#no! they hate each others guts i tell you. but they still stick by each others sides because they dont belong anywhere else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delcakoo · 2 years

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behind the net!┊nishimura riki

SYNOPSIS ! expecting a suspension at most after punching your friend’s bully, you found yourself being assigned as the new boys soccer team manager. not only did you know absolutely nothing about sports, but you now had to deal with nishimura riki, the team’s star winger, absolutely hating your guts. you’d never believe someone if they told you you’d soon be enjoying your new role as manager, and dating nishimura riki, all in the same month.

PAIRING ! soccerplayer!nishimura riki x manager!f!reader

WC ! 9.8k

GENRE ! e2l, high school au, fluff, slight angst

WARNINGS ! yn punches someone, you also get punched and knocked out, lmk if there’s more

a/n: hi loves! keep in mind this is my first long lengthed fic, so it may not be perfect. i still had fun with it though, so bare with me as i learn and experiment! i hope you enjoy soccer player niki as he took me lots of time and preparing <3

choi beomgyu talks too much.

you don’t know if you’d consider the puppy-faced boy a friend; the only time you get to see him is near the end of lunch break at his locker which is found right next to yours, yet somehow, he manages to tell you all the gossip around the school in those few minutes of grabbing supplies for next period. today seemed to be no different.

“—i swear i saw them making out in the boy’s bathroom, but you didn’t hear that from me. anyways, did you know that kim jisoo from the grade above us is leaving? i knew her parents were like, having some issues n’ stuff, but apparently..”

sometimes, you just have to tune choi beomgyu out. occasionally, you offer a quick ‘mhm’ or ‘wow’ to ensure him you’re absolutely enthralled by his stories, even though in reality you’d rather be sticking a kazoo up your ear.

“—so yeah, i just feel bad for her. oh,” beomgyu pauses his movements in his locker, strangely focused on something to his right. “looks like chelsea’s messing with byeol again.”

“mhm,” you add absentmindedly, shoving your binder under your arm.

wait, what did choi beomgyu just say?

you snap your head to your locker buddy, frantically walking around him to follow his gaze. “hold on, what?”

byeol has been your best friend since you both met in the school’s photography club. you always had each other’s back, it was known to everyone that the two of you were close by the way you were almost always found together at breaks. however, you couldn’t always be there for byeol. your friend has been getting harassed by this ‘chelsea’ chick for weeks, all because byeol had submitted a photo to the school newspaper where she was in the background, making a rather unattractive face.

no matter how many times byeol apologized for the mistake, chelsea refused to forgive her for ‘ruining her high status’ around school. petty insults in the halls, taking revenge pictures of her in class, pushing disguised as ‘friendly nudges’,and much more were daily occurrences you had to witness your poor friend go through.

“why can’t you just report her?” you had asked one day.

“because y/n. snitches get stitches, everyone knows that.”

well, it definitely seemed like she was going to be getting stitches, snitching or not. you could barely make out byeol’s chestnut brown hair pressed against a locker, chelsea standing menacingly in front of her. other students were slowly forming an audience around the two, some pulling out their phones and whispering to their friends. you quickly readjusted the books in your arms, speed walking over to the girls.

“oh, bye y/n!” beomgyu calls from somewhere in the background, cluelessly unaware of the fuming expression slowly creeping up your face.

by the time you reach your best friend, chelsea has her nailed to the locker, repeatedly pushing her into it. “seriously, you’re so pathetic!” she barks, “can’t even fight back, god.”

your jaw ticks, throwing your stuff to the ground to make your presence known. when byeol notices you, she gasps, frantically throwing her hands up. “y/n! i-i can explain—“ you gently move her to the side, walking up to chelsea, and before you stop to think about the consequences, throw a solid punch to her chin.

gasps and screams circulate the halls as the students watch you glare down at your classmate who has now fallen to the ground from your jab. chelsea lets out a strangled cry, hiding her face and cradling her slowly bruising chin in her hand. “what the hell, y/n! why would you do that?!” byeol yelps to your emotionless face, shaking your shoulder.

satisfied, you grab byeol’s wrist, dragging her next to you to pick up your stuff. you ignore the many recording phones following your steps, focusing on the floor tiles in front of you. “c’mon bee, we have chemistry.”

byeol nearly trips trying to keep up with your pace, gawking at your side profile in utter shock. “h-hey! don’t call me that cute name after you just punched someone! and not just anyone, y/n. that was kim chelsea, you do know that right you crazy idiot!? you might get suspended!”

you finally let out a sigh, looking at the girl blankly as you continue walking to your class as if nothing happened. “what was i supposed to do, byeol? watch my best friend let herself get walked on like every other day?”

“w-well, she had a reason this time. i forgot to buy her lunch.”

you scoff in disbelief, “nice one.”

“no, seriously, y/n! it’s my way of paying back for that awful picture in th—“

“in the newspaper,” you recite with a roll of your eyes, “from like three weeks ago! jesus, bee. nobody fucking cares anymore but her! she has no right to treat you like dogshit even when you’ve apologized a gazillion times now.”

byeol scratches her head nervously, staring down at her neatly strapped shoes. “was that really three weeks ago? aish,” she huffs.

L/N Y/N, PLEASE REPORT TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.

“oh no,” byeol mutters, suddenly reaching over and shaking both of your shoulders aggressively, “y/n you big nincompoop, look what you’ve done! if you get expelled i’m gonna be all alone in this hellhole!”

you giggle slightly, finding yourself a bit too calm even for your standards as you place your own hands on top of hers comfortingly. “don’t worry, i’m a top student, they wouldn’t do that. i’ll probably be back here in like, five minutes okay? there’s no punishment that can bother me.”

add that to the list of famous last words.

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“i never thought i’d see you here, miss l/n.” the principal sighs, watching you settle down in the chair across from her.

“i’m sorry,” you pause for a moment before correcting yourself, “i’m sorry for disappointing you, mrs. lee.”

the woman raises an eyebrow at that, calmly lacing her ring-attired fingers on her desk. “i see. so you’re not sorry to chelsea, who is currently getting treated by the school nurses?”

“no ma’am. i would never harm anybody without a good reason.” you choose your worlds carefully, as it is not your position to be the one to tattle on chelsea, no matter how much your desires tell you to. a picture of byeol flashes through your head. your poor, naive best friend. you think any punishment would be worth helping her.

the principal seems to catch your memo quickly, nodding in understanding. “i believe you, y/n, and i can trust that you understand what you did was wrong. however, a punch is a punch, and your actions have consequences.”

“i understand too, and i’m ready to take whatever it is,” you reply confidently, nodding to the older woman in anticipation.

at your words, mrs. lee reaches next to her and opens up a yellow portfolio, holding it tightly in her hands. “very well. i decided to hold off on a suspension, as luckily enough, there was something else that desperately required someone responsible, organized, and smart like you, dear.” you curiously raise an eyebrow at that, watching as she opens up the portfolio and slides it across the desk to you. “to atone for your incident with chelsea, you will become the new boys soccer team manager.”

you freeze, unable to comprehend what was just said. you were ready to clean the bathrooms for the next few months, have detention every day for the semester, maybe clean up the mess everyday in the cafeteria. there was no way you just heard what you thought you did. in a last ditch prayer, you swallow. “i-i’m sorry, what was that?“

you swear you see the evil woman’s lips quirk a bit in some kind of amusement. “you will be the new boys soccer team manager for the year. the season starts in only three weeks, and it’d be much too difficult for mr. kwang to run the team without any help.”

did she say the year? “but- but ma’am, i don’t know anything about soccer,” you exclaim desperately, examining the papers inside the portfolio. there were all sorts of criteria and things you’d be agreeing to if you signed the contract, including missing full school days to travel with the team and attend games. just the thought of missing class to watch a bunch of sweaty, teenage boys kick balls around made you sick to your stomach. perhaps punching kim chelsea wasn’t worth it after all (sorry byeol).

“you’ll learn quickly just like you do academically, dear. and anyway, you’ll mainly be doing other things like preparing advertisements for the team, organising games and practise dates, assisting the team members, and helping mr kwang with anything else he needs,” she lists off on her fingers, gesturing to the ballpoint pen in front of you as a reminder to get signing, as you didn’t exactly have another option.

organising games? preparing advertisements? and what did assisting the team members even mean? you didn’t want to know, or even hear the words ‘boys soccer team’ ever again. yet you found yourself picking up the pen, reluctantly scribbling down your now permanently inked signature onto the dreaded contract.

what on earth did you get yourself into?

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“you’re the new what?!” you quickly cover byeol’s mouth, hiding her lips from the apple juicebox now being choked in her grasp. the students around the cafeteria glance at the two of you suspiciously, especially curious after the whole chelsea affair.

you remove your hand to reach into your daily bag of animal crackers that you never forget to bring to school, munching away with a glare. “geez, we don’t need the whole school learning my dirty secret that fast.”

“dirty? y/n, don’t you get what this means!?” byeol inquires, looking somewhat envious as she sips her juicebox. you give her a strange look, languidly reaching for your water bottle. “for the whole school year, you get to not only watch, but hang out and talk with the hottest boys in the school! punching chelsea is the best thing you’ve ever done!”

you ponder for a moment, contemplating her words with another handful of crackers. “okay, but it’s not just hot guys, bee. i have to organise and attend every one of their dumb little ball games which also means missing whole school days.” byeol doesn’t seem phased by your response before you add the next part. “and, i probably won’t have time for photography club anymore.”

she deflates at that, reaching her hand into your bag to steal a few crackers for herself. “now that does suck. promise you’ll still try to come to some meetings?”

“no promises.”

her face suddenly brightens again comically, wiggling her eyebrows. “oh and, you have to introduce me to park sunghoon. well actually— introduce me to all of them. but especially park sunghoon!”

you sigh, lazily throwing your now empty cracker bag into the garbage, “you’re too good for those out of control jocks, bee.

byeol quirks her eyebrows to you, pushing her hair back. “we’ll see about that when you end up falling for one of those soccer boys. it’s inescapable being with those handsome faces all year.”

“i’m slightly offended that you think this lowly of me.”

your best friend stands up from the cafeteria bench, giving her juicebox one last, dramatic sip. “fine, but when you do fall in love, remember this conversation!”

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two days after signing your life away to the soccer team would be your first day meeting them. you were to be at the school’s field right after dismissal for practise, 3:15 sharp. your backpack was all ready, prepared with absolutely anything you may need: a water bottle in case mr kwang decides to make you do any sort of physical activity, your animal crackers (obviously), a flashlight since you weren’t exactly sure how late you’d be at practise, your camera to take pictures for photography club, and much more.

this didn’t exactly mean you were ready though. you had absolutely no idea what you were supposed to do, there was no team manager training courses. and not only were you going to be inspected like a piece of meat by a bunch of attractive boys, but you also had to watch them play soccer all afternoon.

with a million thoughts going through your mind, you make your way closer to the soccer field than you’ve ever been in your life, pushing open the black gate surrounding the perimeter. for whatever reason, there were rows and rows of girls in the bleachers watching the boys practise, all giving you angry, disapproving looks as you step onto the field. the grass is fake, you realise, noticing the bits of black tires hidden in the plastic turf. you’re going to love finding those in every crevice of your poor shoes. when you look up, heat rushes to your cheeks as you meet the eyes of practically the entire soccer team on you, probably wondering why on earth some random girl with a backpack bigger than her has just walked onto their home field.

you scan your eyes over the team, finding a few familiar faces. #19 was sim jaehyun, or jake, who was known for being an absolute playboy, yet still managed to pull a new girl each week. he was quite funny though, you could appreciate his jokes even from afar in class.

when #12 turns around, you immediately recognise the handsome profile of park sunghoon. not only did he play soccer, but he was an amazing figure skater, or so you heard. byeol would probably faint at the sight of him now, dripping with sweat despite practise starting only minutes prior.

that’s definitely lee heeseung, you notice his pink hair miles away paired with his #20 jersey. he was amazing at everything, academic wise he was another top student, yet he still somehow made time to be in almost every sports team the school had to offer, also placing as one of the best players. you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a big role on this team as well.

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a pale boy with black, curly hair staring daggers into your side, soccer ball held between his fingers tightly. when you turn your gaze towards him, he stubbornly whips back around. #10, nishimura, his jersey reads.

“ah, right on time as expected, y/n!” at their coaches loud voice, the team gets even more interested, pausing their movements with the balls at their cleats.

“oh no, another chick from the nerd emporium.” you hear park jay mutter with his hands on his hips.

“i don’t mind the journal club girls. they always get flustered so easily, it’s hilarious. and look, at least she’s pretty cute,” jake shrugs back.

you hold in the urge to roll your eyes, grinning as mr. kwang shakes your hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you,” you chirped.

“no, no! the pleasure is all mine. we’re going to have such a fun year together,” he chortles, bringing you right to the middle of the field. the sudden, loud screech of a whistle makes you jump slightly, observing cautiously as the boys run over like a bunch of herded sheep. they messily form in a line, a few of them mischievously bumping each other's shoulders before they notice your presence, slowly looking you up and down. you gulp. one thing byeol was right about was that they were all hot. and very sweaty.

some of the boys offer you little waves, which you softly offer in return. a few of them smile at you or offer a quick nod when your eyes meet, crossing their arms tightly over the school’s purple jerseys. the nishimura boy from earlier though, looks at you with a bored, almost angry frown, finding the turf more interesting than anything you have to offer.

you don’t get a chance to wonder why when mr. kwang suddenly wraps a big arm around your shoulder. “boys, meet the new member of our team!”

it was silent for a moment, the team all exchanging weird looks. “coach, it’s just another journal club article, right?” a shorter boy with bright red hair and cat-like features asks.

“not quite, captain.” at the nickname, you glance at the bright yellow pad on the red haired boy’s arm. it didn’t take a genius to figure out he must be the team’s captain. “this is l/n y/n, our new team manager!”

“what?” nishimura speaks for the first time, his face finally sparking with some emotion, though he didn’t sound too pleased.

“she’s our manager?” jake points to you with an amused giggle.

mr. kwang proudly ruffles your head, promptly destroying your once tidy hairstyle. “you betcha, sim! for the rest of the year too, so get used to her being around. now, i need to get her organised. keep doing those drills!” he blows the whistle around his neck again, watching as all the boys quickly jog back to their positions. though, you can still feel most of their eyes on your back as you walk over to the bench with their coach.

“so, y/n. i know you don’t exactly want to be here.” when he sees you try to speak up in defense, he raises a hand. “it’s okay, my feelings aren’t hurt.” you both laugh, sitting and watching the boys train around the field. “it’s just, i think you might find yourself enjoying this job if you really give them a try.”

you rest your face on your hand, giving his words a thought. “maybe. it’s just, this is all a bit overwhelming, y’know?”

mr kwang pats your shoulder, “of course it is, and that’s okay. but i’m sure with a few weeks, you’ll get the hang of things and find yourself enjoying it out here on the field! just give the team a chance and make the best out of your new family, okay?” you offer a small nod, watching as he pulls a white whistle and a clipboard out of his duffel bag. “consider this my welcome gift to you,” he announces proudly, offering the items to you.

you quickly take them, looking at the man in surprise. “oh, thank you sir! what’s the whistle for?”

“anytime you need to get their attention, of course,” mr kwang winks, gesturing to the boys. “it’s pretty fun watching them run over to you like a bunch of dogs playing fetch, you’ll see for yourself shortly.” suddenly, he gets up, seemingly remembering something important. “oh, and come with me, dear!”

you swiftly get up to follow him into what seems to be the team’s locker room, throwing your new whistle around your neck in the process. it’s not very tidy; random pairs of knee pads and socks are scattered around the room carelessly, and multiple shorts and jerseys almost make a trail leading all the way to the showers nearby. not to mention it reeked of sweat, and well, teenage boys. mr. kwang quickly notices the disgusted crinkles on your face, laughing out an apology on behalf of the mess.

though your expression quickly turns to one of shock when he continues past the locker rooms and through the hall that leads to two black doors. one reading ‘coach kwang’ and the other reading ‘manager’. the inside was just as surprising, gasping as he ushers you into a neatly organised office with multiple, tidy shelves and a big desk. “what the- is this for me?” you mutter in denial, gripping your clipboard tighter.

mr. kwang smiles, offering you a key attached to a purple lanyard. “yes of course! there is going to be quite a lot of work when it comes to organising the team’s events and advertising games, so this is just a private space that can always be available if needed.”

“thank you so much, i’ll use it well!” you bow gratefully. wait until byeol hears about all this, she’s definitely going to want to see for herself.

after mr kwang led you around the rest of the building and fed you helpful advice along the way, the both of you ended up back outside where the boys seemed to be having a water break.

“there they are!” a cute blonde haired boy you recall as sunoo sings, making the rest of the team’s heads turn to see you.

heeseung is the first to walk up to you, offering his sweaty hand out politely. “it’s nice to meet you, manager,” he says smugly, smirking down at you.

you offer him a challenging tilt of your head, shaking his hand firmly. “you too, lee heeseung.” you do your best to keep up a cool exterior, even though you’re slightly freaking out on the inside from all the attention. this was completely different to the feeling of all the eyes after punching chelsea; it felt more like you were being inspected piece by piece, especially by the nishimura boy, who’s sitting cross legged on the ground with his waterbottle. you’re yet to find out his first name, but you had a feeling he had no interest in telling you by the icy glare he throws your way.

what on earth have you ever done to him? you don’t think you even have a single class with the boy, not to mention speaking to him.

“manager,” sim jake calls out your new nickname cockily, pushing his hair back. “out of all of us, who’s the most attractive?”

out of pure instinct, your eyes travel to nishimura for a split second, quickly looking back to jake. damn it, y/n! what was that? out of all the boys, you choose the one that hates you? it was already too late, as the rest of the boys immediately followed your split second glance to their teammate. “niki? seriously manager, i’m way better looking than him,” sunghoon remarks disapprovingly.

you hurriedly raise your hands in defense, “wh-what? i never said i chose him!”

nishimura — or niki — seems almost repulsed by the discussion at hand, still refusing to even look at you as he gives his teammates a disgusted look.

“cute,” jay laughs along with a few others at the growing blush on your cheeks, sipping his water.

suddenly, the red headed captain lets out a sigh, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “you idiots are scaring her, shut up.” he suddenly leans closer to you, warm breath fanning your ear. “welcome to the team. i’m the captain, yang jungwon. i hope we can be friends.” he smirks slightly at the redness of your face before backing up again, and it makes you question if he really feels sympathy for you.

honestly, what was even happening anymore? were you in a drama? a romance webtoon? you originally insisted you were never one to fall for such charms, yet here you were, a flustered mess over a few pretty faces. “uh-“ you gulp, “it’s nice to meet you too— all of you. i’ll do my best to help the team.”

“how’d you become our manager anyway?” heeseung questions, a few of the boys nodding in agreement. at this, niki’s head raises in interest for the first time, awaiting your response carefully.

you swallow nervously, unsure if you should tell them the truth. if they were going to be your ‘family’, you might as well show some honesty. “well uh, no offense, but i’m not here because i want to be. i know nothing about soccer,” you begin.

niki scoffs at that, rolling his eyes, “of course you don’t.” he only glares coldly when jake elbows his side.

“i’m here as a punishment. for-“ you look down, feeling embarrassment about what you did for the first time all because of niki’s scrutiny. “for punching kim chelsea.” sounds of surprise circle the team at your confession, and you watch in worry as niki’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides as if he’s holding himself back.

do.. niki and chelsea know each other?

“that was you!?” jungwon gasps, nervously checking on his younger, black haired friend. he then walks over to him and whispers something into his ear, soothingly patting his back.

“no way,” jake mutters.

your eyebrows furrow, finally making eye contact with niki for the first time with a sudden urge to defend yourself, “i didn’t do it for fun! i—“

“just be quiet,” niki spits, throwing his blue hoodie and bag over his shoulder before walking off the field, away from the team without another word.

“yah, nishimura! get your ass back here and apologize!” jay barks with no result.

“there’s still twenty minutes of practise, bro!” sunghoon adds.

jungwon only sighs, looking at you pitifully. “sorry about him, it’s.. it’s a long story. i think you two should figure it out alone.”

“i only punched chelsea to defend my friend, who she’s been bullying for weeks straight,” you finish saying what niki didn’t let you, frustratedly pushing your hair back.

the boys seemed flabbergasted by this discovery, exchanging shocked glances. “yeah, you really gotta talk to him,” jake acknowledges.

day one as the soccer team manager, and you think you’d rather be dead.

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the news of your recently gained title spread like wildfire around school by the next morning. not only were random girls asking you for information about the team members all day, but the boys themselves constantly waved or said hi to you in the halls, earning you a handful of jealous glares from said girls.

you nearly choke in confusion when you open your locker to see about twenty letters piled up in a small mountain, some decorated to grab your attention and stand out more than the rest. you cautiously look around for a moment before grabbing one of the letters, opening it up carefully.

dearest y/n (aka the manager),

i know you don’t know me, but i have handwritten this letter in search of desperate help regarding yang jungwon. what is he like with his friends? does he smell good? he’s an amazing captain to his team, right? please, i have to know what i need to do to reach his heart. shall i prepare flowers and a teddy bear? some new cleats? please send advice, i need to get him to notice me.

sincerely, yang rei.

jesus christ. was this seriously what all these letters were for? you’ve only spent a day with the team so far, and this was the result? how were you supposed to know if jungwon preferred flowers or cleats?

“y/n!” as if your morning couldn’t get worse, the biggest yapper himself, choi beomgyu appears out of thin air. “i heard you’ve been assigned the boys soccer team manager after you got in trouble with the principal for punching-“

“hi beomgyu. yep, thanks for the summary.” you cut in, smiling passive aggressively.

the brown haired boy doesn’t get the memo, smiling back enthusiastically while raising a nosy eyebrow at your letter tower. “you sure are popular now, huh? what’s with all the letters?”

none of your business, choi beomgyu. “yeah, i kinda have a fanclub now.” technically, that wasn’t a lie. in your peripheral vision, a familiar nest of black curls walks by, the same blue hoodie from practice thrown over his uniform. nishimura riki. for some strange reason, you feel a sweep of butterflies rush through you at the sight of the boy who would probably rather spend his time with a wet sock than with you.

‘remember this conversation when you fall in love!’ the teasing voice of byeol snaps you out of your trance, slamming your locker shut and rushing to catch up with him.

“bye, y/n!” beomgyu says in the background once again. his dumb voice truly sounds like deja vu, instead you might be the one getting punched this time around with the face niki makes when he sees you walking next to him.

“the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarls, speeding up his pace in an attempt to lose you.

“listen, i don’t know why you care about chelsea so much,” shit! why did you start with mentioning her of all things? niki immediately growls in annoyance, purposely pushing through groups of people in the halls. you run to catch up to him, apologising to the students you nudge along the way. “but- but you need to let me explain.”

“get away from me. i don’t need to be seen with someone who hurt my friend out of jealousy,” he states firmly.

you freeze, looking at his expressionless side profile. “jealousy? what are you even talking about? just let me tell you my side. please, niki.”

without even considering your offer or sparing a glance, niki enters his classroom, slamming the door right on your face.

“what the fuck!” you curse furiously under your breath. making a fool out of yourself just for some dumb soccer boy’s approval? what’s your pathetic reputation come to?

no. if nishimura riki wants to try and hate you that bad, then so be it. but you’ll never be one to turn down a challenge.

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niki hates the fact that through his whole history class, he’s too busy thinking about l/n y/n to process anything that’s being taught. he has never been so interested in a girl before, definitely not someone like you who he was supposed to hate. for some reason, he didn’t like when you laughed and high fived his teammates in the hallways. he didn’t like how you now sat next to jungwon in maths, and he had to deal with seeing you guys whisper in each others ears for the whole hour. and in the hallways just now? you looked so cute running to catch up to him, so desperate to try and get his attention.

guilt rushes through him for thinking of you in such a way. no! that is not why he’s thinking about you. you’re not cute at all.

but what did you want to explain? why you punched one of his closest friends? he already knew everything, chelsea wouldn’t lie to him, right?

he recalls rushing into the school nursing room when he heard what’d happened, wanting to check on his friend. “geez, it’s bruising bad. did you accidentally bite your lip when it happened?” he had asked worriedly, cupping chelsea’s chin as if she were a fragile vase.

she sniffles, holding his wrist in her grip tightly. “mhm, it hurts so bad, ki.”

niki frowns, biting his lip. in his opinion, his friend’s being in pain was more painful than if it was his own. anger flows through him as he continues to inspect the girl’s wound. “who did this?”

“l/n y/n,” she doesn’t hesitate even a bit, eyes turning to slits, “it-it’s cause she’s jealous of me i guess. she always hated me for my looks, i don’t know.”

and ever since that day, niki had gone on a mission to find l/n y/n.

yet the minute he saw you walk on that field with your dumb, giant backpack, he knew he would never be able to punch you back.

niki groans, ruffling his black locks with his free hand while wondering how on earth to get you out of his head.

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two practises until the season begins and surprisingly, you were getting along with the boys well (apart from a certain someone). you’ve learned a few important things about not only the team members, but also soccer itself: heeseung usually plays a position called striker, which is the highest position on the field and the most common spot for scoring goals. niki and jake were the main left and right wingers, and are usually the ones assisting heeseung in scoring. jungwon explained to you how nobody stays on the field for too long, everyone gets breaks by subbing for each other on and off the bench. you were pretty proud of your growing knowledge of the sport considering you started from nothing, and you were even more excited to show the team what you’d been working on.

ignoring the daily glares of the female spectators on the bleachers, you trail onto the field and over to where the boys are practising. “manager!” jake waves at the sight of you, a big, goofy smile growing on his face. at your nickname, the rest of the boys look up, waving to you as well. niki simply stares at you, rolling his eyes stubbornly.

“hi, y/n!” jungwon greets, kicking the ball at his feet over to you.

you yelp, nearly stumbling over it. “yah, i’m not your teammate!” you awkwardly do your best to boot it back in his general direction, luring an amused chuckle out of the captain. anyone could tell sports were not your thing by that single interaction. “anyways, all of you c’mere.” for the fun of it, you demandingly blow your whistle along the way.

“i think we heard you just fine,” jay teases, watching you set your backpack down on the bench.

sunghoon sighs, crossing his arms. “you know how she gets with the whistle. it’s almost as scary as mr. kwang when someone forgets to turn the showers off.”

“very funny,” you pout, pulling out your clipboard along with a bag of animal crackers.

“so what’re we all here for,” heeseung inquires, “an animal cracker mukbang?” a few snickers are heard around the team as some boys decide to take a seat on the turf.

“geez, you guys are so impatient. here,” you show them the papers you’ve printed, proudly gesturing for jungwon to pass them around.

“what’s this— wait,” jungwon’s eyes widen, scanning the documents over. “y/n, is- aren’t these players from the team we’re going against for our first game?

you smirk, shoving a handful of crackers into your mouth. “yep, spent a few hours researching all about ‘em. their most probable starting lineup, goalie’s weak spots, each players positions and things to watch out for, and more. all on those papers.”

“that’s our manager!” a new voice praises. mr kwang looks pleased as he walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder happily. “very well done, y/n. this will be a big help when planning our strategy.”

“holy shit, this is insane,” jay mutters, flipping through the pages slowly. even niki has nothing to complain about, studying them over his hyung’s shoulder.

“language, and that’s enough. all of you back to your drills! let’s go!” mr. kwang barks, blowing his whistle and winking at you as all the boys practically sprint back to their spots in fear.

the next half an hour you spend writing stats about each of the boys and how they’re playing during practice. every once in a while, one of them will jog over to the bench and you’ll hand them their water bottle, all while stuffing your face with animal crackers (jake stole a few at one point, and you were not pleased).

“water,” a deep voice mumbles. you pause your writing to look up and find niki staring down at you, uniform drenched in sweat and exhaustion.

he looks like an angel, skin glistening beautifully under the sun as he pushes his moist bangs away from his forehead. for a moment, you just admire him, mouth parted slightly. “geez, get a hold of yourself.” he impatiently makes his way behind you to where the water bottles are, chugging down the refreshment obnoxiously. it almost feels like he’s showing off now, purposely throwing his head back and displaying his adam’s apple as it bobs after every sip.

niki catches your spying as he finishes the drink, scoffing in amusement. “why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

you gulp, sheepishly looking back down at your clipboard. “i wasn’t looking at you.”

“mhm. you have crumbs on your lips by the way,” he comments. you lift a hand to try and wipe them off, but to no avail according to the annoyed look niki sends your way. he rolls his eyes, walking over and bending down in front of you.

oh god, this was bad, very bad. why is he so close? his moles are even more endearing up front, and you can feel his breath fan your face as he lifts a hand to your lips, slowly wiping the crumbs off with his thumb. “need me to do everything for you? i thought you’re my manager.” heat rushes to your cheeks, unable to form a reply.

and with that, niki turns around, walking away as if nothing happened.

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the next few days flew by with little difficulty— or at least, in the nishimura riki department. you decided to not confront him about his stunt at last practise, but that wasn’t fully your choice; you’ve been discovering the hard way that trying to balance school and being a team manager was like trying to play two instruments at the same time. first you’d have your classes full of new assignments, then you stay after school to get manager work done, and then you go straight from your office to the library to study, and by the time you get home it’s already dark and dinner is left cold on the counter for you.

byeol was not happy with your newly packed schedule either, especially now that photography club was out of the question. but there was no time to worry about your friend now, practise was starting in five minutes and your precious animal crackers were nowhere to be found. the search to find the snack would be much easier if there weren’t hundreds of letters stuffed in your poor locker daily. you were seriously getting sick of throwing out notes asking what perfume park sunghoon used.

“y/n.” that voice sounded awfully, unpleasantly familiar. you whip around from your locker, locking eyes with a frowning kim chelsea.

your eyebrows furrow, inspecting the bruise on her chin. “chelsea.”

she seems to get even angrier at your nonchalant response, eye twitching as she reaches out to shove you against your open locker, making the letters inside sprinkle to the ground. your right shoulder slams against your locker shelf, making you hiss out in pain. “seriously, you want to do this again?” you snarl, now holding your aching shoulder.

“how the hell did you become their manager?” chelsea barks, throwing punch after punch in your direction. her throwing speed clearly isn’t very promising, as it takes you no effort to dodge out of the way before every strike. “yah, tell me!” she screams, moving back as you try to grab her wrists and calm her down.

what’s with the deja vu? students have formed around the both of you again, pulling out their phones and calling their friends over. you swear you can see beomgyu’s fluffy brown hair in the crowd, but he doesn’t look very excited by the fight. he looks almost.. worried for you.

while you’re distracted, chelsea rips her hand away from your restraint, landing a solid punch to your jaw. ouch. as soon as the contact is made, the room starts spinning. it seems you’ve fallen to the ground by the blurry groups of students looking down at you. for some reason, you can’t hear their screams much, almost like you’re underwater. the lights are extra bright now, and everything just keeps twirling around like a beyblade until it all goes black. wait.. is that byeol? you recognise her chocolate hair even if it’s unclear and fuzzy. and hold on.. wasn’t that niki who was kneeling down next to you..? you’re too lightheaded to know for sure.

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ah, so this is what kim chelsea felt like only a few days prior. your lips were dry and chapped, and you felt like you’ve slept for a week straight. there’s a screaming ache on your right shoulder, and your jaw hurts every time you open your mouth.

oh right, you were shoved. and punched. by kim chelsea.

you smack your lips, pushing yourself up from the school clinic’s bed to find byeol on her phone, kicking her feet in the air like a child next to you. she gasps when she notices your movements, rushing over to your side. “you’re awake! you were out for a whole two hours you big, stupid, idiot.”

you chuckle at her relentless insults, pulling your friend in for a much needed hug. “thanks for staying with me. and what do you mean? this time it was all chelsea.”

“i know, i know, but you always find a way to make me worried! can’t you go just one week without getting in a fight?” byeol complains, reaching down to hold your hand in hers.

“sorry, bee.” shit, realization hits you like lightning. “wait, i missed soccer practise! that was the last practise before our first game this week, and i had so much planned for training and—“

byeol squeezes your hand, laughing at your strange choice of priorities. “y/n, calm down. you literally have injuries all over you, why are you worried about the soccer team? i’m sure they’ll be fine.” byeol suddenly smirks, as if she knows something you don’t. “speaking of, this one black haired boy seemed really worried about you. after he yelled at chelsea for a bit, he piggybacked you all the way here.”

“seriously?” your eyes widen. niki helped you?

byeol nods in confirmation. “i went too, of course! i was like, the most worried about you. just for the record, i was much, much more worried than your boyfriend.” you smack the girl’s arm, making her let out a mischievous snicker. “but yeah. along the way he asked me a bit about what happened, so i told him how chelsea was well- making me buy her lunch and constantly pushing me—“

“bullying you,” you correct sternly.

“yeah,” your friend gulps. “which is why you punched her n’ all that. then he went really quiet. also, he wanted to stay with you but he had practice.”

you sigh. while you made it out with a bruising jaw and sore shoulder, at least niki knows the truth. for some reason, you find yourself beaming at the thought (then proceeding to hiss in pain at the ache in your jaw).

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four days after chelsea (who hasn’t been seen since) punched you was the next time you saw niki. your shoulder had healed completely, while your jaw was still getting there in due time. over the four days, you’ve been putting up the advertisements you and byeol proudly made to bring in more people to the upcoming game, sticking them to the walls all around school.

“y/n!” for the first time since you’ve met him, niki says your name with an adorable smile on his face. though you were a bit confused, your heart can’t help but beat loudly at his cute expression. he jogs over to you, cheekily throwing an arm around your shoulder. “what’re you doing?”

how could this be the same boy who was so cold to you days prior? “oh, so we’re friends now?” you ask, half serious.

niki swallows, turning his gaze away from you. “look. i’m- i’m really sorry for not giving you a chance to tell your side of the story and being well, a dick. i really should’ve heard you out before treating you like that.”

you nod in approval, looking back down to tape another advertisement to the wall. “it’s okay, practises will be much less tense now without you staring holes into the back of my head.” when you don’t get a response, you open your mouth to speak before you're suddenly pushed against the wall, arms caging you on either sides of your head by the taller boy.

he has a small, cocky smirk on his face at your dumbfounded expression when he leans closer. “y/n?”

your swear your chest is going to explode, butterflies running wild at the sight of niki’s face being only inches from yours. thank god the hallway was empty, or the blush on your cheeks would only get much worse. “ye-yeah?”

he tilts his head, looking down at you with an unreadable glint. “out of curiosity, do you still think i’m the hottest on my team?”

seriously? what kind of question is that?! you do your best to stay calm, turning your head away from him nervously. “uh— maybe,” you mumble.

niki doesn’t seem to approve of your answer, bringing a hand to pull your chin back towards him. you swear you see his eyes flicker down to your lips for a second, but they’re back to staring straight into your soul before you can act on it. “maybe?“

you know what he wants to hear. “fine. yes i do, idiot. happy?”

“very. i knew you had a crush on me.”he grins smugly, releasing you from the wall as if nothing happened.

“wh- i didn’t say that!” you blush more realizing that you never denied his claim.

niki seems to catch on to this as well, snickering under his breath. “want some help with those?” he gestures to the posters.

that’s how you ended up spending another thirty minutes running around school with niki, laughing and talking as you put up his game’s advertisements.

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niki tunes out the constant bickering of the boys circulating the changeroom, focusing on tying his cleats. it was finally game day, and he was more than ready to show off in front of you be back on the field with his teammates. it was a home game, so niki had the advantage of being able to start warming up earlier while their opponents were busy driving here. he wondered what you were thinking, probably on the way to the field now. were you excited? did you want to watch him play? were you planning to cheer for him?

suddenly, he’s been smacked on the head with something hard. “ow! what the hell, bro?” he looks down to see the weapon of choice, jake’s knee pad.

“we’ve been trying to get your attention, but you were too busy having your little main character moment.” jay sniggers with a few others, tying on his own cleats.

niki rubs the spot he was hit, cursing. “the fuck are you talking about?”

“don’t try to act all innocent,” sunghoon smirks, pulling off his t-shirt to change into his jersey. “i caught you two lovebirds putting up those posters, giggling and flirting in your own little world~”

niki feels his cheeks heat up slightly, shyly looking back down at his cleats. damn it, how the hell did he not catch sunghoon spying on the both of you? “we weren’t flirting,” he mutters defensively.

“mhm, not even when you pinned her to the wall like in some cringy kdrama?”

jungwon gawks in surprise, “our little niki did what?!”

“with his hands next to her head n’ everything. i’m so proud,” sunghoon laughs teasingly, ruffling the boy’s hair.

niki only groans, hiding his face in his hands shyly. “do you guys ever shut the fuck up?”

“you love us.”

jake wiggles his eyebrows, “true, but he loves y/n more.”

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you cheerily skip over to the soccer field, humming to the song blasting through your earbuds. ‘it’s more than like, L 다음 또 O 다음 난 yeah! you and i, it’s more than like, what’s after like?’ only moments later you end up turning off your music, as it’s overthrown by the sound of screaming and cheering from the bleachers. there was no school today in celebration of the first soccer game of the season, explaining the rows and rows of students holding signs up and taking pictures. some have jerseys that they’ve bought from the concession, and you send a harsh glare to one girl with niki’s name on hers.

“y/n!” you know that voice anywhere, searching the crowd before finding byeol waving to you, holding a sign with your name on it. it has hearts and little stars all around it, messily colored in with shades of pink and red.

classic byeol, you snicker. “yah, what is that? i’m not the one playing!” you yell over the cheers, secretly feeling your heart burst from adoration.

she smirks proudly, blowing a kiss to you. “i know, i’m only here for you though.”

before you can reply, two arms abruptly pull you backwards into a sturdy chest, warm breath heating your earlobe. “should i be worried about her stealing you from me?”

you turn around in the embrace to find niki smirking down at you, dressed in his black shorts and purple jersey. from the bleachers behind, you hear a few surprised gasps and angry whispers. you raise an eyebrow, “and when did i give you permission to own me in the first place?”

niki grows his signature smirk again, pulling you tighter against his body. “when you admitted to having a crush on me.”

“damn, that was good,” you hear byeol say somewhere in the background.

you scoff, pushing him away (mostly because if you stayed that close to him any longer you’d inevitably explode) and dragging him back to his team, who seems to be in the middle of doing a stretch led by heeseung.

“manager!” sunghoon and jay both grin, eyes narrowing down on your hand intertwined with niki’s.

jungwon easily notices too, but doesn’t comment on it, only smiling cutely as usual. “hi y/n!”

“hey, you guys ready to win?” you grin, releasing niki’s hand to pull out your clipboard. the boy pouts at the loss of contact, reluctantly jogging over to his team to continue stretching.

“never been readier.” jake sighs, completely confident and relaxed.

“great, then let’s do attendance.” you click the back of your pen, beginning to call out the names of every player. “heeseung?”

“here,” he quickly replies as you check off his name.

thankfully, every player on the team seemed to be present as you continued down the list. “and lastly, sunoo.”

“here!”

“perfect,” you praise. something felt wrong, though. like.. something or someone was missing despite the flawless attendance.

“hey guys,” heeseung uttered, watching the opposing team make their way onto the field. “the game starts in five minutes and coach kwang still isn’t here.”

at the striker’s words, everyone frantically looks around, realisation hitting. “shit, you’re right! how did we not notice he was missing before?” jay exclaims.

niki looks at you with desperate eyes. “if we don’t have a coach, doesn’t that mean we have to..”

you gulp, nodding in confirmation. “forfeit.”

“what? it’s the first fucking game of the season, we can’t,” jake wails, ruffling his hair anxiously.

luck clearly wasn’t on your side, as the referee begins making his way over, holding his whistle sternly. “we’re ready to begin, where’s the coach?” he asks, closely scanning his eyes over your team.

the boys all look around awkwardly before jungwon steps up as captain. “uh, we’re actually still waiting for him, sir. do you think we can get an extra few minutes?”

the referee sighs, glancing at his watch. “you have five minutes.”

so you waited. one minute became two, two became four, until time was already up. mr. kwang was nowhere to be found, and you were stressed, so stressed that not even your animal crackers could calm you down. niki laid across the bench, head in your lap with his eyes closed. you massage his scalp, playing with his curly locks in an attempt to calm yourself down while the rest of the boys make themselves busy picking at the turf or lazily dribbling a ball around.

the referee starts making his way back over to you, checking his watch once again. “time’s up. do you have a coach, or are you forfeiting?”

as jungwon opens his mouth to announce the team’s surrender, niki shoots up from his spot on your lap. “we have a coach,” he states confidently. everyone whips their heads over to the boy, watching as he points to you with full determination. “she’s our coach.”

jake and sunghoon burst into laughter, while the others exchange mixed expressions. meanwhile, you’re having a mini panic attack, staring daggers into the side of the boy’s skull. niki expects you to pretend to be a coach? being manager was hard enough, you knew absolutely nothing about coaching! mr. kwang, why are you doing this to me?

“ma’am, is this true?” it was clear the referee was a bit unsure and judging you (which was fair considering you looked more like one of the boy’s nerdy little sister if anything), but there wasn’t much he could do without proof.

you glance at niki, instantly giving in when you see his puppy eyes. “y-yes, i’m their coach.”

“alright then, please send your starting lineup onto the field.”

the millisecond the referee has gained enough distance, the team lets out a synchronized sigh of relief. “i hope you guys know what you’re doing, or this is going to be a disaster,” you scold specifically niki, running a stressed hand through your hair.

“don’t worry manager, we got this under control!” jake chirps, happily running onto the field with the rest of the team following close behind.

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you don’t know how you’re going to survive watching soccer games all year. you’re praying it isn’t because the boys are trying to figure out most of the plays and strategies without coach kwang’s guidance, but it was a close tie; 1 to 1 with only five minutes left. jungwon and sunoo were doing an amazing job on defense, but the forwards were having just as much trouble as the other team trying to get anywhere close to the net.

you ran out of animal crackers to soothe your worry, so now you were anxiously clicking the back of your pen, watching as the other team sprinted down the field with the ball. the guy chooses to go down the right side of the field and as he approaches, jungwon leers, watching his feet carefully. “c’mon won, you got this,” you mutter under your breath.

the enemy winger suddenly pretend to go right, and as jungwon swiftly plunges out to match his direction, he swerves and runs left, right towards the goal. “shit, shit!” your foot begins tapping, watching jungwon cuss under his breath in defeat. jay, the goalie, your last hope, quickly bends his knees, his gloved hands out in preparation.

sunoo desperately tries to run in and stop him, but it’s too late as the enemy already takes a shot. it was like slow motion, jungwon and sunoo running to try and block the ball with their body, jay jumping to his right and reaching out for the ball milliseconds before it finds the net. “yes!” you cheer, watching your goalie protectively hold the ball to his chest, releasing a stressed exhale.

two minutes on the clock, it was now or never. jay throws the ball towards sunoo, who then passes it on to niki up on left wing. this was probably their last chance to solve the tie before time ran out. niki sprints down the field, getting past the opponents winger before kicking it over to heeseung. the striker runs faster than ever before, speeding right past the defenseman with a focused expression. you were clicking your pen even faster now, glancing back to the clock. 1 minute and 27 seconds remaining. “heeseung!” niki shouts, raising a hand to signal that he was open for a pass. the pink haired boy obeys, kicking the ball over and giving niki the opportunity to shoot.

“please, please niki, you can do this.” you’ve now left your spot on the bench, hovering closer to the sidelines for a better view of the intense match.

just as a defenceman runs in to check him, niki slams the ball up into the air, aiming straight for the left corner. it was so precise, in fact, that not even the goalie could reach high enough to stop it. the minute the ball hit the goal, screams were heard, spectators probably crying, being much too dramatic for a school soccer game yet here you were, hollering in pure joy as niki gets jumped by his teammates with a big goofy smile on his face. and just like that, the buzzer rings loudly with perfect timing, indicating the end of the game and another symphony of happy shouting and applause surrounds the field.

you were so blissed by relief you barely noticed niki pulling away from his teammates to run over and give you a big, sweaty hug. though due to his height, he ends up lifting you off the ground a bit, shaking you around like a stuffed toy. “that- that was amazing!” you hug him back happily. “you were like, like running so fast, and then that guy tried to stop you but totally failed because you were just that good!! and that shot?! the poor goalie had no ch— mmph!” oh. before you could finish your sentence, nishimura riki was already pushing his lips onto yours. they were soft and plush, molding against your own wonderfully under his cute nose that gently brushed yours. his kisses were a bit (very) messy, but it was really just because he was so overjoyed. scoring the winning goal and kissing you in one day? double whammy if you ask him.

you’re the first to pull away, arms still around his neck as you catch your breath. before you can stop to think, the first thought that comes to your head tumbles out of your mouth. “can we do that again?” you inwardly slap yourself out of embarrassment.

the boy bursts into laughter, throwing his head back teasingly. “wow, you really like me.”

you scowl, “no shit, sherlock. but whatever, i guess i’ll go kiss jungwon instead.”

“hey, why am i a part of this lover’s quarrel?” jungwon magically appears behind you with a raised brow, the rest of the team happily following behind.

“manager,” sunghoon interjects, “rate niki’s kisses from one to ten.”

niki groans, “you guys are so annoying.”

“hmm,” you pretend to think, making niki glare at you in offense. “maybe.. a three?” you smirk.

“wh- a three?!” niki whines. the boys burst into laughter, shoving their teammate back and forth. “and i was gonna ask you out,” he pouts sadly.

you tilt your head, pondering for a moment. “if you buy me some animal crackers, maybe i’ll say yes.”

“animal crackers and bowling, then?” he compensates.

you smile, “deal.”

with that, niki fist bumps the air, screaming a victorious “let’s go!” before running to the changeroom. of course, not before kissing you one last time for the road. you chuckle at his childish antics, touching your lips in an attempt to process what’d just happened.

okay, maybe being the soccer team’s manager wouldn’t be too bad.

you’ve reached the end hurray! if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always very appreciated and motivating for me to keep writing!

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby

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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART III

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mega plot-driven smut ahead in this part of the story. you've been warned. MINORS, DNI. 18+

***

Despite everything, you and Steve both get through battling Vecna. You both grin and bear it. You both set aside your differences when the moment calls for it.

Just like you have before. Many times.

And in the midst of it all, you can't help but wonder about your uncle. How he's doing. If he's somewhere in his bunker still, hopefully drinking less (ideally, not at all) and keeping up his phone calls with Joyce. You'd told her to keep tabs on him, and you also told your uncle to keep tabs on her. They needed each other. You had the kids and the teens, but they needed each other. And sure, your uncle has you. Always. But you have to work, and babysit, and hang around a guy who hates your guts because the circumstances won't permit otherwise.

Eddie and Robin really stick up for you. They do. They really like you. Steve can’t stand it.

Even Nancy doesn’t mind you. Honestly, she’s scared of you more than anything. Steve doesn’t care.

The kids love you. Steve won’t make them hate you. He never would. But he won’t endorse their kind sentiments about you either.

More groups are formed, along with more plans. Scary, life-threatening plans.

You stay behind with Dustin and Eddie, knowing that Steve is quietly a basket case over the concept leaving Dustin alone without having him there to protect him from all this shit, the way he has before. With the demodogs, the Russians, and everything up to this point. That kid is his brother. His son.

It’s the only time that Steve tells you thank you.

And he sincerely means it.

By the grace of some unspeakable force, you manage to not only keep Dustin alive...but also Eddie. The bats have done their damage, and you've got some damage yourself. Though not nearly as bad as Eddie. You can withstand yours with adrenaline and the sheer need to protect one of your kids and get this metalhead back to the real world so that he can get proper medical attention.

When Steve and the girls all get back to the three of you there, after all the shit hits the fan - you, Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin all manage to get Eddie back across the gate and get him majorly patched up. Thanks to Dr. Owens.

You keep Eddie hidden at Murray's bunker. You're shocked to find it empty, your worry growing more every single minute. But Steve tries to assure you that your uncle is likely fine, probably just out to eat or something. However... even he knows that is not true. Murray does not go anywhere.

"Bauman," he's saying to you, softly. So softly. Softer than he's ever spoken to you once. "He's gonna be okay. I promise. We're here, alright?"

Two days later, Jonathan and his Cali crew all show up. Nancy and him are reunited.

And you watch Steve break.

He doesn’t let it show, not really. But you see it. Both you and Robin do. You let her comfort him. He needs his best friend, much more than he needs you. Especially in this situation. You are undoubtedly the last source of comfort for him in this specific instance.

You reunite with your Uncle Murray, who has returned with Joyce and — to your surprise — a very much alive Hopper. It’s a beautiful reunion, as you all hug tightly.

You all fucking lived, bitch.

Given the new flurry of debris-snow-shit in the air, you all end up having to take shelter.

Steve volunteers his house, given that his parents fled to their vacation home and he told them he wasn’t going. They ditch him, so he has the house all to himself. This time, he doesn’t have to be alone though. He has his real family.

You all move into the Harrington House. Lord knows it’s big enough. But it’s also really tight, for two people who can’t stand each other unless there’s a really ugly monster guy waltzing around that needs to be killed along with his multi-species army of little uglies.

Given the close quarters, on top of the fact that you all can’t leave the house much unless it’s for supplies, you and Steve have no choice but to coexist.

He still resents you, especially seeing Nancy and Jonathan are now getting along again and seem to be doing better. But it's much more subdued now, and you both find a way to talk. Which happens mainly because of you, initiating.

You learn more about Steve's home life, given the pictures everywhere throughout the house. They're all pretty stiff, lacking warmth. You figured that Steve was a pretty lonely trust fund baby, and being that you're a lonely child you can relate to the loneliness that comes with that. Not the trust fund part. Just the only-child-syndrome part, which you know perfectly well forces you to either become very well acquainted with yourself...or hate yourself even more. Steve clearing did not lean into becoming his own source of reliability and companionship, the way that you did. And it made you understand him better. It made you understand why he needed to be around the likes of Carol and Tommy H. He did not know how to be alone with himself.

"I think my dad and I don't even like the same beer," Steve scoffs, allowing himself a humorless chuckle. You don't laugh with him, instead giving him a soft look. An apology with your eyes.

"And my mom, she just...I dunno. Sometimes, I wonder why she never left him."

You let Steve reveal as little or as much as he wants to. It just depends on the day.

The two of you watch out for the kids. You both go with them to visit Max in the hospital. You even initiate finding a way to get her to stay there while in a coma, thanks to enlisting the help of your uncle to help enlist the help of Dr. Owens. The kids love you for that.

Steve doesn’t love you… But he appreciates you.

A lot. He's beginning to find appreciation for you, for a lot of things.

Your uncle clocks the very niche tension between the two of you, now that you’re all under the same roof and he’s given no choice but to.

And damn, it makes him curious. He is, after all, the witch doctor of love…

Nevertheless, Murray takes his time choosing when to strike.

As you and Steve both help nurse Eddie back to health, and read to Max in her coma (which leads to both of you just simply talking), and make the kids laugh together, and even make conversation with Nancy and Jonathan (…it’s very double date ish) Murray watches his niece — and mannnnnn, is he amuuuuuused.

One night, you and Steve stay up to share some drinks with the adults. It’s the first time that the two of you actually make each other really laugh, heartily. The drinks help.

That’s sort of Murray’s plan. Vodka is, after all, the holy grail.

Even Eddie joins, along with Robin. But Steve sits next to you. Not his best friend, or the new friend he’s made in the metalhead. Nope, he sits his perfect, hunky ass that makes all the ladies drool right next to little ole you.

And damn, do you both laugh.

Murray’s never seen you laugh that hard with anyone in his life. He wonders if you’ve ever laughed that way at all.

And the way that Harrington looks at you? Especially when you’re not looking… Holy shit.

And the way you look at him the same way... makes Murray grin ear to ear like a mischievous kid with the plan to wreak havoc.

Hopper and Joyce are so settled into their relationship, and Jonathan seems to be winning back the love of Nancy. Eddie and Robin are so single it hurts, but it's legendary too. And you? Steve? Well, you guys are mortal enemies. And yet somehow, sitting here in the Harrington's living room with glasses of chilled vodka, belly-laughing over anything -- you and Steve exude more chemistry than all of them combined.

So when everyone goes to bed, and Murray catches you alone, he grills you. Not like the others. Nah, you’re family. He’ll cut you some slack.

…not much, though.

It sobers you right up.

"Do not tell me for one second that you don't think he's gorgeous," your uncle is saying in a low voice. You're both standing in his bedroom, having fetched him a tall glass of water which turned out just be a way to fucking lure you into his witchdoctor trap.

"I love you Uncle Murray. I really do. But this theory? -- is not one of your other bullseye's."

"Face it, kiddo," your uncle is smirking. "Your uncle's never wrong. You're just never the one on the other end of his lectures when he's making astute observations. You're always contributing to it. But this time? You're the leading lady, darling."

"False."

"You like Steve."

"Murray...!"

"You like Steve..."

You try to tell your uncle that everything he is saying is nonsense. Steve hates you. He absolutely hates you. Loathes and despises you, and plans to do so until you’re all particles of dust.

“Plus, he is so fucking annoying and whiny and entitled and has zero self respect unless it’s up against someone who calls him out for his shit,” you tell your uncle, gesturing to yourself on the last part. “Steve Harrington is a cocky guy who would just rather suffer in his own misery than ever see or lean into being this...this incredible man that he's...capable of being, the role model he has become to those kids, who love him, they love the human most deserving of being put first —”

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

…oh fuck.

The silence is deafening. Murray’s smirk and all-knowing glare only adds to your being aware of what you just said to him, and admitted to yourself, out loud.

“Oh…oh so we do love Steve.”

Your uncle’s words are the cherry on top of the cake you just baked, and didn’t know you had the ingredients to make.

You don’t sleep that night.

***

The next morning, you and Steve both sit with Max.

"Wondering what she wrote in yours?"

Steve is nodding at the stack of letters on the bedside table. You all left them there, promising yourselves not to open them. Because she will wake up.

Lucas took it hard, Max dying. You'd been there to hold him, comfort him, along with Steve. You both watched him burst into tears numerous times, sometimes sobbing uncontrollably, despite the fact that she was somehow still here. It broke both your hearts, but you both got through it with him. Together.

And while the other kids were taking it hard too...so fucking hard...it was Steve who carried the most guilt. Remorse, anguish and guilt.

"I failed my kid," Steve had told you at the hospital once. You looked at him with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

"Steve, no you didn't."

His voice shook, eyes drowning in nightmarish thoughts. "I wasn't there for her. I wasn't -- wasn't..."

"You could never fail those kids. Not even if you tried."

He didn't believe you. But he wanted to. You had squeezed his hand that day, sitting in the waiting room. And to your surprise, not only did he let you...but he squeezed it back, letting your hands rest that way for an hour as you fell asleep in the seats before being woken up.

And now, sitting in one of his guest rooms while Max lay asleep in the coma still, you can see that guilt in him is spreading.

Steve is holding the letter that she gave to him, and you ask him if he’s wanting to read it.

Steve snorts. "God, you kidding? She'll wake up just to kill me before going right back to sleep."

You smirk, biting back a real laugh. “True.”

But Steve looks conflicted. He fiddles with the letter in his hands, wanting to tear it open. You know that he does.

“…want me to read it out loud to you instead? She can kill me in your place.”

Steve chuckles at that.

...but he doesn’t say no.

In fact, after biting his lip for a minute and thinking, he finds himself nodding. Yes. Please, read it to me, he’s thinking.

So you do.

You take the letter and read it to him. You read him the words that only a little sister could write to a big brother who she loves and wishes she will grow up to be like. You read him words that make him light up like a Christmas tree, yet cause him a painful ache deep within his bones. You read him a letter of love that no one ever took the time to write, let alone express, to him his entire life.

Steve fights tears. He bites them back, successfully. You’re the last person he ever wants to see him vulnerable. Hell, he can’t even see himself like that without judging his own self harshly. He can only imagine that you will, too.

He doesn’t know, though, that not only would you never judge him for that. But selfishly, you wish he would feel safe with you. Or God, someone at least. Just not Nancy. Someone who deserves him wholeheartedly.

"Steve," you speak softly.

He's staring into space, zoned out. But then, he finally looks over at you. He sees the kindness in him, and it almost takes his breath away. The way that you look at him...he just never thought you could...that you could --

"You're all of these things. Everything she wrote in this? You're all of it. And then some. You're the hero all those kids dream of being when they grow up. You're their favorite person. The one they trust, go to for everything. Even if you don't think that they do, they do."

He listens, unable to move. Speak. Breathe.

"You are...a great person, Steve Harrington."

***

That night, there’s a knock on your door. You’ve been given the guest room upstairs with no bunk mate. Unlike most of the people in the house. But given that Joyce and Hopper are together now, and El sleeps in Max’s room to keep watch, the four younger boys share a room with Eddie, Nancy is with Jonathan, Erica sleeps at her own house and Robin shares Steve’s room since she splits her time here and at home — you and Murray got the solo rooms.

Steve is now grateful for those sleeping arrangements tonight.

Because when you open the door, he’s on the other side. He looks sad, conflicted and lost. Like his mind is racing at a million miles an hour, yet can’t think of anything to say. He’s tongue tied, just staring at you expectantly…

What is he expecting?

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Is it Max?”

Something about your question makes Steve brows pinch together. Like it’s suddenly confusing him even more. But he doesn’t speak.

You wait patiently. But truth be told, you are anxious as fuck. Because damn, he’s pretty. He is so stupid pretty. And fuck it’s annoying. His lips are just the right shape in a pout, and it’s really fucking annoy —

His lips are crashing into yours before you can even finish dissecting them.

Steve is kissing you like life depends on it. Gentle at first, but eager. Determined.

And when you both pulls back -- you don’t hesitate for more than a solid 2-3 seconds, your eyes shocked while his eyes silently ask, is this okay?

Your lips crashing back against his answers — yes.

Steve is a hurricane of both madness and all things serene in the ways that he touches your body. He explores your skin with his lips and hands, as if he has all the time in the world. The curve of your jaw and neck. The jut of your collarbones. The feel of your clavicle, which leads him to the shape of your tits and nipples. He cherishes your body, hungrily exploring it. It’s heated, hot and heavy. He licks a stripe down your abdomen to the waistband of your sweatpants. The way his brown irises look up at you, all round and doe eyed, makes the back of your throat groan with need. It’s not loud or brash, nor is it strained and quiet. It’s soft but certain. Steve melts at it, his fingers curling one by one around the band of your sweatpants, his eyes still asking — please?

You’re nodding without even having to hear a word out of him. And Steve pulls.

Euphoria is the feeling of Steve’s tongue exploring your folds. It’s the sound of him sighing into your portal in pure pleasure, and the way he sucks your clit with fervency yet flicks it with supple patience. His hands knead into your thighs, one of them reaching to squeeze your hips so that he can pull himself up to you and let you taste yourself on his tongue. He wraps an arm underneath your waist, hooking you to him, asking in the breathiest of whimpers, “Please let me, angel.”

He’s getting a fistful of your hair into one of his big hands, adoring the way that you squeak a yelp. You suck on his tongue, hard, and it’s enough to drive him mad. He pins himself against you, grinding. But you sit up, keeping your bodies glued together and now using your teeth to tug on his lip and paralyze him in pure ecstasy. You take the opportunity to slide your teeth and tongue down his jaw and neck, trailing pecks and kisses along the way, and the throaty whimper he lets out makes you see stars behind your hooded eyes as you drag your tongue down his chest. The wet stripe you’re leaving glides down to his toned abdomen’s bunny trail, and as you curl your fingers around his sweatpants, you pause… letting your lips press the most fluttery of kisses to each of his scars.

Steve can’t help the shudders, sighs and whimpers that escape his lips, along with your name. It’s raw, uncensored. He clutches your hand, which you extend up to him in a greedy grab as you slowly work his pants down with your other hand. You hook your fingers onto his chin, forcing him to let go of your hand in his and look down at you. He does, and it’s game over. You watch him and never break eye contact as you use both hands to push down his briefs…

…and thank God for that — because otherwise, you would see just what you’re up against as far as pleasuring him goes.

You feel the tip of his hard length tap your chin, and you scoot farther down into the mattress — on your knees like a perfect angel. Your tongue plays with its head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum, and Steve is shaking so hard he can’t stand it. He clenches his jaw, gritting out blissful curses through his teeth. “Fuck, baby, fuck.”

You take in the intense length of him, pleasuring him until he is touching the back of your throat and nearly gagging you senseless, and the mess he is up above you — it sends your mind into a tailspin. He has never looked so pretty, eyes squeezed shut except when he’s glancing back down at you with more fondness and adoration than you ever thought possible from not only a man who hates you…but any man at all.

And when Steve is just about to cum, he begins to beg. “P-please. Wait, please.”

His hands urgently cup your jaw, forcing you to look back up at him and cease your sickeningly perfect work. He pulls, and you follow. He drinks you in with his gaze, staring into your soul, as if he’s trying to figure you out. He stares and stares, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his brown eyes searching yours like you are the most beautiful mystery he has ever needed to solve. He looks as though he might ask you something. Say something...

But he dives in to kiss you again before he lets himself.

His hand wraps around the bend of one of your knees, tugging it up so that he can hook your leg around his waist. Then he does it to the other. And before you know it, you’re straddling him.

“Fuck, Bauman, please,” Steve Harrington groans into your mouth. Then softer, murmuring against your lips as he kisses them endlessly, “please let me, please.”

And you know what he is asking. You know what he wants. You don’t have to even think twice. Lifting yourself up, lining him with your entrance, he stretches you out and the euphoric sting of it sucks the air right out of you. And Steve.

Steve is winded by the feeling of how tight your walls are, and by just how right it feels to be inside of you. You both fit. Like a perfect match.

At this point, you’re both a frenzy of fucking. You ride him – slow, hard, fast, all of it. Steve keens into your mouth, then your neck as he buries his face there — completely overwhelmed. You hold his head there, comfortingly and securely, and so fucking perfectly as your fingers tug at the ends of his perfect hair.

“I’ve got you, baby,” your voice shakes in a breathy whisper, just for him. “Let it all go.”

And Steve does. His fingers dig into the curve of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he presses the loud growl of his climax into your bare shoulder. He releases himself into you, hot and loaded, and you drip just as much onto him as he just shot into you.

As if that wasn’t enough to send you reeling — enough to make you see angels and devils and god — it’s the way that Steve shudders against you, catching his breath…and then pulls back to look at you…that renders you speechless.

His hairline leaks sweat, his face beaded with it. His eyelids are hooded, the dark brown irises dazed and daring to meet your gaze. His lips are parted perfectly — and the way he looks up at you with his tousled hair, somehow still perfect after it’s been pulled and messed with, is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Steve Harrington is so fucking beautiful. He’s an all-American boy, yet a Greek god.

The way that Steve gently brings your forehead to his, breathing against you, closing his eyes at the contact — you find yourself timidly nuzzling the tip of your nose to his. And you feel him smile against you, opening your eyes just enough to steal a peek — and that’s when you feel a deep ache in your heart and soul that might as well kill you.

Because now you realize. That is love.

Steve is love.

But you let it die inside of you tonight, not wanting to make this moment end any sooner than it has to. Instead, you let Steve entangle his limbs with yours, not daring to ask if he wants to stay. Because if you do, he’ll likely leave. He’ll realize that being in bed with you is the last place that he wants to be, and that he’s made a mistake. He’ll go back to hating you, more than he already does, and it will be the death of you. So instead, you just let it ride out however it’s supposed to.

You try not to count the minutes as Steve absentmindedly traces circles with his fingertips on your skin. Your hip bones, your shoulder blades, your spine. You tell yourself to forget that time and its limits exist as you stroke the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, your temple against his forearm, his outer arm draped over you. You tell yourself that this is it. This is heaven. This is eternity. You tell yourself even if you wake up and it’s just a dream, you’ll remember it for as long as you live. Because on the other side of death is this, and it will never end.

You let that ease your mind as he presses his lips to your forehead and you no longer fight sleep.

So when you do wake up…and find that Steve is still there…you’re shocked. But you stay that way until he wakes. He looks at you in awestruck wonder. Not confusion or regret. Just…wonder.

He props himself up on an elbow, still looking at you, deep in thought. All you can do is stare back, wishing you knew what the hell he was thinking but not daring to ask. It wasn’t worth risking this. You stay that way for a little while.

He finally breathes a sigh, whispering, “Kids will be up soon.”

You give him a soft smile and gentle nod. You can already see Dustin waking up to go knock down Steve’s door, and that’s…not gonna end well if he finds out that Steve is walking out of your room instead.

Steve contemplates god-knows-what for another long moment before pressing a quick kiss into your hairline as he rises.

You watch him stand and dress himself, your heart throbbing at the way he looks in the early morning light streaming through the windows. His body is god-like. Tall, lean and athletic. His skin has the most beautiful constellation of moles that put the entire galaxy of stars to shame. And you ache at the thought of never being able to touch them again.

He gives you a soft grin after he throws his t-shirt back on, and before you know it he’s gone.

You lay there staring at nothing, feeling yourself leak a couple of silent tears and wondering why. You find yourself afraid to get up and face whatever new reality lies ahead of you on the other side of that door.

***

thanks for reading :) comment to be added to my tag list for this series.

tags: @erastourvip @xprloki @get0ut0fmyr00m @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #dustin henderson #murray bauman #enemies to lovers trope #they're in love your honor #Murray is a schemer #sorry stancy

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gummydummy19 · 7 months

Text

Not now (male reader version)

Summary: You and Natasha are major enemies with benefits. You can hardly be in the same room together, let alone an elevator...

Content Warnings: smut (blowjob), angst, fluffy ending (you know me), LANGUAGE!

A/N: This fic is one of my favorites out of everything i've ever written, so I decided to make a male reader version :)) hope you like it! feedback is always welcomed

Word Count: 3.4K+

It had been a long, exhausting day. You weren't even supposed to go on any more missions until next week, but Fury decided to wreck your Friday and send you on your hardest mission yet. Your body ached and you just wanted to crawl into your bed as soon as possible. So when you saw Nat approaching the elevator, you silently prayed the doors would close before she got in. You just couldn't deal with her right now. Not now.

Of course, luck wasn't on your side today. Natasha slipped her slender body in between the doors just as they were about to close, joining you in the space that suddenly felt too small.

She smirked widely when you noticeably rolled your eyes.

"In a hurry?" she asked.

"Just tired." You dryly stated.

"Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit" She teased.

To be quite honest, you were fairly sure Nat hated you way more than you actually hated her, but you weren't about to let her know that.

You and Natasha started this whole enemies-with-benefits thing a while ago, and somewhere along the way, you started finding it harder and harder to keep up the hating game.

Sometimes you just wanted someone to talk to, to watch a movie with, to hold you after you'd a long day like this.

Admittedly, hating each other's guts resulted in some mind-blowing sex. Nat might be an arrogant bitch most of the time, but she was still the best fuck you've ever had, and you didn't wanna throw that away just because you were getting a little needy. So you decided to just suck it up and stick with what you did best, annoying her until she let you fuck her stupid.

And it had been working out just fine, but today you were so exhausted and she looked so good in her big comfy sweater and her tight black yoga pants. She had been growing out her hair lately and it was currently tied up in a messy bun.

You could barely look her in the eye, desperately trying to come up with a snarky response, but your brain failed you as the only thing you could think of was how good it would feel her nails rake through your hair right now.

She frowned, clearly confused and quite frankly annoyed at your lack of attitude.

She let out an annoyed huff and in one quick movement, her hand hit the emergency button, making the elevator halt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You snapped

"ME? What the hell is wrong with YOU? Did I fuck you stupid last time? What's going on?" She yelled.

Natasha had noticed the change in your behavior lately, and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Her words made a blush creep up your neck and you silently cursed your body for betraying you.

You knew Nat thrived off your attitude. You were the only one who ever questioned her authority, it kept her on her toes.

She took a step closer to you and you immediately took a step back, not knowing if you could do this much longer.

Desperately trying to match her stern energy, you snapped back at her.

"Why the fuck do you even care?? Talk about being fucking cock drunk, Romanoff."

"That's what you'd like, huh, big boy? To get me cock drunk on that big dick of yours?" Natasha inched closer to you as you tried your best to ignore how hard you were getting from her voice alone.

"In your dreams, you fucking bitch" You turned around and hit the button again, making the elevator restart.

You felt her boobs push against your back and all you could do was stare at your shoes and pray to whatever was good and holy that this stupid elevator would just hurry the fuck up already.

Soft hands with perfectly manicured nails crept up the sides of your arms, while her plush lips left teasing kisses on your clothed back. The body heat radiating off her made it hard to think straight.

Gathering all your willpower, you softly shoved your elbow against her side, shaky arm pushing against her torso, trying to get her to move.

"Get off me, Natasha." Your tone almost had her believing you actually didn't want this.

Almost.

"Not until you tell me who shoved a stick up your ass." her voice was soft and teasing, tingling against the shell of your ear as she stood on her tippy toes.

She stopped the elevator for a second time.

"Natasha, I'm serious, cut it out!" You groaned, before pushing the button again.

"So am I?" she continued and her hand moved towards the button yet again.

"Would you stop?! You're acting like a child!" you yelled, trying to get the upper hand as the small metal cage rumbled.

The poor emergency stop must have been hit damn near a dozen times as you and Nat continued your pointless bickering.

Suddenly, the entire elevator shook and came to an abrupt stop, making her cling to your side for balance.

The lights flickered out and the buzzing noise that usually lingered around was gone.

You pushed Natasha off you and desperately tried hitting a couple buttons.

Nothing.

"Look what you fucking did!" you screamed at her.

"Me?" she yelled.

If looks could kill, Natasha Romanoff would be dead on the floor of that elevator right now.

A thick, deafening silence settled in between the two of you, and you let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. Dropping your gaze to the floor, you let your shoulders hang, rubbing your hands over your face in exhaustion.

You turned around, staring at the buttons.

Fed up and extremely done with this stupid situation, tears started welling in your eyes. Fuck.

The emergency lights had gone on. You checked your phone. Of course there was no reception and it was late already, everyone else had gone to bed on their own floor and there was no way they'd hear you all the way from here.

"Perfect. Just perfect." You muttered.

Fresh out of fucks to give, you finally let the numb feeling you had been trying to push away all day take over your body. You slid down the wall, sitting with your knees drawn up and your fingers tangled in your hair as Nat just stood there and watched.

"Should have taken the fucking stairs," she mumbled.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

You were utterly exhausted, every muscle in your body ached. All you wanted was a hot shower and some sleep, and now you were trapped in this stupid elevator and you had to look at Natasha's stupid cranky face all night. Any other day you would have given her her crap right back, but not today. Not now.

Simply lacking the energy to be your usual witty and confident self, you let out an annoyed sigh.

"I'm so fucking tired." You finally muttered. If it wasn't for the deafening silence surrounding you, she probably wouldn't even have heard it.

Making eye contact with her was impossible at this point. And even if you had it in you to look her in the eye right now, the thick tears that started welling blurred your sight.

"Oh great, now he's fucking crying." Nat groaned, more to herself than to you.

You rolled your teary eyes at her typical arrogance. But when she took an awkward step closer, you pointed your finger at her.

"Don't even think about coming near me right now, Romanoff." You warned.

She smirked at the remark, finally catching a glimpse of the snarky man she was secretly so crazy about.

To your surprise, she moved closer and sat down beside you.

You glared down at her.

"You don't have to prete-"

"Oh, shut up." she cut you off as she cuddled closer to your side, dropping her head on your arm.

The smell of her hair brought you a weird sense of peace, which you welcomed nonetheless. There was something about her, about being this close to her. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it melted away your anxiety like snow in the sun.

A comfortable silence settled in between the two of you as you sniffled quietly, wiping away a couple of stray tears that had escaped your eyes.

She sat back up to look at you. You felt her eyes burning against your face but you couldn't bring yourself to return her stare. In all honestly, this was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Clearing your throat, you pulled away from her.

"Alright, thanks," you said, before scooting a few inches to the other side.

As much as you hated to acknowledge it, being away from her even a few inches filled you with a slight cold, empty feeling. And you had to go against every fiber in your body not to scoot closer and ask her to snuggle up against you again.

"You don't always need to be such a tough guy," she spoke, making you scoff

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

To your surprise, she didn't say anything after that. She just cuddled closer to you again, clinging to your arm and she nuzzled her face comfortably against your shoulder.

A weird sense of comfort took over your body. That urge you had to be held and taken care of bubbled up again and you let Natasha fill that void. You knew it wasn't real. She didn't want to be here. But she was. And you were going to enjoy her warmth for as long as you could.

The intoxicating smell of his perfume and her body wash mixed with her natural sweet scent invaded your nostrils and made a heat run through you, warming you from the inside out.

You must have dosed off after that, because the next thing you know you felt your body being shoved aside, abruptly waking you from your slumber.

"Finally you guys got here! Her was starting to drool on my shirt." Natasha's arrogant voice spoke to Sam and Bucky, who had apparently found you in the elevator.

You knew it was too good to last. At least now you could go to your room and get some rest. Alone.

You slowly sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you gaped at the three men in front of you. The smell of Nat was still heavy on you. Before any of them could say anything you scrambled out of the elevator. Running through the hallway to your room, wanting nothing more than for this day to just be over with already.

"Hey, wait!" Nat's voice sounded through the hallway as you looked for your keys, rolling your eyes.

"Oh for fucks sake, does she ever take a break?" you mumbled to yourself.

"Looking for these?" she asked, dangling your keys in front of you with a smug look on her face.

You groaned, reaching for the keys only to have them pulled away at the last second. It was quiet between the two of you for a beat, before you lunged for the keys again, failing miserably.

Okay. now you were pissed.

Natasha looked at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Come on, pretty boy." she teased, "come and get them"

Okay. Now you were pissed.

There was no way in hell you were faster than her. You knew it. She knew it. She just wanted to see you try. See you emberrass yourself even further.

And you actually debated it. For a split second, you debated it.

Nope.

Not today, Romanoff.

You were done. Done with this day. Done with these games. Done with her.

You scraped together every ounce of dignity you had left and turned around, walking away from her.

You got halfway through the hall before you heard her chuckle.

"And where are you going now, huh?" she questioned, obviously very amused.

"To sleep in Wanda's room." you simply said, not even bothering to turn around. You didn't need to see her face to know the grin had fallen.

"The hell you are." you heard her say, suddenly way closer to you as you heard her footsteps approach.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening Natasha yanked your arm back and walked you back down the hallway.

“What the-…HEY STOP” you tried to wriggle your arm out of her grasp but your already exhausted body just wouldn’t work with you. And perhaps your needy brain didn’t mind being held by Natasha...

Before you knew it you were being pushed into a room as she slammed the door behind her. You quickly realized you had entered a bedroom, but it wasn’t yours…oh no this was Natasha's room. You could recognize it from the scent alone…

She walked over to the bed and sat down at the foot of it, looking you straight in the eyes.

You stared at her from across the room, arms crossed, trying your best to appear stern despite the fact that the entire room smelled of her and it was making you want to crawl up in a ball on the floor, like a cat waiting to be cuddled.

"come here," she said, voice calm yet commanding.

"Bite me "

"I said come here."

"And I said bite me."

"If you come here then maybe I will."

You rolled your eyes but did as she said.

"Now what?" You asked in the most pissed-off voice you could muster.

Natasha saw right passed your macho behavior, knowing exactly what you needed from her. She grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto her bed next to her before getting on your lap and wrapping her arms around your neck

"Now you let me make you feel good, sweetheart." her warm breath caressed the shell of your ear, making the hair at the back of your neck stand up as goosebumps started to spread all the way down to your spine.

She slowly pulled off her sweater and you groaned when you realized she wasn't wearing anything underneath, immediately sitting up to suck on her nipples.

A groan tumbled over your lips when her nails raked through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Your hands touched every inch of flesh they could find, trailing up and down over her back, making her whimper.

Thoroughly enjoying each other's embrace, her impatient fingers moved down your torso and tugged at your shirt. Your lips curled into a smile against her to let her know he got the message. Within the blink of an eye, your shirt was gone and her lips were back on yours, devouring you as if you were her very last meal.

Your hands played with her tits as she started pressing kisses against your neck and down to your chest, pushing you back down on the bed.

"Stay down for me, handsome," she whispered in that low, sultry voice of hers.

She peppered your entire chest with soft, warm kisses, not leaving an inch of your body untouched. You laid back comfortably in her fluffy pillows and you felt your entire body relax. You enjoyed the view of her crawling down your body and unbuckling your belt. Natasha's plump lips moved down to your stomach and started kissing along the trail of hair growing down to your pubic bone as she pulled down your pants and boxers, revealing your growing cock. Her nails trailed over your skin sporadically, leaving goosebumps wherever they touched. Just as you noticed you had begun to smile to yourself, you got pulled from the cloud you were happily floating on by a sharp pain on your hip.

"AH!! Did you just bite me?!"

"'I'm a lady of my word."

Before you could scramble away from her, she licked a ferm stripe up your cock, all the way from your balls to your tip. You let out a low groan that quickly turned into a steam of moans as Natasha started bobbing her head up and down. She wasted no time, hollowing out her cheeks and swirling his soft tongue over your leaking cockhead, absolutely devouring you with all she had.

One of her hands reached down to play with your balls. Gently squeezing the soft flesh blindly while her eyes stayed focused on yours. She moved her hand to yours, guiding it to her head and throwing a wink at you. Your fingers quickly tangled in her hair as you pushed her down a little to take your cock deeper.

"Oh fucckkk...." you moaned, feeling your balls draw up as you got closer and closet to your peak.

Natasha kept sucking you off like her life depended on it as she moved her free hand down between her legs to play with her sopping pussy, messily rubbing her clit she started moaning on your cock. God she loved the taste of you, she simply couldn't get enough, it was making drip.

Both of your moans got louder and your hips started bucking up in her throat. Every square inch of your body was on fire.

Nat took her mouth off you for a second and stroked your spit-covered dick as fast as she could.

"Please, cum for me...m'so close..." she whined, making you realize she's been touching herself while sucking your cock.

"shit....please...gonna cum..." you moaned desperately

"Yeah? Cum down my throat while I cum on my fingers....shit..." she whined before taking you back in her mouth, immediately letting your cock slide deep down her throat as she choked on it.

"Fuck Nat I'm gonna cum!" you yelled, "You're gonna make me cum! You're gonna...I'm gonna...Oh fuck..fuck, please! Don't fucking stop...ah!"

And she didn't, she kept sucking your cock as she touched herself, and when her body started trembling from her own orgasm you finally couldn't take it anymore.

You came down her throat while she came all over her own fingers. You trembled and whined as she gently suckled on your cock, swallowing every last drop of your cum.

You tried to blink away your tears until they finally rolled down your cheeks, you tried to calm down your breathing as you layed there, trembling on her bed.

"What do you need, baby?" Natasha finally spoke, sitting up between your legs and softly stroking your thighs.

It took a while for your breathing to calm down, you didn't even know why you were crying to be honest. You just felt like you were experiencing a lot of emotions at once, and it was pretty intense.

"A fucking hug." you finally spoke.

Nat giggled at your reply before scooting over to sit next to you, leaning against the headboard.

"Come here."

Slowly, you crawled into her open arms, curling up against her into a ball with your head right against her bare tits.

Surprisingly, Natasha was very soft and sweet, not at all what she was usually like with you.

She rubbed your back and just laid there with you, enjoying each other's warmth and the comfortable silence that had settled in the room.

You couldn't help but let out more tears, softly sniffling into her chest as you clung to her.

"shhh" he whispered comfortingly, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. "It's okay, l'm here. And you did so so good."

For the next few minutes, Natasha just held you, until you were ready to talk to him about what exactly it was that got you so overwhelmed.

After some time, you sat up and just looked at Nat. At her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips.

"Thanks," you said.

"For letting you cum down my throat?" she joked, trying to get rid of some of the tension.

"For the care," you replied, meaning what you said.

She just smiled at you.

You didn't even know what to say. Never in your life have you expected Natasha to be so caring, especially not for you.

"Wanna shower together?" she suggested, leaving you even more stunned.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Natasha Romanoff?"

At first, she giggled at your reaction, but then her face grew a little more serious.

"I wanna be here for you for more than just fucking. The whole cat and mouse game was fun while it lasted, but seeing you the way I saw you today, so exhausted you could barely stand up straight. I never wanna see you like that again, baby. Unless of course, it's my doing." she added smugly before pressing another kiss to your lips.

"There she is again." you chuckled against her lips.

After some more kisses and giggles, you decided to accept Nat's offer and you took a long hot shower together, followed by some much-deserved cuddles and a movie you never saw the end of because you drifted off, with Natasha happily snuggled against your chest.

#gummydummy19 #fanfiction #fluff #smut #marvel #smutty thoughts #natasha x male reader #natasha romanoff #male reader #male reader fics

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rishiguro · 6 months

Text

HONOURABLE MAN - N. KENTO

warnings: set during jjk0. major character death. weapons. heavily implied past lovers. no happy ending (but are we even surprised). swearing. reader is on getou's side and believes in his cause. 4k words.

a/n: happy halloween! and thank you for sticking with me all though angstober, i hope you enjoy this last fic <3

angstober event

you clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the weapon in your hands as you stared at the blonde man in front of you. “get out of my way,” the words came out pressed through your teeth.

nanami however didn’t move, instead lifting his chin as he stared right back at you, shaking his head slightly, just enough for you to notice. “no”

you pressed your lips together to a thin line, quickly looking over his shoulder before looking over yours, realizing that there was no one around you. “please,” you whispered, more to yourself than actually addressing him.

please get out of my way. i don’t want to hurt you.

“i can’t,“ he replied.

you however couldn’t concentrate on him, instead focusing on your surroundings, quickly scanning the surrounding alleyways, streets and even rooftops for sorcerers and curses, friends and foes alike.

was there somebody, anybody near you? somebody that could hear you, observe you, rat you out?

rat you out for talking to your enemy, for even just as much as hesitating to confront him, fight him and ultimately kill him.

rat you out for acting like a traitor.

lucky for you, you couldn’t detect anybody, barely managing to suppress a relieved sigh. yet when your eyes found nanami again, you analyzed his posture, taking in how his jaw was still clenched, his fingers right around his cleaver, staring you down with determined eyes behind his glasses.

yet he looked different from how he usually looked when facing curses, his breathing was deeper and you noticed how he swallowed repeatedly, like he had a lump in his throat.

for a moment you bit your lip, glancing at your weapon before restoring eye contact with the man in the suit. “i don’t want to do this,” you stated calmly, gripping your fingers tighter shortly, “please, just go”

he shut his eyes defeated. “i’m afraid you have to,” nanami retorted, raising his cleaver, shifting his stance. “i can’t let you go”

you let me go just fine the last time. you didn’t even attempt to follow me, make me stay.

‘you have to’, you wanted to whisper, ‘it wasn’t hard to let me go before, so why should it be any different now?’

but it seemed like you didn’t even have to say anything, as nanami immediately replied to you thoughts. “you’re dangerous, a threat,” he claimed, his free hand reaching up to loosen his tie a little, pulling at the knot.

you wanted to laugh at his claim.

a threat? you? why would you be? you hadn’t changed, your abilities hadn’t changed. and you weren’t ‘dangerous’ before. not to him. or to anybody else.

“now i am?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, thinking back to your time at jujutsu high.

“your friends didn’t even look at me back at jujutsu high” “saying that i was weak. useless”

“you always had potential,” he stated, reminiscing the time when the two of you would brawl together at school, familiarizing yourselves with each other’s techniques and fighting patterns.

and while nanami might have never thought of you as weak, that didn’t stop him from dismissing your seniors and sometimes even your juniors poking fun at you, claiming that your place at jujutsu high was wasted, that there were more people around that deserved your place, effectively poisoning your mind with insecurities and doubts, until you grew to hate being around them.

“and they didn’t even have the guts to tell me directly what they thought,” you remembered, a part of you still hurting as you recounted the subtle jabs thrown your way. you scoffed, smiling. “can you imagine their faces now?”

“you always had it in you,” nanami repeated in a matter-of-factly tone.

“shut up,” you spat, shaking your head, trying to get his words out of your head.

potential.

“i wish you could’ve seen that sooner”

“i said shut the fuck up!” you demanded loudly, groaning in frustration. as if he had any idea how it has been for you. as if he knew how you had to live with the constant feeling of not being enough, of being a waste of space at jujutsu high, of always living in fear of failing and proving everybody right. “stop with this pseudo-motivational coach shit. you have no idea what you’re talking about”

“i do,” he stated. how could he still be so calm and collected? did he even understand you? did he even try to understand how this had gnawed at you during your entire time you were at jujutsu high, even after you graduated and went on missions, dutifully carrying out the orders you were given, no matter what? does he even understand how it had only stopped when you decided to leave?

when you decided to look out for yourself?

nanami took a step towards you, to which you immediately took one back. “i tried to tell you”

you clenched your jaw.

you knew he was right. he did try to make you feel at least reassured and confident in your abilities, instead of weak and helpless.

instead of what you were convinced you should feel like. instead of what you felt like every time you failed to save somebody, every time you lost a friend.

he however was unable to rescue you from this darkness, instead letting you be dragged deeper and deeper down into it, his hand never quite reaching yours to pull you out.

and you stayed there, surrounded by darkness until you found somebody else in the same pit. a familiar face that took your hand and found a way out, saving you.

and in this moment you decided to forever be grateful for it.

“you could have stayed, you know?” nanami proposed, again taking a step towards you. this time hoever, you didn’t move, only looking at him, carefully analyzing every move, fingers itching around the hilt of your weapon. he gave you a small, almost hopeful smile. “you could come back”

hopeful, like everything would be okay again. like everything that had happened would be forgotten.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

why would you come back? “don’t be ridiculous”

he took another step towards you. “i’m not”

you shook your head, turning your face away from him. “i don’t want to,” you pressed though clenched teeth. how could he even suggest this? “i despise your jujutsu society, the elders, the school,” you listed before looking back at him, clenching your jaw, before continuing. “i despise you”

the blonde man smiled sadly, shaking his head softly. “you don’t”

“you stand for everything i hate,” you reasoned, trying to sound as objective and emotionless as possible, “you’re a slave, kento” you took a step closer to him, the tip of your blade slightly touching his chest. nanami immediately pushed it to the side to which you drew it back to yourself. “a slave, protecting people that won’t even take a glance at you” you looked around, noticing that every building around you was practically empty, the streets abandoned. “people that are too ignorant to even care that you risk your life for them. they’re weak. pathetic,” you spat out, not being able to stop your face from contorting in disgust. you pointed at him. “and you know that”

“they’re worth being protected,” nanami claimed simply, “they need to be. it’s our job, our calling. protect the ones that can’t protect themselves. you used to believe in that too” he smiled sadly at you.

he was right. you used to believe it. but things had changed.

you changed.

you breathed out, almost wanting to start laughing hysterically. “why should i? why should we risk our lives every day and not even get a fucking thank you?” you ranted loudly, vividly gesturing around you.

this wasn’t fair.

“why should we give our lives for them when they never learn, never change? why do we have to see our friends, our comrades die every day and still protect the ones that kill them?” you continued, feeling your heart ache as you thought all the friends you had to bury.

even your best friend.

your opponent grew agitated and visibly shaky, clenching his jaw. “because it’s the right thing to do,” he spat out loudly.

“how honourable of you, kento” you scoffed, shaking your head as you brought your free arm out, like you inviting people to join in and look at him, listen to him, just to mock him. “look at you, the righteous man, protecting the helpless”

“it’s what i do. that’s what we do,” he pressed out, a lonely vein protruding on his neck. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this, questioning his world view, poking fun at him and his beliefs.

even if he would never be by your side again.

“we die, that’s what we do! every day more and more of us die because of some scum that’s way too arrogant to control themselves and their emotions,” you yelled out in frustration, feeling your own throat get dry in the process. “how can you still fight for them when they take away everyone we care about?”

tears welled up in your eyes and at the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, your hand instead grabbing your top, fisting the fabric in front of your chest. “how can you stand in front of me, telling me what’s right when they killed yu?” your voice broke, tears falling down your cheeks in little rivers. “they killed him and you act like it’s normal!”

“don’t you dare bring him up” nanami sounded appalled, angry even, like he was convinced that you had no right to even mention his former best friend’s name.

did he really forget that he used to be your best friend too?

“open your eyes, kento!” you demanded loudly.

his words were stuck in his throat as he remembered the day his friend left him – dying right in front of him. “yu died because i couldn’t protect him!”

how could he still be so blind? how could he shoulder all the blame of him dying when the only reason he did were human-made curses?

and how could he just spit on his memory, still fighting for non-sorcerers?

“yu died because of them! he was so bright. always so fucking cheerful and i never understood that. and now he’s gone” you forced yourself to take a breath, trying to calm your racing heart and tremblings hands. “we will never see him again because of them! how dare you protect the ones that took him away from us?”

“we knew what we were getting ourselves into, so why are you acting so surprised? sorcerers die daily. but so do regular people. and countless more would die if we weren’t here to protect them”

was he serious?

how dare he? how could he?

“it’s about doing what’s right, not about what we want,” nanami finished, his teary voice from just a moment ago nowhere to be found, instead sounding disconnected and apathetic.

like he never even cared in the first place.

you scoffed before letting out a shocked laugh, throwing your hands up, slightly pulling at your hair with your free hand. “how can letting your friends die be right? do you even hear yourself?”

he raised his voice again, shaking his head in disappointment. “how can you stand against your friends? against the people you claimed you loved?” nanami’s voice broke as he said that, pressing the words out between his teeth.

love.you loved him. so how could you turn your back on him?

he swallowed thickly, his voice still cracking as he spoke. “how is that any better? how are you not betraying yourself? or everybody else? how can you only think about yourself?”

“who else will think about me?” you yelled, your hand pointing at your own chest.

“i did!” nanami screamed back, his voice cracking slightly. in heat he raised his cleaver again, pointing it at you as he yelled. shortly after he sighed, shaking his own head before speaking again, this time noticeably quieter, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “i always did”

you vaguely pointed at him and the weapons in his hand, shrugging. “and yet you stand here now” your voice got quieter, softer. “don’t act so high and mighty”

“you left! i haven’t turned my back on the jujutsu society ever since i realized what it meant to be a sorcerer. you did” he pointed at you, fingers trembling as he spoke, practically spitting the words at you. “you’re selfish”

“and you’re an idiot,” you shot back harshly, spitting right back at him. “they will never care about you. you’re nothing more than an asset to them. it doesn’t matter how much of a loyal dog you are to them, they don’t care about you licking their boots, they will kick you, kill you, just like they always do” you stopped for a moment, sighing to yourself.

why was he so blind? why didn’t he even care enough to see?

“you’re nothing special. to them, you’re nothing” you clenched your jaw, hesitating for a second before continuing, voice cold and almost sounding apathetic. “you will die as nothing”

nanami paused for a few moments, eyes darting down to the cleaver, following it’s direction back to your chest. “when i die, i will die for what i believe in,” he spoke calmly and confidently, his eyes wandering up to face yours again. “i will die peacefully, knowing that i did what i could to protect others” he scanned your form, nodding at you. “not for my own selfish reasons”

you raised your eyebrows. “are you calling me selfish?” nanami simply shrugged. “you’re only looking after yourself, not caring about others. that’s the definition of being selfish,” he pointed out.

so now you were selfish?

because what– because you didn’t want to die for people that would never appreciate you? because you weren’t willing to be just another body in an unmarked grave?

you scoffed. “i look out for myself because no one else would!”

“i always looked out for you”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze pointing to his cleaver still pointed at you. “i didn’t know that threatening me with your weapon counts as looking out for me” his fingers gripped it tighter, his knuckles turning white. a small smile appeared on your face as you noticed it, feeling affirmed in your suspicion. “you gave me no other choice”

“you always have a choice! and you chose to stand here and you chose to fight me” you swallowed, hoping to get rid of the lump in your throat and blinked a couple of times, hoping to calm yourself down.

why were you getting so emotional?

“you chose to betray me”

nanami scoffed, a small but mocking smile appeared on his lips. he leaned back, staring up at the sly before turning his attention back to you. “i never betrayed anyone. you left. you turned your back on us”

so you betrayed him?

you betrayed him when everything you were doing was for a better world for all of you, even for him?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for a world where he didn’t have to die? for a world where his death wouldn’t be meaningless?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for all of you to be more than just mindless soldiers?

“because i see how unfair this is. because i see how we all die for nothing! yu died for nothing!”

“he died for us!” nanami yelled out, his voice sounding strained.

“he died for a world that would never change! that’s why we have to force it to change!” you shouted back immediately, pointing your blade at him.

nanami sighed before flexing and relaxing the fingers on his free hand. “mass murder isn’t change” a sad smile appeared on your face. “it’s better than not doing anything,” you claimed.

better than just stand on the sidelines as everybody you cared about died for a lost cause.

“now get out of my way,” you demanded, head pointing in a random direction.

go away. live your life. do what yu wanted you to do. do what we always wanted to do.

much to your dismay, he shook his head, speaking with a firm voice. “no”

“kento, leave,” you begged him one last time, raising your weapon and preparing yourself to charge at him, willing to attack him since it seemed like you truly had no other choice. “you can’t stop us”

“maybe not all of you” he took a deep breath, assuming a fighting stance as he sharpened his eyes, carefully examining every move you made. “but i can stop you”

what followed was a brutal match between the two of you, ruthlessly attacking each other with your weapons and cursed energy alike, desperate to knock the other one down.

you barely had any time to breath as you returned the blonde man’s slashes, pushing him back a few meters only to be forced back by him immediately after. during the entire fight the two of you were silent, too occupied to defend yourselves against the other to even try to taunt your opponent.

from an outside perspective it almost looked like you were dancing with each other, deeply familiar with the other’s movements and strategies. no matter which one of you decided to attack, most of the time the efforts were fruitless, either being blocked by a weapon like it was only waiting to clash with the other one or simply slashing through the air, like you hadn’t been there in the first place.

you were too familiar with each other, so you knew that your fight was nothing more than a stamina match – whoever slowed down first would lose. whoever would lose focus for the smallest fraction of a second would lose.

a few years back this match could’ve ended either way. nanami and you typically teamed up, your strengths and weaknesses balancing each other out and your skill level being about the same.

but things have changed.

when you left, you lost your strongest training partner, you lost the person that pointed out your mistakes when you lost a brawl, you lost the one person that always strived you to be better. you would think that the same thing applied to him too.

yet it didn’t. you could tell that he became stronger, more agile, more durable when you noticed how he didn’t even flinch at the injuries he retained, instead retaliating with twice the force behind his strikes, almost taunting you with how he seemed to disappear from your field of vision, only to appear behind you to injure you even further, until it was clear that he would emerge victorious as he managed to bring you down with one final strike, your weak body falling onto the hard concrete, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“go ahead,” you breathed out, staring up at nanami as he towered over you. he looked down, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly while he tried to catch his breath. “finish it,” you demanded weakly.

“do you have any last words?” he asked stoically, clenching his cleaver.

you couldn’t help but laugh out, only to cough immediately after, face constricting in pain.

last words? you didn’t need such thing.

not from him.

“i die for my cause,” you claimed weakly, forcing your eyes to keep focused on the blonde man, “i don’t need any pity from a traitor”

he shook his head slightly. “i don’t pity you. you chose this path,” he stated coldly, pausing for a moment. nanami seemed to think about something, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, just like he always did whenever something was bothering him. he sighed, mumbling something to himself before he crouched down beside you. a faint, pained smile appeared on his face. “i’m not asking as a sorcerer, i’m asking as a friend. as someone who loved you”

“love? would you really kill someone you loved?” you huffed, feeling your own heart crack at his words.

love.

nanami swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to get rid of tears welling up in his eyes. his voice cracked. “if i had to”

it was over.

you lost. you failed.

you clenched your eyes shut in pain, groaning weakly. you couldn’t escape from this anymore. you couldn’t escape from the pain in your entire body, you couldn’t escape from your imminent death and probably the worst of all, you couldn’t escape from him.

but a part of you didn’t want to, instead finding comfort in the fact that he’s right here at your side as you were drawing your last few breaths.

who else would be more comforting than the person that you loved?

yet your heart broke when you realized how this wouldn’t change anything for him. he would move on, live his life, be sent on one deadly mission after the next before he would die during one of them.

you didn’t want him to die.

you had dreamed of a long life with nanami by your side, where the two of you would leave the jujutsu world just like he had done before, grow old together and simply be happy together.

but you couldn’t anymore.

and while you knew that it was too late, that nothing you would say could ever convince him, you still had to try.

because wherever you’d be going after this, if there even was anything, you didn’t want him to join you soon.

“you will never be free,” you breathed out, “you will always be bound by jujutsu society”

you knew your efforts would be fruitless.

he defeated you. he won. he wouldn’t listen to you, he had no reason to.

and yet you couldn’t deny how your heart ached when you thought about him returning, living the same life he did before, the same life you chose to leave behind, the life he left behind before.

your heart ached because you knew his path could only end in death. and nobody would bat an eye, he would be one fallen sorcerer among all the others, his name soon to be forgotten by everybody else.

and you didn’t want that for him.

“nothing more than a soldier carrying out orders. never your own person”

nanami sighed, like you had this conversation a million times before, like you weren’t currently laying on the floor, clinging on to the rest of your life force and almost pathetically trying to make him see your side, trying to get him to change his mind.

like it would change anything now.

and while you knew it wouldn’t change anything for you anymore, while it was too late to change your fate, you knew he could still change his.

you hoped he would change his.

he could still live a long and happy life, free of curses and sorcerers alike. he could just be a normal person, like so many others, living his life and not worry about anything else.

“i chose this life”

you shook your head. “other people chose for you,” you whispered, turning your head, trying to stop him from seeing the few stray tears in your eyes. “and apparently it makes us villains for choosing for ourselves”

you felt a warm hand engulf yours, giving it a comforting squeeze.

nanami knew just as well as you did that you didn’t have for much longer, that soon you’d leave.

he won and you lost.

you failed.

and yet you didn’t want to leave him. you wanted to stay with him, live with him.

but you failed.

“you know, we could’ve run away together. leave everything behind,” you smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand with the last strength you had left in your body. “no sorcerers, no school, no elders”

he nodded, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering on your skin. “we could have. but it’s too late”

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273 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 9 months

Note

Alright hear me out.. Jonggun x a big deal member reader.. 🫣 like, both of us hating each other to guts, but somehow an odd feeling causes us to desire to spend time with each other etc while not even knowing the reason, and once gun feels close enough to us to inform us about his Yakuza clan and his whole shiro oni side, it turns out we were actually gun's childhood friend back then 🤭

Anon. You'll be the death of me. Apologies for the delayed response as usual! I started this today with a small idea. Came back to it tonight and 2k words later, it's now nearly 2am. I... I think I really like this. Let's sleep on it anyway. Hope it hits the spot and thanks for requesting!

Gun Park x Big Deal!Reader: Yamazaki Yuzuru

G/N. Enemies to lovers. (...Childhood friends turned enemies to lovers).

Cynics would say you sold your body in a different way, although you hate to think about it like that. You suppose that it may seem so for someone on the outside looking in.

Big Deal is famous for its passion, its romance. You never thought it applied to you. Not like it did to others.

The first time you meet on Big Deal street, Gun studies you. Gaze hidden under his sunglasses, curiosity piqued as he wonders who you are.

A sea of gangsters but your face sticks out like a sore thumb. Familiar. Like a distant memory just out of reach, like trying to recall a dream.

Notices your scar-littered knuckles faded silver with time. Hardly unusual for gang members yet Gun still peers down at his own hands.

They're similar. Almost matching. A pair.

Ever watchful eyes burn into the side of your head.

When you turn in his direction, you know for certain he is only looking at you.

Age old scars start to itch. Absentmindedly, you scratch at your hands.

Gun asks for your name during your second meeting.

"Who are you?"

Jake Kim frowns, searches your face for a reason why he would be asking you. Why he would be taking an interest.

You give your boss an imperceptible shrug.

"None of your business," is all you offer. Clipped. Brusque. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Big Deal by outright ignoring him.

What you mean to spit is fuck you.

What you mean to scream is I want to kill you with my bare hands.

You don't look at him today.

"Oh, this one is feisty," Goo Kim steps forward, duffle bag of cash in hand and eyes roving over you with approval.

Trouble still finds you.

Jaw clenching, hands scrunching into fists; Jake ready to defend his crew-

Gun beats him to the punch.

"Let's go. The money is all there."

His blonde associate throws him an odd look. Nevertheless, they still leave. You're not sure if you've ever seen anything better than their retreating backs.

Big Deal survives for another day.

Your luck runs out on your third meeting.

Gun finds you when you're miles from Big Deal and alone. When the rain drenches the earth and the air suffocates. When instead of water bringing life, it brings an omen.

This time you have no choice but to look at him, glaring into his pitch-black eyes. Fear eclipsed by loathing as he holds his umbrella over you, downpour providing a shroud and shielding the two of you from the world.

A strange game of silence starts, neither of you wanting to speak first.

Minutes tick by. The feeling of hatred is tiring to keep up. Holding onto the anger at the surface drains you. Infinitesimally your gaze starts to soften until Gun's curiosity is mirrored in yours.

To your surprise, he cracks first.

He tells you he recognises the vitriol in your voice from last time, no matter how much you thought you had successfully veiled it.

(A tiny smirk, almost fond, graces his features as he is reminded of your animosity.)

Offers you a chance, an escape line, a tantalising small glimmer of hope for Big Deal to leave the four crews.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, he proposes, "You can have your freedom if you can kill me."

Oh?

The odds are not in your favour. You agree anyway.

You manage to land a hit on his left arm, even as he turns and deflects most of the damage with a roll of his shoulder.

Had it been successful, it would have left it limp and hanging. Unfortunately, Gun only seem inconvenienced at best.

Your next attack manages to break the skin on his cheek. You miss your mark, wanting to gouge out his eyes instead.

Still, seeing the trickle of blood pleases you.

Gun Park takes no prisoners. Aims to incapacitate at the best of times, if not to maim or kill.

The thrill and adrenaline surges once he notices the cut. Feels the blood rushing to the surface and it already swelling.

He lunges after you, launching an open hand strike straight for your chest.

Throwing up both arms just in time, you manage to negate most of the intensity of his hit. Even still, you are flung to the other side of the street and hard into the ground.

Death would have been on the cards if not for your quick thinking.

When Gun sees the crimson falling from your lips, you spluttering and winded, choking on your own blood and body barely able to move-

All he can think about is how intriguing it is that you are still breathing. How peculiar that you managed to defend yourself, like you had foreseen his move. How mesmerising that particular shade of red.

Gun doesn't kill you today.

He tells you you have failed and leaves you to wallow in your own humiliation. You watch his figure growing smaller into the distance and find no joy in this retreat.

Blood and sweat mingles with the rain, cold seeps into your bones. When you think all hope is lost-

You catch a glimpse of maroon beneath your nails. Even as your body lies broken and beaten, you think of how you have managed to spill droplets of Gun Park's own blood.

It's a pleasant thought.

The fourth time he asks again for your name.

You wonder how he manages to find you once more during heavy showers.

As if he is only able to venture out during storms, like a worm awakened with the pitter patter of raindrops and slithering out of wet soil.

Fitting.

Amused both at this and the audacity of his question, you chuckle at his tenacity. The action causes you to wince. Body still recovering, a result of your fight from last time.

Gun takes a step forward and you flinch away immediately. Worsening your injury, grimacing and groaning as black spots appear in your vision.

"Stop," he orders and you are tempted to do it again just to defy him. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. I'll ask you for the final time, what is your name?"

In no fit state to fight, loss inevitable even if you were, you finally give it up.

You tell him through gritted teeth and a seed is planted in his mind.

"And you know mine."

"Gun Park."

He loves the fury in your voice. He wants to hear you say it again.

Gun slams you into a wall during the fifth time. Pins your arms above your head as you thrash against his hold.

Desperately trying to regain your footing, regain your strength as he has once again bested you.

He leans into your ear, voice taunting and infuriating. "Y/N." Relishes the way your name sounds, "You've failed again."

You whip your head around, ready to do something, anything. Bile in your throat and venom on the tip of your tongue-

His face is centimetres away from yours, breath hot and your skin prickles.

Own breath hitching as he drops his eyes to your lips. Desire and hunger plain on his face.

He doesn't lean forward and you wish he did.

He lets you go and you wish he didn't.

You hate yourself for it.

Sleep becomes difficult. You lie awake at night and think about him. Replay the scene in your head.

Your self hatred builds.

Thoughts of what-ifs tiptoe through your mind during the day. Conjures up scenarios of what if Gun Park actually did brush his lips against yours.

You hate yourself more than you hate him.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, it happens during the sixth meeting.

All fight dissipates from you as your traitorous mind wanders and strays.

Gun Park catches your fist. He doesn't shove you away. Sees your pupils blown huge with lust and slams your body into his instead.

Your lips crash together, all teeth and snarls. It is both everything and nothing like you had imagined.

The umbrella lies forgotten on the ground as he rams you up against a wall in a forgotten alleyway.

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes into you.

Meetings end in a stalemate.

Meetings end in more sordid alleyways. A quick and dirty sprint to the finish line.

In backseats, cramped and rushed and hot. Leather sticking to sweat slick skin, windows fogging up with steam.

In hotel rooms and tangled sheets.

In walks of shame at 3am.

In showers, exploring each other's bodies.

In baths with your back against his chest.

In his bed and waking up together in the morning.

You don't act differently when Gun Park and Goo Kim come to collect their dues.

But the bruises left by his fingers under your Big Deal uniform pulses and throbs.

You still hate yourself but you hate Gun less.

Seeing him reminds you of the way he moans your name. The additional scars you've scratched into his back. The way his hips rock against yours.

(When it's just you two, you can't bring yourself to hate him at all.)

You stay still and silent as Goo counts the bills.

Under his sunglasses, Gun always observes you.

"Where did you get these scars?"

Gun traces over your knuckles. Touch gentle and tentative. A far cry from your first contact.

Truthfully you can hardly even remember. It was another life. In the land of the rising sun, when you saw the world through childhood innocence.

You piece together what you can.

"I used to spar when I was younger. With another boy that was on my street..."

Eyes affecting a far off look, reliving what you can of your memory.

Snapshots of a small stature, below average for his age but lightning fast reflexes and a terrifying strength.

You were never a match for him. Not really. But he still insisted on seeing you everyday.

Training together. Developing a language of your own through punches and kicks.

Above all, you fought. But that small quiet boy, who talked infrequently, whose bite was just as bad as his bark gave you the first taste of something real.

"You lost more than you won." Gun's voice cuts through. You thought they were teasing words but- "Cried when he beat you and he would bribe you to shut up. Spent three summers together getting stronger until he had to leave."

Gun holds his own scarred hand up.

You remember the scar the boy got when you kicked him into the ground, how you bandaged it afterwards. Unravelling as soon as you wrapped it, handiwork sloppy and inexperienced.

The scars when you both would practice your punches, strengthening tendons wherever you could. On whatever surfaces available.

And one scar in particular: when you bit down hard on his hand after a particularly gruelling fight and refused to give him the victory.

How have you missed this? How has the string of fate managed to stretch across land and oceans and borders and years?

The fog lifts and the name slams into your mind.

"Yuzuru."

Gun kisses you, hand cupping the back of your head and other curling around your waist. Whispers your own name against your lips. The one you were born with. The one he used to call you.

A name you haven't heard in years, but he never forgot.

"Say my name again." His voice is rough, choked.

"Yamazaki Yuzuru."

He kisses you more fiercely than ever before.

The first meeting wasn’t on Big Deal street. It wasn't even in South Korea.

You didn't sell your body.

The Big Deal passion and romance flares within you. It just always belonged to someone else.

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun #park jonggun x reader #lookism fic #wannaeatramyeon #edit: yeah... this has shot to the top of my faves 🥹

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neon-junkie · 1 year

Text

Knee-deep in Trouble

Summary: If there's one thing worse than being stuck in a snow storm, it's being stuck in a snow storm with your least favourite squad mate - Crosshair.

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: Enemies to friends, Huddling for warmth, Snow storms, Arguments, Bickering, Sleepy cuddles, Touch starved.

Notes: the recent episode got me THINKIN. yeah, i wanna cuddle this man, but... what if we hated each others guts? and we HAVE to cuddle for our own survival? mwahahah

Out of all the scenarios that could have happened today, this one just had to arise.

First, you were cut off from the rest of the Batch. Your comm lost signal as the snowstorm began to thicken, and all hopes of communicating the others dwindled as your main focus became finding shelter.

Your armour is only doing so much to keep you warm, and only now do you curse yourself for not opting for a helmet. A thick hood, scarf, and goggles are doing well at protecting your face, but the chill continues to seep into your bones as every second passes.

And even now, knee-deep in snow, trudging towards the mountain in hopes of finding some sort of shelter, you still manage to bark up another argument with your least favourite member of the Batch. "Hurry up," Crosshairs words are sharp, peering over his shoulder for a short moment to see you following behind. You're using his tracks to your advantage, pushing through the loose snow, allowing him to take the lead like a bulldozer.

You let out a grunt, "not all of us have stupidly long legs." Crosshair doesn't bother replying. There's no point. Instead, he pushes forward, and keeps his helmet dipped down to protect his sights from the incoming snow. Minutes pass, although time has blurred into one. All you've known for the last thirty minutes is to push forward, keep walking, and follow Crosshair's trail. Through your goggles, all you can see is white - thick heaps of snow that only continues to pile higher and higher. The mountain is now within your reach, and you follow the edge, waiting for some form of shelter to appear.

"This will do," Crosshair comments as he comes upon an assortment of boulders, providing some shelter from the storm. With a frown, you let out a disappointed, "is this it?" as you gesture to the tiny crevices that will barely keep you covered, let alone warm.

Despite not being able to see Crosshair's expression, you know he's scowling as he gestures to the surrounding area. "Do you see any other options?"

No, you don't, but you're not going to give up hope. "I'm going to push on," you say as you turn back to him, and vaguely gesture into the distance. Surely there will be a cave up ahead, or a cliff that provides cover. There must be something better than some rogue boulders.

Pushing through the snow, Crosshair grabs at your forearm with a tut. "You will not," he scolds. "We need to stick together. This is as good as it's going to get," Crosshair points to the 'shelter,' and you pull your hand from his in disgust, let out a grumble with it. "I'm going," you repeat. "You can sit with your boulder buddies and freeze to death. I'll find a cave, get warm, then collect your body once the storm has passed." With that, you continue moving forwards, unbothered if Crosshair chooses to follow. His lips purse in annoyance, and he's rather vocal about his frustration. Still, he follows you, telling himself that it's purely for the fact that you're going to get yourself killed, and he'll be the one collecting bodies. The mountain itself would provide decent cover, if it wasn't for the fact that the snow is falling against your direction. One gloved hand comes up to move your scarf higher on your face, tucking the edges beneath your goggles to prevent it from slipping down again. At least your nose is warm, the complete opposite to your toes.

Despite his armour's heating system, Crosshair is now really starting to feel the chill. His teeth are clattering together beneath his helmet, and every so often, his fingertips brush over one of his belt pouches. Inside are the tools necessary to start a fire, and he'll be damned if those tools are somehow taken from him, despite never falling out of his pocket before. Your feet come to a halt, and Crosshair, who isn't looking up, bumps into your back with a grumble. "What is it?" he groans as you look over your shoulder, silently cursing him for running into you without an apology. "What does that look like?" you point ahead. Crosshair squints through his visor, before flicking his helmet's scope down to zoom in on the area up ahead. "A cave," he mutters.

"I told you I was right," you shrug, and you're met with another grumble. "Don't let it get to your head," Crosshair huffs as he pushes past you, eager to get out of this knee-deep snow. With a roll of your eyes, you follow behind, allowing Crosshair to clear the last stretch of your journey. The cave is deep, stretching far deeper than you require. You only need shelter, not another adventure, so you and Crosshair pitch yourselves several meters from the entrance. For the first time in what feels like hours, snow and wind is no longer against you; all you need to do now is stay warm, and stay alive.

Once his helmet is removed, Crosshair crouches down and begins pulling supplies from his belt pouch. It's standard GAR equipment, but it's enough to get a fire up and running, and hopefully, keep it burning for longer than you need. However, once lit, the flame is... disappointing. "Is that it?" you sigh, looking at the meek fire at your feet. Crosshair looks up at you whilst feeding the remains of his supplies to the flame, encouraging it to grow, even if it's just a little. Despite the tiny flicker of light, your goggles begin to steam up, so they're reassigned to sitting on your forehead, allowing you to give your eyes a well-needed rub, and relax your scarf around your neck. "This pack is usually only assigned to one person," Crosshair replies, watching you sit down opposite him. You know that the clones are kitted with essentials to survive, which would explain why Crosshair only has enough for himself. If only you had your backpack with you - the backpack that is sitting back on the Marauder, because this mission was meant to be a simple retrieval, until you wound up separated from the others, and lost in a snow storm. "It's better than nothing, I suppose." Crosshair lets out a simple, "mhm," as he gets comfortable opposite you.

Silence fills the air, minus the howling winds coming from down the cave. Silence - as in, the silence between you and Crosshair - is common. You've never really seen eye to eye, both too stubborn for your own good. Maybe that's why he went after you when the Batch split up, covering different routes as part of your mission. He must have known that you would wind up in trouble, which is why he told Wrecker to go with Hunter instead, pairing himself up with you. You are his squad mate, after all. Far from a friend, but still an asset to the team. "What is it?" Crosshair questions, and only now do you realise that you've been staring at him.

"Nothing," you reply with a firm shake of your head. Crosshair's eyes squint for a brief moment, before he decides to bite his tongue, and not bother pushing your buttons. (For once.) "Why don't you get some rest?" Crosshair suggests, which might be his first good suggestion of the day. Maker knows how long this storm will brew for, and you need to be physically prepared for more trudging through that snow, which must be thigh high at this point.

"Only if you do the same," you reply. Such kind words cause Crosshair's eyes to widen, only for a moment, before he pulls his emotional mask back on. There's no need for either of you to be on watch, and despite your disliking for the man, the bags under his eyes are as heavy as yours. Rest is needed, for both of you.

"You first. I'll follow," Crosshair replies with a soft nod. "I want to finish warming myself up first." With a light sigh, you shift onto your side, pulling your knees up against your chest. The fire is warm against your face, and hopefully, it'll continue to warm the rest of your body up as you sleep. Your hood acts as the thinnest pillow in existence, but it's thick enough to keep the chill of the cave floor away from your ear, and you'll take what you can get. Finally, your lases flutter shut, and it doesn't take eternity for you to drift into a deep slumber.

Crosshair is loitering.

Why? He doesn't really know. You've been asleep for an hour, and in that time, Crosshair has cleaned the snow from his armour and rifle, wandered deeper into the cave to find the remains of another campfire, long forgotten, and scavenged the leftovers from it. The fire is eating away at new material, yet Crosshair is still huddling close to it, as if it's a fading source of warmth. There's a chill in his bones that he can't seem to shake off. No matter what he does, no matter how warm he feels on the surface, his insides feel cold. With slanted brows, he brings his knees up to his chest, and wraps his armoured arms around his thighs. Silver hair rests against his forearm as he presses his cheek to his knees, breathing deeply as his eyes shut. He can't relax. He can't warm up. Crosshair thinks, questioning what to do. He's oh-so-tense, and his muscles are long worn out from shivering. However, it seems he's not the only person who has a chill within them. Crosshair's eyes perk open at the sound of whimpering. There, on the cave floor, is you, sound asleep; only you're not sound asleep. You're shivering, curled up in a ball besides the fire, struggling to maintain heat in the depths of your slumber. Untucking himself from his position, Crosshair pulls his glove off to press his palm against your cheek. There's barely any warmth to you, and it's a mystery how you've not woken up. Crosshair has found himself in a predicament. Despite not being the best of friends, Crosshair doesn't want you, nor himself, to freeze to death. The fire is growing, but it's still not enough for either of you. He has an idea - a silly, foolish idea that you're bound to hate him even more for - but he can't bring himself to wake you up and offer the suggestion.

Well, what if he doesn't have to wake you? A deep grumble slips from his lips as he ponders his options. Surely you'll understand, right? It's not like there are any other options, and you can't hate him any more than you already do.

With that, Crosshair slips his glove back on and rises to his feet. He walks over to you, tilting his head as he analyses your curled up pose, questioning how he can fit with you - like pieces to a puzzle. He's quiet as he dips down to his knees, tucking his body behind yours. Crosshair remains propped up on one elbow, and cautiously positions his legs around yours, followed by his torso. You've barely shifted in your sleep, jittering away whilst soft huffs slip from your lips, only your whimpering seems to calm as Crosshair places his hand around your waist, ensuring that it's firmly in the centre of your torso, not wondering north or south. With that, he shifts himself off his elbow, allowing his head to rest against the cave floor. This isn't his first time sleeping on the floor, nor stone floor, for that matter; still, it's uncomfortable, but he'll take what he can get. After letting out a deep breath, Crosshair finally bites the bullet. Using the arm wrapped around your waist, Crosshair pulls your body against his, fitting perfectly together. He's cuddling you, in some form or other, but there are instant results. Your jittering is coming to an end, and somehow, Crosshair is already managing to feel warmth growing inside his chest.

Or are those butterflies?

Whatever. He allows his eyes to fall shut, and finally gets some rest.

It's not often that you drool in your sleep. However, this is one of those few occasions. The sensation of your drool dripping over your cheek shakes your body awake, and through groggy vision, you move a hand off your pillow to wipe your spit away. Your arm returns to your pillow, clutching onto it tighter as you pull it against your chest. Something firm is pressed to your cheek - firm, yet warm, like plastoid armour on a-

Wait.

You let out a soft, "huh?" as your eyes open, soon focusing on familiar red and black armour. Somebody's chest plate is acting as your pillow, along with their arm, keeping your head off the cave floor.

Ah, yes. The cave. The cave that you entered to shelter from the snowstorm, and of all the people that you could have been thrown into the deep end with, it just happened to be-

"Would you stop fidgeting?" a rather frustrated, yet quiet voice calls out. Looking up through your lashes, your eyes come into focus with Crosshair, who is attempting to sleep. His expression is neutral, eyes shut, and dare you say it, but Crosshair looks rather sweet when he's cooped up at your side.

You let out a sheepish, "sorry." Your eyes wander around the cave, soon meeting the entrance. It's light outside, the sun is shining down overhead, and the snow looks far tamer than it was last night. Your way out might not be as cursed after all, but a new issue has risen. Crosshair is softly snoring, and his grip on you is deadly. He is not letting go, or at least, not without a fight. For a man who prefers his own company, he seems rather touch starved, and whilst you clash heads with him, you're content with giving him the comfort that he so clearly needs.

And it's a good thing that you're content with this scenario, as Crosshair rolls over onto his side, engulfing you deeper into his grasp.

Sure, plastoid armour isn't the comfiest thing to cuddle, but the man beneath it is. Your chest is pressed to his, legs tangled up together, and Crosshair's arms are holding you tightly against him. He's rather soothing like this, your personal teddy bear, but you know that he's only doing this for warmth. It pains you; you may not get along, but you can't deny that you aren't soft on him. Perhaps your soft spot is mutual, as despite your clashing heads, Crosshair wouldn't do this if he truly disliked you.

"Go back to sleep," Crosshair quietly mutters, his voice barely audible above his deep breaths.

"What?" you stir, peering up to see his tired expression, eyes remaining shut.

"I can hear you thinking," he replies. The hand around your waist moves up, and gloved fingertips entwine themselves in your hair. Crosshair begins to softly massage your scalp, earning a pleasant hum, and for your eyes to close. "Quit thinking, and get some rest," Crosshair demands once more.

Mhm, can't argue with that. You allow yourself to become engulfed in warmth, pressing your chest tighter against Crosshair's, with your forehead resting against his collarbones. His fingers continue to glide against your hair, offering nothing but comfort.

In this moment, you feel nothing but safe and secure. Crosshair is doing all he can to keep you warm, and you've been the fool for being so harsh on him - not that your harshness isn't reciprocated. And it seems you're as touch starved as he is, as you're clinging onto him for dear life, soaking up all the physical contact that you can get.

Maybe it's time to turn over a new leaf, see eye to eye, and allow your similar personalities to grow, rather than clash. Maybe Crosshair isn't so bad after all.

#tbbwriting #knee-deep in trouble #the bad batch #crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #tbb #snow storm #blizzard #huddling for warmth #fanfic #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic

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istadris · 7 months

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You know, this idea about Bowuigi in the context of Luigi's Mansion ?

It's the spooky season so let's make it more angsty !

Luigi and Bowser have been dating in secret for a while, hiding and both happy with each other and sad they couldn't be more open about their relationship. Bowser wants to take the risk and reveal it all for the world to see, Luigi is too anxious to take the leap.

Most of all, there's how Bowser is still officially an enemy of the Mushroom Kingdom and occasionally commiting trouble, because that's what's expected from him, that's all he knows.

At some point Luigi finally builds up the courage of deciding to tell Mario...but he doesn't dare to hell it himself. And Bowser claims there's no way Mario would ever listen to him, since they only meet in battle.

"I mean, how I am supposed to prove I'm turning over a new leaf when we're fighting??"

"...Don't."

"What?"

"Don't fight. Next time you fight, stand down. Don't strike back. Mario wouldn't fight someone who doesn't defend themselves, and that's the last thing he'd expect from you, this is sure to get his attention !"

Bowser laughs and ruffles Luigi's hair, claiming this is a crazy idea, but you know what, worth a try.

The last time they see each other, Bowser is somber. He warns Luigi of his plans to draw Mario out to his castle so they can... (Bowser swallows and chews as if the word isn't used to the word) talk.

He'll break down the news to Mario. At least the "changing his way" part. Maybe he'll confess the romance as well, if it goes well, he jokes while Luigi is hugging him, thanking him for doing it.

The plan takes places, Mario chases after Bowser and Luigi stays at home, wrecked with nerves, torn between sticking to the plan and rushing to his brother's side. He should be here, this concerns him too, but the idea of Mario taking the news badly twists his guts and freezes him in place. For hours he paces, watching every ten seconds the road Mario has taken when leaving.

Hours pass. Shadows lengthen. The sun starts setting. The air grows colder.

And finally, Mario appears on the horizon.

Luigi rushes to meet him...and slows down as he comes closer.

Something has gone wrong.

He can see it in Mario's slow, heavy gait. In his darkened, scorched clothes. In the way he desperately rubs his deeply scarred hand, as if trying to remove his own skin.

When Luigi finally reaches him, Mario looks at him. Never had Luigi seen such haunted eyes on his brother's face.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to...to..."

Despite the anguish crushing Luigi's heart, despite knowing deep down already what has happened, Luigi asks, and forces himself to hear as Mario recount the events.

How out of nowhere, Bowser had suddenly stood down instead of fighting.

How Mario had already been in the middle of this attack, caught off guard by the unexpected.

How his attack had hit its target : not Bowser, but a batch of explosives, setting off a huge blast.

How Bowser, thrown off balance, had fallen.

How Mario had tried -he has tried, Luigi, he swears he has tried!- to catch him, how the claws had sunk into his flesh for a moment, before the Koopa had fallen into the lava below.

How he had tried, hoping desperately for a twist, a revelation, Kamek showing up out of nowhere, anything...

How instead, the throne room's door had been opened by Junior, confused by his dad's absence and asking what Mario was doing here alone....

That's when Mario's voice breaks, and he buries his head in his hands, sobbing, held by Luigi, who clings to his brother to not collapse as his heart feels ripped out off his chest.

And yet he doesn't tell anything.

Not this day, nor the day after, nor ever.

A part of Luigi wants to hate his brother; to throw in his face the true weight of what he has done; he wants to scream his pain and rage, the sheer injustice of the situation choking him until he can't breathe anymore.

But he knows Mario never meant for this to happen. Even if he had known the truth. Mario feels horrible enough for actually causing Bowser's death and Luigi can't bring himself to pile more on his guilt.

Mario is still his brother. He can't hate him, he doesn't think he ever would (he now knows he never can, if he still can't hate Mario after causing so much pain).

But he's grieving, alone, miserable, and for a while he can't even look at Mario without feeling like he'll cry all the tears in his body. Mario worries, he has noticed the distance Luigi seems to put between the two of them, but since Luigi keeps his secret, Mario doesn't know how to fix things.

For several months, they remain distant, and it hurts every single day.

Mario goes on a couple of adventures alone. Whenever he tries to invite Luigi to come along, Luigi uses excuses and stays at home. A home that feels too small and oppressive nowadays, with all the memories and complex feelings and secrets swirling inside.

Luigi needs a new start. Or at least some time on his own.

So when he's told he has won a mansion, he doesn't question how he's never participated in the context. On the other hand, Mario is suspicious but doesn't want to give Luigi the impression that he doesn't trust him, or that he won't respect his need for space.

But he just wants to make sure nothing is afoul. A quick little check before Luigi arrives...

As the mansion exploration goes on, when Luigi is told about "Bowser" returning, he doesn't care about any warnings: Bowser might be alive ! Maybe Mario didn't understand the situation and jumped to conclusions too soon, maybe Kamek found a way to bring his king back! And if he's here, it's probably because he's looking for Luigi !

Hope buoys him as he looks for his brother with a newfound determination. He will find them both! He knows it !

It's a long, long night. Dark and full of terrors, fleeting hopes crushed by horrors, relief and anguish mixed all together at the end.

Luigi wins, and Luigi fails, and despite the sheer, unaltered joy he feels once Mario is finally free from the painting...

It feels like losing Bowser again.

#super mario bros #luigi's mansion #bowuigi #miscellaneous mario madness #a sad one for once

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deathblacksmoke · 20 days

Text

Dramamine—Part 9

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: a little bit of angst and self-doubt, a little bit of backstory, self-serving pretty flowery apologies, and i made the boys kiss again

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.7K

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He’s about ready to own up to it when Autumn walks in, admit what he’s done and face the consequences. He’s pissed her off before and survived — he doesn’t doubt he can do it again.

She sidles up beside him at the register and he’s going to tell on himself when she says something that makes his eyes widen. “Nick texted you?”

His mind reels, wondering how she knows. When he glances over, he’s expecting anger in her expression, or at the very least annoyance. Instead he finds her smiling at him, expression soft.

“How did you know?” he inquires, wracking his brain for an explanation but coming up with nothing. His stomach turns when he envisions Autumn pounding on the door of Nick’s house, or barging into the bar, berating a stranger for something that shouldn’t be her problem. Autumn, as always, coming to his rescue when he can’t do it himself.

He feels sick.

“Do you remember my friend Jasmine?” Autumn offers, and there’s a beat when he questions the relevance of the question. He remembers her vaguely — she and Autumn were friends while Noah was living in Baltimore, a coworker from the university. They’d met once, when Noah came home for the weekend, but he didn’t stick around. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. He was happy that she had someone like Jasmine to fill the void he’d left when he vanished.

He distantly wonders why they don’t see each other anymore before his heart drops, remembering what happened to her. He sees her face, his mind traveling to the photo on the end table in Nick’s living room. Her pretty dark hair, her kind smile.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t connect it, and he feels painfully foolish. Not knowing what else to say, he nods.

“He’s a good guy, Noah,” Autumn utters, a sigh on the edge of her voice as if she hates to admit it. He knows that she’s right, and just recently he would have done anything for her to think so, but right now it makes him feel like he’s out of people on his side. He still needs her on his side. “He’s been through a hell of a lot, but he wants to fix this.”

He imagines how the conversation might go tonight. His mind conjures the image of an apology, at Autumn’s instruction, but yet another letdown. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t wanted him, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Already, he’s itching to disappear again. Asheville might be nice this time.

It already took everything in him to come back here. It took even more out of him to open his heart again, and he really thought he’d picked the right one this time — it felt right, didn’t it?

His mind shifts suddenly back to the last time something felt right, the overwhelming joy he’d felt, and rapidly to the look on Aiden’s face when Noah had the nerve to ask if he wanted to get married, to the bellowing laughter and the pity painted across his face that read oh, you poor thing. When he got home from work the next day, half of the apartment was emptied out. He didn’t see him again, but every inch of Richmond stunk of the 3 years of memories they made together.

He knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows how hard it is to come back. It isn’t the same, but he knows how it feels for your life to stop dead in its tracks.

It’s a little past 8 already, anxiety bubbling up in his gut as he’s pacing back and forth across his living room. There’s a part of him hoping that Nick doesn’t show, leaving Noah to fill in the blanks on his own, fizzling out slowly and painfully but without a direct and detailed hit to his ego.

Autumn and the guys have gone out to give them privacy, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment after Nick shatters him all over again makes his chest ache. He doesn’t want them to be here to watch it happen, but he still wishes they’d stayed. He can’t be by himself.

His spiral is interrupted by three knocks in quick succession.

He’s nauseated, shaking with nerves, but he can’t deny that he misses Nick. He misses his face, his voice, the way his lips spread into a smile seemingly against his will. At least he’ll get to see him one last time before he disappears from Noah’s life for good, another black mark on his romantic history.

When he swings the door open with shaking hands, he finds himself unprepared for what he sees on the other side. Nick, looking more timid than Noah’s ever seen him, with a hastily put together bouquet of flowers and the most hopeful expression in his eyes.

It’s not at all what he expected.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, I—” Nick starts, unsteady on his feet and jittery. Noah won’t let himself get his hopes up, but the urge to reach out and touch him is almost unbearable. This was a terrible idea. “I didn’t ask Aut what flowers you like, so…I hope you like hydrangeas.”

He envisions Nick at the shop, agonizing over which flowers to choose to let Noah down easy. He imagines him speaking with a kind stranger who passes by behind him, asking for advice, hurriedly placing together blue hydrangeas, baby’s breath, eucalyptus leaves, and hoping for the best as he rushes out. It’s a lot of effort to put into a heartbreak.

And Noah does love hydrangeas. An awfully pretty flower to sit in a vase on his coffee table to taunt him as he agonizes through his loss.

He guides Nick inside and tries not to let his mind drift backwards to their last encounter on this couch. It’s a struggle every time he’s in this room, not letting himself relive every moment, the floating feeling to the sinking, empty nothing.

They should have done this somewhere else. He’s not looking forward to adding another painful memory to the living room’s history, especially if he wants to stick around after this one.

Each second Nick spends fiddling with his hands instead of making eye contact and getting on with it drags. The bouquet sits sadly on the coffee table and he wonders if he should busy himself with putting them in a vase with water, a distraction from the impending whatever, but he doesn’t want to waste the water. He should probably throw them out.

“You can rip the band-aid off, Nick,” Noah starts, and he isn’t expecting the surprised and hurt expression that casts itself across Nick’s face. His eyes get so sad, concern obvious, and it’s only then that Noah wonders if this might be a different kind of visit altogether. Even through the overwhelming feeling of dread, he feels awfully soft for him. “It’s okay, Nicky, I’m listening.”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that you weren’t making me happy,” Nick starts, and Noah feels as the weight begins to lift off his shoulders, as the tightness in his chest loosens. Nick takes a few deep breaths, a sort of shaky breathing that Noah recognizes. He doesn’t want to let himself have hope, but he watches as the nerves he recognizes in Nick take a different shape than he’d expected. “I haven’t been that happy in a long time, Noah, and I didn’t think it was something that I deserved. It scared the shit out of me.”

It’s against Noah’s own will when the tears start falling. There’s a tiny but clawing part of him that still thinks this is bad—that these flowery, pretty apologies are just an elaborate setup for a letdown that makes Nick look good at the end of it all. When Nick reaches out to place a shaky hand hesitantly on Noah’s knee, still speaking but Noah can’t make out a single thing through all the whooshing in his ears, Noah feels hope for the first time. He forces himself to focus.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” Noah says, and the smile Noah loves shows itself for the first time this visit—a wide grin spreading across Nick’s face although his nerves are still so blatant. Nick reaches out to touch Noah’s face, and he almost wants to shy away but doesn’t. He lets Nick trace a thumb over his cheek, wipe away his tears, just in case this is the last time he can have this.

“I know I still have a lot to do to make it up to you, but you deserve to be really happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy,” Nick says, and there’s such sincerity in his tone that it’s unmistakable. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, too, and Noah knows he means it. “If you’ll let me give it a try. I may not be any good.”

It’s something they’ll have to talk about further. They’ll have to spend a lot of time working through it, and Noah will have to give him a lot of shit, but his focus narrows in on one thing. And that’s having him.

He scoots himself closer to Nick, watches him relax as Noah places a hand on his cheek.

“I would never ask you to unlove her,” Noah says, to which Nick is quick to nod. “Just talk to me. Make a little room for me.”

“I promise I will,” Nick responds, placing a hand over Noah’s on his cheek and the poor thing is still shaking. Noah hasn’t felt so steady in a long time.

He pours his heart into the kiss they share, finding himself praying that they can keep this. That for once, he can get what he wants. He feels that hope grow just that little bit bigger when Nick’s lips move to his cheek, a sigh of relief pressed into the skin of Noah’s face.

“No boy has ever bought me flowers before,” Noah whispers, feeling Nick’s grin spread once more, pulling Noah ever closer.

tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski . @baddestomens . @itsafullmoon . @collapsedglasshouses

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

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wen-kexing-apologist · 7 months

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EPISODE 6 OF ONLY FRIENDS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD! Seriously it was just fight after fight after fight, every relationship being shifted, undermined, or blown up in minutes and it was glorious. I think a good summary for this episode is “It’s always the quiet ones”

If you want the TL;DR version of any of these, you can check out @lurkingshan’s much more cohesive, succinct description of each fight, and the winner.

Sand v. Top

Something that I truly and deeply appreciate about Only Friends is how much they are really committing to letting these boys act their motherfucking ages. We would think that Sand is a more responsible, independent person out of necessity, that he has his life together more, that he is more mature. After all, like we said last week, Boston came in to his home, smoked his weed, and fucked with his relationship and Sand took the high road (so we thought) of shutting his goddamn mouth and not airing Boston and Top’s dirty laundry.

But damn if this boy ain’t twenty, petty, and fueled by rage at even the smallest sight of Top’s face.

Sand goes to the Coffee House and orders a Pink Milk (now, pink milk/pink drink is a pretty old BL trope if I understand correctly, and so imo it is a testament to Sand’s character and his expectations of romance that he would order such a drink, and a statement on Jojo and Ninew’s part that the coffee house does not have milk and therefore cannot deliver the drink of BL romance everywhere.) Top appears, ordering his drinks, and we get a blessed side eye from Sand full of incredulity, barely contained disdain, and annoyance.

GOD I WANT THEM TO BE HALF-BROTHERS SO BAD! Anyway…

Top does give a rather amicable hello, and initiates a casual, emotionless conversation. But of course, Sand hates this motherfuckers’ guts for stealing his ex, and Sand knows exactly what and how Top thinks of him, so that protective snark we saw when Sand initially started engaging with Rich-Boy-Ray, returns.

Top, on the other hand, thinks nothing of Sand, not that he hates him, not that he likes him, but fully that Sand is nothing. Sand is poor, Sand is struggling, Sand is nowhere close to competition for him. Top is precisely the kind of asshole that uses subtle jibes and jabs to chip away at people who understand what he is doing. Sand fucking hates this guy, so it is easy beyond measure to get Sand going.

Especially because, we know that Sand knows about Top and Boston, and we know that Boston poked the bear the other night and fucked with Sand’s feelings about Ray. Top needles, and Sand inches closer to showing his hand ‘Mew seems nice. How unlucky of him to have you as his boyfriend’

And the perfect boyfriend mask that Top has been so successfully adorning drops “I can have anyone I want…I got mine now. I hope you get yours”

(I am putting this screenshot in here because I find it really interesting from a visual storytelling/cinematography perspective that Sand is cast in Top’s shadow.)

And get his Sand will, because the first thing Sand does when he gets home is break the shit out of his phone so hard that Nick asks if he went to war. He “borrows” Nick’s phone to “call his Mom” promptly sending himself the audio file of Boston and Top having sex. (Pro Tip: If you are going to audio record two guys having sex, maybe don’t tell a goddamn soul you have it unless you are ready for that information to come to light.)

Some questions I have here: why did Sand ask about if Nick was still seeing Boston? Why does Sand seem chill with Nick and Boston still hanging out together after Boston just went full douchebag all over his apartment.

(My assumption/my theory here, which I am not really thinking has any basis in reality is that Sand is looking to see if Nick is still hanging out with Boston after Boston blew up the fantasy relationship he had with Ray. As if he was figuring out if it was worth it to throw Nick in to the mix when he is making the decision to ignite the stick of dynamite that is everyone’s relationships to one another.)

Then he meets with Ray at the bar.

“Are you mad at me for that night?”

“Why would I be mad? Who you like is your business” Sand says, like a liar, and I am almost entirely certain that Ray knows this is a lie. Because he was with Sand the night Boston went off and he heard those crack’s in Sand’s voice.

Something that I absolutely love about Ray as a character is that he is so completely unable to control his facial expressions. Whatever he is thinking or feeling is on his face the second that the emotion enters his body. You can see it in the fight scene with Boston in episode 5, how quickly Ray’s face shifts from crossfaded, relaxed, and smiley to focused, tense, and angry. So his reaction to Sand’s response is no surprise. Ray smirks, and looks away from Sand.

“You called me here to play pool?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you…about Mew,” Sand is looking straight at Ray at this point, and I don’t know about y’all but it feels to me like Sand is assessing Ray’s reaction. There is a MASSIVE pause from Ray at this point, a large bout of silence, and VERY slow, calculated motion as he brings himself to a (drunken) upright position.

“What? Are you not okay that I like him?”

A deep inhale from Sand, and then a smile “I am okay. I even get why you like him. He is nice. People around can’t help falling for him.” Sand is priming his trap, weaponizing Ray’s feelings for Mew.

So here is the thing with Ray. Ray is both an open book and a man of direct action, part of this may just be his personality, but part of this is that Ray is constantly under the influence, and with altered mental status, it is going to both be harder to control your outward emotional expression and you are going to get escalated more quickly. Ray has an extremely low tolerance for bullshit, and in some capacities that is a negative thing (ex: 80% of the actions Ray does after his conversation with Sand in the pool hall), but it can sometimes be a positive thing, because it allows Ray to cut to the chase. To try to skirt around whatever mind games Sand is trying to play: “Just say what you mean”.

Sand sends Ray the audio recording, “I didn’t know who to tell, so I told you” Sand says, turning his attention to the pool table.

This is a crucial move, because Sand is not making eye contact with Ray. Sand is toying with Ray, he is trying to seem disinterested in Ray, in their conversation, unaffected by the other night, casual in his relationship to Ray, casual in the massive invasion of privacy that he just handed to Ray, unphased by the ammunition he has just loaded in to the loose cannon.

“I just don’t want a good guy like Mew to get fooled by Top. Mew is lucky though…

“To have you by his side”

Sand knows exactly what he is doing. He knows Ray likes Mew, and he knows Ray has a tendency to get riled up. Sand may not fully anticipate just how much he is setting Ray up to get hurt here, but he for fucking sure knows he is priming a weapon. If you ask me, Sand is placing the idea in Ray’s head to bring this information to Mew, to reveal the truth and break Mew and Top up so that Top loses the relationship that he just rubbed in Sand’s face, with minimal effort and suspicion that Sand was behind any of it. Which is why Sand looks up from the pool table as he says this line, because he’s studying Ray to see if Ray is picking up what Sand is putting down, and as we will see later, Sand has successfully planted the seed.

Ray is easy, Ray takes the bait, Ray immediately goes firing off in every direction he can. That boy waits, what? Probably one day before he runs straight to Boston to give him a piece of his mind.

Ray v. Boston

There are too many phenomenal scenes in Episode 6 to pick a favorite, but I do think this is one of the best scenes that we’ve seen for Boston so far. By which I mean that we get a lot of information about Boston’s character from the way he navigates this conversation with Ray. We saw his proclivity for douchebaggery in Episode 5, and we’ve seen his propensity for fear when he is almost caught by Mew in the showers with Top. But we haven’t really seen these two aspects of Boston’s character interacting with each other, or at least not as strongly.

Ray comes storming in to Boston’s home immediately riled up and cussing him out, calling him all sorts of names asking if he is going to do nasty shit to all of his friends, and of course, Boston at this point has no idea that the recording exists (and he is just a major asshole) so he is legitimately very confused about what Ray could possibly be talking about.

“You hooked up with Top!” Ray shouts, and there is a look of genuine fear in Boston’s eyes. No one was around that he knew about or saw when he hooked up with Top that night, no one should have known that happened. Boston already has one recorded gay sex event hanging over his head as potential blackmail (thanks Gap), and now he is faced with the realization that there may be evidence of a second gay sex event.

Boston cares about his father’s reputation. Boston is not out to his father. Boston is probably far less discrete and careful than he should be, but I do think it is fair for him to assume that people aren’t going to record his sexual encounters with them without his consent. (I want to take a pause here just to say that I think I guessed right about some of the reasoning for Boston’s behavior especially in the earlier episodes has to do with his inability to be out.) This scene is where we get the longest continuous exposure to Boston’s fear. He is scared when Ray says he knows about him and Top, he is scared when he asks who told Ray, at this point you would think Ray would be the victor of this fight, but the second that Ray brings Mew in to the conversation?

Boston puts a mask on, and he smiles, because he has found a way to protect himself, and that is to use Ray’s weak spot (his crush on Mew) against him. To turn the tides in his favor, to manipulate Ray’s feelings, Ray’s attachment to Mew, Ray’s love of Mew in to staying quiet about his hook up with Top.

“So? Top and I screwed even before they started dating. Is it so weird to screw again? I just wanted more. Then I let them love each other all they want. Everyone has a happy ending. Everyone is filled.”

I am fascinated here by Boston’s comment “I let them love each other all they want”. As if he personally has control over Top and Mew’s feelings for each other, as if he didn’t violate Mew’s ability to trust Top whenever, if ever that information comes to light. (Secondarily, Boston chooses some truly masterful double entendres here “happy ending”, “everyone filled”).

Ray continues on his shouting spree, asking Boston how he could do that to a friend, and we see the aloof and unbothered mask slip off once again, in favor of an actual plea to be listened to. “Hear me out, okay? I don’t hate Mew at all. I was just needy. The timing was just wrong” Now, while I don’t believe Boston about Mew and about the timing because we know he only started going after Top when Top started showing greater interest in Mew, and didn’t just nail and bail. But, I don’t think Boston is entirely lying to Ray here about being needy. One thing I do wish this show had more time for is establishing the past relationship between Boston and Ray before they get to this point. When Ray says later on in the episode that Boston tells him all about his sexual conquests, is that just something he says to Ray or is that something he tells the whole group when he is recounting his previous nights? This matters only in the sense of me feeling more secure in how much, if any, of what Boston is saying to Ray is true.

“Timing, my ass. The point is your slutty ass just sleeps with anyone.” Ray says, and Boston looks down at the ground, draws in a breath, and then meets Ray with this cocky, teasing smirk and the line “Not just anyone. I picked him.”

Ray wants to see Boston as a villain, so Boston will be one. Boston is generally a contradictory asshole, but in my opinion if he wasn’t faking some of this confidence and prodding at Ray, he would not have needed prep time, we would have seen that sincerity drop, the way we saw Top’s sincerity drop in his conversation with Sand. Instead, Boston has to prepare himself to act this way, though he is able to slip in to this part of himself with ease. Also, I have no deep insights in to this, because I am simply just obsessed with the little shoulder shrug Boston gives Ray. Spitting in his face would have been less disrespectful than the way Boston shrugs off Ray’s comment about him being a slut. (Once again I say Neo Trai is absolutely crushing this role).

Boston asks how Ray is involved (a great question, because it is literally none of Ray’s business) and then goes in for the kill with his acknowledgement of Ray’s crush, and the underlying dickishness Boston knows (or thinks he knows) is there. “You’re playing a good friend who is always so protective of Mew. Honestly, I think you are glad that it happened. You’ve always waited for your chance. This is in your favor. You’re waiting for them to break up and be his rebound when he is weak.”

I don’t know that it really needs to be called out directly, but I am going to do it anyway. What Boston just said to Ray’s face is exactly what Sand was thinking, and alluding to when he gave Ray that recording. You cannot convince me otherwise. But Sand was subtle in how he put those thoughts in Ray’s head, so he is successful in getting Ray appropriately riled up. Boston too, is successful in riling up Ray by being direct with him, but Boston gets punched in the face and makes Ray even angrier at him than he was before.

“If you tell him, then you’re as evil as me. Don’t act like you mean well when deep down you hope they will break up. It’s disgusting!” He stands up, and stalks right up to Ray’s face.

“You should even thank me big time for getting you out of the friendzone.”

Regardless of the fact that Boston is not yet aware of the recording of him and Top, he is acutely aware that he needs to protect himself from this information getting out. So again, he hones in on Ray’s weakness. Boston compares Ray to himself, to the person that Ray is absolutely furious with. He plays to Ray’s own insecurities and to Ray’s need to be seen as a good person and viable partner for Mew. Ray loves his friends, Ray loves Mew, Ray does not want to hurt Mew, if Ray tells Mew about Top cheating on him Mew will be hurt, if Mew rebounds with Ray after he and Top break up that makes Boston right about Ray’s intentions, that makes Ray evil. That is the implication here. And, just in case trying to convince Ray that if he tells Mew about the cheating then he is just as evil as the person who literally got fucked by Top, Boston throws in a little bit extra. Ray should be grateful. Ray should thank Boston. Boston’s shitty actions here, Boston’s betrayal of his friendship with Mew, have cleared the way for Ray to play the hero. Ray shouldn’t tell Mew any of this because he owes Boston. Ray came charging in to Boston’s own home, with a leg up in the conversation, and showed his hand, allowing Boston to exploit Ray’s feelings and gain the upper hand. In one expert fell swoop, Boston has upset Ray enough for him to storm off and is feeling pretty confident and secure in the knowledge that Ray will not say anything to Mew.

Ray v. Everyone

By the time Ray gets to Mew’s birthday party he has been ignored, insulted, manipulated, and belittled constantly by almost every single person that says they care about him. Cheum has laughed at his love life, Sand used Ray to further his own agenda, Boston has thoroughly fucked with Ray’s life in a number of ways, and even Mew is harsher than usual to Ray when they run in to eachother in the bathroom and Mew tells Ray to stop doing drugs or he’ll be dead by 30.

Ray loves Mew, Ray has been told over and over again by Mew that he only sees Ray as a friend, and there in the bathroom, Mew once again says “let’s be friends forever”. At this point, Mew has made it pretty fucking clear that he is never going to date Ray, and all of Ray’s friends have been shitty to him, and he is also drunk AND high, so for me it would track that Ray has literally nothing to lose by being honest. Every relationship Ray has, someone has fucked with. Top tries to get Mew on his side in his hatred of Ray, Sand put his barriers back up to protect his own feelings when Boston mentioned Ray’s crush on Mew, Ray fucked himself over with Mew by kissing him when he was asleep, Cheum points out Ray’s lack of love life and otherwise pretty much ignores Ray. So it also tracks for me that Ray would try to get back at everyone by fucking with their relationships.

Ray pulls a Top and gets up on stage to steal Sand’s microphone and make a public declaration, something that we as the audience should already know Mew does not like, because he said as much to Top after Top publicly asked Mew to be his boyfriend. Sand, bless him, tries to put a stop to this immediately by asking Ray what he is doing, but not to be deterred, and using the guise of Mew’s birthday he takes control of the microphone and the entire bar’s attention. Before I go too much in to the actual roast session, I would recommend everyone who has seen Episode 6 go back to this scene and watch how Book plays Mew in this scene. Every single moment (until Mew gets mad that is) that Mew is on screen, he looks forlorn. But in the chaos of the bar scene, the quick cuts to all the couples dancing it can be hard to notice, especially if we weren’t looking out for it. This whole scene is set up spectacularly as foreshadowing for Mew’s revenge at the end of the episode, and if you pay close enough attention highlights the huge problems in Mew and Top’s relationship. Mew is upset, Mew is visibly upset, and Top is standing right there next to Mew the entire time. Top is dancing with Mew, Top is putting himself between Mew and Ray. Mew and Top are inches from each other during this entire scene and Top does not notice or ask about Mew’s mood shift once. Because Top has never truly been attentive to Mew’s feelings.

Anyway, Mew lays waste to Cheum, Boston, and Nick before Sand recognizes this is going nowhere good fast, and once again tries to put a stop to it.

Ray has been ignored by too many people, Ray has been fucked with for too long for him to just let everything go and leave. And remember, he is drunk and high on cocaine so he is not de-escalating any time soon, and no one in that bar is at all equipped to change his focus and calm him down. Sand gets involved, but Sand is the cause of all of this mess because he gave Ray the information, and Ray will not be silenced, so he tries to insult Sand. “You don’t even want to be a singer, you just want to make money. If you want it so much, why don’t you sleep with me?”

AND SORRY, I KNOW THAT I SHOULD REALLY BE TALKING ABOUT THE TOP, BOSTON, MEW OF IT ALL BUT I FUCKING LOVE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THIS LINE.

Because we know that Ray has offered to pay Sand for sex before, and we know that Ray has asked Sand how much he owed for their “one night stand”, only to have Sand on every occasion, reject the money. Sand has said that if he wants sex, he does it for free. Literally from the moment that Sand realized that he had some sort of positive feelings for Ray, and agreed to be his friend, he has not accepted a single bhat from Ray. But in front of all of these people, Ray is implying that Sand is a sex worker. In front of Boston, who has walked in on Ray and Sand making out, and in front of Nick who has interrupted Ray and Sand in the middle of something physically intimate on more than one occasion, Ray has just made it seem to them like Sand has been paid to cater to Ray’s every whim, in front of people that know Sand well.

We love and respect sex workers in this house, but Ray? Ray is not saying this because he thinks sex work is okay. Ray is saying this because he thinks calling someone a prostitute (in a sense) is insulting, and that is not helped by the fact that they are in public and therefore Ray is subjecting Sand to public scrutiny over him potentially being a sex worker. And in associating Sand with sex work, in associating sex with Ray as sex work, Ray is undermining the validity of any and all time that Sand and Ray have hung out together, and is highlighting his status as a higher class than Sand.

Ray turns to Mew, showering praise and gratitude and well wishes upon him, and telling Mew “though that happiness doesn’t include me, I’m okay,” and Mew does not react in any way that is comforting, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t nod. He just stands there, staring at Ray, and by my impression trying not to cry. And God, what I wouldn’t give to see Boston’s reaction to this moment, because we do not get to see him at all during this moment, and I want to know how confident Boston was feeling that Ray wouldn’t say anything about his affair with Top when Ray is acknowledging that he knows that Mew will never return his feelings.

I don’t know about you all, but personally, I believe Ray here. I think Ray has been rejected enough by Mew, and fucked up his relationship enough with Mew that he does just need to affirm to Mew that he understands what he has done, and that he understands that Mew will only ever think about him as a friend, and that Ray is there to support Mew in whatever he decides to do with the information, we as the audience do not know Mew already has.

Ray turns his ire on Top, shouting at the top of his lungs, insulting Top, shoving Top, generally causing a scene and we finally get a glimpse of Boston, but he’s blurred out in the background, so while his face is unreadable, we get some indication of Boston’s emotional state by that fact that he is tuned the fuck in to everything going on, because the only thing we can read from Boston is that he is staring directly at Top. Ray continues to escalate, and Yo finally steps in, but she allows Ray to continue after a moment, which is like…girl, come on, where is the responsible bar owner?

Ray starts shoving Top, Mew tries to step in, Top grabs Mew around the shoulder and jerks him back like he owns Mew. And because there are very few people in this world that take Ray seriously at all, Cheum tries to get involved. Reminding Ray that Mew is not gonna fuck him (I mean, that’s not exactly what she said but same shit) which Ray knows. I think, personally, that Ray is fully aware that there is a chance that he has completely ruined his relationship with Mew by valuing Mew enough to tell him the truth. That he has made himself as evil as Boston by telling Mew anything at all.

I’ve said it before, I will say it again, Ray is one of the biggest open books in this show because of his substance use. We saw very early in the episode when the hotel management group was talking with their professor every single emotion, every single thought that Ray was

experiencing. From nearly the beginning of the show, we have seen Ray ignored or belittled by most of his friends, as someone who loves and has worked with drug users, I have to say that Jojo and co are doing an incredible job at demonstrating all the little ways that people discount, discredit, and dehumanize drug users. All of his friends, Boston, Cheum, and especially Mew think they are better than Ray because he uses drugs. We see it in the bathroom, right before the Ray-mpage, Mew realizing Ray has just done drugs, and then telling his suicidal friend that he would be dead before 30 if he keeps this behavior up.

So of course Ray wants all these truths to come to light. Of course Ray has to be the one to do it. Because how dare all of these people stand around, pretending to be friendly to one another, pretending to care about one another, acting like they are all good people, when they are all manipulating, and controlling, and lying to each other. No one in this bar is better than Ray, even though they think they are.

“No one has said a damn thing, which is why I need to” Ray shouts and then immediately turns to Boston. And as he continues to get riled up, as he gets closer to publicly revealing Top’s infidelity, Mew steps in, and it takes Mew punching Ray in the face to get him to shut the fuck up and preserve the image of clueless Mew.

Ray storms off and Sand goes running after him because he is the only person with some goddamn sense, realizing that Ray is going to endanger himself and others. They have their fight, which for the sake of space and time I am not going to talk about.

Mew v. Top

We reach a decompression point (so we think) after this fight, Sand quietly driving off after Ray, Nick reaching out to and having his comforting touch be rejected by Boston, Mew and Top walking back in to Mew’s apartment, with Mew only speaking when he is spoken to.

Now, this cannot be convey through photographs alone, but I JUST NEED TO SHOUT TO THE HIGH HEAVENS ABOUT HOW FUCKING OBSESSED AND IN LOVE I AM WITH THE BACKGROUND MUSIC IN THIS SCENE.

Besties, the vibes are RANCID. The music does not match the romantic scene we see Mew setting up, the lit candles, the supposed playlist he is putting on, the cuddling up to Top. The music we get underneath belongs in a horror movie. It’s suspenseful, it’s disconcerting. It is perfect.

As soon as humanly possible Mew walks away from Top, enters a completely different room, and begins to lay his trap.

(Let it be stated for the record it was at this point where I started to think something might be up)

Top comes in to check on Mew and make sure he is alright, and as Book and Force have said, Top and Mew are competitive and poisonous for one another, and we are about to witness the perfect example of what happens with both of their propensities for control and manipulation come to a head. Mew starts the game, initiating physical contact with Top, hugging him tight, rocking them back and forth. It is familiar, and comfortable, and there is absolutely no indication whatsoever from Mew’s body language that anything is wrong. (If you have not already, go back and watch the bar fight scene, and you will be presented with a drastically different Mew, because he is just gotten the news and he is processing his feeling and plotting his revenge, so he is a lot less capable of controlling the emotions on his face, and thus reads as detached and forlorn).

“Are you okay, Mew?” Top asks because he is at this point playing the role of devoted and concerned boyfriend extremely well (again a massive contrast to how he behaved at the bar, where he was possessive, reactive, and did not notice that anything was wrong with Mew despite being mere inches away from him).

“I just wonder when Ray will be okay with you,” Mew responds, pulling away from Top to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to choose.”

And what a great buy-in. Top hates Ray, Ray hates Top. Mew is perceptive and has been in the room on multiple occasions to see Top and Ray butting heads. Beyond the fact Ray went off on everyone at the bar, and it’s a relevant topic of conversation, Mew knows what he is doing bringing Ray in to his conversation with Top.

Because Ray could have said “I’m okay”, he could have brushed the evening off, or said he wasn’t good, or bitched about Ray’s tendencies to ruin an evening with too much drinking. But he doesn’t mention any of that. He doesn’t attack Ray’s character, he doesn’t gripe about Ray’s actions. Mew explicitly brings up Ray’s feelings about Top.

Giving Top a very good jumping off point for his own attempts at manipulation.

“Why are you still friends with him?” Top asks. Undermining Mew’s previous line “I don’t want to choose.” Mew has literally just said that he wants to maintain his friendship with Ray and his relationship with Top, and implied that it is troubling him that the two of them cannot get along. That Ray cannot get along with Top.

And instead of Top being sympathetic to that desire for Mew to get to keep two people he cares about in his life. Top tries to convince Mew to dump Ray altogether (which would further isolate Mew from his friends since Cheum really only seems to care about Mew’s sex life and Boston has intentionally been undermining Mew and Top’s relationship since it’s start).

This is not the first time that Top has tried to get what he wanted with just a question or suggestion. We can say all we want that LASIK was Mew’s idea, but Top suggested it first before he said something akin to “you know what, nevermind, you look cute in your nerd glasses”. He may have walked back his suggestion but it cannot be denied that he planted that seed.

And planting a seed of doubt, of insecurity, of impatience with Ray’s behavior in to Mew’s mind is what I think Top is trying to do here. But Mew knows something Top doesn’t and where Mew may have started contemplating whether or not he actually does want to maintain a friendship with Ray, he is immune from that doubt seeping in in this case because he knows that Top is a dirty rotten liar.

“I want to repay you,” Mew says a little bit further along in their conversation. “I don’t want you to forget about tonight.” (lmfao Mew, he definitely will not)

“It’s the birthday that I feel the most special.” and by God is Mew really laying it on thick.

“Even though Ray ruined your night” Top can’t help but get a dig in, to remind Mew that Ray was a shitty friend on Mew’s birthday, to casually drop more evidence that Mew should pull away from his friendship with Ray.

“Screw him. I have you by my side, there’s nothing to be afraid of” Mew is stoking Top’s ego, he’s lulling Top in to a false sense of security. Top has no idea what he is in for, he has no idea that Mew is playing games. Mew is doing such a thoroughly expert job with his performance he may even be annoying the audience, making them think that he didn’t connect the dots between Ray yelling at Top and Boston, and think that something might be wrong.

Top thanks Mew for making him like this version of himself, and to me this does make sense. There is this hollowness in the way I read Top and Mew’s entire relationship throughout the series. But I don’t doubt that some part of Top is interested in Mew. I have typically understood Mew and Top’s relationship to be an experiment from Top’s end to see what it would feel like to stop sleeping around.I think Top does genuinely enjoy at least part of his relationship with Mew, likes playing this role of doting boyfriend, but he is just playing. It is a performance. A skin he can shed the second he is out of Mew’s view.

“Can I ask you one more gift?” Mew says, turning to face Top and without another word starts undressing him. Mew shoves Top on to the bed and starts kissing up his body (I shit you not I was shocked and literally said out loud, alone in my apartment “Damn, Book!”). This is not the first time that we have seen Mew raise the stakes of a physical encounter. From the beginning of their relationship, Mew has been entirely in control of if and when he and Top have sex. He holds on to that power, to his virginity for quite some time, but waffles in his confidence and power within the relationship by engaging in penetrative sex with Top because he is worried Top will be bored.

This is the most intense, down and dirty level of physical intimacy we have ever seen from Top and Mew (and the same goes for Force and Book finally getting to step away from the slow and gentle sex scenes of shows past). Mew gets Top going, Mew gets Top in the zone, in the mood. Mew gets Top feeling good, moaning, before he drops the bomb.

“I love the sound you make when you have sex” and this is where the tide begins to turn, where the audience may well and truly begin to pick up what Mew is putting down. But Top just thinks it’s hot. Top is playing along. Top wants to know what sounds he makes that Mew enjoys. This is a much different physical encounter than anything he has had from Mew before, and while Mew is once again leveraging physical intimacy to control Top, something he has been doing since their first sexual encounter. Though there is an intensity and surety to Mew’s actions here that feels markedly different than his other sexual interactions with Top where his movements were slower and less certain.

“What sound?” Top asks, and oh boy has he just fucked himself over with this question. It is exactly the question Mew is hoping Top will ask. The perfect question for Mew’s pissed off, hurt, and dramatic ass to play the audio recording.

And GOD DAMN TOP’S FUCKING REACTION? The fear and panic that enters his eyes, the speed and intentionality in the way Mew pushes himself off of Top.

Top’s fear and shock and awe lasts for mere seconds as he pulls himself upright at which point Force delivers one of my favorite lines in the entire exchange, “how did you get it?”

Why is it one of my favorite? Because it acknowledges that Top knows that this audio recording exists. But it is said in passing, and asked as a question in such a way that Mew, who is about to actually let his emotions loose, might not actually realize the implications of the question.

Because this is not Top asking “what is this?”, “where did this come from?”, “did you record me?” you know, the type of standard questions someone faced with an audio recording of them having sex might ask if they had never heard the audio recording before. But no, Top isn’t surprised to find out that he has been recorded. He is only scared and concerned about the fact that Mew got the recording from someone.

“How long ago was it?” Mew asks, and Top tries to equivocate “Mew, it was a long time ago,” as if Top thinks that he can what, brush off this audio recording? Dude. If Mew wasn’t busy trying not to slap you in the face, he would have noticed the practical admission of guilt you gave by nature of asking how he got the audio recording, you know he knows, why bother trying to lie? Mew does not let himself get convinced otherwise, and continues to press Top about whether or not he and Boston had fucked after he and Mew started dating and Top cannot look Mew in the eye until the very end of Mew’s line of questioning. And Top stays dead silent until Mew has asked him where and when he and Boston fucked, at which point he knows there is no getting out of this and he admits the truth.

I don’t have much to say as of yet about the line Mew says “why did I have to know about this shit the day I’ve already loved you and given you everything?” mostly because I actually have a whole essay floating around in my brain that I am desperate to write for this show, but I do not have enough evidence to justify it yet, so I am waiting patiently for if the opportunity presents itself. But irrespective of that, there is an implication here that Mew held some level of possessiveness over his virginity and in having sex with Top committed to his relationship with Top. Mew is the kind of person that seems to think virginity has weight to it, and it is something to lose, something that can be lost.

Now. If Mew had stopped here and just broken up with Top, he would have won the day. But unfortunately, Mew is a human character with thoughts, feelings, and imperfections that are going to undermine his best efforts to be a diabolical schemer. (Something that I very much appreciate about this show is that every single person in the show has moments of utter genius that grant them the upper hand and a brief win. But no one is so impressive as to pull off a flawless victory or maintain their champion status for long).

So unfortunately, we start getting insight in to Mew that we have not really had before, when he starts spiraling over Top and Boston hooking up. Mew, who has up until this point felt very secure in his inexperience with sex. And there have been signs of deeper insecurities popping up, namely that Mew had penetrative sex with Top to keep him interested in their relationship. “Why did it have to be Boston?” (who Mew called to ask for sex advice), “Couldn’t it have been anyone else?” Top looks guilty when Mew asks these questions, but that quickly changes as Mew’s spiral worsens “You guys planned this together?” Top’s head whips up to meet Mew’s eyes, he postures, he shifts his weight, he inhales a breath as if he is preparing to speak, and his face changes to a perfect picture of disagreement at the accusation. “You just wanted to mess with a virgin idiot like me?” Top actually tries to interrupt Mew’s spiral here, to calm Mew’s suspicions of malice against him.

It is at this point Mew has his Boss Ass Bitch card revoked on the grounds of undermining the absolutely devastating and badass power play he just flawlessly pulled off by creating this fantasy in his head about big bad evil Top and Boston laughing at his inexperience. Especially because (and this is not to blame Mew at all) part of what drove Top to fuck Boston was Mew’s competitive nature and his desire to prove Top really wanted a relationship with him by withholding sex for an extremely long time. It was not Mew’s inexperience, but rather his virtue signaling and tight hold on having his first time that resulted in Boston’s successful attempt at convincing Top that Mew was lying to him about being a virgin.

“Mew, you made that all up in your head, it’s nothing like that,”

“Well, what am I supposed to think when I can’t trust any word you say?” Mew turns away, only to be quickly embraced by Top. Both of them quiet, upset, and the episode ends with the future of their relationship uncertain.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends #wka long post #only friends meta #only friends analysis #sorry if this is repetitive either in the text or to other things being posted on tumblr this week #i know there was a lot of good meta floating around and i promise you that everything i wrote here is my own thoughts #sandray #firstkhao #bostonnick #neomark #topmew #forcebook #jojo tichakorn #ninew pinya

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wardenparker · 1 year

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CONGRATS ON 2.5K BABE YOU DESERVE EVERY ONE.

May I request a confused Frankie, with the prompt "I have no idea what you just said to me"? Because it feels like it would be funny. Love you, babe!!!!

Santiago Garcia and Frankie Morales 708 words. I got a little carried away with this one. "I have no idea what you just said to me." Discussions of sex, so this goes under the cut.

“You’re kidding though, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” He’s rolling with laughter beside you in the big bed of the rental cabin’s master bedroom, cackling with glee as you groan in embarrassment. There is nothing in the world that could possibly delight him more than hearing that confession from you, and the fact that you’re pouting about it makes it even better.

“Don’t be mean,” you whine, shoving him away with one hand despite the fact that the lame attempt at personal defense doesn’t even break the hold he has on you. Ten minutes ago he had scooped you up in your arms and you know better than to think he’s going to let you go anytime soon. Which leads to you reaching above your head and bringing down one of the bed pillows to smash him in the face with as retaliation. “You can’t just ask me shit like that.”

“I didn’t think you would have an answer so quickly!” If he were standing up it would be doubling over with laughter, but as it is, he just tugs you tighter into his arms and dissolves into giggles. “I just thought I’d ask you a dumbass question. I didn’t think you’d have such a knee-jerk response to it.”

“Yeah…well…you were wrong.” Sputtering out slightly, you aim an even fiercer pout at him and add a frown to exaggerate the expression. “You have really hot friends, babe. I’m only human.”

Santiago giggles again, his fingertips digging into your sides as he pulls you to his chest and bites his tongue for a second before clicking it at you like you’ve been naughty. And maybe you have, who knows. “Yeah,” he nudges the tip of your nose with his own. “But I wasn’t expecting you to say you wanted all of them in this bed.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t want them here without you, too,” you offer, knowing it’s a weak defense to what you had blurted out. You just hadn’t expected your boyfriend of six months to ask if you had ever thought about being shared with any of his buddies. Throwing out the occasional hypothetical to each other made things interesting. More lively. More adventurous. Apparently, this time had been brutally honest as much as anything else.

“Of course I would be there.” Santi sticks his head out and places a kiss on the line of your jaw, right by your ear where the skin is most sensitive, making you shiver. “That’s why I asked about sharing. They don’t get to have you all to themselves.”

“What the hell is going on in here?” The door to the largest bedroom was flung open already when Frankie made his way upstairs – the second car to arrive to the cabin for this week away that Pope had orchestrated. He frowns slightly when he sees the two of you giggling in bed together, having heard shrieking just a second ago. Asshole Pope must have tickled you or something. You hate that and he thinks it’s funny. “Are you killing her or something?”

“I’m gentle and loving, feo.” Santi is still laughing when he waves Frankie into the room. “But I’m also having a fucking field day, because my bella preciosa over here just admitted to wanting the whole team to fuck her.”

Frankie stands just inside the doorway, arms slack at his side, and stares. You are covering your face in embarrassment but still managing to peak out at him between two fingers, and Pope is eagerly awaiting a reaction from his best friend, giggling slightly when he only gets that dumbfounded expression for far too long. “I have no idea what you said to me,” Frankie mutters when reality punches him in the gut again and he realizes he’s been staring. “I think I passed out for a second.”

“Estupido.” Santi’s laughter subsides, and a smirk curls his lips oh-so-enticingly. “I said my princesa wants to be gangbanged. You in?”

It takes another few seconds, but Frankie swallows, looking between the two of you with awe and then eagerness. “I think this is the best fucking vacation you ever planned,” he concedes, wolfish grin taking over his features. Oh yeah. He’s definitely in.

It's a Follower Celebration Microfic Extravaganza!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac fanfic #Frankie Catfish Morales #Santiago Pope Garcia #Frankie Morales #Santiago Garcia #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x you #Santiago Garcia x reader #Santiago Garcia x you #follower celebration #2.5k follower celebration #follower milestone #microfic #technically a drabble?#who knows

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kaibacorpintern · 2 years

Text

mokuba: there's a spider in my shower.

mokuba: i should ask niisama to kill it. he promised to protect me. he told me he was my father now. i can't hold him to that, he was ten. he's failed in so many ways, and he's succeeded in so many others. and we're happy now. we're safe. we have everything we need. there are kaibalands all over the world. still, i need him to prove he's looking out for me. if only to know if he's changed. but maybe i should just kill it myself. he worries so much. if he thinks i don't even have the guts to kill a spider, how will he ever trust me to strike out on my own? could i ever leave him anyway? should i? will we ever feel safe enough to leave each other? i don't want to leave him. he's my brother. he's the only person i love. i wish i had more friends, like real friends, like whatever yuugi and his little geeks have. they're so lame. but they stick up for each other. they're nice because they want to be. i don't really get it, honestly. do yuugi and his friends kill spiders for each other? isn't that what we all want - to cry for help, and hear someone answer us? sometimes seto couldn't answer me. sometimes he refused. it's not his fault. it's never been his fault. but he hates it when i say that. he's doing better. he really is. do i really need him to prove it? it's not even a big spider. i can squish it myself. i'm not even that scared. i'm not a little kid. i'm the fucking vice president of kaiba corporation, for fuck's sake.

mokuba:

mokuba, at the top of his lungs: NIISAMA? CAN YOU KILL THE SPIDER IN MY SHOWER?

seto: yeah where is it

spider:

seto, internally: is base violence the only proof of love i can give my brother? is that what he wants from me?! we're more poisoned than i thought! the spider isn't doing anything to hurt us. it's just sitting there! struggling to survive, like all of us are! but gozaburo would tell me strength is th -

with thanks to @danieco

#intern memo #the collective anxiety in the kaiba household must be through the roof get these kids some good kush #good ending: they trap it in a cup and they carry it outside #neutral ending: seto kills the spider #bad ending: seto says don't waste my time and makes mokuba kill the spider

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enhashoutout · 3 months

Text

Things I noticed while watching High and Low the Worst X again

I was watching High and Low The Worst X while I was on lunch break and then had more realizations and wanted to write about them lol

These are probably nothing new and someone else probably already noticed these but I wanted to make a post about them sooooo

I’ve watched the movie so many times now idk why I just realized the weight of the three scenes I’m about to talk about. But also I feel like I notice something new every time I watch the movies so I'm gonna cut myself some slack.

Amagai being the only character in the movie who genuinely doesn’t have a sense of friendship/comradery with anyone else.

The first time we see the 3 schools alliance meeting is the opening of the movie, and I remember when I first watched the movie I was like "well damn this looks like a solid ass team" only to find out later that they were in fact not really a team lol 😂 but anywaysss

Watching the movie this time I just realized what Fujin says to Amagai in the first scene in the restaurant where the 3 schools are holding their meetings.

Reiji is first to jump up and say "Let's get this brawl started," and Ghandi jumps in telling Amamgai that their troupes and weapons are ready. Shoji laughs and says that weapons are typical Kamasaka behavior which prompts them to jump at him and Fujin, Raijin, and the other Ebara guys jump straight to his defense while Shoji continues sitting. Amagai tells them to "get us more" while tossing the money bundles in their direction.

Every single fuckin character in this scene's facial expressions have me dying because the disbelief on their faces😂

Shoji looking at Amagai like he's full of shit.

Fujin, Raijin, and Ghandi are looking at him like "wtf?"

The background characters are looking at him in disbelief also like I was WHEEZING when I realized this. Back to the characters who are the main focus of this specific camera frame though, Ghandi and Fujin.

Both characters turn to Amagai with the BIGGEST look of disbelief on their faces and Fujin says "You don't trust we can do it huh?"

To which Amagai says "What's the use in trusting you guys?" and goes on a spiel about how being powerful means you trust no one and not even giving them a slight chance. He also goes on to say that being powerful means bringing everyone else down to their knees and tells the other 3 schools "Just shut up and stick with me. I'll show you what it's like to be at the top." Ryo's face when he says this is a whole other conversation for another day.

I'M SORRY BUT THE LOOKS REIJI AND SHOJI GIVE HIM AFTER HIS LITTLE SPIEL HAD ME ROLLING🤣 Like both characters gave him the most judgmental expression and then you got Shoji over here looking away and rolling his eyes PUH-LEASE I AM DEAD🤣

Aside from all of this being extremely funny to me, this plays into my point from above. Yes, all these looks are super funny but it really shows how as "bad" as the other guys are they still run in the same way that Oya and the other S.W.O.R.D gangs do, through friendship and comradery.

Fujin asked "You don't trust we can do it huh?" because Ebara most likely runs on comradery as well. You don't pay someone to do shit for you, they just know to trust each other to get it done. This is a concept that Amagai does not and can not understand because he's been conditioned to believe that the people around him are not worthy of trust or friendship due to his status, they just work for him. As long as he throws money at their feet, they'll do what he wants.

That's like kind of sad actually, the fact that the other "antagonists" of the film still know friendship and he doesn't... I still hate his guts though. We love Ryoki but we don't love his character Amagai.

The way Shoji vs Tsukasa asks Suzaki why he’s working for Amagai

I think everyone can agree that within that 3 school alliance, Shoji Sameoka was the only character with working brain cells (full offense to all the other characters lol no one else in that room had critical thinking skills I swear). From the first meeting we see, the audience can already tell Shoji is the only character who has doubts about this alliance but also questions it; while everyone else has doubts but proceed to just follow Amagai's orders. This eventually leads to Shoji being the one to suggest that Ebara drop out of the alliance because he thinks it’s stupid which then leads to him agreeing to Todoroki’s terms of dropping out of the alliance if Todoroki wins against Fujin and Raijin. I feel like Shoji as a person judges the other characters based on what he knows/hears about them.

We see this when he confronts Suzaki. Shoji asks Suzaki why he would come to Senomon and work under Amagai when he was the one running Nami High. Suzaki tells him to mind his own business. Shoji is asking Suzaki from a place of strength. Based on the dialogue, it seems like Shoji knew Suzaki and Amagai’s reputations before this alliance. I deduce this down to Shoji knowing that Suzaki was the strongest at Nami High and knowing that Amagai isn’t actually physically strong compared to the other characters, he just likes to cause trouble and make others work for him. People fear Amagai not for his strength or skills as a fighter, but simply because he has the money and status to be at the “top”.

This brings me to believe that Shoji was asking why someone as strong as Suzaki would even work under Amagai who is clearly not a match for him strength wise. It seems like Shoji is asking Suzaki why he would be scared of Amagai’s money and work under him when Suzaki is clearly stronger. I think this is because the Ebara guys ranks are based on their strength/who is the strongest (I make this assumption from the fact that Fujin and Raijin are straight up gym bros lol) so Shoji can’t understand why Suzaki is working under someone clearly weaker than him.

Tsukasa’s question is the same….. but also different.

Tsukasa strikes me as someone who really gets to know someone personally to the best of his abilities before he makes his own judgment on them. We see this with Rao in the movie. Tsukasa could’ve taken everyone’s word for it and been like “oh Rao is a big mean monster” but he takes it upon himself to find out who Rao actually is through Mercy. This is how he finds out Rao isn’t actually all that bad like the stories suggests and that Rao fights for good reason (for his siblings). This trait about Tsukasa is why he asks Suzaki why he fights for Amagai but is also why he’s the only one who is able to understand why Suzaki fights for Amagai without a direct answer.

When Tsukasa asks Suzaki why he works for Amagai, he says “why do you work for a guy like him? Does he has some kind of dirt on you?” and Suzaki just keeps quiet. This brings me to believe that Suzaki probably had a reputation for being the strongest at Nani High but also fought people within reason, he didn’t flaunt his strength just because he felt like it.

Tsukasa asked him based off the kind of person he is and not his strength. I'm assuming Ryo fought people within reason and not so much for fun or to assert his dominance over others with his strength, so him working under someone who has as shitty of a personality as Amagai probably threw Tsukasa off a bit.

He is also however able to tell that there is a friendship there even if it isn't great. At the end when Yuken and Todoroki ask why Ryo would work for someone like Amagai, Tsukasa says it's because he means more to Ryo than that. Alluding to the fact that Ryo is doing stuff for Amagai because he sees him as a friend even if everyone else doesn't.

Okay, I'm done now😂 this wasn't as deep as my other analysis because it's not super deep with comparisons or anything like that it was just stuff I noticed while watching the movie again.

I have fics I'm working on for all the S.W.O.R.D leaders and more for Fujio I'm just swamped with assignments and working a little slow

#high&low #high and low #oya high #high&low story of sword #oya kou #the rampage from exile tribe #makoto hasegawa #yoshino hokuto #senomon tech #high&low x reader

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yanderes-galore · 8 months

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Could you do your prompts 34, 36, and 57 for TMNT 2012 Karai!?

Of course! I love Karai :'). I got help from @okchijt again for the plot! At this point they're sort of like a coauthor for some stories 😅 This takes place/based around Season 3 so it mentions Snake Karai. Darling also already knows Karai by the time the story takes place. I tweaked the original plot given a bit.

Yandere! 2012! Karai Prompts 34, 36, 57

"No one else understands me except you!"

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to."

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Kidnapping implied, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence, Forced relationship.

The turtles have always prioritized your safety. Why would they not? They've been your friends ever since you met them with April.

As a result, you've heard of Karai multiple times from them. She's Splinter's original child, a sister of the turtles... and now a mutant snake. Your knowledge of Karai was very limited but you had met her a few times.

It was always brief... but far as you knew associating with her wasn't safe. According to the turtles she was part of The Foot Clan. For the longest time you associated her with danger.

Even when she knew the truth that Shredder was not her father, the alliance you held between you two was thin. Before the mutation incident, before the invasion of New York, you were just beginning to see Karai as a friend.

It hurt you a little to see it happen. You had just gotten over your fear of Karai. Karai even showed some genuine care for you and the others. Although... maybe a bit too much towards you.

You see, even if you were scared and distanced yourself from Karai, you never blamed her. You understand the influence Shredder has on people. You understand it's all she's ever known.

Even when you befriended her you told her that. You told her you know she never meant to hurt her family. For that... you forgive her.

While Leonardo holds a similar view, Karai sees him as a brother. You, on the other hand... she appears to see you as so much more. You just had no idea how much until much later.

To you, you saw her as a friend. Someone you slowly began to trust. She's someone you care for because the turtles do.

Even before Karai's mutation and the Invasion, she never got to tell you how she truly felt. You were already being dragged away by the turtles. She watched you from afar in her snake state, yet felt torn when she couldn't follow you after the Invasion. She wishes she could... but she didn't want to hurt you.

You and Karai didn't see each other until months later. You were still trying to get used to life away from the farm house, although you were happy when the turtles pushed the Krang out of your home. You're thankful to them for protecting you even after all that's happened.

So when they bring up finding Karai again, you quickly join the hunt.

By this point you miss Karai even if you don't know her 100%. A pang of guilt rings in your gut when you think of what she's gone through. Such a thought is enough to push you into looking for her.

The turtles promised to protect you even now when looking for Karai. You don't know the state of her mind, which means the turtles try to stick with you as much as possible. Unfortunately... your plans can always be interrupted.

Rocksteady and Bebop are also ones hunting Karai down. As a result, you became separated from the turtles much to your dismay. They said they'd handle the two, meanwhile you just needed to get to safety. You wish you stayed with April and Casey....

Maybe your separation was fate, as Karai watched you from close-by. Despite her unstable mind, Karai remembers you. She remembers when you were dragged out of the city, she remembers your concern, she remembers how you understand her...

She remembers you're important.

Karai is not blind to the danger you and her are in. If she leaves you alone, Rocksteady and Bebop may harm you. The snake stalks you like a predator... slivering just out of sight while you nervously look for somewhere to go.

Then the snake strikes.

You try to scream but the snake mutant covers your mouth. She can only momentarily swap between snake and human currently, but she tries her best to hold her human form. Your eyes widen when you see her true form and she catches you mumbling her name.

"Stay silent..." She hisses. "I want to protect you."

Talking to you is a pain but she manages. She slips off you and encourages you to follow. You look towards the direction of the turtles and shake your head.

"Karai... where are we going!?"

"Somewhere safe. It's been so long since I've seen you...."

"We have to help the others!" You reason, Karai shakes her head in response.

"They can handle themselves."

"Why am I suddenly your top priority!?"

Karai goes silent before she looks back at you. Her reptilian eyes hold a sadness and frustration in them as she grabs your arm.

"No one else understands me except you!"

Your heart hurts a bit when she says that but you shake your head. You can't go with her. You'd be betraying your friends.

"I'm not going with you, Karai. I'd be betraying the turtles if I left without saying anything. They'd get the wrong idea-"

"Fine." Karai hisses, her form swapping to that of the snake mutant you've been looking for. "I'll just take you with me anyway."

"Karai!?"

The snake lunges for you, quickly constricting your body to the point you can barely breathe. Karai understands the turtles will come to find you at any second. As of now... she doesn't wish to see them in such a state.

She hopes you can help her out if she just takes you with her.

You call for help, you plead against her. Karai only covers your mouth and hisses in your ear.

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to."

The threat to be compliant doesn't seem to work, which leads to Karai constricting you tighter. Karai knows this may be wrong, but all she can focus on is taking you away. Your scent plagues her nose and she squeezes the breathe out of you until you're limp.

Your vision is swimming with black dots, you look around only to see the turtles at a distance. Yet before you give into the darkness of suffocation, you catch Karai say something before letting go.

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

You reach out weakly to the turtles but they're too far away. The action only alerts Karai to the threat and you feel yourself being dragged away.

You're barely able to feel the dread coursing through your body as you give into unconsciousness.

#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #yandere tmnt 2012 #yandere karai #yandere 2012 karai #yandere tmnt 2012 karai

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gummydummy19 · 1 year

Text

Not now

Summary: You and Steve are major enemies with benefits. You can hardly be in the same room together, let alone an elevator...

Content Warnings: smut, mean Steve, angst, fluffy ending (you know me), LANGUAGE!

A/N: This fic is one of my favorites out of everything i've ever written. Almost a year after losing my first blog, including most of my fics, I was able to recover it :)) I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 3.4K+

It had been a long, exhausting day. You weren't even supposed to go on any more missions until next week, but Fury decided to wreck your Friday and send you on your hardest mission yet. Your body ached and you just wanted to crawl into your bed as soon as possible. So when you saw Steve approaching the elevator, you silently prayed the doors would close before he got in. You just couldn't deal with him right now. Not now.

Of course, luck wasn't on your side today. Steve pushed his muscular arm in between the doors just as they were about to close, joining you in the space that suddenly felt too small.

He smirked widely when you noticeably rolled your eyes.

"In a hurry?" he asked.

"Just tired." You dryly stated.

"Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit" He teased.

To be quite honest, you were fairly sure Steve hated you way more than you actually hated him, but you weren't about to let him know that.

You and Steve started this whole enemies with benefits thing a while ago, and somewhere along the way, you starting finding it harder and harder to keep up the hating game.

Sometimes you just wanted someone to talk to, to watch a movie with, to hold you after you'd a long day like this.

Admittedly, hating each others guts resulted in some mind blowing sex. Steve might be an arrogant ass most of the time, but he was still the best you've ever had, and you didn't wanna throw that away just because you were getting a little needy. So you decided to just suck it up and stick with what you did best, annoying him until he fucked you stupid.

And it had been working out just fine, but today you were exhausted with an extra dose of PMS, and he looked so good in his white cotton shirt, he had been growing out his beard lately and his hair was a little messy.

You could barely look him in the eye, desperately trying to come up with a snarky response, but your brain failed you as the only thing you could think of was how good it would feel to be in his arms right now.

He frowned, clearly confused and quite frankly annoyed at your lack of sass.

A groan rumbled in his chest and in one quick movement, his fist hit the emergency button, making the elevator halt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You snapped

"ME? What the hell is wrong with YOU? Did I fuck you stupid last time? What's going on?" He yelled.

Steve had noticed the change in your behavior lately, and he didn't like it.

His words made a blush creep up your neck and you silently cursed your body for betraying you.

You knew Steve thrived off your attitude. You were the only one who ever questioned his authority, it kept him on his toes.

He took a step closer to you and you immediately took a step back, not knowing if you could do this much longer.

Desperately trying to match his stern energy you snapped back at him.

"Why the fuck do you even care?? Talk about being fucking pussy whipped, Rogers."

"That's what you'd like, huh? For me to fuck you again?" Steve inched closer to you as you tried your best to ignore how wet your panties got from his voice alone.

"In your dreams, asshole." You turned around and hit the button again, making the elevator restart.

You felt his heavy chest push against your back and all you could do was stare at your shoes and pray to whatever was good and holy that this stupid elevator would just hurry the fuck up already.

Strong hands crept up your sides, breath hot against the exposed skin of your neck. The body heat radiating off this man made it hard to think straight.

Gathering all your willpower, you softly shoved your elbow in his ribs, shaky arm pushing against his torso trying to get him to move.

"Get off me, Steve." Your tone almost had him believing you actually didn't want this.

Almost.

"Not until you tell me who shoved a stick up your ass." his voice was low and raspy, tingling against the shell of your ear.

He stopped the elevator for a second time.

"Steve, I'm serious, cut it out!" You groaned, before pushing the button again.

"So am I?" he continued and his hand moved towards the button yet again.

"Would you stop?! You're acting like a child!" you yelled, trying to get the upper hand as the small metal cage rumbled.

The poor emergency stop must have been hit damn near a dozen times as you and Steve continued your pointless bickering.

Suddenly, the entire elevator shook and came to an abrupt stop, making you cling to Steve's side for balance.

The lights flickered out and the buzzing noise that usually lingered around was gone.

You pushed Steve off you and desperately tried hitting a couple buttons.

Nothing.

"Look what you fucking did!" you screamed at him.

"Me?" he yelled.

If looks could kill, Steve Rogers would be dead on the floor of that elevator right now.

You turned around, staring at the buttons.

Fed up and extremely done with this stupid situation, tears started welling in your eyes.

"Perfect. Just perfect." You muttered.

"should have taken the fucking stairs," he mumbled.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

You were utterly exhausted, your body ached. All you wanted was a hot shower and some sleep, and now you were trapped in this stupid elevator and you had to look at Steve's stupid cranky face all night. Any other day you would have given him his crap right back, but not today. Not now.

Simply lacking the energy to be your usual sassy and confident self, you let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm so fucking tired." You finally muttered. If it wasn't for the deafening silence surrounding you, he probably wouldn't even have heard it.

Making eye contact with him was impossible at this point. And even if you had it in you to look him in the eye right now, the thick tears that started welling blurred your sight.

"Oh great, now she's fucking crying." Steve groaned, more to himself than to you.

You rolled your teary eyes at his typical arrogance. But when he took an awkward step closer, you pointed your finger at him.

"Don't even think about coming near me right now, Rogers." You warned.

Steve smirked at the remark, finally catching a glimpse of the snarky woman he was secretly so crazy about.

To your surprise, he moved closer and sat down beside you, raising his arm to invite you in his embrace.

"Come here."

You glared up at him.

"You don't have to prete-" you yipped as Steve cut you off mid-sentence, yanking you against his chest and draping his arm around you.

He just held you as a few silent tears escaped your eyes. Finally relaxing in his embrace, you let his warmth surround you.

The steady sound of his heartbeat brought you a weird sense of peace, which you welcomed nonetheless. There was something about him, about being this close to him. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it melted away your anxiety like snow in the sun.

A comfortable silence settled in between the two of you as you sniffled quietly against his chest.

You felt his eyes burning against your face but you couldn't bring yourself to return his gaze. In all honestly, this was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Clearing your throat, you pulled away from him and gave his chest a few awkward pats.

"Alright, thanks," you said, before scooting a few inches to the other side.

As much as you hated to acknowledge it, being away from him even a few inches filled you with a slight cold, empty feeling. And you had to go against every fiber in your body not to scoot closer and snuggle up against him again.

A shiver ran through your body as you forced yourself to stare at anything but Steve, when suddenly a soft, heavy, blanket-like piece of fabric was throw at your feet.

Steve's jacket.

You thought about telling him you didn't need it, but soon realized that would be pointless as he would probably argue with you until you took it anyway, so you picked up the jacket and wordlessly wrapped it around your shoulders.

The intoxicating smell of his cologne and his mints mixed with his natural warm musky scent invaded your nostrils and made a heat run through you, warming you from the inside out.

A weird sense of comfort took over your body. The urge you had to be held and taken care of bubbled up again and you let Steve fill that void. You knew it wasn't real. He didn't want to be here. But he was. And you were going to enjoy his warmth for as long as you could.

You must have dosed off because next thing you know you felt your body being shoved aside, abruptly waking you from your slumber.

Finally you guys got here! She was starting to drool on my shirt." Steve's arrogant voice spoke to Sam and Bucky, who has apparently found you in the elevator.

You knew it was too good to last. At least now you could go to your room and get some rest. Alone.

You slowly sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you gaped at the three men in front of you. The smell of Steve was still heavy on you. Before any of the men could say anything you threw the jacket of you and scrambled out of the elevator. Running through the hallway to your room, wanting nothing more then for this day to just be over with already.

"hey hey hey, wait!" Steve's voice boomed through the hallway as you looked for your keys, rolling your eyes.

"Oh for fucks sake, does he ever take a break?" you mumbled to yourself.

"Looking for these?" he asked, dangling your keys in front of you with a smug look on his face.

You groaned, reaching for the keys only to have them pulled away at the last second. It was quiet between the two of you for a beat, before you lunged for the keys again, failing miserably.

Okay. now you were pissed.

Steve looked at you with a shit eating grin, raising his arm straight above his head. Okay. now you were pissed.

Steve looked at you with a shit eating grin, raising his arm straight above his head.

"Come on, Princess." he teased, "come and get them"

There was no way in hell you could reach that far up. You knew it. He knew it. He just wanted to see you try. See you jump for him like a little kid trying to get the stuffy at the fair.

And you actually debated it. For a split second, you debated it.

Nope.

Not today, Rogers.

You were done. Done with this day. Done with these games. Done with him.

You scraped together every ounce of dignity you had left and turned on your heals, walking away from him.

You got halfway through the hall before you heard him chuckle.

"And where are you going now, huh?" he questioned, obviously very amused.

"To sleep in Bucky's room." you simply said, not even bothering to turn around. You didn't need to see his face to know the grin had fallen.

"The hell you are." you heard him mumble, suddenly way closer to you as you heard his heavy footsteps approach.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening Steve had you tossed over his shoulder.

“What the-…PUT ME DOWN” you tried to wriggle your way out of his grasp but your already exhausted body just wouldn’t work with you. And perhaps your needy brain didn’t mind being wrapped in Steve’s arms…even if you were dangling upside down.

You heard a door slam behind you and realised you had entered a bedroom, but it wasn’t yours…oh no this was Steve’s room. You could recognise it from the scent alone…

He put you down the second the door fell shut and walked over to the bed. He didn’t sit down, he just stood there…looking you straight in the eyes.

You stared at him from across the room, arms crossed, trying your best to appear stern despite the fact that the entire room smelled of him and it was making you want to crawl up in a ball on the floor, like a cat waiting to be cuddled.

"come here." he said, voice calm yet commanding.

"Bite me "

"I said come here."

"And I said bite me."

"If you come here then maybe I will."

You rolled your eyes but did as he said.

"Now what?" You asked in the most pissed-off voice you could muster.

Steve saw right passed your bratty behaviour, knowing exactly what you needed from him. He grabbed your wrist and before you knew it, you were wrapped against him with your back pressed to his muscular chest.

"Now you let me make you feel good, sweetheart." his warm minty breath caressed the shell of your ear, making the hair at the back of your neck stand up as goosebumps started to spread all the way down to your spine.

Steve slowly walked you both to the bed, arms still holding you at the wrists crossed on your lower belly.

When your knees hit the bed he let go of your hands, not allowing you to go far as he immediately grabbed your shirt and slowly pealed it over your head. A soft growl erupting from deep within his throat when he discovered you weren't wearing a bra.

You spun around in his grip, and a small moan escaped you right before you attached your lips to his. Your fingers pulled at the back of his hair while his found their way to your awaiting breasts.

Thoroughly enjoying each other's embrace, your impatient fingers moved down his torso and tugged at his shirt. Feeling his lips curl into a smile against yours let you know he got the message. Within the blink of an eye, his shirt was gone and his lips were back on yours, devouring you as if you were his very last meal.

When you were both breathless, he spun you back around. He pressed gentle yet firm kisses on your nape. His big, strong hands held you up by your upper arm as his furry chest pressed against your bare back.

"Lay down for me, Princess." his gruff voice vibrated against your shoulder.

Steve slowly pushed you down on the bed, holding your hips steady so your ass was up in the air. He peppered your entire back with soft, warm kisses. Not leaving an inch of your body untouched. Your face was planted in the soft cotton sheets below you and you felt your entire body relax. Steve's plump lips moved down to your lowers back and started kissing along the curve of your hip as his large hands roamed your ass. Just as you noticed you had begun to smile to yourself, you got pulled from the cloud you were happily floating on by a sharp pain on your behind.

"AH!! Did you just bite me?!"

"'I'm a man of my word darling."

Before you could scramble away from him he licked a firm stripe up your pussy, all the way from your clit to your asshole. You let out a desperate moan that quickly turned into a squeal as Steve flipped you over on your back. He wasted no time in attaching his soft lips to your dripping pussy once again and absolutely devouring you with all he had.

One of his hands came up to play with your boobs. Squeezing the soft flesh and tugging at your nipples blindly while his head stayed buried in between your thighs. He moved his hand to yours and linked your fingers together as he passionately ate you out. Your other hand came to scratch through his hair, enjoying the feel of his fluff locks between your fingers.

Keeping his one hand intertwined with yours, he moved his other one to play with your pussy. His thumb stroking your clit while his tongue licked in between your folds. God he loved the taste of you, he simply couldn't get enough.

Your moans got louder and your hips started bucking against his bearded jaw. Every square inch of your body was on fire.

Steve switched his hand and tongue placement, moving his mouth up to lick your clit while sliding his middle finger inside of you, pumping a few times before adding a second one, curling them perfectly against your g-spot as he kept licking your clit.

"Fuck Steve I'm gonna cum!" you screamed. "You're gonna make me cum! You're gonna...I'm gonna...Oh fuck..fuck, please! Don't fucking stop...ah!"

And he didn't, not even taking a break to reply to your pleas, he kept eating you out until you were shaking and cumming all over his face.

Blinking away tears until they rolled down your cheeks, you tried to calm down your breathing as you laid there trembling on his bed.

"What do you need, princess." Steve finally spoke, sitting up between your legs and softly stroking your thighs.

It took a while for your breathing to calm down, you didn't even know why you were crying to be honest. You just felt like you were experiencing a lot of emotions at once, and it was pretty intense.

"A fucking hug." you finally spoke.

Steve chuckled at your reply before scooting over to sit next to you, leaning against the headboard.

"Come here."

Slowly, you crawled into his open arms, curling up against him into a ball with your head right under his pecs, leaning on his abs.

Surprisingly, Steve was very soft and sweet, not at all what he was usually like with you.

He rubbed your back and just laid there with you, enjoying each others warmth and the comfortable silence that had settled in the room.

You couldn't help but let out more tears, softly sniffling into his chest as you clung to him.

"shhh" he whispered comfortingly, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. "It's okay, l'm here. And you did so so good."

For the next few minutes Steve just held you, until you were ready to talk to him about what exactly it was that got you so overwhelmed.

After some time, you sat up and just looked at Steve. At his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

"Thanks," you said.

"For the orgasm?" he joked, trying to get rid of some of the tension.

"For the care," you replied, meaning what you said.

Your eyes fell on the clear bulge in his pants.

"Want me to do something about that, Cap?" you smiled.

"Nah, not today sweetheart." He said, pulling you closer.

You didn't even know what to say. Never in your life have you expected Steve to be so caring, especially not for you.

"If you want you can take a shower here, I'll lend you something comfy to sleep in," he suggested, leaving you even more stunned.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Steven Rogers."

At first he chuckled at your reaction, but then his face grew a little more serious.

"I wanna be here for you for more than just fucking. The whole cat and mouse game was fun while it lasted, but seeing you the way I saw you today, so exhausted you could barely stand up straight. I never wanna see you like that again, baby. Unless of course, it's my doing." he added smugly before pressing another kiss to your lips.

"There he is again." you chuckled against his lips.

After some more kisses and giggles, you decided to accept Steves's offer and take a long hot shower, followed by some much-deserved cuddles and a movie you never saw the end of because you drifted off, happily snuggled against his chest.

Taglist;

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