smile stretching on his face as his head lifted up to look at the popcorn ceiling before looking at you. "Stop! Now you make me sound like a virgin," He laughed and shook his head.

"No, it was cute," You smiled up at him, leaning against the vending machine. It was silent as you two just smiled and stared at each other. His face inching to yours.

A beat passed. "I really wanna kiss you right now," He admitted, his voice was soft yet filled with desire. "Can I kiss you right now?"

"I'd be upset if you didn't," Arts lips were instantly on yours. Not caring if others could see. His one hand was on your jaw, fingers pushing between your hair, tongue licking at your bottom lip.

You didn't allow him into your mouth before you broke the kiss, finding it sweet how his lips chased yours before realising you weren't going to continue the kiss, opting to look at you with a small pout.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Can't give you everything you want," You smirked. "You'll have to find me later if you want more, and who knows? Maybe you'll cum in your pants again," Your smirk grows bigger when you finish your sentence before brushing past him and walking away, leaving a very flustered and shocked Art by the vending machine.

The irony of it all was your snack slipped from its holder, landing with a loud 'clang' at the bottom. Art replayed your words in his head, and now he couldn't wait for 'later'.

Except he didn't know when was 'later' and where it was. He doesn't know which hotel, you were in nor which room. He would only be able to catch you during school. He thankfully caught you in the schools canteen, where he was going to meet Patrick. You were busy ordering from the counter when he saw you, Patrick going to go sit down by the counter against the wall.

You had bought a chocolate croissant, spinning around only to almost bump into Art. "Oh, didn't see you there."

"Sorry," You could count how many times he'd apologised today on one hand. "Just, didn't know when to catch you, and I don't have your number so... uh," He licked his bottom lip as he chose how to ask you. "When is...later?"

"Ohh, later, as in round two, when we pick up where we left off later? M'kay, well that's whenever you want it to be," You gave him a smile after your words.

He tilted his chin down by a smidgen, his blonde locks barely moving as some were trapped under his red cap he wore backwards. "If I had my way, later would be now," He admitted, a flash of darkness surged though his eyes before it was gone as he stepped around you to order, leaving you just as shocked as you left him by the vending machine.

You let out a hum, turning around to face his back. "I'll come visit you tonight at eight, make sure your friend is gone before I arrive. See you," You chirped before spinning on your heel and walking out the canteen.

Art mulled on your words—yet again, and now he really, fucking couldn't wait until 'later'. He grabbed his two churros from the lady at the counter and made his way towards Patrick who was grinning from ear to ear. "So. What did she say?"

Art cleared his throat. "Hey, don't you wanna go spend the night with Tashi?" He asked, in hopes that Patrick would agree and not catch on to what he said, unfortunately for him, he did.

"Man, my man! You horn dog!" Patrick chuckled as he grabbed his churro and took a large chuck out of it, chewing on it mercilessly. "But yeah, I'll spend the night with Tashi."

And then, the 'later' came. Patrick had left and told Art he'd be back somewhere tomorrow, leaving Art all on his own. Art had only ever done casual, he'd gone on maybe two dates, which ultimately failed, and he's slept with maybe four other girls which would all leave by the morning, he told himself this was nothing new, yet found himself spraying on a little extra deodorant to smell good, for you.

His heart rate spiked when he heard you knock on the door, he rushed to rip it open revealing you in a pink sweater and denim shorts. He greeted you a little too quickly, he was nervous.

"Hi, Art," You stepped inside and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he immediately melted into it as he shut the door with one hand.

"I have a movie and some snacks, if you wanna watch," His thumb jabbed towards the small TV in the hotel room that was positioned in the corner, facing the two double beds.

"Sure, Art. Lead the way," Art nodded and turned to go find a movie to watch, pondering over which was suited for the occasion before settling on some crappy romance flick. You sat at the edge of Arts bed, where you two had kissed. Art rushed to turn off the lights and grab a packet of chips, before plonking himself next to you.

You thought it was sweet how you two were supposed to fuck, yet here you were, watching some poorly executed film.

Twenty minutes had passed before you grew bored of the movie. You turned your head to watch Art instead.

You could see how tense he was, his adams apple bobbed when he swallowed a chip, his back plank straight instead of hunched in relaxation.

A soft gasp caught in his throat when he felt your hand land on his back and run up and down his spine. "You're so tense, Art," He looked over at you, while you watched your hands movements. His hands firm on his thighs.

His eyelids fluttered shut and his lashes kissed his cheeks when your hands went higher to massage his head. He dared not open is eyes when your warm breath fanned his face. You were close, so so close!

"Look at me," Like an obedient puppy, his eyes snapped open as he stared at you. "Why are you so nervous?”

Art swallowed. "You make me nervous," He said, before whispering; "because I like you."

You couldn't fight off the smile that graced your face. "It's okay Art, I like you too," your hand moved to his forehead where you pushed his curls back, Art enjoying your touch before a frown graced his features when it left. He then felt your weight on him as you climbed onto his lap, exactly like the time you shared your kiss. Arms looped around his neck and your chest against his.

His hands got a little more touchy as they slipped under your sweater and settled on the warm skin of your lower back, his fingertips tracing every groove and bump there. His sky blue eyes looking up at you through his light lashes in the dimly lit room. "You do?" He whispered softly.

"I do," Then, you pressed your lips to his. He sighed against you, allowing for the rest of his nerves to evaporate, his arms ringing you closer. You felt his lashes brush your skin, and his curls against your forehead. You licked at his bottom lip and he immediately allowed for your tongue to press against his.

Your nails scratched at the spot beneath his ear, sending a shiver down his spine and an involuntary whimper to escape his throat. It was so easy to get him worked up, his erection making his Nike shorts taut. His eyes rolled back in his head when your hips shifted against his, allowing for some release.

"Mmm, Art," You breathlessly mumbled, even though the denim shorts barely helped you, the feeling of his hands touching all over your back and rear was still pleasant.

Your hips became more vigour, and Art became louder. "No, no, no..." He seemed to catch on to what you were trying to do, his hands flew to your hips and ripped you off, making you hover. Arms strong from his years of tennis. "You're not gonna make me cum in my pants again."

You smirked at this. "You're no fun," You shook your head, Art rolled over, now having your back against the bed, and your legs dangle off the sides. You wasted no time, grabbing the front of his shirt and bringing him to you, reconnecting your lips together.

Art kissed you back passionately, his tongue entering your mouth as he took it all in. His hands traveled over your body, trying to memorize it as he felt your curves and your skin. He continued to kiss and nibble down your neck, leaving small hickeys in his path. His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, slowly and carefully pulling it off of you to reveal your exposed breasts.

Art couldn't help but admire your body. He took a moment to drink in the view, his eyes traveling up and down your frame. He reached out and gently ran a hand over your skin, tracing your curves with his fingers. His calloused fingers went to your nipple, you shuddered when he gave it a gentle tug before letting it settle back into place.

He smiled, a hint of desire in his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips loving down and finding your neck and nibbling gently.

"Art, take your clothes off," You whine, hand grasping the back of his shirt to pull at it. "It's unfair how I'm half naked while you're fully."

Art let out a bemused chuckle at your impatience, his smile widening. "Anything for you," he teased, his voice dripping with desire. He stood up straight, pulling his shirt off and discarding it on the floor before going for his pants, he then quickly bent at the waist and turned on the lamp, "Wanna see you."

You watched his expose his torso, now stripped down to his underwear before going back to you, his fingers moved forwards and dug into the waistband of your shorts before yanking them, you had already undone the button, with some not-so-fluid motion, they came off. His hands went to your hips but you were so eager to kiss him again, leaning forward and smashing your lips against his.

One of your hands went to steady yourself on his arm with the other was feeling the muscles and flesh of his torso, pinkie finger grazing over his black underpants until your whole hand was grasping his hard cock, even through the material, you felt the ridges and veins, the small wet patch grew the longer you touched him.

"That feels good," Art admitted against your hips, his hips pressing further into your touch. "Really fucking good."

"I know, my baby," Your words sent a flutter through his chest. You moved your hand up before it slipped underneath his boxers, now nestled in your palm as you stroked him. You had to momentarily break the kiss, pushing his boxers down and spitting on the head of his cock, throbbing red, lubricating it as you jerked him off slowly.

"Mmf— fuck!" He hissed when your thumb brushed his leaky slit, hips bucking up into your hand.

You continued this motion, jerking your hand and rubbing his tip, moments before your name spilled from his lips like a mantra, white spurts of his thick cum spilling onto your hand. You continued until he rode out his high until bringing your hand to your lips and licking majority of his cum off with a satisfied hum.

Art grabbed your hand unexpectedly and moved it to his lips, his mouth opening, letting his tongue lap up the rest of his cum on your hand in languid strokes, eyes boring into yours. "You tasted so good," You told him, his eyelashes quivered and his cheeks flushed further at your praise.

He let your hand fall when he finished, you dug your hand into the bedding and shifted upwards until your back hit the bed frame. He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over you, blonde locks sticking to his forehead with perspiration.

His head ducked forward to kiss your collar bone and up, trailing over your neck as he peppered it with kisses before his nose nudged your ear. "God, I need you so bad."

"You have me, Art," Your hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him to the side and then onto his back, allowing for you to kick your leg over and straddle him, the only thing in your way was your own underwear. "All of me."

Art looked exactly that, like an art piece. His blue eyes contrast to his pink cheeks and pale hair, lips red and swollen from the numerous kisses, his chest heaving up and down and his heart thundering away, waiting for your next move. His hands went to your hips, thumb rubbing along any groove you had, his hands now warm. "All of you," He echoed.

You raised your lips, your fingers pushing your underwear to the side, not even off, your eyes flickered to his. He gulped when he saw how wet you were, arousal dripping down into him. He moved his hand to grab his cock, positioning it in a way that was easy for you to slip him inside.

First was the tip, it set you up for the anticipation of all of hi , the further you sunk down onto him, the more it hurt, but you weren't gonna complain, not after pining to Tashi about this boy. Art let out a whimper when he was fully sheathed, already tender from his previous orgasm.

You planted both hands on his chest before lifting your hips, and dropping them down. Arts hands tightened their hold as he assisted, having you lift them plummet onto his cock, his blonde eyebrows scrunching in pleasure. The movements got faster, and the euphoria expanded. "You're making me feel so good," You told him, hips doing a combination of grinding on and riding his cock

Arts eyes shone upon your words, pride sweeping in his chest and a warm feeling settling in his tummy. "Yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking one hand of his and arranging g his fingers in a way that pressed against your throbbing clit, Art new immediately what you wanted and fervently rubbing circles on the aching nub, your pussy squeezing him at the added pleasure. "Ah fuck, feels so good, so so good."

Art didn't shut up as you rode him. He'd moan, groan and whimper your name. Telling you how good you felt around him. "Am I doing good?” His voice was soft and shaky.

"Yes Art, shit! You’re doing so good, baby. I'm so proud," and your words were even shakier. Arts fingers rubbed faster against your clit, he bent his knees which made you shift forward, his cock now repeatedly bumping against that one spot that had you seeing stars and galaxies beyond.

That sent Art toppling over the edge, his hands squeezed harder around your waist, head thrown back and his back arched as he came, buried deep in your pussy. You felt his warm load full you up, and his hips stop moving against yours, a loud moan of your name falling from his lips.

You couldn't beat the small ounce of disappointment you felt when he lifted you, soft cock slipping out, and your orgasm vaporise. "Did you enjoy?"

He nodded, eyes blinking up at the ceiling. His lips then parted before shutting, before ultimately opening again. "You didn't cum, did you?"

You sucked in a short breath. "No."

Arts eyes screwed shut like your words pained him. "I'm sorry," He mumbled.

You were going to say something but he beat you to it.

“Sit on my face."

"What?" You asked, astonished.

"You heard me, sit on my face."

You blinked once before swallowing, moving up now face to face with the wall as your pussy hovered over his face, slick with arousal and his own cum. He wasted no time, fingers pushing you firm against him, clit bumping his nose before his tongue dove into your pussy.

His own previous, salty release washed over his tongue, before it moved to your clit, where it began to flick at it. Your fingers sighting out his hair, pulling on it as you ground yourself further against his face. Even though your eyes were fighting to roll back into your skull and your tongue was threatening to fall out, you still made effort to look down at him.

His own eyes shut as he focused on his movements, you'd feel small vibrations against your clit, once he'd wrapped his lips around them, as he whimpered, savouring the way you tasted. Your body fell forward, head smushed against the wall at one particular flick on the tongue.

His long fingers sought out your puckering hole that clenched around nothing, until two fingers filled you up. You had to bite down on your forearm, when he split his fingers open, scissoring inside you. "I-I'm not gonna last any longer," You moaned.

Art mumbled something against you, his tongue lapping faster like a starved man, and that was it. You felt your release rip from you like a tidal wave, legs clamping around his head, drowning him in your fluids.

When you lifted your hips, you saw how the bottom half of his face was drenched in cum, his lips open and panting. You swung your leg around so you could lay next to him. You couldn't help your fingers that wiped away at his face, his pink tongue sticking out to lick your release from your fingers. "How was I? Truly?"

You let out a tired smile. "You were great, Art."

He nodded, tilting his head to look at you. "So were you."

You let out an exhausted chuckle before curling yourself into him, Art's hand went to stroke your hair, lips pressing a kiss against your hairline.

"Will I get to see you again? L-Like other than sex?" His words vibrated against your head.

"If this is a way of asking me on a date, then yes."

You felt him slowly nod. "Okay, yes. Good."

"Good."

"Good..."

anywho! be on the lookout for part 2 where they’re older, and there’s a whole truck load of drama (go figure as to what it is)

#gabgabwrites #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #art Donaldson x fem reader #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers art donaldson #challengers x reader

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pupyuj · 1 day

Text

→ “ruin our friendship.” || kim gaeul x reader fic.

— for years, gaeul has trusted your heart and tried to find whatever good you saw in your douchebag of a boyfriend, but she has had enough. and now she wants to show you that you deserve so much better...

word count: 6.9k.

dynamic: dom!kim gaeul x sub!taken!reader.

warnings: bffs-to-lovers, cheating, oral, fingering, cunnilingus, facesitting, faceriding, overstimulation, masturbation, praise kink.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: i don't even know how long this has been rotting in my drafts but SHE IS FINALLY FREE! and we have our first gaeul fic AND I HAVE OFFICIALLY WRITTEN A FIC FOR EVERY IVE MEMBER EYAYYYY 🥰💖 now i don't have to worry about possibly looking like i favor one member more than the others omg guys i can assure you i have thoughts about ive unnies all the time, the ones for yujin are just loud as FUCK. much like herself. ANYWAYS, HEHE I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS and i hope you all love it 💕

p.s. as usual this is not proofread thoroughly so apologies in advance for any mistakes! 😭💞

ever since entering college, you and your best friend gaeul have had to match your schedules perfectly in order to hang out and even talk regularly. those assignments couldn’t finish themselves after all, as much as you hoped they did. years before, you and her would have the time of your lives shopping and visiting the many different restaurants your vast city offered, but now, everything was different. and in gaeul’s most humble opinion, your busy lives as college students wasn’t the only problem. she could name a few actually! there was her part-time job at her mechanic father’s service shop where she spends most of her time sitting on a chair and listening to middle-aged men try to woo her as they wait for their car to get fixed, and there was your side gig as some small-time coordinator in a pretty popular live house in the downtown part of the city.

but gaeul can’t exactly be angry at your jobs for pulling the two of you away from each other! what she can be angry about was you were always distracted whenever you did go out together. here’s a clear picture: you would be sitting with her in a cute coffee shop after two weeks of not being able to see each other and there gaeul is, talking about the shenanigans that happens in her classes, her dad’s shop, and her life in general. then, she’d find you spacing out, or staring at your phone—just completely ignoring her. for the first few times it happened, gaeul just thought that perhaps you were just worried about your schoolwork!

it made sense after all. you were some kind of academic overachiever that always used to nag at gaeul to finish her geometry homework during your high school days. gaeul was going to be fine with it all; she even thought about things she could tell you to soothe your head but one little peek at your phone screen ruined it all. every ounce of patience in gaeul just disappeared into thin air once she saw that you were distressed because of your stupid boyfriend’s messages.

ugh. your boyfriend.

now, gaeul wasn’t one to shit on her best friend’s lovers just because, okay? ninety-three percent of the time she has a valid reason! here’s the breakdown: your boyfriend is manipulative, abusive, possessive, and ugly. one would say that maybe he wasn’t always that way, or that maybe he’s struggling with things! well, gaeul can confirm that he has always been horrible to you and that whatever the fuck he’s dealing with doesn’t give him the excuse to be such an asshole to someone that genuinely cares for him. gaeul can’t even count how many times you’ve showed up at her doorstep in tears because of him.

she really can’t understand why you’re still dating him. it’s been about five years since the two of you got together and really, the only good thing you got from that relationship is a ride to the campus and if you’re lucky and he actually feels like being a decent boyfriend for once, some fancy clothes. clothes that he picks out for you, and he can’t even get that shit right! he doesn’t know your style, the kind of clothes you want to wear, the brands you’ve always wanted to get clothes from, and in general, you. gaeul knows people like him all too well. people that only want you to fill a very specific void in their miserable life.

gaeul can’t stand him. you deserve so much better, you can do so much better.

and gaeul is better.

just like that, an idea pops up in gaeul’s head as she sits in a booth in her favorite diner, but she didn’t have time to think about it because she looks out the window and there you were in a pretty, pink sundress with your hair arranged in a cute braid adorned with little butterfly clips. gaeul lets out a chuckle—rei, your roommate, must’ve helped you with that. gaeul also notices that you were wearing the sneakers that the two of you bought together so you could match, which warmed her heart. even more so when she remembers that she was wearing her own pair of those sneakers too!

gaeul watched patiently as you entered the diner and greeted the waitress behind the counter like you always do. a bright smile spreads across your face once you find gaeul in your usual booth, and gaeul feels herself flashing her very own grin as you start walking faster towards her.

“hey! sorry, i’m late. i had to change my entire outfit. i didn’t think it would be so warm today.” you said, pulling gaeul into a quick hug before sitting across from her. gosh, you looked beautiful! the baby hairs that stuck to your forehead and the sides of your face only made you look even cuter, gaeul almost wanted to reach out and pinch your cheeks.

“careful. look any prettier and someone might mistake you as my girlfriend.” gaeul quipped. she finds herself grinning proudly as you laugh.

“you look dashing yourself! they probably already think you’re my boyfriend, but you’re not neglecting me for ‘a night with the boys’ so we would get found out quickly.” you sighed. you were clearly disappointed, but you covered it up with another laugh before sipping on the glass of water gaeul kindly ordered for you.

“then today is a date. he probably hasn’t taken you in one for ages, anyway.” gaeul doesn’t know if you’ll actually buy it. she wasn’t even joking! as far as she knows, his version of dates is taking you on a boring ass car ride and spoiling you with useless shit. she knows what you want on dates. she knows what you want in general. let this work.

you giggled, “true. it’s a date then.” and she doesn’t miss the shy smile on your face afterwards.

well! it looks like this was going to be easier than gaeul predicted.

as the two of you ate your lunch, you talked about school and how life has been treating you both. you were thriving for the most part! you were up to date with your coursework, your job hasn’t been too demanding or taxing, and you were able to have enough breathing space in your life to actually meet up with gaeul, like right now! it seems like the only problem in your life was your boyfriend. he hasn’t been spending too much time with you, and one would think it might be because he’s gotten busier but nope, he’s as shitty as gaeul describes him to be. he only wants to hang out with his team and his stupid friends, and he barely talks to you even in text! that asshole.

gaeul didn’t let you dwell on it all though. she absolutely detests seeing you upset. especially over that useless fucker. she distracts you with a few funny shenanigans from working in her dad’s shop, and how she has actually been doing quite well in her classes! it was clearly your influence. hell, if it weren’t for you, gaeul wouldn’t even be in college at all! you gave her direction, and now you were giving her all the motivation she needs to make it through one school day at a time.

fuck, your boyfriend was so lucky. gaeul has to let you see that he wasn’t worth anything you’re giving him. she has to pull you away and make you see that a pretty girl like you needs to feel good!

in more ways than one.

“so, boyfriend, where are we going?” you joked as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of her car. while gaeul started the engine, that was when she put her little scheme in motion.

“bowling. or rather, sending the balls to the gutter for two hours straight.” she said. bowling happens to be your favorite stress reliever, it always has been! gaeul always liked watching you as you played. even when you didn’t hit any of the pins, you still had fun. gaeul was willing to bet that your pathetic boyfriend rarely ever takes you bowling.

“god you’re the best.”

“mhm, i know.”

from then on, gaeul knew it was going to be a breeze. especially when she did get on the road and you just allowed her to put her hand on your thigh. you didn’t even notice at first, occupied with fixing your charming but unruly hair. but then gaeul lightly squeezed your thigh, caressing slowly just to test the waters, and finally, you noticed her. she was afraid that your attitude would change, but it seemed like… you liked what she was doing. and so gaeul’s hand stays in place. she took note of how you squeezed your legs together every time she caresses your skin gently, or how you would sometimes put your hand on top of hers.

the drive to the bowling alley was quiet, save for the music you’ve put on, of course. silence was a rarity between the two of you since there was always something to catch up on, things to complain and whine about, people to talk shit about, and casual conversations that have become needed just to have some sense of normality in your chaotic lives. gaeul was afraid she had made you uncomfortable because come on, she was quite literally trying to take over your boyfriend’s place! joke or not, this was bound to make you just the least bit weirded out!

imagine gaeul’s surprise when she briefly glanced over to your direction and find you looking relaxed. not even the constant buzzing of your phone was able to break your focus on the road. just like that, gaeul doesn’t stop a smile from forming on her face. forget about him.

and it seems like as soon as gaeul parked her car near the bowling alley—you did! you took gaeul’s arm and started gingerly dragging her through the doors, giggling as you did so. it was easy to secure a spot for the two of you, the place wasn’t too busy yet after all.

“two hours of this? you ready to lose, kim?” you said with a mocking smile as you approached the lane. gaeul sat back on the couches behind you, smirking as she very shamelessly checked your backside out unbeknownst to you. there was a small table in the middle of the u-shaped couch that gaeul sat on where you laid down your phone. as you busied yourself making your cute little bowling profile on the monitor near the lane, gaeul glances down at your phone that kept lighting up at it vibrated. your boyfriend was calling you, and he has sent you a dozen or more messages that you still haven’t bothered to look at.

gaeul sneers at the picture of your boyfriend on the screen. he really didn’t deserve you! luckily for him, she will happily take you off his hands. gaeul takes your phone and declines the call, smiling happily when she leaned back on the couch and continued on staring at your beautiful form. you hooked a medium-sized ball with your hand and prepared yourself—sure, you were never the best at the sport but you were to have fun and have fun only! and so you delivered the ball and hit exactly seven pins. gaeul tilts her head a bit to see the look of pure joy on your face and finds herself grinning along with you.

for once, it was not at all a bad start for you! you grabbed the smaller ball and prepared to take down the last three pins at the other end of the lane. upon staring at your near flawless little pose that especially accentuated your ass, gaeul whistles. the sound catches you off-guard and you end up messing up your throw, sending the ball into the gutter in a fit of laughter.

“you little devil.” you said, playfully glaring at your best friend who has stood up and started stretching all of her limbs.

“this is where your short-lived lucky streak ends,” gaeul pats your butt as she approaches the lane. and of course, she didn’t lie. gaeul delivers a ball and hits her first (and certainly not last!) strike. she winked at you while you stared at her, mouth agape at how she didn’t even hesitate to not go easy on you. “cat got your tongue, baby?” your best friend teased.

you don’t even notice the nickname, what with your competitive spirit alive and well. “oh, it is so on, kim gaeul!”

and for the next two hours, you and gaeul had the best time of your life in that bowling alley. the longer the two of you were together and the more you got drunk from pure joy of being with each other, gaeul got bolder. she was touching your waist, your back, and sometimes even rested her hand on your ass for more than a few seconds! you didn’t care—in fact, you were just as bad! grabbing her and pulling her close to whisper things in her ear (partly because the music would have drowned your voice, mostly because you wanted gaeul nearer), allowing her to not-so-discreetly touch you in places a best friend should definitely not, and finally, sitting on her lap, playing with the collar of her shirt and telling her to take you to her home.

exactly zero innocent intent at all, and gaeul was seemingly more than happy to comply!

on the way to gaeul’s apartment, it was noticeably… warm. both of your hearts were beating fast and loud from anticipation. gaeul yearned to feel your skin without the hindrance of your clothes getting in the way. her fingertips itched to feel goosebumps run along your arm, shoulders, and back as she touched you in ways she always dreamed of doing. her lips longed to taste yours since she knew that peach-flavored chapstick you two liked to share would taste so much sweeter if you were the direct source. gaeul wanted you, and she was going to have you—boyfriend be fucking damned.

when gaeul flipped the lock on her door, the two of you were all over each other. bags and jackets thrown to some random corners, shoes messily removed and left all over the living room area. gaeul barely twisted open the doorknob of her bedroom door, being so focused on exploring every crevice of your mouth with her tongue until she tugs you inside her room. her lips stayed locked with yours as she sat on her bed and pulled you to her lap, hiking your dress up and squeezing your ass. your moans were much, much sweeter than she imagined. she shivers at the feeling of your fingers playing with the back of her neck, her own whimpers only encouraging you to busy your hands with unbuttoning her shirt.

when you’ve successfully taken her shirt off, your dress was next. and gaeul made sure to take her sweet time with that! her hands caressed your thighs, gently squeezed your hips and even moved you so you could grind on her thigh (the cute whine she earned from that was very much appreciated!), and then her hands stayed wrapped around your waist as she placed soft kisses along your collarbone. you could feel her smile against your skin when you squeezed at her arms, knowing damn well what you wanted but refusing to give it to you because… well, if this happens to be the only time she fucks you then she might as well make it last!

finally, when gaeul was satisfied with the little marks she had left on your collarbone, she started pulling the ribbon on your back and loosened up your dress. “you made sure to look pretty for me, huh?” she asked as she watched you undress yourself. she took note of the bright blush on your cheeks under her dark stare, and it made her think that perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was thinking of fucking her best friend for the longest time. meanwhile, in your defense, it’s been quite a while since you had to dress yourself up and what better occasion to do that than hanging out with your best friend?

plus, if it got you to get fucked by the friend in question then you’d say that the two-hour preparation was worth it!

when gaeul laid you down on the bed, she noticed how you suddenly became quite tense, looking as though your boyfriend was about to come breaking down gaeul’s doors to drag you back with him. gaeul made sure to relieve you by kissing your forehead, taking your hands with hers and then putting your knuckles to her lips. “you’re safe with me, (y/n).” she whispered, pecking your knuckles gently and smiling at you. sure, it works… but the fear that bubbled up in your stomach did not go away.

“if he finds out about this…” you pull your best friend close, letting her embrace you while you wrap your arms around her neck.

gaeul scoffed arrogantly, “he won’t—”

“—if he does, i don’t know what i’ll do,” you never told gaeul that your boyfriend has been watching out for her for the longest time. he was always suspicious of gaeul, saying that he was so sure that she wanted to fuck you and make you hers. because of his suspicions (that now proved to be true), he always made sure to be annoying and text you and call you an absurd amount of times whenever you were hanging out with gaeul. he never does that when you’re out with your other friends. no. that behavior was reserved for the one person he was threatened by. “i don’t want him to hurt you.” you said. you can’t even imagine what he would do to you, let alone the girl he absolutely detests.

“he’s as dumb as a brick. i could fuck you in his own bathroom and he’d have no idea.” gaeul makes a mental note to reserve that exact scenario in the future.

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “you know he can very much send you to the hospital, right? he’s like, three heads taller than you!”

“three heads yet he’s still stupid enough to treat you horribly and practically give you away to me,” gaeul sneaks her hands behind you, unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you in one swift motion. your heart beats louder every second gaeul’s eyes travel downward, soaking in more and more of your naked beauty that she longed to set her eyes on forever. “i’ll teach him a thing or two about giving a pretty girl the pleasure she deserves.”

every doubt and fear you had evaporates into nothing as soon as gaeul puts her lips against your skin once again. sucking, biting, licking—anything she can do to leave marks and make you remember this night akin to a skilled painter perfecting their masterpiece with every stroke. you feel gaeul’s hand trail down your stomach and palm your soaked panties, and you had an almost automatic reaction to grind against her, blushing wildly upon hearing her chuckle at your enthusiasm. gaeul wraps her warm mouth around your nipple, your back arching at the feeling. an embarrassingly loud moan escapes your mouth when she flicks the hardened bud and presses her palm flat against your clit at the same time.

you were losing further control of your actions. grinding restlessly on gaeul’s hand for further pleasure, taking her free hand to play with your other breast, and even pushing her head impossibly closer to your chest. she was skilled with her tongue—you shuddered at the mere thought of what else she could do to you should this night go on for longer. you feel gaeul slide her hand inside your panties, only to feel your pussy with her fingers rather than fucking you immediately.

it was adorable how impatient you were. you needed and wanted to be pleasured. it must have been quite a while since you’ve gotten some action—gaeul isn’t surprised that even in sex your boyfriend can’t deliver. every flick of your nipple, every pinch to the other one, every parting of your pussy lips, and every brush against your clit, you were mewling. you would be embarrassed if you actually heard yourself but instead, all you could focus on was the little pleasure gaeul was giving you right now.

“that feel good, hon?” gaeul asks as she presses her lower palm against your clit harder than ever. she found your little nods endearing and your inability to find the words to answer her only inflates her ego, but as much as she would love to tease you all day long, she was just as desperate for you as you are for her.

“how long has it been since he’s made you cum?” she asked, slowly pulling your panties off and letting it drop to the floor. gaeul keeps her eyes fixed on you, looking for discomfort or doubt or any sign that tells her how you could be feeling about all of this. while gaeul knows that the two of you have already crossed a point of no return, she knows that if you gave yourself the time to think about all of this, you would come to your senses. in other words, you would get the fuck out of her house and never talk to her again. it would be disheartening, yes, but gaeul unfortunately knows you well enough to know that it would be possible.

to her surprise though, you seemed to have stopped caring now. you didn’t even bother to glance at your phone that was on the floor, vibrating wildly due to the amount of times you were being called by your boyfriend. you only silently beckoned for gaeul to touch you, to taste you, to claim you. and gaeul doesn’t need to be asked twice to oblige!

“he… he has never made me cum.” you admitted, looking away from the embarrassment.

“are you serious?” gaeul laughs, but then her jovial expression is replaced with an incredulous one. “you guys do have sex, right?”

“of course we do! just… h-he’s horrible at it… every time we’re done, i have to get myself off because he never can!” you covered your face in frustration, now just wondering how you actually survived years without being able to cum with your partner during the act.

“fuck, he really is worth nothing at all, huh?” gaeul cackles. ah, poor you… but you didn’t have to worry about not cumming tonight, because gaeul just now made a silent promise that she’ll make you cum as many times as you want. she lowers herself so she could be facing your pussy, all wet and ready just for her. just as gaeul was about to bury her face in between your legs, you take a hold of one of her hands and intertwine it with yours, making her heart swell with affection. she doesn’t look back up at you, knowing that the blush on her cheeks would be too noticeable. gaeul starts off giving your cunt gentle kisses and little licks—hearing you softly whimper and seeing you jolt every time the tip of her tongue so much as brush slightly around your clit gets her adrenaline going, and eventually, gaeul commits herself to eating you out.

within mere minutes of practically making out with your pussy, gael feels you put your free hand behind gaeul’s head and pushes her closer. “more…” you could barely say, too caught up with the euphoric feeling gaeul has instilled in you using her tongue alone. it takes everything in gaeul to let go of your hand to part your lips to have better access to your clit, and when you grabbed a fistful of her hair and let out a beautiful moan, gaeul knew she was doing something right.

something adorable gaeul notices is that you were extremely sensitive when it comes to your clit, more than any woman gaeul has ever been intimate with and even herself. she licks a stripe up your cunt, relishing in your taste and the way you whine her name, before sucking on your clit. it’s almost as if you’ve never had your pussy eaten out this good before! and truthfully, you really haven’t. gaeul’s own satisfied moans created a buzz in your head, letting you know just how much she loved and savored your taste with each lick. she brings a new kind of pleasure when she makes out with your clit at a gentle, slow pace. the kind of pleasure you would never find your boyfriend (or anyone else for that matter) to be giving you.

it almost makes you wonder what gaeul’s true intentions were. of course, you weren’t expecting her to be completely in love with you. if she was, the first thing she would do to show it was not making you cheat on your boyfriend with her. was she just looking for a quick hook-up? but if that was the case, she could have just grabbed some random girl instead of putting your friendship in an awkward spot like this. perhaps you were just another box in a list that she wants to check off, but that would be cruel and completely unlike the gaeul you have known since the two of you were young. with the way she was cautious with how she fucked you, touched you, and even handled you during all of this, you wanted to believe that she has some sort of undiscovered feelings towards you.

but why were you even thinking about that? did you even have feelings for her? that was a dangerous territory you never wanted to explore, not when you cherished your friendship too much. but the ‘idea’ of dating your own best friend was never really just an idea with you. not when gaeul had ten times the charm that makes your boyfriend look like some hopeless wimp. not when gaeul will forever be the person that knows you the best. not when every time she does something as simple as tell you you’re pretty, or open a door for you, or laugh at your jokes, or smile at you so handsomely, the tiniest of butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

it was a scary feeling, one that you always hoped to go away one day but these days, and especially today, it has been hard. maybe when this is over… you don’t have to run away from it anymore, because when you look at gaeul’s eyes that pierced right through yours even as she was eating you out, you can see something beyond the hunger, the lust, and the desperation.

whatever it was, you found yourself more willing to uncover it, even if it might ruin everything.

“you’re so perfect, (y/n)...” gaeul snaps you out of your trance and immediately after, she dips her tongue inside you. “you’re better off with someone else… someone who knows you better, inside and out… mmhn... don’t you agree, princess?”

you whine shamelessly, “y-yes..! ahh… with you…” now you didn’t even mean to let that slip past your lips, but gaeul seems beyond satisfied that you did. completely addicted to your taste, gaeul pulls you closer and further down the bed by your waist, your back arching with how well she was using her mouth. the pleasure gaeul brought was enough to make your thighs twitch, your legs slightly rise in the air, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“you cumming soon, baby…?” gaeul asks, briefly lifting her head slightly from in between your legs. a sly smirk graced her features, knowing that the cause of your incoherence was her. it gives her the confidence to do a lot more to you, to do everything she has been wanting to do for years. you seem to notice how she had paused to stare at you, and you shoved her face back down to your core, earning a chuckle from her. gaeul pushes your thigh back, almost lifting your leg up, for better access and eats you out better than before as if that was even possible.

at this point both of your hands were on her head. you would be worried about the tight grip you had on her hair but you were way too busy on that tight knot in your stomach. you think you hear gaeul encouraging you to cum, and you can vaguely feel her palm resting on your stomach and it does help you relax a bit. enough for you to have the strength to look down at your best friend, whose eyes have always been on you this entire time. god, she was pretty… and she looked like she belonged right where she was. she didn’t give you any more time to admire her though, as a flick of her tongue on your clit sends you to a blissful orgasm.

your body softly falls backwards your bed as you throw your head back with only gaeul’s name filling the air. gaeul spends a good few seconds staring at your face—her doing. you were simply bewitching in her eyes. she made sure to take her time cleaning you up while you came down from your high, waiting patiently until you’ve caught your breath and calmed down. she sees you breathing normally and smiles before rising up, attacking your face with a barrage of kisses while you laugh and take her in your arms.

“don’t get comfortable. this is all we’re doing until morning.” gaeul, more than ready to please you all day and night long, places a wet kiss on your collarbone before sliding her hand in between your legs. she was well on her way down your core until her phone blares loudly—someone was calling her. she ignores the sound, opting to kiss down your neck while her fingers start ghosting over your clit. and just then, you turned your head and got a glimpse of the caller id on the gaeul’s screen. but gaeul sees it first and she swipes her phone away with a dark chuckle.

“w-who is it…?” you asked quietly, not wanting to alert whoever was on the other end. gaeul’s smile grows wider as she puts the caller on speaker. your heart drops to your stomach as soon as you hear the other person’s voice.

a man. your man. your fucking boyfriend!

“are you there, kim?”

sheer panic courses within you. you tried grabbing gaeul’s hand, but she moves away, pressing a single finger against your lip. and then her mouth moves, but she doesn’t make a sound. trust me, she says silently. you kept still, trusting your best friend to not do anything stupid. of course she wouldn’t put you in any danger just to have fun, but you did worry that she would set your boyfriend off enough for him to do something to her. your heart beats loudly in your chest and goosebumps appear all over your skin. you were terrified beyond comprehension, but gaeul’s soft caresses and reassuring eyes comfort you, even just a little bit.

“what do you want?” gaeul asked, annoyed that he just had to interrupt the two of you. her hand once again travels downwards your body until she reaches your cunt. she traces your lips before inserting the smallest length of her two fingers, making you bite back a moan.

“where’s (y/n)? why isn’t she answering her phone?”

gaeul grins and plunges her fingers deep inside you, she couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh as she watched you choke out a moan. you immediately covered your mouth, pitifully glaring at your best friend but not being completely mad at her. her fingers felt too good inside you—staying perfectly still just to get you to get used to the feeling until she starts moving, slow and steady as if she herself was savoring the feeling of your cunt clench around her digits.

“what was that? is that her? are you fucking my girlfriend?!”

gaeul cackles, “you wouldn’t know what (y/n) sounds like when being fucked even if you’re the one fucking her.” she increases her pace, even nodding towards you to get you to relax and just keep trusting her because she could feel your fear. it made her angry. no one should claim to be your partner if they made you feel so afraid of them. you shouldn’t have to beg for them for their time and love either. if gaeul had known that this was what everything from back then would lead up to, then she would’ve intervened when you and your boyfriend were still just acquaintances. but there was no point in dwelling on that because she has the opportunity to make this all right.

and the correct ending to all of this was her freeing you from him, him ending up all alone, and the two of you figuring out what to do with each other.

“you bitch! i swear to god if that’s (y/n)—”

“—i’m not fucking my best friend, shithead. you should start worrying more about the fact that she’s refusing to call your lacking ass back.” gaeul watches you intently as you slowly lose most of yourself to her. moving your hips accordingly, meeting her little thrusts with eagerness that only got gaeul herself drenched. you tugged on gaeul’s top, silently asking her to get off the call already and just fuck you. and that you didn’t have to ask her twice, of course. while your boyfriend kept yelling at her, gaeul ends the call before blissfully dropping her phone to the ground.

you don’t know what came over you, but all of a sudden you wanted to see your best friend under you. tugging her down harder, catching her lips with yours in a searing kiss… feeling sick satisfaction in you when she stiffened at your sudden surge of passion, and using her shock to flip your positions over. gaeul pulls her fingers out, putting them on your hips instead and trying to keep up with the way you kissed her feverishly.

“you’re cute…” gaeul whispers, thoroughly entertained by you. ugh, those eyes. that nose, her perfect moles, her smile, that mouth… fuck. you have to feel her lips on your pussy again but this time… you wanted to be in control. you smile at your best friend as you swipe your thumb across her lips before getting in position.

“holy shit, (y/n)—”

“—shut up, man.” you cut her off with your face so warm you think you might explode. she didn’t look like she was turned off by the idea. in fact, gaeul places her hands on your thighs, looking more excited than she has ever been this entire time. “t-tell me if i’m hurting you… or anything.” you said. gaeul merely nods, eyes focused on your core. you were going to say a few more words, maybe tell her that you haven’t sat on anyone’s face in a while so you might be bad at this but gaeul couldn’t wait another second. she pulls you down, and the sound that escapes your lips when her nose bumps against your clit was simply criminal.

“ffuck…! oh, g-god…!” with one hand tightly gripping the headboard and the other holding onto a random pillow, you start riding gaeul’s face. and again, she was moaning. as if a better flavor has never graced her tongue until she got to taste you. gosh, the way you threw your head back and let every lewd sound fill the air as you rode her got gaeul clenching, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of you either. she squeezed your thighs, almost as if she was encouraging you to go faster and just use her.

“mmhgn… so good… more, please..” letting go of the pillow and the headboard, you put your hands on gaeul’s head. you ride her faster, focused on pleasing yourself and chasing another orgasm while gaeul does her work with her tongue. it was getting harder and harder to hold herself back from touching her own pussy; she was too drenched and you were simply too delicious. at this rate, she might just cum untouched! the idea of it was humiliating almost, but gaeul figured that if she made you cum hard enough then you wouldn’t even realize what had happened to her. but then again… why would she go through all that trouble?

with one hand, gaeul reaches down and unzips her jeans, sliding further down and massaging her clit through her panties. of course, you don’t see this. you don’t even hear gaeul over the sound of your whimpering and moaning—all you wanted was to use her mouth to get yourself off. you managed to open your eyes slightly, however, and looked down at gaeul. her eyes were shut off, eyebrows furrowed deeply as she diligently ate out and fingered herself at the same time.

you heart swells as you allow yourself to etch every single facial feature of hers in your mind. you didn’t think you’d find a more fitting place for your best friend. it turns out she looked good underneath you, too! when you got distracted by admiring gaeul’s face, you felt a sting on your ass. you gasped loudly, and although it caught you off guard, you liked it. you moved your hips enthusiastically as gaeul squeezed your ass, now glaring at you to intimidate you to keep going. and it works! well, it’s not like you were going to stop just like that.

“p-pretty… you belong right here…” you said, gripping her hair tighter. gaeul moans at your words and she feels herself only clenching tighter around her own fingers. she didn’t expect to get so turned on by merely fucking you and hearing you talk to her in such a different way than usual. she pushes her tongue inside your cunt, making you scream in pleasure. gaeul’s ears ring at the sound of your voice—she was sure now that you wouldn’t dare go back to that pathetic boyfriend of yours.

you were hers now. and she has always been yours.

“gaeul… babe, i’m cumming—god…!” with one last thrust on your best friend’s face, you came. moaning blissfully in the air as gaeul allowed you to ride your orgasm out, and while she laps up your cum as best as she could, she hits a satisfying climax which grants you the perfect chance to hear a cute squeak from her. gaeul removes her hand from her panties and holds you down on her face, not entirely satisfied to let you go even though she can see that you can barely keep yourself sitting. that wasn’t going to be a problem anymore though as gaeul once again flipped your positions so you would be sitting on the bed and she would still be in between your legs.

“mmh… stop, i’m tired… please.” you shake your head weakly, gently tapping gaeul’s hand. fortunately enough, your best friend respected your wishes and stopped, opting to scoop you up in her arms instead and hug you. you laughed at how much of a mess you made on your best friend’s face, wiping all of it clean with your hands before giving her a quick kiss. gaeul doesn’t forget to get rid of her pants before staying completely still in bed with you, staring at nothing but your pretty face for minutes on end.

you think you fell asleep a couple of times, and you ended up always opening your eyes to gaeul smiling dumbly at you like a lovesick puppy. if you had known gaeul allowed herself to see you in such a different light, then you wouldn’t have wasted time trying to fall in love with a boy who did nothing good for you. but no matter, you were going to leave him, and finally, you and your best friend can work towards a more fulfilling relationship for the two of you.

“i always knew it’d be you in the end.” gaeul whispers as she leaves the tiniest and sweetest kisses on your knuckles.

the tiniest bits of fear settled in the pit of your stomach—you didn’t want your boyfriend to find out about this at all. you wanted to protect gaeul and dump his ass with as much as peace as you can manage, but you know he was going to bring her up somehow. at the end of the day, the blame should be put on you since you were the one who allowed gaeul to make those advances towards you anyway… but you knew all too well that that wouldn’t stop your boyfriend from coming up with an excuse to try and confront your best friend.

but every time you dwelled on those thoughts, gaeul somehow notices it and keeps your eyes on her. she knew she would be able to pull your attention to something else and that she does rather effortlessly. and you knew that you would be safe, as long as you were with her.

you laugh at her words, “i’m glad that you didn’t fuck me just because i’m hot and you hate my boyfriend.” you joked, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

“no, stupid,” gaeul pulls you closer by your waist, kissing your nose. “i love you.”

278 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 2 days

Note

Natasha Angst pls !!!

Title: Hail Hydra

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 6062

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, gunshot wound, visions of drowning, general angst, and horrible spelling because I never proofread, angst with an eventual happy ending. Sort of.

Summary: Reader is sent into the Framework, an alternate world where her biggest regret is remedied. What happens when she realizes that this might be a better reality?

[A/n: Do you need to know anything about Agent of Shield to read? No, but you're depriving yourself of the brillance that is the Framework arch if you don't. Seriously some of the best acting in the Marvel Tv universe.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The bedroom had a coolness to it that was interrupted by the slats of white light streaming through the window. You’d kicked the heavy duvet from your feet to compensate for the rise in temperature, but still found yourself sweating through your shirt.

The apartment that you rented in Lower Manhattan faced away from the sun. You relied on your natural clock and the blaring alarm to rouse you from sleep- never the sun. You breathed in the floral scent of laundry detergent, hugging the cool side of the pillow close. You’d never felt more content, and squeezed your eyes shut until you saw stars, willing sleep to envelope you once more.

It was when the bed shifted next to you, and the weight of an arm around your midsection tightened, did you finally open your eyes. The ceiling was a light gray color, a fan whirring with a dull hum in its center. A cold nose that certainly didn’t belong to your dog pressed behind your ear.

As far as you were concerned, you had fallen asleep alone last night. Not only that, but you had succumbed to the day's exhaustions in your own home. Not the SHIELD base. Your heart pounded in your chest, fingers gripping listlessly at the thousand count sheets that were too soft to be your own.

A raspy groan rumbled against your skin, formed into tired words. “You’re awake.”

Your body tensed even further, if possible, eyes darting frantically to the woman next to you. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. SHIELD’s ultimate weapon and your on and off fling for the past seven years. She’d never stayed the night past hot tangles of limbs and bitten exclamations of ecstasy. Even that had stopped two years ago- your relationship, or lack thereof, turned strictly professional.

You, a high ranking SHIELD agent, and her an Avenger that did more press than missions at this point. Your paths barely crossed and when they did, she would offer you a huff of indignance, but never a smile. She’d made you question your abilities in bed. But, it was nearly impossible to be a good lay for something like Natasha. Someone so sensual and carnal.

Her fingers dug into your ribs painlessly, heat overwhelming on your bare skin where her touch had traveled. There was a coolness of a wedding band there, and your thumb swiped against your own ring finger, meeting the edge of gold. Your breath caught entirely, and this caused the trained spy to pull her head from the crook of your neck and level you with a sleepy, adorable, pout of concern.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, prying her hand from your midsection and pressing the back of her fingers to your head. She was taking your temperature. “Are you feeling alright?”

You blinked at her ripe green eyes. You had to say something but Natasha was not known for her displays of affection, nor had she ever asked if you were okay, outside of the realm of your usual consents and safewords. Of course- she’d never stayed the night either.

“I’m fine,” Her eyes narrowed at you and she shifted on her elbow, pulling the blanket up to her chest. You struggled to soothe her with something more genuine. “I might be coming down with a cold.”

“Mm, your throat sounds a little scratchy.”

She kissed your temple and you fought back another wave of stiffness that threatened to overtake you. This was all so strange. This room was not your own, and it had too many personal effects to be Natasha’s. There was a wedding band on your finger, and as your eyes moved across the dresser, there were multiple photos of the two of you together. Then- there were three.

“You can take today, I’m sure Leo won’t mind. He’d rather you better than forcing yourself to go into work.”

Leo. He never used his first name at the office. He was Agent Fitz, he was Fitzsimmons, he was a loveable and brilliant man who divulged his hatred for his namesake over half a pack of Miller Lights.

“No, no. I’ll be alright, really.”

She shot you another skeptical look but didn’t push the matter further as she rose from the warmth of the bed and started towards the bathroom. You watched her toned figure as she made her way to the sink and flicked on the water.

You sat up, head swimming. Your body ached as if you actually did have a cold. But you forced yourself to the dresser, picked up a photo that was propped up next to a glass dish filled with silver rings and jewelry.

A nice family photo of both you and Natasha, and a young teenager that had the Black Widow’s eyes and the slope of your nose. Your heart seized and then warmed. The two of you had a daughter? God- you really must have hit your head to cause this level of delusion.

“I know you miss her,” Natasha sighed out. She leaned against the doorframe, toothpaste frothing at the corners of her mouth. You breathed in the sharpness of the mint that accompanied her, running your thumb over the textured frame. “But, I’m sure she’s having an amazing time at the Barton farm. We can video chat tonight.”

You felt the corner of your lip pull up in affection for this stranger. “I’d like that.”

Natasha’s eyes crinkled into a smile that made your world tint. You’d seen her experience bliss before, but this was something different. This was something you wanted to pull out of her any chance you got. The light in her eyes was unmatched.

She slapped your ass hard enough to pull you out of your own head. “Well then, Malyshka, if you’re that intent on going to work today then you better get a move on.”

apprehensively, you did as you were told and started to rifle through the drawers until you found an acceptable pair of pants and a shirt. You were thankful that Natasha had retreated back into the bathroom so she couldn’t see your confused attempts at figuring out what drawer was what.

When she did emerge, she was in a silk black button down and a pair of pants that hugged her curves perfectly. Bouts of red hair fell over her shoulders and a standard issue gun was attached at her hip. Your mouth went dry as she closed the distance between you both and ran her fingers under your own collar, smoothing it down.

“Something’s missing,” Natasha purred, your stare snapping up to hers in a silent, and despite plea for mercy. She was a dangerous creature, one that could snap your neck in a moment if you gave her cause.

Kid be damned. Happy married life be damned.

“That so?”

“You almost forgot your badge. I’m not turning around on the freeway again, baby.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, one saturated in relief. Natasha held up the simple identification and the noise died in your throat. Agent Y/L/N. Level Seven. Hydra. The gangly tentacles stretched its suction cups towards the edges of the plastic, hollow skeletal eyes stared back at you as you struggled to school your expression. Natasha’s eyebrow lifted.

“I’ve just realized, that is a horrible photo of me.”

She scoffed, shoulders pitching low “Everyone knows you can get a better picture at the DMV. I don’t hold it against you. But I will if we’re late.”

Kate’s hands were bound behind her back. She looked stiff, uncomfortable in the lone metal chair that was in the center of the interrogation room. Her hair was springing in different directions from her ponytail, shoulders rolling back ever so often to quell the pounding in her spine.

Her eyes found yours through the two-way glass, almost as if she sought out your presence. That gray and stormy stare bore into you. It took everything in you not to look away, to cower in the face of her pain and suffering.

Natasha frowned at the file open in her hands. “How can such a brilliant girl with a family like the Bishops sympathize with the likes of SHIELD? With a mother like Eleanor, you’d figure something good would translate.”

Good. The establishment you had wandered into like a ghost without chains made your stomach clench in fear. There was nothing good about this place. The scent of blood and the lack of light in every stare was telling enough. None of it seemed to bother Natasha, so you threw your chin up and made sure it didn’t bother you too.

“She’s not talking.” Yelena took a long, slow sip of her coffee. The hazelnut scent coated your lungs. She leaned against the wall, staring at the woman as if she’d never set eyes on her in her life. “Are you feeling up for some fun?”

You glanced at Natasha, and it was clear that she wanted an answer from you as well. There was a reason you were Level Seven- you figured. People didn’t make eye contact with you as you

walked through the white halls. They turned the other way and scrambled from the elevator the second you appeared. How naive of you to think that the Black Widow herself was the only catalyst.

“How much fun?” You sounded out.

“As much as you want. Just keep her tongue in her mouth and keep her alive. Leo wants to speak with her, and she can’t very well provide answers if she’s choking on her own blood.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat and ran your finger over the cool metal pin that was tacked to the lapel of your shirt. Another thing that Natasha swore you forgot. The same logo on your badge that had granted you entry to the Hydra Headquarters was embossed into the golden broach.

Natasha and Yelena wore the same ones. So did every single person that you had passed on your way here. Everyone but Kate.

“You are not excited?” Yelena took another sip, stare boring into you behind her cup.

“She’s not feeling well.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively. “I tried to get her to stay home but she must have gotten wind of the prisoner. She’s been wanting to let off some steam.”

Yelena seemed satisfied enough with Natasha’s answer and you pushed through the door into the interrogation room before they had a chance to question you further. One Romanoff sister was enough, you couldn’t grapple with the suspicions of two.

A look of relief washed over Kate’s eyes for only a moment, a flash that was too quick to catch through the two-way glass. You willed her silence. Her heels dug into the floor and pushed her further back into her chair.

You knew exactly what you were capable of, and it burned at your fingertips. Coulson, you knew, had taken you in years ago after you’d escaped from the very organization that swarmed around you now. You had two choices: Remain one of Hydra’s most feared interrogators, war criminal and enforcer, or give it all up to pledge loyalty to SHIELD.

This world- you had learned- was backwards. More than Natasha Romanoff being your wife. The two of you had a child together, but the two of you served the evil that you had torn yourself away from.

The sweat dripping from the tip of Kate’s nose into the cloying heat that was used as a torture tactic confirmed that your reputation proceeded you. In this world, you hadn’t said yes to Coulson. In this world, you were positive you spit in his face before pilling the trigger.

You got close, used your hand to tip back the chair that Kate was sitting in. She yelped, your other hand reaching up and lilting her chin up to meet your eyes. Kate was trembling and the sight alone was enough to break your heart. You gritted your teeth.

“Where the hell are we?” You whispered to her, so low it came out as an exhale that only you could hear. Her gaze betrayed shock, so you yanked her forward, exclaiming louder. “Look at me!”

“You’re Hydra.” She gritted.

“You’re not. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

All the while, you pleaded with your eyes. Kate was a smart girl. She was quick to put the pieces together. The two of you were not of this universe. She still had the soft pink scar across her nose from the first mission the two of you had together. The same need for comfort in her gaze.

When she did nothing but blink slowly at you, you reached for the small tray of weapons by her side. Almost on instinct, your fingers wrapped around the sharpest, serrated blade. You willed your hand not to shake as you pressed the tip right under her ear. Again, you made sure you were loud enough to appeal to the Romanoff’s excitement when it came to torture.

“Yelena told me that you have to keep your tongue. But she never said anything about that innocent face of yours.” You moved behind her, lowering your voice to nothing but a murmur. “You can trust me, but I might have to hurt you.”

“You bastard!” Kate pulled on her restraints, jerking forward. “I’d rather die than serve Hydra.”

You grabbed her hair, pulling until she was staring up at you, tears forming against her slate stare. Your stare was hard, nearly unforgiving. Being this close, being back in an interrogation room with a blade pressed ever so slightly to soft skin made you fight back cravings for violence that had been engraved in you since day one.

“Tell me, who sent you?”

Again, you were met with silence. You pushed a scoff from your lips and returned the blade to its rightful place on the tray. Instead, picking up a set of iron knuckles that were already speckled with little spots of rust, pools that had been from previous victims.

You gave Kate an apologetic look, your back to the window, before you used a good portion of your strength to slam into Kate’s ribs. She grunted, falling forward, her chin dipping into your collarbone. You’d heard a dull pop, felt the dampness of a cough of blood. You hadn’t meant to hit that hard, really.

“Aida,” Kate whispered against you “Framework. It’s not real.”

“It feels real.” You shoved her back and she spit to the side, a mixture of spit and blood. Strings webbed from her lips as she leveled you with a glare. You grabbed her chin again. “I’ll get us out of here, but you have to trust me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re Hydra, y/n.”

The words were unspoken, besotted in her throat. But they were there all the same. ‘Something tells me you like it here.’ In your world- in the one not manufactured by a robot that had gained sentience, you were hard to trust. This version of you fit like a glove, and maybe you did miss it. But the pain in Kate’s stare would haunt you for months, years, perhaps forever.

“Don’t fight them,” You purred “give them what they want.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Leo might have better luck,” you said at a normal volume, straightening up and wiping her blood on her shirt. “I suggest you speak to him unless you want to puncture a lung.”

Kate leveled you with a dark look, one that rang with understanding, and fear. One more hit to the temple and she slumped in her seat, unconscious. A bloom of blood dripped down the side of her face and joined the stream at the corner of her mouth, soaking into her collarbone.

You’d learned long ago that Hydra waited for their prisoners to gain consciousness to continue their assault, their conditioning. Kate succumbing to darkness, if only for a bit, would buy you more time. You quieted for a moment, clenched your eyes shut before you threw yet another punch.

A storm brewed just north, the leaves on large oak trees showing their pale, soft underbellies. It was a sign that rain would fall hard and fast. Your mother taught you to breathe deep on the damp soil. You rolled down the window, letting the water-logged air clear your senses and cool your cheeks.

Natasha glanced at you worriedly and you supposed that you’d never get used to the gesture. It was the one thing in this world that didn’t make sense. The torture, the pain that you caused was expected of you. The love that she showed shook you to your core. It would be easy to stay, to love her back.

You’d paid apt attention to the route that connected your innocent suburban home to Hyda’s base. This was certainly not the way back, but you held your tongue, squeezed it between your molars until you felt the sting prickle at your eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, darling.”

“I know. I should have stayed home today.” you murmured, feeling the soreness of your jaw.

Natasha let out an exhale and pulled over to the side of the road. You took stock of your situation. You were far into the country, the lush green grass and empty highway seemed like as good a place as any to die.

If you were to die in the Framework, would you perish in life too? There was a good chance that even this parallel world had a cruel sense of humor.

Natasha put the car into park and turned in her seat. The sun was just starting to set, turning the sky a toxic shade of orange that reflected off her skin, making her glow ethereally. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. You could drown in the deep fern pools.

When she reached for you, you flinched, burrowing deeper into the passenger seat. A word wasn’t uttered as she reached and gently unclipped the pin that was on your collar. Ever so subtly, she placed it in the center console, giving you much of the same look that Kate had earlier. Pleading.

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” Her voice had dropped a few octaves, nimble hands working at her own pin. She set it not far from yours and lifted her chin towards the door.

“Public indecency, Nat.”

“When has that stopped us before?”

You huffed, and pushed yourself from the car and took a few steps towards the tree line. Gray clouds pockmarked the sky, looking as if they were ready to burst. You knew better than to turn your back on the Black Widow, made-up universe or not.

A glare had etched itself onto her features, and you couldn’t tell if it was sexual or predatory or both. You backed up with each step until your spine hit bark. You could smell the rain now, the honeysuckle from the small yellow flowers intertwined with poison ivy. Sweet with a deadly bite.

She let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move when she pulled the gun from the small space between her back and her jeans. You’d expected the tip of it to be placed between your brows, a quick and easy kill. But, instead, she shoved it into your collarbone.

“Coulson, he said that there was hope for you. That eventually, everything that you stood for would click as the wrong thing.”

“Nat, I don’t understand.”

And you didn’t- not entirely. You could hear the rolling thunder to your left, feel the electricity in the air. When she glanced at the ground, a tear slid down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away before you had the chance. You heard the shift in the gun, the almost pull of the trigger.

“Every relationship has its flaws, you know? You being Hydra, you living and breathing, and dying for Hydra despite everything that they’ve done was something I could overlook until I saw what you did to Kate today.”

“You’re a double agent.”

She sniffed, “yeah, baby. I figured you deserved to know the truth before… What you did in there. If you could do that to Kate, then what’s stopping you from doing it to Milla. Our Milla.”

Natasha was sobbing now, swallowing back the noises that threatened to bubble up in her chest. The warm rain had begun to fall in a distant trickle, hitting the leaves with little patters that rivaled your own heartbeat.

“I would never hurt her,”

Your voice cracked. This, you knew to be true. The warmth that flooded you as you gripped the picture frame that morning had bonded you to a stranger. You’d let your fear ebb away at everything else, following Natasha like a sick puppy around the Hydra compound. The gun started to ache against your chest.

Natasha whimpered, closing her eyes and pushing ever so slightly on the trigger. She didn’t believe you. How could she? You still had dried specks of Kate’s blood on your shirt, splattered across your jawline.

“I want to believe you, love. But you’ve been pulling away from me for years now. They’ve gotten into your head, they’ve taken you from me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get you back.”

You swallowed hard. She’d moved the gun from your chest down to your abdomen, pressing hard enough to make your ribs ache viciously. You muffled your own sorrow, swallowing back the cry that threatened to escape you.

“The day that Milla was born was the happiest day of my life. She was so small, so precious in your arms. When you looked down at her and her fingers wrapped around your own, I saw a glimpse of your humanity. Your love for her, for me. But that’s gone.”

“No, no it’s not. Nat, baby, you have to listen to me.”

“I don’t!” yelled, shoving the tip of her gun further into you. “I’ve waited long enough, y/n. I thought there was a gray area between SHIELD and Hydra and I hoped that you resided in it. You can’t talk your way out of this. Not this time.”

She swiped at her tears, frowning at you. Your shoulders dropped. Her version of you had given her nothing, had pulled away and leaned into the organization that tormented them both. They’d been in love once, you knew.

Natasha Romanoff was a fantastic shot.

You would have two lead slugs in your stomach before you twitched a finger. What was it Jemma said about staying alive in the Framework? Everything was becoming blurry, married with emotion. You could feel the anger, the malice, in this worlds version of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, throat constricting. “For everything, Natasha. Be careful, for Milla’s sake.”

You shut your eyes, breathing in the electricity in the air, drops of rain soaking into the warm soil under your feet. You curled your fingers into your palms, paying attention to the sting of your nails in moldable flesh. You waited for her to pull the trigger.

The gun had gone off point-blank against your abdomen, filling your mouth with the acrid taste of copper. Doctor Arnmin Zola was a fan of submerging you in ice water when you’d resisted his programming. You’d refused to panic at first, instead, holding your breath until your lungs screamed for solace. But he had grown bored of your game and resorted to other techniques like a serrated blade to the tendons in your shoulder, in your leg.

It was impossible not to simulate drowning when your body naturally wailed in pain. You knew what it felt like to drown, and as you were pulled from unconsciousness with a surplus of warm blood muddying your throat, you recalled that it would do you no good to panic.

You coughed, your lungs crackling and stomach pulsing in pain as your muscles tried to compensate for your adrenaline. A table, you were strapped to a table, and the leather cuffs around your wrists began to tear with your struggle.

“Y/n!”

You could recognize Jemma’s voice, even through the static in your mind. Your world was pulsing, black dots swimming against your vision. There were wires attached to your temples, adhesive pulling uncomfortably at your skin. A strong, familiar hand pressed down on the center of your chest.

“Jemma, what’s happening?”

“She must be going into shock. I can’t see where the blood is coming from.”

Ever the calm doctor you heard the rip of fabric and felt the assault of sterile, cold air against your skin. You knew exactly the source, the wound in the center of your stomach where Natasha- Framework Natasha- had unloaded her clip.

“You have to do something!”

There were traces of worry in the other voice, the one you refused to pin down. It was raspy, familiar, but nothing compared to the pain that choked you mercilessly. You were screaming, wailing as if you were haunting an abandoned mansion. It took you a few barely-lucid seconds to understand the noise was coming from you.

“I’m nowhere near well-equipped. I’d need sedative, and nothing here is sterile!”

“You’re SHIELD, Jemma. You work with what you have. Figure it out. I can’t lose her.”

Your vision was swimming in darkness, taking away what little clarity of your surrounds you had. It was if that one word, that one person, knew exactly what you needed to hear. Your mind stopped fighting so hard to utilize its adrenaline. You could rest, give in to the quiet, because it was SHIELD.

It was SHIELD.

The dry, metallic taste in your mouth was nearly gone the next time you stirred. Though, you craved a glass of water that would soothe the rest of your discomfort. Your head was pounding, the pinch of an IV had replaced the receptors attached to your temples.

A huge, freezing breath was drawn in with a gasp. You weren’t strapped to a table anymore, no bright and dehumanizing lights above your head. The ones in the room had been dimmed. This was an unfamiliar medical bay, but you had a blanket, and that was more than you’d been offered during your last bout of lucidity.

Jemma stirred in the chair that was positioned next to your bed. Her hair had been combed through with her fingers, glasses on the center of her nose. There were bags under her eyes and out of instinct, she felt across your throat to check the strength of your pulse, despite the machines in her presence.

“Oh, thank goodness. You must be thirsty.” She seemed to read your mind, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed liquids right now. But I sent Agent Romanoff for some ice chips.”

You stiffened at her name, opened your mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut when you realized your body would protest more than you were ready to counteract. Agent Romanoff was here? The last you’d seen of the real her was on a balcony in Amsterdam. She’d slipped out of your room as steadily as she’d slipped in.

Jemma had shifted onto the corner of your bed. “We weren’t expecting you to get pushed out of the Framework. It’s nearly unheard of.”

“Pushed… out?”

“With Aida’s meticulous planning, she’s accounted for every contingency within the Framework. She’s manipulated Fitz into doing her bidding, and Daisy too. I suppose she wanted to add you to her ever growing list of prisoners but you weren’t as susceptible.”

“She kicked you out.”

Natasha was leaning against the doorframe, her head tilted to the side. There was a glass mug in her hand, most-likely overfilling with ice that you longed for. Still, you tensed at her presence, pushed yourself further into the plastic headboard out of apprehension. She certainly had the upper-hand now.

Jemma noticed the change in your demeanor, the palness that washed over your skin. “Are you in pain?”

Well, yes, but it was more of an impossible longing for that brief moment of domestic bliss that you had with the Black Widow herself. Of course you didn’t regret your choice to defect from Hydra. Your biggest regret was letting Natasha slip through your fingers.

“I’m alright, really. Everything just felt so real.”

She looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “We’re still monitoring Kate. She’s given us a few scares.”

“You need to pull her out,” You tried to sit up further but the bullet wound in your stomach had other ideas. Your fingers brushed against the wrapped bandages. You’d broken a few ribs yourself.

“Agent y/l/n we don’t know if that’s safe.”

“Kate being in there isn’t safe. The Framework is built around Aida, and Aida wants to lead Hydra. Kate she’s not- she didn’t wake up in the same situation as me. She woke up a traitor and if we don’t pull her out soon, she’s not going to make it at all.”

Jemma frowned and considered your words, smoothing her hand over your knee before she stood. There was guilt in her posture. The two of you had agreed to be sent in, but she was the one who had done it. You wanted to assuage her worries, but she had shifted into a different vein of thinking; a productive one that left no room for feelings of regret.

She excused herself, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence with Natasha, save for the constant whirring and beeping of the machines around you. She took a few steps into the room, but didn’t get closer.

“What did you wake up to?”

The question hung in the air like a blade positioned over your jugular, it’s own sharpness a reason for your ultimate demise. When you didn’t answer, averting your gaze, Natasha took Jemma’s place on the hospital bed. Her warmth was domineering. She smelled like Framework Natasha, sweet with an acidic bite.

Subtly, you pushed yourself closer to the headboard once more. Of course, with someone like the Black Widow, nothing was ever subtle. It was her job to read and decipher your body language. Even if you weren’t an open book, she still scanned the pages shamelessly.

She scoffed, “I’m not going to bite, y/n.”

“Perhaps not, but will you shoot?”

Her hand tightened on the Styrofoam cup and it produced a small scream of pain that made your ears ring. She stared down at your fingers flush against the gauze, slowly soaking with a horrid red color.

“I did that? In the Framework?”

“I really didn’t give you much of a choice.” You laughed bitterly, wincing at the pain. “I was Hydra and you were pretending to be. I guess even in the perfect world, your pension for doing the right thing will outweigh the wrong. I can’t fault you for that.”

“I would never hurt you.”

The sincerity of her words tilted your world. There was a quiet warmth to them that filled you with the positives of the Framework. Your wife. The mother of your child. She sat in front of you now, being neither of those things.

Natasha picked up a chip of ice and silently begged to scoot closer, you gave her the slightest of nods, let her press the ice against your lips. You were flooded with instant relief. The dryness on your tongue evaporating. You very well could have done this yourself- but there was something intimate about her offer that you didn’t refuse.

“When Simmons told me that you were going into the Framework, I tried to get here with enough time to stop you. But I was off world and when I got here, so were you.” She frowned, placed the ice in your mouth. You bit down on it with a satisfying crunch. “Going in there was foolish.”

“I wanted to save them.”

“You can’t save everyone, y/n. You work for an organization teeming with agents that have a martyr complex as strong, if not stronger, than your own. Yet, you throw yourself into a world where everything is worse.”

“Not everything.”

She drew in a breath and stared down at the cup. The question she wanted to ask was dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she was stubborn, and for anyone but her, so were you. You swallowed, dampening the coolness that coated your throat.

“The two of us, we were married. We lived together in the suburbs and had a daughter… I didn’t get to see her past a family photo because she was at the Barton farmhouse. But she existed, and we existed.”

She blinked at you, and you couldn’t read her emotions. The last time you’d dared to have a conversation with her about being more, she rushed out of the motel queen sized bed with itchy sheets and put her pants on inside-out, just to avoid the implication of an actual date. You’d never asked again, content to repress it for moments of strung-out bliss that she was so good at providing.

“It’s selfish to even think that I was better off there. Everyone else was unhappy, giving in to the darkest parts of themselves. But it was different for us, I think. Because we already give in to the darkness. It’s not having the light that we regret.”

Silence enveloped you both, and you took a sudden interest in the frayed blanket that warmed you. The fabric touching your skin was starting to feel like too much, but you didn’t dare move.

“What’s her name?”

“Hm?” You hummed, glancing up at the woman in front of you who suddenly seemed so small. She had a light rosy blush to her cheeks and was chewing on her bottom lip. “Oh, uh, Milla.”

“Was she… did you like her?”

“I loved her, I’m sure of it. She was my world. Framework you shot me before we made it to Clints farmhouse, but shit, Nat, even looking at a picture of her was earthshattering.”

She let out a watery chuckle and reached out, taking your hand. You stiffened under her touch, so familiar, yet so foreign. Soon, you relaxed, her thumb brushing over the sore bruising on your knuckles.

“I’ve always wanted a life like that, you know? Save for being sleeper Hydra agents. But the white picket fence, and the PTA meetings, a dog, and family vacations to Niagara falls. I wanted it all.”

You whispered. “Wanted?”

“It’s not in the card for people like us, is it?” She used the base of her palm to brush a tear away before it hit the stiff blanket. “Even in a world that’s meant to be perfect, one of us always ends up hurt.”

Her hand was grounding you. You didn’t want to let her go, and she didn’t make a move to pull away. The two of you drank each other in, she smelled like the storm that you were ripped from, and you wanted more of it, you wanted to tuck your head under her chin and pull her close, despite the risk of tearing stitches.

“I’ve avoided you for years, because I’m afraid that if I don’t, you’ll charm me into giving things a shot.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “But watching you nearly die today sobered me up. I can’t lose you, I can’t handle losing you.”

“You won’t, Nat. If we can just give this a shot, give us a try, maybe we can have both.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “One date. I promise, I won’t propose, and I certainly won’t ask you to buy a house in the suburbs with me.”

“You want to go on a date after I shot you?” She scoffed.

“You didn’t shoot me. You got me ice, and that might as well be a ring.” Natasha giggled and the sound made heat rush from your stomach and up to your neck. You were thankful for the thin hospital gowns now. “we won’t know until we try, right? If we could make it work as Hydra and SHIELD, I think we could make it work on the same side too.”

“And if I hurt you?” She asked, “if I get scared and pull away?”

“I’ll pull you right back.” You smiled weekly, “if you’ll let me.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romonv x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Kate Bishop #Jemma Simons #Leo Fitz #Agents of Sheild #The Framework #Hydra alternate Universe

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fos-tis-zois · 15 hours

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

you were still in the early stages of dating nanami kento, but it was enough to know that the serious and stoic sorcerer had managed to steal your heart. Discovering a side to him which came out only in front of you did things to your heart you didn't know was possible. He had made you smile and blush uncontrollably, much to your embarrassment, from the first date itself. He was so gentlemanly that you did not know how to act around this man. But the unforgettable happened on your fourth date. That was the first time you saw him blush, and your heart skipped such a beat that discovering his little love languages became your life goal.

It was a crisp evening, and you had arranged to meet Nanami at a quaint café he frequented. He was waiting for you at the entrance, dressed impeccably in one of his many sexy suits. But today, his tie was slightly askew. As you approached him, you couldn’t help but notice the minor imperfection in this usual perfectly made man and it made your heart smile.

“Hi, Kento,” you greeted him with a warm smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach his tie. “Let me fix this for you.”

Your fingers gently adjusted the tie, and as you stepped back, you were greeted with the most endearing sight. Nanami’s cheeks were a deep hue of red, and his usually composed eyes were struggling to meet yours. You could hardly believe that such a small gesture could elicit such a reaction from him.

Ever since that evening, it became your mission to uncover more ways to make your perfect man blush. You discovered that surprise homemade lunches were one of those ways. One of your biggest love languages was cooking for people you love. Since Nanami always had little gifts sent to you, you thought of taking a cute bento with a freshly baked mini baguette sandwich filled with tender roast beef, crisp lettuce, and a touch of mustard. It was introduced to you by him because of your shared love of good bread and you thoughtfully wanted him to have a version of yours.

“The life I have doesn’t grant me much care” he said with a faint blush on his face, with a mixture of love for you but the pain his life has given him that it made your heart cry for him. Kento appreciated quality, and when you packed him a meticulously prepared lunch with all his favorite foods, his appreciative, shy smile made your heart flutter. You were determined to make him feel loved, for all he does for everyone.

Nanami is used to being the protector, so you insisted on taking care of him, even in small ways. He would laugh lightly with a rosy blush and hug you from behind as you insist adamantly in front of your big man that you will handle dinner and all he needs to do is have some wine and tell you about his day.

“You’re too good to me”, he would say in your ear, kissing your earlobes. “You deserve this and so much more, my love” you kiss his cheeks as his head sinks deeper in the crook of your neck..

Planning spontaneous dates showed you another side of him. A visit to a cozy bookstore, or a surprise trip to a quaint café during his lunch break would bring out a softer, more relaxed Nanami, whose rare, genuine smiles made your heart skip a beat. He would show you the books he likes a lot, telling you how he’s been looking for their first editions, while you take mental notes to gift him those books later. Taking him out for his lunch breaks also sometimes showed you how stressful his job was, as he vented about his annoying co-worker and the insane morals of the higher ups in his profession.

“I have never had such ease talking about my life to someone, y/n. Thank you for being here for me." Kento's gratitude often showed in the form of a rosy blush. You longed to tell him what you would do to bring this smile and contentment on this man’s face.

Leaving heartfelt notes for him became a habit. You’d slip them into his briefcase or jacket pocket, knowing that he’d find them during his busy day. His texts thanking you were always sweet and sometimes accompanied by a shy confession of how much he loved your notes.

But the easiest way to make him blush was simply by being genuinely happy. Your laughter and joy, especially when caused by something he did or said, never failed to bring a blush to his cheeks and a soft, pleased smile to his lips.

Every little discovery about what made Kento blush was a victory for you. It wasn’t just about the cute reactions; it was about understanding the layers of this complex, wonderful man who had become such an important part of your life. And with each blush, you fell more in love with him, knowing that beneath his stoic exterior was a heart that beat just for you.

hopefully first of manyy nanami fluffs. please reblog if u liked it! suggestions and comments are always always welcome! 💖💖💖

nanami art by artist @/xiaoshy_otp on twitter banner by @anitalenia

#jjk x reader #zois writes #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk anime #jjk art #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento x y/n #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami crack #domestic nanami

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asidian · 1 day

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One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda spoilers #charles rowland #crystal palace #edwin payne #meta commentary

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anotherocean · 2 days

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My first pick a pile reading for you all! Been wanting to do this for a long time and hopefully add a little sparkle to your day, some guidance, maybe reassurance (?), or just a little divination fun.

This is a general reading for your life at the moment. I used tarot and my intuition to come up with these readings. If you aren't familiar with how to do this, you just pick an image that pops out at you, or choose one quickly and randomly. Whatever method you want to use it usually works. Pile readings below! Let me know if anything resonated with you! This is my first time doing this so feedback is really nice :)

Hello my beautiful pile 1s! A lot of mental energy here!

My main piece of advice pile 1 is:

GIVE IN TO THE NOT KNOWING

Looks like you could use some support with that overactive mind of yours. First thing's first it's going to be okay. It looks like you've had some sleepless nights recently and something is keeping you awake at night in worry-- whatever you are going through is not easy and would test anyone's faith. This might be the result of feeling betrayed (or a misunderstanding for some) in some way, or perhaps you are even lowering yourself to a level that feels untrue to you. In any case your soul is saying no to a lot of ways you are perceiving your situation right now and urging you to take a step back. Your idealism may be pushing up against some cold hard facts … about a person? (never a fun feeling) and disillusionment of some sort might be setting in. Your desire to win or succeed or have your own way may be clouding the best avenue toward your genuine peace and fulfillment (I've been there honey, I feel you). I am getting the feeling you are going around and around in your head playing mental games. Tap into your honesty and your intuition. Don't sneak out the proverbial back door. Patience is required right now. You'll make it through I believe in you! Things are going to work out, but maybe it's time to rest and reflect a bit babe? I'm getting the sense that rest frightens you a bit. Either you feel you can't stop, or rest has become equated with stagnation in your mind. In this instance that is not the case. Rest is a terrific idea for you because this looks like something you need to wait out. On the upside, I'm seeing that for some of you there could be some wonderful feelings of inspiration or drive or something urging you forward. Perhaps there is a complex mix of your excitement for a new idea or project, and conflict between something going on in your life, so you are experiencing some push/pull dynamics that are causing a lot of uncomfortable mental energy. My advice is rest, tap into some inner strength, and give in to not knowing and what a truly beautiful and relieving feeling that can be. You can't possibly know, so don't! You don't need to figure everything all out at once honey, or solve this problem immediately.

Hello my incredible pile 2's! I love you.

You have an incredibly clear mind at the moment. You are approaching your situation with logic, which may feel a bit at odds with your needs to be nurtured. I'm getting maybe someone studying or pouring themselves into research but forgetting to take care of their more sensual needs like eating nice meals, going for walks, etc. In the distant or recent past you may have been in a limiting situation -- either victimized by some form of addiction, or bad relationship, or something that was bringing out parts of your shadow side that were not to your liking. This was something that you may have felt chained to... I'm getting your toxic ball and chain. That said, I'm seeing that you are harnessing a lot of energy positively right now, and will continue to do so. You have the power and ability to manifest your dreams, reach toward your goals, be the creator in your life. In the past you may have felt victimized and held captive by a person or situation, but you are now finding yourself (or about to be finding yourself) holding the power in your life. The world around you is aligned with you in presenting you with new opportunities for growth and love, and this is merely reflecting all the power you have right now. It seems you may be faced with an important decision, and while you are jumping and ready for new adventures, I ask you to also make sure you align your desire for adventure with your values related to the people and relationships in your life. You can do no wrong if you truly consult your heart in this important decision and take an honest look there by also allowing the people in your life to be included in that "gazing into the heart" that I mentioned. You are not an island, you are most definitely connected. You also have some doubts it looks like, or fears of separation or loss. The pain of heartbreak. A last word of advice is talk to someone you trust, perhaps a mentor, or consult your higher power for guidance. You may find resolution in aligning yourself with your traditions, or the traditions of people around you. I have to be honest pile 2, your picture isn't crystal clear for me, so I hope I filled in enough blanks to give this reading some value for you!

Pile 3 hello! So much beauty here.

It looks like there are so many beautiful things in your life right now. Wonderful relationships, some degree of emotional fulfillment, and periods of gorgeous and harmonious socializing and abundance are all present. There is a strong, positive emphasis on community, but you also need to nurture your individual creative expressions (be that something tangible like painting a picture, or something more related to using your creative abilities for manifestation, or maybe just... spending some time in the garden planting seeds). You need to see the fruits of your own labor (!!!). Also, let it be known that as soon as I began your reading and was looking at the above image I felt such a lightness! Wish I were you pile 3! Like a breath of fresh air. Life is good. You also want to create some more stability for yourself. Even with all the good things, you have your sights set on something better and what a beautiful thing that is! You might be itching for something new and exciting, even with all the good things going on in your life, and the main and BIG POWERFUL MESSAGE of this reading is to embrace change. You may have built up something gorgeous and fulfilling but your heart is looking for more. EMBRACE the radical changes. EMBRACE the tearing down of the good things. More good things will come. You may currently find yourself feeling influenced by some conservatism around you (not necessarily a bad thing), but the stable attitude of those around you may be at odds with your need to honor your enthusiasm for adventure and break down what you have in order to build up something new again. As I mentioned, what you've built is gorgeous, but perhaps it is time to tear it down? You have some fears and worries around this, so take this advice as lightly or deeply as you like. Whatever the case, the changes you want aren't going to be a lightning bolt. You need to put effort into long term planning with patience, and perseverance. You need to carefully nurture your efforts right now, more than you need to immediately start a new life.

=====

That's it! I had so much fun doing this, I hope you enjoyed it! It was fun getting a peak into some of your lives. At some point I may offer clarification card readings if any of you want to pay for additional info or extra questions related to the above readings. I'm not sure yet, just enjoying the experiment and maybe I'll do this with some regularity :) Also let me know if there's any specific reading you might like to see me do in the future! I have been so hardcore into astrology recently (truly obsession level) so tarot is a nice little sideline.

#pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot #intuitive reading #general reading #Pile 1 wound up being my reading 😭#it’s true though stagnation isn’t always rest #sometimes you can be busily stagnant

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blissfullsvn · 3 days

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between the lines pt. 2

pairing: academic rivals!taesan x reader genre: fluff word count: 2.5k warning: one mention of reader being shorter than taesan a/n: read pt. 1 before this! but once again, the academic rivals are not academic rivaling here bcs they’re busy being (ironically) stupid 👎 anw, long-awaited pt. 2 is out! feedbacks are vv appreciated <3 pt. 1 | masterlist

taesan is kind of regretting his decision.

when you had reluctantly stood up and rested your weight over him, he was nothing but nervous. it was the first time you had ever been this close to him, your body directly pressing against his, and it took everything in him to not break into a bundle of nerves. or at least, not enough for it to be visible—he would rather redo that hellish test he took last week than make you see him like this.

his determination had proven to be difficult—extremely difficult—when he felt your cheek land on the curve between his neck and shoulder, the warmth of your breaths tickling his skin. he hoped you couldn’t see the goosebumps on his skin, or the way the hair on his nape stood.

that had been the only movement from you since he hoisted you up, and he was already walking out of the building, which took a considerable amount of time from the student council office. judging from how quiet you had been all throughout, he expected silence to blanket him all the way to your dorm as he assumed that you had fallen asleep again.

that was when his words had bounced back to slap him across the face.

the weight on his shoulder lifted, and he felt your gaze from behind him. “han taesan,” you called, breaking the quietness of the street.

“hmm?” he responded gently, and lifted you up to adjust your position.

you had allowed another beat to pass before you opened your mouth, and that was when the dam shattered.

taesan immediately slows down his steps in surprise, and he merely blinks at what he’s hearing. every single word you utter out only makes him more baffled, because what you’re saying should never be said aloud, especially in public. even now, you’re still throwing out the most creative expletives he could’ve gone his entire life without knowing, not to mention the concern you’re starting to instill in him over his own life.

but despite all of this, he can’t take you seriously when your cold has made your voice so nasal that all he can think about is how adorable you sound, on top of the fact that you’ve dropped your head to his shoulder again in the midst of your life-threatening remarks. your cheek is squished against his jacket, making your words come out in a mumble, and he can’t help but be absolutely endeared. even when you’re cursing at him like your rent’s due.

so, yes, he’s aware that maybe what you’re saying isn’t something which warrants a reaction like his, but how can he help himself when you’re even cuter in this state?

hence, even though you’ve cursed him out a total of 81 times within the past five minutes, he’s not offended. if anything, he’s amused, though he is seriously considering the depth of your feelings towards him.

“did you eat the wrong medicine?” you mumble slowly, eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern. “possessed by another entity?” you sniffle. “or shoved a pipe down your throat?—wait,” you pause, sniffling again. “that’s what i want to do... to you… but i’d be concerned if you did it to yourself….” you trail off, as if thinking about the possibility. “i digress. are you insane?”

taesan can’t hide the amusement that escapes in a form of a poorly-hidden chuckle.

“are you laughing?” your tone is accusing. “there’s seriously something wrong with you,” you say, and he spends another few minutes getting told off for everything he’s done wrong to you in your book. he remains silent the entire time, as he has been since you began talking, until he hears something that makes him feel indicted for the first time.

“...and that one time,” you sniffle, “you gave me a cup of coffee back in our first semester… you were trying to murder me, weren’t you?” you huff, but ironically, you’re tightening your arms around his shoulders.

“i genuinely didn’t know you were allergic!” he lets out almost petulantly, feeling incriminated. “if i had known, i would’ve never done that….” he trails off, then adds quietly, “there’s no way i would.”

you raise your head, looking at the empty roads beside the sidewalk as you ponder for a bit before your cheek falls back on his shoulder. “i’ll admit that was a bit of a reach. i won’t apologise though,” you say, and he can only let out an incredulous snicker.

“and i suppose,” you add, “if you had such sinister intentions behind your pretty face, i would’ve been dead by now.”

taesan widens his eyes, slows his steps. the tips of his ears are hot, but he plays it off when he asks teasingly, “you think i’m pretty?”

“of course. i’m not blind,” is your immediate response. you say it so candidly that it catches him off guard, and his plan to fluster you instantly backfires on him. he’s just glad you can’t see his face, because he’s sure he resembles the red light ahead the empty roads.

“oh my god, han taesan.” you suddenly raise your head, looking down at him in disbelief. he panics at your reaction, ready to spew out excuses about why he’s full-on blushing, when he hears what you say next.

“did you offer to carry me home to distract me? to make me think about this moment over and over again and lose sleep over this and mess up my speech during the election so you can end up becoming the president? is this your grand plan?”

taesan has noticed that you become, for lack of better words, a yapper when you’re sick, but he didn’t think that your imagination would go overboard in this state too. nonetheless, he easily pushes the observation away when he deciphers the meaning behind your words and he doesn’t miss the chance to spin the tables around.

“i’m flattered, y/n,” he says, biting back his grin with a blush that’s still visible, but a lot more subdued. “i didn’t know i had this much of an effect on you.”

it seems you’ve finally registered what you just said, as he feels you freeze up behind him, and all he can do is try to suppress the smile that threatens to stretch across his face. he’s slowed down his steps considerably because he knows he’ll arrive at your dorm soon, but you’re already jumping off his back before he can realise.

“have a terrible night,” you say with a painfully straight face and walk off briskly, but halt in your tracks almost immediately.

“you left your bag,” taesan says, hiding his amusement behind his hand as he holds up the backpack he’s been carrying together with you.

you turn and stalk to him, grabbing it wordlessly before taking long strides away from him to disappear from his view.

when you wake up in the morning, it feels just as humiliating as the time you called han taesan when you were drunk (you had ended up cursing at him for fifteen minutes straight, and he somehow hadn’t cut you off once), which had become one of your top miserable moments in life.

no, this is even more humiliating, because at the very least you could use the excuse of intoxication before, but you had been fully sober this time.

it takes a little more effort to get up today, but before long, you’re heading out of your dorm quietly to not wake your roommate. despite being ten minutes later than usual, the student council office is still empty by the time you arrive. you can only be grateful, because the dread that had clawed at your skin as you stood before the door was intense—you really didn’t want to face him.

you find yourself hating the joy you dumbly felt a few moments ago, because the moment you take a seat, the door opens and of course it’s the person you wanted to avoid the most today.

you don’t greet taesan or even spare him a glance as you pull out your laptop and place it on the desk, but you see him inching closer from your peripheral vision. with your eyes lasered on your laptop screen, you pretend to not notice until he’s directly next to you and you have no choice but to address him.

wordlessly, he places a bag next to your laptop and walks to his usual seat on the opposite side of the conference table. your gaze follows him momentarily before you turn back to the bag. you take a peek and immediately raise an eyebrow when you see three different cold medicines, your favorite candies, and a cup of hot green tea—the same one you bought last night.

you look up at taesan, who seems to be darting his gaze everywhere but at you, but the door is already opening again as more members enter the office for the meeting. you keep your eyes on him for a little longer, who’s still adamant on not looking over, until you finally break your gaze when the meeting starts.

after you’re dismissed, you immediately call out for taesan, who looks up like a meerkat at your voice. you ask him to stay in the room for a little longer and pointedly ignore the meaningful looks from your fellow council members, who quickly file out of the room sensibly.

the moment the door shuts behind them, you raise the bag he gave you, shaking it slightly. “are you trying to bribe me?” you interrogate, straight to the point.

taesan only blinks, as if he's trying to process what you just asked, before his lips part and one corner of his lips quirks up in what can only be a scoff of disbelief. “are you serious?” he shakes his head, but not unkindly.

“i mean—” you falter, finally realising how you came off. “thank you,” you say, and the way he instantly brightens up reminds you of a cat at the sight of treats. “but,” you add, and he shrivels. “why?”

he swipes his bottom lip with his tongue and flattens the hair on his nape as he says, “you’re sick.”

“i’m… aware,” you reply, forcing down the recent memories that floated to the top of your head. “i just—” you pause, looking down at the bag in your hands to gather your thoughts before you face him again. “people don’t usually do this for those they hate.”

taesan blinks. once, twice, thrice. the immediate rigidness from him is so noticeable that the air almost turns icy around you. you’ve never had a comfortable one, but the silence that falls over you is suddenly too loaded, too overbearing.

but then his eyes lock onto yours, as if he’s finally seeing you, and the edges of his demeanour instantly melt away. he’s looking at you so softly, reminiscent of his expression in your memories, that it strangely makes you fidgety.

“y/n,” he calls, which suddenly feels too loud in the room with no one else but the two of you. he rounds the table and walks towards where you stand on the opposite side, stopping a few feet away.

you look up at him, and it’s the first time you’re noticing how tall he actually is. like this, him staring down at you with eyes that hold too much, you feel a little… nervous.

though his expression is still construed as bewildered, you can feel his gentleness radiating from every cell, as if he’s holding a flower in his hands he’s afraid to crush. “i don’t hate you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i ever could.”

oh. you think, and you can feel the puzzle pieces start to align in your head. “but… you’re always trying to rile me up.” you find yourself furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, the pieces repelling each other again.

he caresses his nape, looking down sheepishly. “i thought… we were having friendly banter,” he says, then looks over at you through his eyelashes. “i’m sorry for upsetting you,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone is so evident that it takes you aback.

“oh.” you think aloud this time, surprised by the unfamiliarity of the man before you. “it’s… okay,” you reply. then, you suddenly realise how dramatic you’ve been, and you feel your cheeks heat up uncontrollably. “i’m… sorry too, for all the times i’ve been rude to you.” you lower your head and shut your eyes, too embarrassed to look at him.

taesan laughs, a hearty sound that surrounds you like a warm blanket. you open your eyes, realising it’s the first time you’ve heard him like this, and look up to capture the moment. he’s laughing toothily, eyes crinkled into half-moons as he hovers one hand over his mouth. as you take in the sight of him in awe, you suddenly realise that this may be what has been beneath your emo rival’s irritating remarks all this time.

when you look back at all the times taesan has interacted with you, you don’t know why you thought he hated you. besides his tendency to, in his words, banter with you in class and the student council, he’s always tolerated your ridiculousness—from that call where he had simply asked if you needed a ride home after listening to your insults, to carrying you on his back all throughout the relatively long walk to your dorm just because you said it in passing.

you furrow your eyebrows. the puzzle pieces are moving closer again.

“taesan,” you call out before you can stop yourself. as of this moment, your mouth has disconnected from your brain as you try to fit the puzzle correctly, so you find yourself spitting out the question without a warning. “do you like me?”

the way he stiffens instantly would be comedic if not for the fact that you had asked a question that could break the truce you just formed. the realisation finally dawns on you, and panic starts to set in as you see his reaction. “you don’t have to answer that, i didn’t mean to—”

“y/n,” taesan cuts you off effectively. for a moment, only silence can be heard between you, and you hope he doesn’t catch your erratic heartbeat from your nervousness.

then, he offers a small smile. “give me a chance to answer this properly next time,” he says extra softly, as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. “for now, just know that, even if you drunk-dial me to yell at me again or curse at me all throughout another piggyback ride,” his smile increases, “i will never be able to dislike you.”

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aguineapigcouldntdothis · 21 hours

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I can completely break down the notion that jews do not experience ethnic discrimination within western countries, specifically the USA.

for context I am genetically half jewish and half italian, and since I was born i have been more connected to judaism in a cultural and a religious sense. though its not a huge part of my life like judaism is it's definitely still important.

a lot of people like to argue that jews were once not seen as white and now we are, just like Italians, Greeks, Irish, etc were (at least in the USA) and I can confirm that's total bullshit. I have, not once in my life, been treated badly for being Italian. I have never had someone shame me for my appearance, make fun of my cultural food, threaten me, insult me, insult my father, say they wish I died, harassed me, or any other violent or demeaning acts because im Italian. not once in my entire life has that happened. even living in the rural USA where traditional white supremacy is alive and well that did not happen.

yet I have absolutely been harassed, verbally abused, demeaned, belittled, etc. for being jewish. Ive experienced antisemitism since I was 5 and possibly younger. ive heard holocaust jokes, nose/eye jokes, had swastikas drawn on my things, received death threats, gotten rape threats, been called a murderer, been told I should burn, was told I was poisoning the seas, had people deny my very real trauma, was told that I should've stayed dead (for context I overdosed and had to be resuscitated once), and many more things all because im jewish. these are just instances in which it was specifically mentioned or heavily heavily implied that its because im jewish.

Many of these things happened when theae people didn't even know I'm a practicing jew and some even when I stopped practicing for a couple years. a lot of the time the only reason they had to believe I was jewish was my appearance and yeah sure they were right but what it shows is that appearance alone is enough for people to be antisemitic. you know, if jews weren't ethnically discriminated then why do people target us for having things like large noses and curly hair? or for the foods that we eat? or for anything that isnt directly related to religious practices?

anyway I dont believe for a second that anyone who thinks jews dont experience ethnic discrimination in the USA has ever had a genuine conversation with a jew about antisemitism. 5 year old me did not deserve to feel like he was ugly all for some assholes to say that jews are making all this up.

☆this is part 2 in which I will add important context bc if anyone is gonna overanalyze my argument its me. u can read it if you want its not necessary to understand the post.

like I said I have spent most of my life in rural areas where there are many less jews than in big cities and obvious white supremacy is common. im 100% sure this affected a lot of the antisemitism i received.

I am sephardic, not ashkenazi. most goyim do not have a clue what this means. those who do generally think it means "jewish but spicier and more exotic (aka less american)" which could have contributed to some of the discrimination i faced for not being seen as American enough.

this is my experience not anyone else's! I am not discrediting what other people have gone though regarding any experiences with discrimination

#jewish #jumblr #antisemitism

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emjee · 1 day

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hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

#fic #mine #steve rogers #captain america #wip #mg says stuff #fixed the typos thank u augacity #best friend for this very reason

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xiaojuun · 2 days

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it’s always when my job is kicking my butt and I’m about to lose the plot when a kid will just .

and then i’m like oh right I literally could never do anything else in the world I remember now

#it’s been so busy and nights have been so hard for me physically and mentally I was having a fullll breakdown 2 days ago #and last night I went in feeling like how can I possibly make it through … and then the day nurse gave this to me #from one of my kiddos the night before who she sent home #and im like I can’t believe that kid even remembered me like I didn’t think I did anything special #but it fixed me ! genuinely . like I’m still exhausted but I was like . yeah okay okay .

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ghoulsbounty · 3 days

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Could I possibly ask for a second part to What Happens Tonight, where maybe he gets a little more vulnerable with the reader and we see some of those walls being broken down? (But not fully, I still LOVE the angst of him not wanting to give himself fully to someone and how the reader struggles with it)

What Happens Tonight pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: After the events during the radstorm, you confront the Ghoul about his true feelings.

Warnings: smut (18+), riding, a lot of grinding, fingering, the gloves stay ON, feeding Rad-X, mutual pining, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight soft!dom Cooper, miscommunication, angst.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for all the love received on WHT part one, and thank you anon for specifically requesting a part two. I had a lot of fun with this one and delved more into the smut but still tried to make sure Cooper kept his boundaries. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE 👈

It had been several weeks since you sought refuge in the vault, a period marked by the moment you surrendered yourself entirely to Cooper. The memory of that night left a persistent ache between your thighs, serving as a constant reminder of the intimacy you shared and the emptiness you now felt. Despite this, Cooper had not addressed the matter with you since then. Whenever you attempted to discuss what had come to be known as "the night of the radstorm," he would abruptly turn away, his body rigid and his gaze averted. The tension between you grew with each passing day, the unspoken words creating a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

By the time you both composed yourselves the next morning, the sinister weather had come and gone. While the storm had left a physical mess outside, the emotional turmoil between you had created an even greater one. An awkwardness had settled over your relationship, forming an invisible barrier that hadn't existed before. You longed for this tension to vanish as the storm had, but it persisted, clinging to your interactions like a second skin. This discomfort coloured every conversation, every glance, leaving you both trapped in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

You supposed this was the consequence of crossing that boundary, daring to entertain the notion that you and the Ghoul could be more than mere traveling companions. Your relationship had always been one of convenience, a mutual arrangement for survival. But that night had altered everything—at least for you.

Constantly, you replayed the moments in your mind: the intimacy you shared in that confined space, the way his hands moved over your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. You wondered if you had misread the signals, if the heat of the moment had clouded your judgment. The way he touched you, the way he held you—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet now, it seemed like a fleeting dream, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. Each touch, each whisper of that night lingered in your thoughts, making you question the line between reality and illusion, and leaving you to ponder whether the connection you felt was ever truly mutual.

But weren't you the one who assured him it would mean nothing? And yet, here you were, longing for him every night as you lay on your bedroll, the void he left behind more palpable than his presence ever was. You couldn't help but feel the emptiness, the way his absence seemed to echo within you.

You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, searching for any sign that he felt the same way, that he missed you too. But he remained closed off, his walls higher than ever. Each glance in his direction was met with an unyielding façade, leaving you to wonder if he had already moved on or if he, too, was silently grappling with the same confusion and longing that plagued your thoughts.

You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, to distract yourself with the daily challenges of survival. Yet, every silence between you, every avoided glance, only deepened the chasm that had formed. The tension was a constant reminder of what had changed, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You found yourself wishing for another storm, another night where you could both let down your guards and be vulnerable with each other again. But you knew better than to rely on such whims. Reality rarely afforded such convenient opportunities. You had to face the growing divide head-on, even if it meant confronting the possibility that the connection you craved might never be rekindled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the wasteland, you found yourself alone with Cooper once more. The silence between you was heavy, almost suffocating, and you knew that you couldn't go on like this. You needed to address the elephant in the room, to find some way to mend the rift that had formed.

"Cooper," you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about what happened that night."

He stiffened at your words, his eyes flickering briefly to yours before he looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his tone clipped and guarded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "You know that's not true," you countered, looking down at him from where you stood. The warm glow from the crackling fire highlighted his features as he leaned back against the wall from his position on his bedroll.

Cooper's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, but he remained silent, staring into the flames as if searching for answers. You stepped closer, the soft crunch of your boots on the gritty floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

"That night," you continued, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, "I said whatever happened wouldn't matter but... I was wrong. It meant something, and I need to know what it meant to you."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his bald head before meeting your gaze. "You talk too much," he said in a biting tone, eyes downcast as he kicked his boot out in frustration.

"And you don't talk enough," you said defiantly, lightly kicking at his boot when he still refused to meet your gaze despite the scoff that escaped his lips. "You can't just ignore me, or pretend it didn't happen. If you regret it... well, I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Cooper."

"We'd be stupid not to regret it," he admitted, his hands occupied with reloading bullets into the bandolier on his lap. "Doesn't mean I didn't like it," he added quietly, almost to himself.

His words left you feeling conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved to hear that he had found pleasure with you, perhaps as much as you did with him. But the admission of regret lingered, casting a shadow over the memory. He wanted you to feel the same remorse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"I don't regret it," you declared, your voice firm. "I wanted you then, and I still want you now. Whatever it is that's holding you back, that's between you and your own conscience. But here I am, with you, and I want you."

His eyes snapped to you then, dark and swirling with emotion as he glared up at you. "Have you been taking those pills?"

You looked at him, confused, searching your memory for what he meant until the Rad-X pills surfaced in your mind. You remembered taking one that night after he'd left them on the bed, then discarding them into the recesses of your bag and not thinking about them since.

"What do the pills have to do with anything?" you asked, still bewildered.

Cooper's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features as he averted his gaze once more. "Supposed to take 'em before exposure," he muttered, "but you were going wild, locking those thighs 'round me so damn hard. I might not seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm just a man," he added, his voice carrying both irritation and a hint of amusement.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, recalling the intensity of the moment when you ground down on his cock as he attempted to pry you off him, moments before he relented and filled you with his hot load.

"If you've been taking them regularly," he continued, meeting your eyes with a meaningful glance, "you'd likely have developed a fair resistance by now."

Accepting the Rad-X felt like a symbolic gesture, a token of protection offered in the aftermath of that intimate moment, meant to erase any lingering traces of radiation from him. You appreciated his small attempt at aftercare, yet couldn't shake the feeling that it was tinged with regret for his own actions. Now, as he sat before you, finally meeting your gaze after what felt like an eternity, a realization dawned upon you: his offering wasn't just a momentary solution, but a precaution for the future. It hinted at a desire for something more.

Your heart swelled with the realization, a mixture of relief and hope before reality dawned on you. "I haven't been taking them," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes at the whine that cracked your voice, discarded his bandolier on the ground beside him before lifting his hand towards you with a curled finger in a beckoning gesture. Almost instinctively, you found yourself drawn towards him until you were standing above him, your legs positioned on either side of his as he gazed up at you. His gloved hands traced up the sides of your legs, pausing at your hips before firmly grasping them and tugging you down to your knees, so that you straddled him. A gasp escaped you, a blend of surprise and anticipation echoing in the air.

"Don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against your ear as he pulled you closer. "I wanted to get you ready for me."

You shivered at his words, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours as you leant back to look at him. "Cooper, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you. "You're still talking too much."

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing for dominance over yours as he held you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the rough fabric of his coat beneath your fingertips as he dragged your clothed cunt against the growing erection straining his dirty pinstripe pants. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your hips moving instinctively to grind against him, seeking more.

Cooper's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements, his kiss growing more demanding. You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his insistent lips. Every drag of your body against his made you wetter, your desire pooling between your thighs and soaking through the fabric of your underwear.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching as his hands worked to unclasp the garment and free your breasts. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his mouth was on you again, sucking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fumbled with the lapels of his coat, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the barriers between your bodies. He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy garment and discarding it with a careless flick of his wrist. You were pleasantly surprised when he let you undo the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off before he stopped your fingers at their decent on his shirt.

"It stays on," he told you gruffly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that urged you to accept his decision without a second thought. You nodded, your hands running over the fabric of his shirt and across his chest, down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath the material, the scars that told stories of his past. He groaned at your touch, his hips grinding up against you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, deftly undoing the button and zipper.

"Lift up," he commanded, and you complied, rising just enough for him to peel the garment down your legs, your underwear following shortly after. You were completely exposed to him now, the cool air of the room making you shiver as he gazed at you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough with need as he pulled you back down onto his lap, your bare cunt pressing against his clothed erection

You whimpered, the heat of him so close yet so far driving you crazy. "Please, Cooper," you whispered, rocking your hips against him. "I need you."

"I know," he replied with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your ass and guiding your movements, the friction of his pants against your clit making you see stars. "Been needing you for a long time now. Long before that night."

You nibbled on your lip, the waves of pleasure cresting within you almost overwhelming as you surrendered to the sensation of him beneath you. "What kept you so long?" you gasped, your hand instinctively caressing the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the contours of the thick muscles there.

He chuckled, leaning into your touch, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on your face. "Just honing my patience," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You huffed in exasperation at his calm demeanour, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you attempted to reach for him, your hand was swatted away, and you tried again, only to be met with the same resistance. "Hey, cut it out," you scolded him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in your tone.

"You'll get it, don't you doubt," he teased, his voice low and playful. With a swift movement, one gloved hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding their way into your wet heat. A gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, his touch igniting a fire within you. Another finger joined the first, and he expertly curled them upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you burying your face in the crook of his neck with a muffled cry. "Oh, there she is," he declared proudly, a smirk evident in his voice.

You mewled softly against his salty skin, your lips pressing eagerly against the muscle as he slid his leather-clad fingers in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but rock your hips into his palm, seeking out the friction that made your nerves sing.

You trailed hot kisses along the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and then, unable to resist, you bared your teeth and bit down gently. His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan—as he grabbed at your ass with his free hand, urging you on, encouraging you to ride his fingers with abandon.

Your mind swirled with the sensations of being wrapped around him once more, your movements growing increasingly erratic as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure. He smiled against your bare shoulder, his hand releasing it's hold on your behind to fumble inside your bag that rested beside him as he anticipated your impending climax.

Seconds later, he pushed you back slightly, holding a small brown bottle in his hand. You whined in protest as his fingers slowed to a taunting pace inside you, desperate to regain the momentum you had lost. Your hips bucked instinctively, urging him to quicken the pace once more.

He tapped your cheek lightly with two fingers from the hand that held the bottle, meeting your gaze with a serious expression. "One more move like that, and I'll take them out," he warned, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

You frowned at the threat but nodded in compliance. Your eyes followed his movements as he deftly unscrewed the cap of the bottle with his teeth, retrieving one of the red pills with his fingers before setting the bottle aside. He held the pill out to you, his gaze fixated on your mouth as he spoke. "Let me see it."

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue for him. He delicately placed the pill on your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth with another tap on your cheek. As you did, he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he gently manipulated the pill inside your mouth. Finally, he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as he watched you swallow the pill with a satisfied smile.

Your body vibrated at the intimacy, eyes blown as you felt his thick thumb begin to circle your clit, his earlier ministrations continuing as he fucked you hard with his fingers, bouncing you on the palm of his hand. His free hand slid back over the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly as he intensified his movements.

"C-Cooper, please," you began, your voice trembling with need as the heat between your legs intensified, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost," he murmured, pushing against the spongy spot inside you that had you hurtling towards the edge. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed into his palm, hot liquid streaming down your thighs as you screamed his name. He smirked, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he stroked you through your orgasm. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he rocked you against him, grounding you in the midst of your intense pleasure. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let it all out."

When the last surge of your climax had left your body, you slumped against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. You kissed his neck, running your lips up his strong jaw until you met his cracked lips. He hummed into you, grabbing your wrist tightly when you began to trail it down to the bulge in his pants.

"Easy there," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, and he held you close. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?"

You regarded him with incredulity, your gaze searching his eyes for any sign of understanding as you boldly voiced your desire. "I took the pill," you stated firmly, your words weighted with intent. "I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours once more. "Oh, I know you do," he said, withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. A whimper escaped your lips as your walls clenched around nothing, longing for the sensation he had just provided. He brought his glistening gloved fingers to his lips, licking at them with a low groan of approval. Then, he pressed the tips of his digits against your parted lips, hooking them inside your lower teeth while holding his thumb beneath your chin.

"Let this be your lesson to take the fuckin' pills," he admonished, his voice carrying a mixture of gratification and warning.

His hands fell away, and you frowned at the sudden absence of his touch. He placed the previously discarded pill bottle in your palm, closing your fingers around it gently before guiding you off his lap and onto your bedroll beside him with a soft thud. Stretching his arms above him, he folded them behind his head, settling further back against the wall as he gazed out at the crackling fire.

"Until then," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of resignation, "we'll both be practicing a little patience."

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout prime #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout x reader #fic request #fallout smut

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chaussetteblanche · 1 day

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jason todd x biker partner

A/N : just a few thoughts on jason written at midnight, not really proofread, so be kind. might make this a mini series, so feel free to send in any asks of jason with a biker partner :)

- i hc jason with a civilian gf because he has had enough of the vigilante life and having someone “normal” anchors him in the best way possible

- but him with a biker, jesus-

- so lowkey a badass because that just goes with being a biker

- anyway it’s just a pairing that precious to me

- so you guys would meet on your bikes duh

- maybe it’s the middle of the night

- maybe you’re both waiting for a super long red light

- and you know, when you pull up next to him you give him a curt nod, keeping to yourself because yeah maybe you’re a bit intimidated and scared to talk to the hot hunk of man on a supersport bike next you

- but when the light takes even longer than usual, you sigh as you realize what’s happening

- he realizes at about the same time too and his shoulders drop before he looks at you

- “it doesn’t see us, does it?” he asks, his voice muffled by the helmet

- you don’t hear what he says at first and scramble to turn your music off

- “sorry, what did you say?”you ask apologetically, your voice way higher than usual

- he pushes up his visor, chuckling and it’s a sound you’d like to fall in love to

- “i said, i don’t think it sees us,” he jerks the bottom of his helmet in the stop light’s direction

- your eyes stay on what you can see of his face and the black lashes surrounding his dark eyes

- “no, it definitely doesn’t”

- long story short you end up sitting on his ridiculously broad shoulders at 1 am, waving your arms around like a clown, trying to get the light to see you and turn green

- it finally does and after lots of laughing and some flirting, you both get back on your bikes and continue with your night

- but of course you can’t get the hot biker out of your head, not after he laughed at your jokes and lifted you up like you weighed nothing

- not after the searing warmth of his large hands on your thighs, of the words of praise that had left his mouth as he urged you to move around for the sensor

- not after he had been so gentle about putting you down, making sure you were okay

- not after the way he’d let out a giggle when you’d bumped your helmets together when he was setting you down

- needless to say each time you rode your bike or walked around in Gotham, your eyes wandered, hoping to catch sight of the red helmet once more

- you hated yourself for not asking for his number and thought about it at least one a day for weeks

- but you don’t see him for a while, almost long enough for you to forget about him

- almost

- then one evening you break down with your bike

- you don’t know what happened, one sec you were going well above the speed limit, doing fine, and the next second your engine was spluttering and you were hurriedly pulling over, trying not to get hit by any passing cars

- you curse your rotten luck as you helplessly look around your bike, trying to see the cause of the problem

- until you heard an engine

- you recognize the sound, of course, desperate hopeless romantic you were

- and there he was, your knight in shining red helmet

- he pulls over, as does a good biker when he sees a member of his community in trouble, before recognizing you

- “Oh, it’s you !!” he’d exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy to see you as he set his bike on its peg, smoothly getting off

- subconsciously, you wandered how he moved with such grace when he was just so big

- “Yep, it’s me,” you sheepishly answered, hoping you’d have met again under less embarrassing circumstances

- “are you all right?” he’d asked, that concern lacing his low voice again, making your knees weak

- “yeah, yeah, i’m fine, it just died on me and i don’t know why or how to fix it”

- he looked around your bike, commenting on how nice it is (no, you did not blush), poked and prodded a few things before explaining to you what was wrong with it

- you didn’t really remember, all you needed to know was that your bike needed to be towed

- which wouldn’t have been that much of a problem had you been closer to your apartment

- but no, you were a good 45 min drive away with no bike and no apparent way to get home other than calling up one of your friend to come pick you up

- “where do you live?”

- you startle at that and jason immediately puts his hands up

- you ignore the way you see the material of his jacket strain because of the bulge of his muscles

- “sorry, fuck, that must sound super creepy ! i meant that i could drop you off if you like, if you want me to. i totally understand if you don’t though, if you’re not comfortable with that or anything!!”

- you kind of want to cry because he’s so kind and thoughtful and sweet

- “if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, that would be really great. i live in gotham.”

- “no kidding ? me too.”

- and so that’s how you finally get his number

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x biker

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bobluvbot · 3 days

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someone you loved

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: your relationship with sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget. wc: 3k a/n: angst angst angst!!! lots of negative self talk and low self esteem, allusions to a bad childhood (not stated directly), implied emotional abuse & cheating, both sirius and reader are going through it.

snippets of his voice echo in your head like a haunting lullaby that doesn’t seem to end. its funny how the mind is known to block out the traumatic memories, but for some reason, yours kept record of the most painful ones that left his lips.

you’re just too much.

i can’t love you the way you expect me to.

i’m ending this.

i’m sorry, but i can’t deal with this, with you, anymore.

it keeps repeating like a song once loved, now loathed left on repeat, and a stop button might be somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to turn it off. it reminds you of that habit you secretly developed when you had two large bruises on both your knees after a nasty fall, bone hitting pavement. nothing bled, which was a relief to the new babysitter as no bright band-aids would be blatant proof of her lack of attention on the kid she was supposed to keep watch on. blood kept within the skin, nothing left to do but to watch your body slowly take it back. you were curious of how the color changes each day, the angry reds bleeding into dark purples that resemble galaxies that you’d see on your astronomy books. one day spent examining your bruises again, you pressed on the reddish purple one too hard and tears spring up your eyes when the sting hits. but as it lingered and faded, a strange feeling of satisfaction replaced it, and you felt the urge to press on it again, curious to see if the same unknown feeling makes an appearance again. It does, and the fascination as you play in between the lines of pain and pleasure follows you as you grew up. Curious, you once read up on it from those muggle books, where you learn that the body itself releases pain-killing hormones that help relieve the perception of pain, leading to a temporary feeling of relief.

you knew thinking about sirius’ words will never not hurt, will continue to bury you in a deepening hole that you have to fight to the nails to crawl out of, but you couldn’t stop.

It gave deep seated satisfaction to that green monster in the back of your mind, responsible for only seeing the negative in each situation you find yourself in. ‘i told you so,’ it says in a tinny singsong voice, clearly pleased with each iteration of sirius’ words and the raw metal stabbing your heart each time.

it also serves like a constant reminder of your failure. Failure to love like a decent person, failure to be the person that sirius needed, failure to gauge what was too much that the other person drowned without you knowing, failure to protect yourself and your dignity from being trampled on like nothing, and failure to just simply accept the fact that love just wasn’t made for people like you.

being friends with lily made you forget a lot of things, fundamental parts that you realized so young. you knew better, should have after everything you’ve gone through, but somehow with her, anything seemed possible, achievable, tangible when you’re a kind person. marlene would always say, doing good things meant you can expect to receive good things back from the universe.

and for the most part it seemed to always work that way. you’d witnessed james nurture the simple appreciation he had on lily’s genuine smile at him that eased his nerves while they were in line to get sorted into houses throughout the years, growing as he’d gotten to know her innate kindness and wit, and finally erupting from him like rays of sunlight until he became brave enough to speak it out loud starting fourth year.

Even though the marauders had acted questionably during their early years of exploring their pranking abilities, james had always been full of love. Never hesitating to share it to those he truly cared for. it took lily years to accept this, and more to gain courage and let herself experience it.

by 7th year, you never believed a love could thrive like that whilst cradled with such young hands until you saw james and lily do it effortlessly.

so what part of this could’ve made you think otherwise?

were you to blame for believing in that fantasy, that something like this could be attainable for someone like you, too?

you had always housed deep adoration and awe for sirius black, like many others, despite his wild reputation and scandalous rumors that seem to always follow when his name gets uttered.

why? Because he was once the raven haired boy who slipped the trolley witch a few sickles when he saw you return the pumpkin pasty after realizing you couldn’t afford it.

it had been a gloomy tuesday. the trolley witch was supposed to go compartment by compartment, but the bumbling first years seemed to miss that memo and started piling up close to the cart to see what was being sold that she had to force them all in a line. you were quiet and unobtrusive as you stood patiently in line; which was nothing compared the boys’ raucous laughters and animated chatter behind you. sirius would’ve accidentally pushed or stepped on you if he didn’t see your figure. the train was loud and so was james’ mouth, so excited to be away from his parents and to have his first official Hogwarts friend, but sirius also stood close enough to you that he could hear your stomach grumbling and see your arms crossed over your midsection. he admitted once that he found the gurgling sounds funny (like an eleven year old would do) but he didn’t have the heart to poke fun at you because he remembered he’d hear the same thing from his own when his parents would send him to bed without eating.

even before your turn, you were already overwhelmed at the amount of food and candy available, none of which sounds or looks remotely familiar to what you’ve had growing up. your heartbeat picked up when you heard loud sighs, feet tapping impatiently (both James) snorting and shushing (sirius), and just grabbed something that resembled bread, quickly apologizing to the witch that gave you a kind smile. you hadn’t eaten anything as you rushed to pack the mismatched, secondhand supplies that the headmaster had sent you, and you were dropped off to the station just in time before the train left. your fingers trembled in excitement to finally eat and in hunger as you fished out your coin purse. It took a few seconds before it sunk in that you don’t have enough to buy your pasty. How embarassing.

You swallowed your tears back, willing the hateful voice in your head to keep quiet for a minute or two, just enough time to put back the pasty and run to your deserted compartment, where you could freely go to town beating yourself up for your stupidity. Just quick enough so no one will notice.

It took three deep breaths before the dam opened, for the tears to run uncontrollably down your cheeks. You couldn’t even wipe it off because your hands were still clutching your stomach, trying to ease the growling, gnawing pain. Pathetic.

The compartment door opened and you didn’t even hear someone clearing their throat, only looking up when a hand dropped three pasties, a chocolate frog, and a bottle of pumpkin juice on your lap. Barely balancing it, you looked up to see who took pity on you, but only caught a glimpse of stark raven hair and alabaster skin.

you’d find him later during sorting, squeezed between three boys that couldn’t seem to shut up about what house they thought the other would go. not used to kindness, much less from a complete stranger, you hesitated approaching him. but fate always had a weird way of showing you it does listen to your wishes once in a while and you found yourself later on, scooting a bit to your left to make space for him on the bench of your shared house. you both exchanged a knowing smile, and you’d always remember him like that. The kind boy who gave you a feast even without knowing who you were.

you’d remember that boy when the pouring rain had finally soaked through your thick coat as you waited patiently for him at madam puddifoot’s on your first Valentine’s day. Despite the fact that he was already two hours late and the cafe would be closing soon, you chose to wait.

you’d remember that kind boy when some mean ravenclaw girls in class would pick on you for the most absurd things, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you looked back at him desperately for some reprieve, only for him to avoid your gaze and continue to guffaw at something James said, effectively ignoring your existence.

You once asked him why. It was embarrassing how quick he figured out what you were really asking. In fact, he knew a lot of things: that he didn’t deserve your love (or anyone’s for that matter), that someone as pure and selfless as you shouldn’t even associate with the likes of him, and that he was aware of every single thing he does that shatters you whole. He knew that he should tread this conversation gently, to not let his claws rip further skin more than he already has, but the Black darkness has its way of slithering out of the deep recesses he tries to bury it in.

Words leave him exasperatedly, like he’s not spouting words that cut through skin. “I’d been clear to you right from the start, of what I can give you and what I can’t. You knew what you were getting into, Y/N. you put this onto yourself.”

He storms back into his dorm before he could hear your quiet sobs echo through the empty common room.

—-

lily knew in the back of her mind that this wasn’t just a simple, silly request now, but more of an obligation to her closest friend.

it’s been three weeks. three excruciating weeks to be handed and given and filled with so much love she didn’t need to ask for, whilst seeing her best friend chip away with the lack of, like a once-bright porcelain doll that was abandoned and exposed to the direct heat of the sun.

you had finally gone silent by last week, like a shut door. refusing to eat, go to class, speak—- hell, lily bets, if you could also not breathe by choice, you wouldn’t. It’s like youre keeping everything you once had given to the world thoughtlessly, close. Dorcas thinks you were keeping close to heart the mundane things that make you alive, to remind yourself that you still are. She had said, like air to a balloon. lily cried herself to sleep that night, the thought of losing such a fundamental part of her life, you, inch by inch, day by day, in front of her very eyes was a haunting, damning thought. Something that she and you both thought would come so much more years later, with unsurmountable memories, many glasses of champagne and slices of cake, wrinkles and smile lines, more laughter and loving hugs exchanged.

she had thought the silence was a welcoming sign of change. A necessary step towards acceptance and moving on. she was relieved when your crying stopped, tremors leaving your fingers, and there was a chance again for the redness to vacate the whites of your eyes. She held hope that she and the girls can start working on instilling your light back, hopeful that a few months from now their star can find its way back to its rightful place in the sky and everything could be okay once again.

Lily looked forward to nights that were filled by snores and shuffling of sheets, not the unmistakable sound of your feet on the wooden floors, misjudging that everyone was asleep, the muffled creak of the dorm room door opening and closing, and your footsteps fading in the dark. She’d wait fifteen to thirty minutes (the longest was an hour or two on the first night) before she’d hear you return, footsteps still light but she could hear the slight drag in each step, almost as if it was taking so much of your might to even make it to the bed. the quiet whimpers would start, followed by muffled hiccups lily knew only happens when you cry too hard. it took so much of her to exercise self-restraint, to keep herself on her own bed and not lay beside you and hug you as if it’s something that could put you back together.

She has to turn her back on you even if it felt like raw betrayal.

Because that one time she didn’t, she couldn’t forget the look of horror, dejection, desperation, and pure unbridled embarrassment on your face when you realized she knew what you were up to late at night. She knew you came up to the boys’ dormitory, crawling into sirius’ bed, where you begged and begged for him to take you back, that you’ll be a better more doting and loving girlfriend this time around, that you won’t be too attached this time and will give him the necessary space and time he needs so he doesn’t feel suffocated, that you’ll be anything, do anything just for him to welcome you back into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until your throat was raw, and sirius has to physically take you back to the start of the staircase to your dormitory.

this happened for days and days on end until the boys had to lock their door at night, or whenever sirius is in.

james couldn’t meet lily’s eyes when he’d ask for her help to keep you apart from Sirius as it would do you no good. they had gotten into a fight because of this, because lily heard nothing but ‘stop her from making a fool of herself’ and her best friend is the smartest intuitive empathetic kindest witch she had ever met; the farthest thing from a fool.

But one day those very words came off your lips with a hollow laugh. “But I am a fool, Lily. No one in their right mind would even do half the things I do.” It would be hypocritical for lily to deny sneaking out at night and crawling into your ex’s bed and begging for him to take you back as something of a desperate fool would do. A girl once had chased and pined for Remus during the entirety of fifth year and the things she did to get his attention were laughable at that time. But she didn’t plan to see the same, even worse, done by her best friend, and she still couldn’t wouldn’t call you a fool.

After all, your only fault was that you loved. And that shouldn’t even be a fault because that’s what she did with James, marlene with dorcas, her father with her mother. even someone as selfish as petunia could find love and be loved right back.

you of all people deserved to love and be loved right back after everything you’d been through, and james would say the same thing for sirius as well.

but sirius was a complex person, lily could recite this on top of her head from endless times where you stood your ground, defending sirius’ honor like he’d see your great martyrdom and suddenly consider you once again worthy of his love and affection. Before, she knew of sirius as a friend and James’ brother— but she knew more than what she signed up for because you’d fill in the gaps for her when she’d try to beat some sense into you during the unacceptable treatment you’d accept from sirius.

You’d say with such confidence “he loves me, he’s just going through a lot right now, especially after that howler his mother sent him a few days ago.”

You didn’t have to elaborate, lily remembered that day vividly, not because of the way sirius’ face fell when the howler began its assault had reminded her so much of how she’d react after getting bitter letters from petunia, but because that same day she saw sirius being manhandled by a hufflepuff, both kiss sick and all over each other, into a secluded broom closet.

It was years worth of push or pulls, of moral dilemmas that would get the outspoken redhead to choke on her words, and dejectedly sweep them under the rug out of your sight. Because the beaming smile and flushed cheeks you’d sport when Sirius murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, the weight on your shoulders dissipating when tucked in his arms, the jump in your step whenever he’d kiss you on the forehead and wish you good luck for the day— Lily couldn’t bear the thought of robbing you with those moments of bliss, even when it’s all done in private.

So in an empty classroom on a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, she points her wand at you, fingers trembling and tears trailing down her cheeks, but you don’t see any of these. Instead, your beautiful features wear a serene expression that weakens lily’s knees. Oh how she missed her dearest friend. She’d do anything in the world to get you back, hold your hand, and dance with you in the autumn rain.

So she does the wand movement like she practiced for days and takes a breath. She pictures you and Sirius happily dancing barefoot during the yule ball, your blushed cheeks when you told her about the feel of his lips on yours for the first time, you on sirius’ shoulders as you carried the quidditch cup, both smiling big as remus snaps a picture from the muggle camera, you drifting off to sleep on sirius’ shoulder while your hands were laced as you rode the train back to hogwarts.

Before mumbling the incantation, obliviate.

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