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arminsumi · 9 months

Note

hiii can you do #3 (car sex) with gojo?

꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐂𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱

GOJO Satoru ⋅ fem reader

Note: oopsie doopsie it became a fic🫠

Summary: getting stuck in the rain on the drive home from a party with your favorite enemy Gojo Satoru

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, enemies-to-lovers kinda trope, hate sex, Gojo's an impliedd fvckboy, dirty jokes, Gojo being a bit of an annoying brat, pns (baby, slut, etc), drama/argument, stuck in a rainstorm trope, car sex, implied crush on Suguru, jealousy (Gojo), fingering, dirty talk, handjob (reader giving), protected sex, Suguru calling at the end 🫠, light teasing/mocking/meanness from Gojo, lmk if i have missed something, pretend u never saw any errors pls proofreading is hard 🙏😩

Wordcount ≈ 1.8k

Playme ♪ slow down

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, pulling the car off into an empty parking lot.

“Of course…” you sighed, sliding down the passenger seat. “Of course this would happen when you decide to drive me home. Just my luck getting stuck with the biggest asshole in the world.”

“Jesus, y’think you could be a little nicer to me baby? I offered you a drive home and this is how you treat me…? I’m heartbroken.”

You glare over the white-haired boy, wishing you could wire his stupid mouth shut.

The car turns off and the rain just pours and pours relentlessly all over it, cascading down the windshield.

How comical; two people who loathe each other, stuck in a car at night with no friends to call for help because they’re all drunk at the party.

“Well…?” you looked over at him expectantly, fingers massaging into your temple and across your brows.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna get out there and fix the damn tire?”

Satoru let out a chuckle. So many girls swore that their crushes on him developed because of that attractive laugh of his, but you couldn’t feel anything but annoyed by it.

“As if. It’s fucking pouring. Why don’t you get out?”

“I’m not getting wet.” You grimace.

He slipped in a dirty joke – because of course he would. “Not yet, anyways.”

“Lay one hand on me and I’ll rip you apart, Satoru!”

“Don’t say my name like that, you’re gonna make me hard.”

“Satoru!”

“Fuck baby, again.” He moaned jokingly. You were seething – seething, you were so ready to punch him.

He just chuckled, enjoying getting you riled up like it was his favorite hobby.

A moment of silence passed. You focused on the sound of the rain to mellow out.

“I’m gonna be honest, I’d let you ride.” He said suggestively.

“What the fuck!” you responded like he was crazy, but something started heating up between your legs.

“Kidding! I could have meant ride my car or something!”

“Uh, yeah right you meant it like that! Damn horny bastard…”

He clicked his tongue and stared out the window. “You’re no fun. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You look at him incredulously, your anger teetering between tame and murderous.

“I almost had a boyfriend…” you seethed bitterly, “Until you spread some insane fucking rumors that drove him away.”

“I did you a favor, that guy was a fucking loser.”

“Like you’re not!”

“Ooh, am I a contender?”

“… what?”

“You’re implying that I’m a potential boyfriend for you.”

“No I’m not! As if you’d be boyfriend material, you’re a soulless fuckboy.”

“I would prefer ‘soulful’ fuckboy because I do fuck with a lot of soul.”

“Jesus you’re ridiculous. How does Suguru put up with you.”

“Don’t say his name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna fuck him.”

“What?”

“I see the way you look at him.”

“Satoru you’re delusional. I don’t wanna fuck Suguru.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

His voice raised for a moment. A bizarre thing to witness from the most composed man on the planet; it was like witnessing an indestructible object breaking.

“Okay, let’s say it’s a lie and I actually wanna fuck him. What would it matter to you?”

“He’s my best friend, you freak.”

“Yeah so what if he’s your best friend? He’s hot.”

“You mean you would fuck him?!”

Satoru was genuinely getting angry – you weren’t sure if you were scared or turned on, it was a weird feeling. But your thighs squeezed together, and he glanced at them and took note of that.

“No, I’m just saying he’s hot.” You backtracked.

“Damn liar.”

You felt cautiously curious. “What would you do if I fucked him?”

“I’d ki- I’d be mad.” He corrected quickly.

You laughed, “You’d kill me?”

The way he was staring at you had you feeling… feeling a lot, let’s just say. His lips slightly parted, a half-incredulous and half-angry expression on his face, hints of lust in his eyes that lurked behind shades which he always kept slid halfway down his nose.

“No, I wouldn’t kill you.” He said.

You turned to face him fully, “What, you’re telling me you’d kill your best friend if he fucked me?” you asked rhetorically.

Satoru’s lack of response and annoyed jaw clench answered your question.

“That’s crazy! You must like me a hell of a lot.” You said. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated – that just pissed him off. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of feeling affection.” You teased.

“I don’t fucking like you.”

“Look who’s the liar now! Shall I come ride you and get the truth out of you myself?”

He stuttered and went red. The boy who was never at a loss for words stuttered because of you. The bastard who never blushed went red because of you.

Satoru shot a look your way. He was so conflicted; he wanted to yank your hair and put you in your place by spitting mean words down your throat, but at the same time he also wanted to shove his tongue in your mouth and sink his cock inside you.

“I don’t let girls ride me.” He said in a lowered tone. “I prefer being in control.”

Now the atmosphere finally changed. It was already dipping into sultry waters from the beginning, but now it plunged. Every word you and him exchanged from this point was laced with bitter lust.

“Maybe you should.” You said, leaning closer towards him. He surreptitiously leaned his elbow on the middle armrest.

“I like being in control.” He said. “Ain’t no way I’d let someone take the wheel.” He said.

Speaking of, his pretty hands were still resting atop the driving wheel. The neon glare from the shopping center signs hit the dashboard.

“… maybe you need to stop being such a control freak and let someone pleasure you.”

His pants tightened.

Satoru looked at you as if he didn’t believe what you just said. You and him bitterly flirted a few times in the past, and tonight at the party too, but it never got this far.

No, it never got this far – as far as him crashing his hungry lips on yours and you crawling over onto his lap. His annoyance and jealousy was palpable, you could taste it on his lips.

He kissed you like he fucking hated you. And he pleasured you like it too – it didn’t take long at all for him to fish out the condoms from his pocket.

“ ‘fucking hate you…” he mumbled into your mouth, tongue poking in and swirling around yours. “Hate your guts. Hate when you talk back to me. Hate that you like my best friend. Fucking slut, ‘m gonna make you forget him t’night.” Satoru promised threateningly, bringing his fingers down to toy at your clit.

“ ‘hate you too…” you whimpered weakly, losing all your dominance under the influence of his touch.

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughed, “You fucking love me. Uh-huh, keep lying, it’s fine – ‘m gonna fuck the truth out of you.” He said, turning your earlier words against you. Oh what an annoying bastard.

He felt you up like he hated how good you felt. His fingers sunk inside your little hole like he was pissed off. “So wet for me, huh?” Satoru smirked against your face.

“Fucking shut up and fuck me already I need it so bad.” You whined annoyedly.

“You don’t deserve it yet.” He seethed, coming in for another kiss – a dirty, filthy, nasty, wet French kiss. It seemed he liked how you tasted.

His fingers worked inside you so good you gushed on his lap. There was no shortage of teasing – but sometimes he threw in an odd praise comment just to stir you up. “Your pussy’s sucking my fingers in so good, pretty baby. ‘That feel good? Yeah? C’mon, tell me you like it. There, that wasn’t so hard now was it? Haha, did you just cum?”

“Satoru!” you whined into his chest, falling to pieces as you gushed around his two fingers that he kept all curled up inside, rubbing back and forth against your G-spot with his fingertips.

“Bet you never reached that deep with your own fingers, huh?” he asked, breath getting hotter.

In fact, you could feel his whole body getting hotter. The outline of his cock was so searing that you felt it through all your layers of clothes.

“Does this turn you on?” he murmured, pulling his pants down so you could take his pretty cock into your hands. “Fucking around with someone you hate? Yeah? Fuck – ahh, yeah stroke it just like that. Get my precum all over your fingers, baby, soak ‘em in it. ‘Want you to smell like my cock after we’re done.”

You pumped his cock until neither of you could wait longer – the both of you kept ripping kiss after kiss like you were starved of each other’s taste despite never having had it before. The rain barely drowned out the erotic breathing and moans that filled Satoru’s car. That stupid, pretty cock of his hit the best spots. You could feel the curve.

“Taking it so well…” he muttered into your mouth, lips glistening with saliva.

“Faster… faster please, ‘Toru fuck me like you hate me.” You begged him.

His eyes lit up.

“Y-yeah? Want me to fuck you like I hate you? Like a slut?” his lips curled into a mouthy smirk when you nodded frantically, “Alright, baby, ‘m gonna fuck that pussy like it deserves – oh fuck – ‘can feel you clinging to me – so fuckin’ tight and messy. Messy fuckin’ pussy – ‘s gonna – ‘s gonna be my pussy, yeah? Just f’me? Good.”

The windows fogged up, your hand pressing to the glass for support as your body bounced against Satoru’s. He let out a long groan and threw his head back. “Baby, ‘gonna cum.” He announced.

“Mmm! ‘yeah ‘m gonna cum too! Gonna cummm ~ ” you cried, completely dazed with pleasure and the feeling of his fat cock filling your pussy in.

“Look at me.” He commanded. “Look into my fucking eyes when you cum. There we go, rub that clit – fuck, so pretty – baby cum, cum with me – yeahhh, fuck ‘m cumming, don’t stop riding me.”

His vocals were straining. You could feel his cockhead twitch and throb.

Just when the both of you hit your highs and rubbed your sweaty bodies together, rolling them erotically, his phone went off. The caller ID showed a familiar face. Satoru composed himself, sucked in a breath, and answered the call from his best friend.

“H-hey, S’guru. Huh? Yeah I got Y/n home safe.” He said while his cock twitched inside you.

When you pressed kisses to his neck, he almost moaned. “Huh? No, no I’m fine. Why? Oh, yeah, no that’s just the rain… yeah I got Y/n home fine. Haha, okay, you do that — oh really? — uh-huh, hey I gotta go I'll call you back later, byeee!”

Satoru smiled at you like a devil, listening to the way your pussy squelched when you slid off his cock.

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne.

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie.

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color.

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year.

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened.

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.”

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter?

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.”

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel.

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact.

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself.

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.”

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?”

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today.

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?”

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.”

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.”

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait.

An offering.

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing.

You won’t make the first move.

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith.

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?”

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips.

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers.

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident.

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again.

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing.

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.”

“We can still have a marathon.”

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go.

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable.

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him.

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it.

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter.

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?”

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?”

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.”

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.”

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now.

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing.

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.”

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me?

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.”

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.”

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.”

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?”

“You’ve got something better to do?”

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly.

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.”

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you.

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat.

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him.

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you.

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#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #sorry if it sucks #please be kind and if you're disappointed... do not tell me for the sake of my mental health haha

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devilfic · 5 months

Note

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne drabble #does this count as a drabble anymore lmao #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; honeymoon

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teyums · 1 year

Text

Contagious ✽ Lo’ak Sully

wc: 8.4k

pairing: lo’ak x fem! na’vi reader (characters are aged up for plot purposes)

contains: angst, slight enemies to lovers trope, some language, and fluff of course <3

warnings: none, slight hinting of intimate feelings if you squint

a/n: Requested? No. THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN. also testing out different spacing with my works so lmk if you guys like this spacing better!

“Absolutely not.”

“Hard pass.”

You both spoke in unison, immediately denying the ridiculous suggestion that came from the mouths of your mothers before you could even think about it. There was no way on Pandora you were going to spend more than five minutes, let alone three whole days alone with this man in the woods.

You refused, you wouldn’t stand for this. Your mother sighed, the shortness of her breath indicating that the decision wasn’t up for debate. “You should be open to the idea, [Y/n]. Lo’ak is a fine warrior and a skilled hunter. I think he could teach you a lot. So the two of you need to set aside your differences and work it out, just for a few days.” She said, Neytiri’s voice chiming in behind her in agreement.

You were never very interested in hunting. You harbored the skill, of course, but you much preferred weaving or crafting over shooting unsuspecting animals with poisonous arrows.

Lo’ak huffed out a humorless laugh, gesturing over to you with his hand while he addressed his mother. “Why me, Ma? Why can’t one of the others help her? Even Tuk knows how to shoot an arrow!”

“Enough, Lo’ak. It is decided.” Neytiri said, and the look in her eyes confirmed that she was not budging.

He kissed his teeth, dragging a hand down his face and covering his mouth before he could say something that would get him in trouble. As if that was the only way he could control his tongue. You glanced over at him, furrowing your brows while he only stared straight ahead at the wall of the hut— now completely detached from the conversation with a locked jaw.

You looked to your mom as a silent plea, only to receive a pointing stare back that caused you to quietly hiss in distaste. You were the first to exit the elders’ tent upon dismissal, the lanky Sully boy unwillingly trailing behind you.

Once you were far enough to make sure you were out of earshot, you turned around to face him. Trying to lighten the mood. “I guess three days isn’t so bad, right? At least we already know each other. It’s not like I’m a stranger or anything.”

“If I had a choice between three days with you, or getting yelled at by my mom, I think we both know I would’ve chosen the latter.” He grumbled, pushing past you and bumping into your shoulder in the process.

You caught your footing before you could stumble back, spinning on your heels to face him again. “Jeez, Lo’ak! Do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”

He ignored you, like usual, and continued along the path to wherever he was headed. You felt your eye twitch with a vengeance, pursing your lips and taking a sharp breath inwards to quiet the urge you had to send the wood of your bow flying into the back of his head.

It hadn’t always been like this between you two, and honestly you couldn’t understand where it all went wrong. You and Lo’ak grew up as pretty good friends, considering your mothers were the best of them. They expected you and Lo’ak to grow up and be each other’s mates. Often pairing the both of you together to complete simple tasks around the village that could easily use one person, which only helped in solidifying the strength of your bond. And honestly, you were never opposed to the idea of it, and even found yourself starting to like him.

You often explored the forest together, even when you were young. Allowing him to show you all his secret spots and hiding places he ran to when the heat at home was too much for him to handle. In actuality, you were his escape.

“Come on, [Y/n]! Try to keep up!” A young Lo’ak yelled from a branch above, laughing and dodging your attempt to grab at his tail.

“Wait for me, Lo’ak! You’re too fast!” You groaned, jumping up to grab a branch with your hands and pulling yourself up the rest of the way. You watched him hop onto a cliff and you followed, hands resting on your knees while you tried to catch your breath.

“Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” The young sully teased, darting through the vast foliage and hopping over fallen trunks.

You weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. Whenever the two of you would play games with each other and he’d win, he would hold it against you for weeks and rub it in your face. You lifted your head, seeing his tail be the last of him to disappear into the trees “You’re on, Sully!” You took one last deep breath, pushing off your feet and starting to run in the same direction he had.

You memorized his movements so you could go faster, ducking where he had and shoving giant leaves from your view. However, you miscalculated a step, the front of your foot hooking under a mossy log and sending you tumbling forward into the dirt below you.

Hearing your footsteps closing in, Lo’ak picked up speed so you wouldn’t be able to catch him. But as he readied himself to climb another tree, he heard a thud. He paused, turning around to look behind him and brows pinching when he didn’t seen you. “[Y/n]?” He called out, eyes widening when he heard a series of whines sound out in response instead of your usual cheery voice. “Oh shoot,” He mumbled, sprinting back to where he had last left you.

“Ow ow ow!” You cried profusely, pushing yourself off the ground so you could sit up. You winced and pulled your bruised knee to your chest, lip trembling at the sight of blood appearing from a small gash in your skin.

“Oh no,” Lo’ak’s eyes widened at the sight of you covered in dirt, dropping down next to you with a worried look on his face. “Are you okay? What happened?” His voice was soft, both of his hands cautiously holding your leg while he studied how deep the wound was.

“I tripped over a log and fell…” You whined, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears.

He instantly looked up when he heard you sniffle. “No no no, please don’t cry…” His face was tense as he appeared to be in deep thought. He exhaled in preparation, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss to the side of your knee, away from your broken skin. “There,” He backed up, cheeks flushing to match yours. “That’s what my mommy does when I get hurt, and it usually helps me feel better… Did it work?”

A small smile spread on your lips and your tears dried up, face rosy when you nodded your head. “Y-yeah. I guess it does feel a little better. Thanks, Lo’ak.”

He flashed a toothy grin, excited that you were feeling better and rising to his feet. A small, four-fingered hand extended out to help you up, and you slid your tiny palm into his. Brushing the dirt off your legs with the other. “We don’t have to play anymore if you don’t wanna-” He said, the rest of his sentence cut off when you shoved past him, into his shoulder and darted along the path.

“Catch me if you can, penis face!” You giggled, squealing when he yelled your name and began to chase after you.

Life as best friends with Lo’ak was never boring. In fact he was the one who introduced you to having fun in the first place. You knew him to be snarky, painfully sarcastic. But never cold.

There was a sweet side to him that he would let you take a glance at here and there, behind all the name calling. Could he be aggravating at times, and maybe a little mean with the teasing? Yes, but never cold. So when he suddenly stopped treating you like a friend one day and instead no more than a stranger— saying you were confused would be putting it lightly. All you could chalk it down to was puberty. Maybe the new influx of hormones had made him… less social?

You were hurt, you couldn’t deny it. There was something different about him, something he wasn’t letting you in on, like a switch you didn’t know existed had flipped in his mind. Coincidentally as soon as you hit the age where men began to court you, he fell off the face of the planet entirely.

Losing him pained you deeply, he had always been there to help you with any issues you had. Eager to give you advice on any situation you needed another perspective on, or just cheer you up with his rambunctious attitude. There were so many times you wanted to stop and ask him what happened, if you had done something wrong. But you knew he’d look straight through you like he always did nowadays.

The walk home was silent. You were definitely not looking forward to this three day trip you had no choice but to partake in. You wouldn’t have minded if your mom chose one of the other warriors, because being around Lo’ak only became increasingly more awkward as time went on.

For someone who previously had so much to talk to you about in the past, he was awfully closed off in your presence. You shook yourself out of your daydreaming and began searching through your tent. Packing just a few things. Some extra clothes, a quiver of arrows, and spare string for your bow just in case. You grabbed the strap and slung it over your shoulder, next lifting a woven pouch over your head and crossing it over your body.

Pushing past the flaps that served as an entrance to your home. You felt the daytime breeze hit your face and a wave of peace washed over you. Until you turned your head to the side to see a particular male leaned against the outside wall of your hut, arms crossed over his chest.

“Took you long enough.”

“Oh my-” You jumped, startled by his voice and bringing a hand up to clutch your chest to make sure your heart hadn’t jumped through your ribcage. “Jesus, Lo’ak! Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah,” He snorted at your reaction, pushing himself off and walking ahead without you. “I think you’re just a wuss.” You swore you heard the smirk oozing out of his tone. Rolling your eyes and starting off after him, having to do a slight jog to catch up as his strides were much longer than yours due to the length of his legs.

One condition to the three day trip included not being able to use your Ikrans. Your mothers insisted you hiked on foot, saying it would be a good refresher of the land. You walked next to him in silence, keeping your stare straight ahead and grumbling to yourself when the strap of your quiver began to slip off your shoulder for the third time.

He turned to look at you curiously, eyes falling to the case of arrows you were carrying. “Gimme that,” Before you could answer his hand was over your shoulders, grasping the strap in his hands and pulling it off your arm. He tilted his head to the side to swish his braids out of the way, throwing your arrows over his shoulder that was already carrying his own.

You stared at him with a confused expression, having to remind yourself to keep your feet moving. “I was perfectly fine carrying that on my own, you know.”

“Was just being nice.” He sighed, not even bothering to meet your gaze while he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s rich coming from you.” You muttered under your breath with folded arms, not missing the way his ear twitched, jaw tensing at your words. You thought you said it quiet enough, but by the look on his face, he definitely heard you. You figured you’d keep the banter to a minimum for the rest of the way to your campsite.

After about thirty minutes you arrived at a secluded part of the forest where not many animals came through. Fauna dressed with various shades of greens and browns that encased the area, the forest floor mossy and soft against the soles of your feet.

You took a deep breath and looked around, inhaling the air that seemed much fresher around you from all the vegetation. Lo’ak had already gotten busy setting up, crouching down to set your equipment against the base of a tree trunk. You plopped down into a sitting position and sighed in relief. He walked so fast that you damn near had to sprint the entire way here.

Two bows in hand, he silently walked past where you were sitting and started on his way back into the trees. Invested in the colorful wildflowers surrounding your feet, you hadn’t noticed he was no longer in front of you until you looked up to see your bows gone, as well as him. “Lo’ak?” You whipped your head around with a hint of fear in your voice, trying to figure out which direction he had went.

“Come on, hurry up!” He yelled out, your ears perking up once you realized he hadn’t travelled far. You sighed and forced yourself to stand, quickly skipping through the forest to catch up with him.

His behavior was so odd, it was only making you more agitated by the second. You angrily stared at his back, having to look away shortly after once your mind unexpectedly jumped from how annoying he was to how his muscles flexed when he walked.

It really had been long since the two of you were alone, because you hadn’t remembered his shoulders being this broad, or his legs this toned. Training with Neteyam and his father was clearly paying off.

You pointed your chin up when he turned around to hand you your bow, rolling your lips into themselves and trying not to blush at the fact that he almost caught you staring.

“Here,” He pushed it in your direction, not letting go until your hand wrapped around the curve of the wood and took it from his grasp.

You followed closely behind him, looking up to see lemurs swinging from branch to branch while the wild life croaked and screeched around you. He suddenly slowed in pace, causing you to almost stumble into his back while his knees bent slightly, taking long strides while keeping his eyes pinned on the ground below him. His head low.

You peered around curiously, trying to get a look at his face. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, tracking.” He muttered.

You paused. “Why?”

“You want to eat, don’t you?” He responded, irritated.

“I was just asking a question, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” Grumbling, you ducked your head under a low-hanging branch after he did.

“I don’t wear panties.” He huffed, swiftly equipping an arrow to the string of his bow and preparing to pull it back. He must have spotted something you hadn’t.

“Could’ve fooled me, cause for the last four months you’ve kinda been acting like a bitch-“ Your eyes darted in the direction where leaves rustled, sighing when you saw the small hexapede he was planning on piercing with an arrow skit past the two of you. Disappearing into the trees due of the volume of your voice.

“God, ugh!” He dropped his bow to his side, head snapping around to look at you with the most agitated expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “Do you ever stop talking? Like, genuinely asking here. If you had just shut up with the questions we wouldn’t have lost our dinner.”

You swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, only looking down at your feet and mumbling a nearly non-existent ‘sorry’. Had you stayed looking up, you wouldn’t have missed the look of regret that flashed across his face. You felt your heart pinch at the venom in his tone and decided against speaking up again.

Eclipse had fallen over the sky about an hour later, the both of you trudging to the campsite with a couple fish skewered onto your arrows. The journey back was excruciatingly silent. You hadn’t dared to make a peep after seeing how much you pissed him off earlier. He attempted to make some side comments during the hike to spark up a conversation, but you were so tuned out from the present situation that his words fell on deaf ears.

You now sat with your back against the bark of a burly tree, keeping yourself busy by continuing to weave a top you had previously been working on back at home. You were glad you thought to bring it with you, not knowing you would need something to occupy you from looking up and catching the pair of eyes that were boring holes into your forehead like lasers.

He sighed as he watched you, guilt burning in the pit of his stomach as if he were in hell. You forgot that he knew you, forgot that he knew you would distract yourself with random tasks just to avoid speaking on something that bothered you. He hadn’t meant to snap like that, and honestly you weren’t even the reason for his irritability. He just took it out on you on accident.

“You hungry?” He held up a freshly roasted fish, beckoning it towards you and assuming you could see him even though your gaze was downcast into your work.

“Nope.” You muttered.

“Why?”

“Big lunch.” Your movements became slightly jagged at his questioning.

“That’s bullshit. You never eat lunch.” He scoffed.

You threw the top you were working on down in front of you and huffed in frustration. Why was he acting like he still knew you as if this entire time it hadn’t been his mission to become strangers again?

“You wanna know what’s bullshit, Lo’ak? Us being friends since childhood, spending almost everyday together and then suddenly you stop talking to me at all. You treat me like a complete stranger and I don’t even understand why.” His eyes left yours and settled on the fish in front of him, as if this was suddenly his first time seeing one. He was quiet for a beat, making you huff out an aggravated breath and throw your hands up at the futile attempt to get him to speak.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled.

You blinked, waiting for him to continue, eyebrows raising in disbelief when he didn’t. “That’s it? You’ve been treating me like I’m the bane of your existence for months now and all you can say is sorry? You missed my Uniltaron when you promised you’d be there for me, and now all you can say is sorry?” You laughed bitterly, standing up before he could form an answer to your rhetorical question. Eyes pinning him in place as you watched his body shift to stand. “Don’t follow me.” You held a hand up to stop him, stalking away before you could blow a fuse. You weren’t planning to go far, you just needed to be away from him for a bit.

Lo’ak sat in that same spot the entire time you were gone, his appetite dissipating while he stared down at his hands in shame. He didn’t know what he expected, but all he knew was he felt bad for hurting your feelings to this point. It was one of the things he hated about himself the most, his irrational decisions that never considered the other party’s feelings.

Honestly, he thought so little of himself that he assumed you wouldn’t be bothered by his absence. But now that he was rehashing the details over in his mind he felt like an idiot. Of course it bothered you, the two of you were attached at the hip and best friends who did almost everything together, until he let the discouraging words of others get into his head.

His previously slumped body sat up as he saw you re-emerge from the trees, guilt rushing over him once more because your avoidant eyes still refused to meet his.

He looked up at the moon, realizing it was getting late and starting to put the fire out. You lowered yourself to the mossy grass, sliding down until the soft blades tickled your back. You discreetly watched Lo’ak do the same, along with putting a few feet of space between the two of you as he could nearly feel the anger radiating off your body.

With the fire now put out, the draft that travelled through the air made small goosebumps prick at your skin. And with shut eyes you curled your body into itself to capture as much heat as you could. Lo’ak laid next to you with his back flat against the grass, hands resting on his middle and gaze glued to the twinkling stars above. He allowed his eyes to come to a close but just a few moments after they did, they snapped back open and looked in your direction at the sound of you shuffling around.

“You’re cold.” He stated. The words coming out as an observation and not a question.

“I am not.” How fast you answered made it easy for him to know you weren’t telling the truth.

“You’re a terrible liar, and I can hear your teeth chattering from over here.” He sighed, propping himself up on an elbow and talking to your back. “You know you catch colds easily, [Y/n]. So c’mere.”

Your eyes opened at his suggestion and your body tensed, but not from the brisk air blowing against your skin. “And what’s that gonna do?” Cringing at how pathetic your voice sounded. You had planned on coming off assertive and uninterested.

“Warm you up?” He looked around as if the answer were obvious, and it was. But for some reason you felt… shy. You and him were once friends, so close to the point where hugging or holding hands had became normal. You’d even sat in his lap a few times. So now that you were sure the two of you no longer favored each other, why would this feel any different?

“Come on, my mom will skin me if I bring you home sick. It’s not a big deal.” He tacked that on for good measure, clearing his throat to push down the weird fuzzy feeling that was traveling up the column of his neck when you slowly sat up. Only half convinced at his reasoning, you reluctantly scooted over towards him, daring not make eye contact.

His lips almost curling up into his usual sideways smile was a sight you tried your best to ignore, witnessing it from the corner of your eye as you moved. Having the intense urge to smack it off his face but gently laying your body down next to his in order to control yourself. He cautiously wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and inviting your head to lay on his chest.

You inhaled through your nose, unknowingly holding your breath when his warm hand came in contact with your skin, while he respectfully rested it just below your shoulders. You kept your arms tucked into yourself, legs laid out straight and your cheek pressed against the azure barrier between you and his beating heart.

You instinctively snuggled in closer, silently grateful for the comforting warmth radiating off his body and he could feel it when you relaxed in his hold, just like you used to. You had forgotten what it felt like to be this close to him. Soaking in the lullaby of his soft breaths and you hated how much you missed it.

The ear pressed to his chest picked up on a slight increase in his heart rate, and you threw a remark out just to keep the energy from shifting into weird grounds. “This doesn’t change anything, by the way. I’m still mad at you. I just hate being sick.”

He stared down at your body in close proximity to his, nose nuzzled into your soft hair as discreetly as possible while he mentally kicked himself for being dumb enough to ruin something like this for himself. Giving you the cold shoulder in the past just to quell his own feelings had been one of his stupidest decisions yet. “Yeah, I know.” He swallowed, his hand hesitantly reaching to stroke up and down your arm. “I am sorry though, [Y/n]. Really.” His apology was layered.

You bit your lip, feeling the urge to respond but not having it in you to set aside your pride. There was no way he was getting back in this easily, not after he had you questioning everything you knew due to his closed off behavior. “Just go to sleep, Lo’ak.” You sighed. He agreed by closing his eyes.

Fleeting sounds of chirping birds and leaves ruffling from the lemurs above your head rustled you from your slumber, eyelids slowly peeling apart to see the world sideways. You rubbed your eyes to clear your vision. You were on your other side now, and Lo’ak wasn’t in front of you.

You went to stretch, your limbs feeling a bit cramped from sleeping on the hard forest floor for hours on end. Regardless of your slightly achy joints and the lack of your hammock netting beneath you, this was surprisingly the best night’s sleep you’d had in a while. Weird.

Extending your legs outwards, you went to do the same for your back when you felt a pair of tightly wrapped arms around your middle halt your efforts. Your body stilled when you realized the hard surface against your upper back belonged to the man you were trying to make yourself despise.

Sometime during the brisk night you turned over onto your other side, and Lo’ak had pulled your slender body back into his and tucked himself into you. He was holding you as if this had been what he wanted to do for years, his light snoring indicating that he felt comfortable enough to sleep so deeply.

And as soon as you came to the revelation, all of your senses began to kick back in at an overwhelming rate. The feeling of his head snuggled into the small of your neck. His soft, parted lips just grazing the surface of your skin. His light breaths leaving temporary traces of heat on your collarbone made your ears flick with a feeling you didn’t want to put a name to. The backside of your body fit into his like a puzzle piece, flush with no room between as if he were scared you’d disappear in the middle of the night.

You felt your heart quicken in pace, cheeks flushing at how you had gone from not speaking, to being cuddled up with one another in just a day. Though the two of you interacted like you couldn’t stand each other, your bodies naturally knew you craved affection only the other could provide and they betrayed the front you tried to put on.

Would the two of you had fallen into each other so intimately, so accepting in the comfort of an embrace during the night, if you truly weren’t supposed to be like this?

You were too stubborn to care, and maybe a bit in denial, too. All you knew was that you needed it to stop because your brain was turning to mush the longer each rise of his chest moved your body in sync.

“Lo’ak!” You smacked the back of his hand and hissed his name, the action pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled, sharply inhaling with sudden consciousness and opening his eyes.

“Move. Your arms.” You spoke through gritted teeth, eyes flicking down to the limbs that had you caged.

He raised a brow, not understanding what you were talking about until he peered over your shoulder. “Oh shit,“ He instantly retracted his arms, allowing you to scramble away from him while he sat up and nervously watched you readjust your garments. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he didn’t even realize he was holding you in such a way until you woke him up— and right about now you looked like you wanted nothing to do with him.

Little did he know.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I- I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, not being able to meet your gaze and hoping you’d finish his thought for him, so he wouldn’t have to say it aloud.

You were too flustered to even think about eye contact, shaking your head and interjecting before he could continue speaking. “It’s fine. Let’s just, pretend it didn’t happen.” You mumbled, not missing the way he looked at you as if he wanted to disagree, his mouth opening just to close a second later.

All he did was nod, clearing his throat and rising to his feet while you tried to busy yourself by brushing imaginary dirt off your body.

You tried your best to make the rest of the day as normal as possible, to no avail, of course.

For some strange reason, you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off him. After a while of him ignoring you, it had became pretty easy to do the same to him. Before this morning, at least.

You cursed your sharp, all seeing eyes. The way they caught every muscle that tensed in his strong legs when he took a step forward, or how his defined shoulders pulled apart to send an arrow plunging through the air.

Every time he turned towards you to speak, you had to force yourself to look away. The fact that you couldn’t seem to control the thoughts invading your mind without your permission was starting to piss you off. And the way his chiseled abs cut directly into a ridiculously evident v-line above the hem of his loincloth, with the rest of it hidden and succeeding in peaking your interest, was not helping you in the slightest.

What was wrong with you? How was it that you felt even more drawn to him now that he was more detached than ever? He seemed to notice your discomfort, eyes narrowing at your focused expression cast upon a boring tree trunk when you didn’t answer to your name.

“Huh?” You snapped your eyes back in his direction when he called your name again, gulping at his oddly knowing expression.

“You seem awfully distracted. Are you alright?” He said.

“Yeah, like you’d care.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, eager to keep up your tough and uninterested front.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He folded his toned arms in front of him and you kept your eyes locked on the scowl he wore. It was a double edged sword, either you looked away which would solidify his suspicion that something was in fact going on with you, or you continued to make eye contact with the searing orbs that were making your heartbeat bang against your eardrums. Somehow the second option seemed like the better one.

“It means exactly what you think it means. We stopped being friends a while ago, Lo’ak. That was what you wanted, and you made it very obvious.” You grabbed an arrow from your quiver and pulled it against the string of your bow, extending your arm out and aiming for the makeshift target he had carved into the tree bark with his knife a little ways in front of you.

His brows knit together, features screwing up as if you had just made some outlandish claim. “What do you mean? We never stopped being friends. I still care about you, [Y/n].”

Your heart jumped at the unexpected words that left his mouth, fingers slipping when you released the arrow. It missed the target by a long shot, landing outside and below the circle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head and the feeling that was creeping up your throat, out and away. “Well you sure as hell don’t act like it. And I’m pretty sure friends are supposed to speak to each other.” You mumbled, digging your toes into the dirt, the soil moist along your sole while you prepped another arrow.

“I-“ He sighed, mind searching for the right words. “I promise it wasn’t personal. There was just a lot going on, and I got busy.” He moved to stand close behind you, gently raising your elbow upwards with the tips of his fingers. He pressed a hand to your stomach and pushed it against your core, a silent instruction to strengthen your stance.

Oh right. He was supposed to be coaching you on your form. So why did it feel like more than that?

You sucked a breath in through your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut to try and put out the fire his hand ignited. Your core tightened, much to his approval. But not for the reason he assumed. You cleared your throat and stared daggers into the target in front of you, the shakiness of your voice paired with your hands giving away just how flustered he was making you.

“Oh sure. Busy trying to keep me out of your life, right?” You spat, releasing your grasp and hitting millimeters from the bullseye.

You felt the heat of his firm chest against the skin of your back, a small gasp leaving your lips when his lips brushed against the tip of your ear as he leaned down. “Busy trying to keep my mind off you.” He responded, voice so low you could’ve missed it had you not been paying attention.

“What?” You turned around to face him, your faces much closer than you expected and you quickly took a step back.

“I said,” He took one closer. “I was busy trying to keep my mind, off you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop playing games with me, Lo’ak. You’ve confused me enough already.” This morning made sure of that.

He reached for your hands, the speed in which you dropped your bow to the ground almost comical and you allowed him to slip his fingers into your palms. “I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it, [Y/n]. There wasn’t a single moment I wasn’t thinking about you. There never has been, and there never will be. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much space I put between us, I just can’t shake you.” He said, the pads of his thumbs smoothing along the backs of your hands.

You blinked at him in disbelief, eyes widened as you stared at him in shock. You always thought there had been mutual feelings there. The way he acted with you in the past versus the other girls in the village confirmed that. Which was why the sudden rejection of your company and his absence in your life had pained you so much. You not only lost your bestfriend, but the man you hadn’t gotten the chance to love.

“I know, I know. It’s a lot,” He sighed, gnawing at his lip as your apprehension began to mirror onto him. “And I know, I was an asshole-“

“Are an asshole.” You corrected, watching him immediately nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’m an asshole. It was stupid to distance myself from you, and I regret it more than you know, I swear of it. I just didn’t know how to sort through my feelings, and I let everyone get in my head and tell me you’d be better off and… I guess I agreed with them? But I knew there was no way you would listen, so I tried my hardest to make you hate me.” He spoke cautiously, nearly wincing at how bad it sounded now that he was saying it out loud.

Your hand came up before you could control it, palm landing across his cheek and the force of it making his head turn to the side. You glared at him with a tense jaw, the tears pricking your waterline indicating something other than anger.

Lo’ak nodded to himself, licking his bottom lip and grazing his fingers over the sting your hand had left on his cheek. “Yeah, I deserved that.” He breathed out a humorous laugh.

You waited forever to have a moment like this with him, and now that you finally had, it wasn’t anything like what you expected it to be. Confessions bringing up stifled emotions and painful memories you thought you buried ages ago. And now the only thing you could think about was all the time that had been wasted due to miscommunication.

“So let me get this straight, you genuinely thought that destroying the bond we had was better than just letting me love you? Couldn’t you have given me a choice, to decide what I thought was best for me? I loved you, Lo’ak. And you broke my heart.” The rise of your chest stuttered and made your voice crack, the sound of it making his eyes soften with remorse.

“Loved?” He parroted, amber eyes searching yours for any remnants of the feeling he hoped remained.

You snatched your hands away, not even realizing what you had said until he repeated it back to you. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” You muttered.

“The hell it doesn’t! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You rubbed your forehead in annoyance, feeling a headache coming on and his response only made it worse. “Do you even listen to your mom when she talks to you? Have you not noticed how they put us together in almost every situation possible?” You gesticulated your hands angrily. “They’ve been asking us why we don’t speak anymore, and this trip was a way to make that happen.”

He cursed himself under his breath, because you were right. He doesn’t listen to his mom when she talks— most of the time he’s tuning her out in case it’s just the usual scolding because he did something stupid.

“You don’t get to ask the questions, Lo’ak. I’ve been sitting here for months, trying to talk to you and all you did was push me away, like I was contagious with a fucking disease. How could you?” Your hands balled into fists. You couldn’t fathom how he had found it in his heart to treat you this way.

And you were— contagious, in a way. No matter how hard he tried to push the feelings down, to rid his body of the fluttering sensation you gave him, being around you would only bring it back even stronger than it was before it left. The truth was, Lo’ak had never been as happy as he was with you and it scared him. Scared him so much that he let others make him believe he wasn’t deserving of it. Wasn’t deserving of you.

“You wouldn’t even look at me, not once! I went to our spot everyday, hoping you would show up and you never did. So I gave up.” You said, voice growing smaller with each word and wavering. He raised his hand to wipe the tears you hadn’t realized rolled down your cheeks, his expression so contrite when you leaned away from his touch that it hurt you to watch.

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” He pleaded in a whisper, both hands coming up now to cup your flushed face in his hands. “Please don’t give up on us when I’ve just figured it out. I know it took a while and I know I’m an idiot for it, but please don’t tell me that I’m too late.”

You wanted so badly to say yes. Your heart ached to throw yourself into his arms and forget about the way he had treated you, but you couldn’t. The damage had been done, and you were terrified. Terrified that if you let him in again, the past would repeat itself and you knew you couldn’t handle getting your heart stomped on for a second time.

Your hands found their way to his wrists, hiccuping at the thought of pulling them away. You shook your head, eyes locking on his to give him your final answer. “I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I can’t.”

You decided to end your trip early.

You couldn’t bare to be around Lo’ak anymore. Wanting to be with him just as much as he did you, but the doubts in your mind overwrote your heart any time you so much of thought about giving him a chance.

It was a constant battle and it was taking more of a toll on you than you expected. The feeling of his eyes burning into your back was unbearable, his jaw tensing because you just wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He was in agreement. He had finally been confident enough to challenge what the others swore would happen and came to terms with his feelings, but he was too late. The fact that you were so close that he could reach out and touch you was torturous, the only thing stopping him was the wedge he had plunged between you. He wanted to scream. To go back in time and yell in the face of his past self, to tell him that this was the stupidest decision he would ever make if he went through with it. He’d never forgive himself.

As soon as you were out the forest, you went your separate ways with no words spoken. Leaving Lo’ak alone where he stood, his arm moving to reach out to you but missing your fingers just by a mere inch. He prayed you would turn around, ‘come on, come on, turn around’ aimlessly repeating the words to himself. You didn’t.

He threw his bow to the ground, balling his fists up in frustration and bringing his arms up and over his head. “Fuck!” He growled, kicking at the ground and bringing up a cloud of dirt in the process.

You sat on the floor of your hut across from your mother, poking the steamed meat and vegetables around in your bowl with a lack of interest. Your elbow against the table and your chin propped into the palm of your hand, you couldn’t find it in you to take a bite. You had no appetite and feeding yourself was the last thing on your mind right now.

“Maite?” Your mother’s voice tore you from your endless rumination, and you looked up to see her expression as one of concern.

You hummed a mindless response. "Hm?"

“You’ve barely touched your food at all. You love when I make sturmbeest for you…” Her eyes motioned down to where your finger had been poking and prodding. “Is something wrong?” She asked.

You knew your mom, and she knew you. Chances are when she was asking you a question, there was no point in lying because she already had the answer. She just wanted to see what you’d say first. Nevertheless, you decided to try anyway.

You shook your head, pushing a small chunk of food into your mouth as to not be wasteful. “Just thinking.” You mumbled.

“Mm,” She nodded, her eyes never leaving where they were pinned on you. “Why don’t you go talk to him? Sitting here playing with your food won’t change anything.”

Her question nearly had you choking on your food, coughing a bit and forcing yourself to swallow with flared eyes. “H-huh? How did you…” You gulped, your rapid blinking and now straightened posture confirming her inference.

“Well you haven’t said one word of how the trip went since you got back. Not to mention, you came home early. And you haven’t been very present at dinner time lately, so I can only assume that something happened. Yes?” She quirked a brow at you.

You sighed, nodding and pushing your bowl out in front of you. There was no use in lying, you had to tell your mom the truth. You wanted to. “Yes he… He told me how he feels, finally. But I just don’t know what to do, and I don’t know if I can trust him again. I just don’t think it’s meant to be us, mom.” Shoulders drooping at your own revelation, you wanted nothing more than it to be him.

She tsked and shook her head at you, almost annoyed at your inability to see what was right in front of you. “Eywa does not make mistakes, my child. Since the two of you were little, there were signs. You should give him a chance to redeem himself. I am certain you won’t regret it.”

You trusted your mother more than anything. Her advice had never once led you astray, and you felt something wriggle it’s way through the cracks in your wall of uncertainty. Hope.

“You think so?” You asked quietly, fingers twiddling in anticipation. You felt newfound giddiness crawling up your spine and couldn’t find it in yourself to push it back down.

“I know so. The boy has been in love with you since the day you carved your first bows together.” She laughed and your hand shot up to cover an incoming smile. “Now go, find him and tell him how you feel. Don’t make him wait any longer.” She shooed, hastily waving her hands to bring you out of your lovesick trance.

You were up and out of your hut in seconds, bidding your mother a ‘see you later’ while your legs carried you faster than you could handle. You bundled your way past greeting villagers, responding quickly so you wouldn’t have to pause your trekking. They stared at you curiously, wondering where you were off to in such a hurry, away from your home and into the forest.

The heavy padding of your steps left illuminated patches of moss in your wake. The forest coming alive around you and the beating of your heart increasing with every duck under a leaf and leap over a log, knowing you were nearing your destination.

You eventually made your way uphill and onto a clearing, scenting him before you saw him. Poking your head around a low hanging branch, you felt nervousness pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Lo’ak’s slightly hunched form seated on the cliff. You stared at the back of his head, trying to gain the courage to approach him and preparing yourself for the conversation to come.

It wasn’t long before he caught a whiff of your scent as well, his ears unconsciously perking up. He could never mistake the intoxicating aroma of episoth petals and healing rose, a sigh escaping him when he remembered how lovely it had been to be around you those short two days. How being close to you after months apart scratched the itch he could never reach.

You walked over, slowly lowering yourself to sit next to him. Mimicking his position and draping your legs over the cliffside. “I thought you didn’t come here anymore.” Your gentle voice broke the silence, eyes focused on the stars gleaming in the distance.

“I never stopped, I was always here when you were. Even your Uniltaron, I was there. And I wanted to talk to you, to tell you I was sorry for the way I was acting. I just didn’t know how.” He said, voice low as if he were afraid to speak. Scared that he’d make another mistake.

You turned to look at him, taking in his glum state and drooped posture. A frown forming on your lips at his confession. You spent months upset with him, trying to hate him. Thinking he discarded your friendship to the side with malice, only to find out he had suffered just as much as you did. Blaming himself for a mistake he didn’t know how to undo. You cast your gaze down at your hands, taking a breath in before your fingers went to overlap his. His head snapped in your direction, his demeanor suddenly hopeful just at the mere touch.

“Lo’ak,” you started, weakly. “I’m scared.” Your eyes stapled shut, and he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled it close to him.

His features solemn, he silently begged you to open your eyes, holding your hand in both of his. “Why?” He whispered.

You sighed shakily, swallowing around nothing. “If I give myself to you, you can’t-“ Your voice shuddered and Lo’ak lifted your hand up, rubbing his cheek against the back of it as encouragement for you to continue. “Please don’t break me again.”

“Had I known I had your heart, I would’ve never done it. I want nothing more than to be loved by you, [Y/n]. To have the privilege to love you, to call you my own. If you’ll have me.” He voiced, bringing your knuckles to his lips and placing a light kiss upon them, golden irises never leaving the ones that were starting to water in front of him. “I love you too much to put you through that again.”

You had never seen Lo’ak so vulnerable, the look in his eyes one of such sincerity that your own emotions quickly overtook you. Ridding your mind of any reluctancy as you threw yourself into his arms. He exhaled heavily, taking not another moment to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the space where your neck met your shoulder. Inhaling the scent he missed so much. He sighed in relief, hands splayed across your back to hold you as close to him as possible.

You pulled away, to his surprise as he instantly searched your face for any indication of something wrong. You held his face in your hands, barely able to tear your focus from his parted lips as you spoke. “I love you too, ma Lo’ak.” You whispered, his eyes softening at the term of endearment. You melted into his embrace when he closed the gap between you, pressing your lips together without a regard for air. Breathing him in would just have to be enough.

Your head tilted as you deepened the kiss. He chased your lips and followed suit, not wanting to be apart from you even for a second if he could help it. The kiss was desperate and delicate, hasty and lacking of grace as the both of you quenched the thirst water would not quell.

He broke away from you unwillingly, the need for air trumping his intense desire to continue. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He grinned, voice breathless and fangs peeking out while his warm hands travelled up and down the small of your back. Allowing a swarm of butterflies to take home in your belly.

You giggled and clambered your way into his lap, his immediate acceptance revealed in the way his hands dropped down to hold your hips without a second thought. You draped your arms over his shoulders before you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers grazing along the skin of his back to leave goosebumps in your wake. “Just shut up and kiss me again.” You cooed, watching him lick his lips.

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He gladly leaned in, but not completely— his top lip just faintly brushing against yours. Languidly lingering there with his mouth slightly agape as he relished in the feeling of your warmth, breathing in your air. “Lo’ak…” Your gaze settled on his half-lidded one for a moment and you almost whimpered at the tease. Your hand finding the back of his neck and pulling him into you, eager to pick up right where you left off.

His lips pressed to yours and they moved gently but fervently. The feeling of your weight in his lap making him hum into your mouth as his arms pressed your body flush against his. The desire that remained from all the months apart bled through his soft touches and washed onto you, hands traveling desperately over his heated, striped skin as if you would run out of time.

This was something you could get used to.

Reblogs + Likes + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

#loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak x you #loak fanfiction #loak fic #avatar loak #loak fluff #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak x you #lo’ak fanfiction #avatar way of water #avatar twow #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2

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erule · 4 months

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Nothing you can take | c.s.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: you and Sejanus make a bet involving you and Coriolanus, that you’ll have to become a couple in order to get some money from him, but everything changes when the two of you fall in love for each other for real.

Warnings: fake dating AU, (kinda) enemies to lovers, bet to fall in love trope (if I can call it like that), sunshine x grumpy/black cat x golden retriever trope, light violence and mention of blood, romance, comedy (I think), (probably) slow burn, fluff, angst

Word count: every chapter of the series will have a different amount of words

A/N: hi! Here we go with my first Coriolanus story!! I don’t know if Coriolanus is OOC here, because I watched the movie like one month ago and I still have to read the book, but I did my best to make him similar to the character I saw. Anyway this is a fanfiction, so please don’t be mad at me if he’ll be, I’ll probably need him to be for the storyline. I apologize to the people in the tags, because I’m really late with the upload, but I’ve been really busy in the past few weeks. Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy! X

Tag list: @meeksity, @mxacegrey, @astess, @jasmineee05.

Masterlist

Prologue – Don’t fall in love with me

“Coriolanus Snow? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Y/N? You think you can’t make him fall in love with you?” Sejanus asks with a grin.

“Oh no, I was just thinking about the amount of money you’re gonna give me when I’ll win”.

“Don’t, he’s not easy”.

“A challenge, uh? Even better!” You exclaim. “Now excuse me, but I have to go. Before your last drink, watch me sing and put under my spell mister Coriolanus Snow”.

“Careful, Y/N. You don’t wan’t to fall in love, right? People say he’s got a very cute pair of blue eyes”.

“I prefer the color green as my money, Sejanus. Prepare to lose”.

“I think you don’t know what’s coming for you, Y/N”.

You run to the stage, your place in the world, where you can finally give free scope to your passion: singing. Singing has always made you feel free, but tonight, perhaps due to the tension of the challenge, you feel a constriction in your chest. You and a little tipsy Sejanus have agreed on a bet against Coriolanus, but you have a better idea to win: you will tell him everything immediately, in order to pretend to be together for a while, so Sejanus will pay you and you will split the money with Coriolanus. No one will be fooled in the end, right? And then everyone knows that he needs that money too, so he certainly won't suffer from it. While you taste the victory on the tip of your tongue, the words escape your mouth. You apologize to the audience and your gaze falls right on Coriolanus, who isn't paying you the slightest attention, while he's drinking a beer on the sidelines, his Peacekeeper uniform making his eyes as blue as the tide stand out. Sure, Sejanus was right, but that doesn't change anything: a pair of light eyes isn't enough to make you fall in love.

Coriolanus Snow goes to the Academy, he dresses well, but that doesn't mean he's rich, far from it. You, on the other hand, were kicked out of the Academy because you didn't like their behavior, which is why Sejanus is your best friend. You always had the feeling that Coriolanus liked to follow the rules, but in reality he probably preferred to have control, power or money more than a conscience. That's why he's never been kicked out and you've never particularly bonded. It's not that you're greedy, no, it's just that you need money for your family and if a stupid bet can get it easily, then you will do anything to earn it, since the pub doesn't pay you enough for your fantastic shows. And anyway, Coriolanus is certainly an attractive guy, which isn't a bad thing.

“This song is dedicated to all the handsome blue-eyed boys here,” you announce, then grin, while some of your fellow soldiers make fun of Coriolanus and he finally notices your presence. “This song is called Nothing you can take from me and I dedicate it to my old school friend, Coriolanus Snow. Come say hello to me later, Coryo!” You exclaim with a wink and notice his gaze shift to you. For a second, just one, you feel a shiver run down your spine. You would never have believed that playing with fire could make you feel so cold.

Your song makes everyone present dance, everyone except him obviously, who continues to stare at you coldly, without smiling or saying a word, like a marble statue and this almost scares you. It also happened at the Academy, but there you didn't pay attention to it, also because there was no need to win his attention, but here there is a lot of money at stake and you need it desperately.

You descend onto the stage with a feline leap, you leave your guitar aside, while a roar of applause and compliments accompanies you behind the scenes, hoping that Coriolanus will follow you. The door closes behind you, but when you turn around, no one is there. Well, no big deal, it means you'll go look for it later or tomorrow at the latest, there's no rush anyway. But you feel observed and this sensation worries you a lot: it's as if you have someone behind your back.

"Well?"

You turn around, surprised that he's there. Up close he's taller than you remember and you can see his blonde hair well, even though it's shaved. His arms are crossed as he looks you up and down, but without eyeballing you, just a look of pure curiosity painted on his face. So why do you feel like a hunted animal?

“Coryo”.

"Do not call me that. You asked me to come here, right? You asked for my attention in front of everyone. I'm here now. What, the cat got your tongue?” He asks you, a crooked smile somewhere between amused and mischievous that gives a sinister light to his face. He has enough charm to seem like the Devil.

“Don't get any illusions, it's just a game”.

“I don't like playing and you don't like winning, as far as I know.”

“Those games are abominable and I think you know it too, since you're here, right?” You ask him. His smile fades and inside you rejoice, because you know you've hit the mark.

“Speak quickly, Y/N, the rooster crows early in the morning.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you tell him, getting dangerously close to him. He doesn't take a step back, but you see him on guard, almost as if he expects to be stabbed at any moment. “I bet Sejanus that I would make you fall in love with me,” you reveal to him and he smiles wickedly. “I only did it because he promised me money in return and my family needs it. I'm telling you this because I think we could pretend to be together for a while so he'll think we're really in love. In the end, I will split the money with you, since you need it as much as I do,” you explain to him.

For a moment, he observes you, perhaps because he is trying to understand whether you are sincere or not, then he nods, his face serious.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you: you like winning as much as I do.”

“I wouldn't play if it wasn't for a serious reason. We both know that Sejanus pays and well."

“But he's your friend, right? I wonder why he is doing all this."

“Maybe he's just bored.”

“Perhaps,” Coriolanus repeats, thoughtfully. “Anyway, Tigris must never know. I only ask for this in return,” he says and you offer him your hand.

"Deal".

“And try not to fall in love with me, Y/N. Unlike many others, I don't like playing. You wouldn't survive."

“There's no danger, Coriolanus,” you say, shaking his hand.

Now you feel less sure: why do you feel like you've just sealed a pact with the Devil?

#erule's masterlist #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow head canon #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow blurb #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow one shot #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fake dating #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

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trohpi · 1 month

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rating regulus black ships!!

jegulus | 11/10 - i love them so much. when i rejoined the fandom in 2022 and saw how the ship had blown up in the years id been gone i was really confused, but then i read just lovers and was immediately convinced lmao. they are the epitome of sunshine x grumpy and i adore them both

bartylus | 5/10 - theyre not very compelling to me, but theyre not bad by any means. i think they work better as friends but i understand why people ship them. i just prefer other ships personally, but ive read many great fics with them too!

jegulily | 20/10 - im obsessed with them. i love regulus, james, and lily separately, but together they balance each other out. plus it helps that its a combination of my two most favorite monoamorous ships (jegulus and regulily), like whats not to like? theyre definitely a top tier ship

moonwater | 10/10 - they are so cute and so overhated! theres so much potential here, like they could be friends to lovers or enemies to lovers or rivals to lovers, basically any trope you can think of lol. and think of the angst! the drama! i love them dearly

regulily | 1000/10 - yall already know how i feel about these two! they are literal soulmates and i love them to bits. their personalities mesh so well and, this might be a controversial take, but they make more canonical sense than jegulus does imo (not that canon really matters in this fandom lmao). i could wax literal poetry about this ship i love them so much

rosewater | 6/10 - i have other ships i prefer for both of them but theyre still cute and i can see why people ship them. honestly its a similar situation to bartylus, except they intrigue me just the slightest bit more lol

regumary | 4/10 - im sorry i just cant see this ship. i can see their relationship being platonic but not romantic. i also think mary is a lesbian, which doesnt really mean much considering i also love the trans girl regulus headcanon, but most of the time when i see this ship its very cishet and just not my thing. sorry yall!

regdora | 2/10 - i just cant see this ship either. its not bad necessarily, i just see the relationship between regulus and pandora as that of a sibling relationship. no hate to people who ship them, its just not for me lol

rosestarkillerchaser | 6/10 - i understand why people ship them, its combining three popular ships (jegulus, bartylus, and rosekiller), but im sorry i just cannot see james dating barty and evan. im not hating on people who ship them and its not bad by any means (i like them more than most other ships involving evan & barty) i just dont actively ship them. ive read some good fics tho!

rosestarkiller | 5/10 - similar situation to bartylus yet again, its just not compelling to me. i think regulus works better with evan & barty as his friends rather than lovers which you can probably tell given my other ratings lol

blackeclipse | 10/10 - ooooo i love them. all the best aspects of jegulus, moonchaser, and moonwater in one, its elite. james brings the buoyancy that regulus & remus need while regulus & remus help keep him tethered. they work so well together and i love them all dearly

xenoreg | 8/10 - a crackship ive come to enjoy recently! definitely a weird x weirder kind of ship which is the best. oh to be a fly on the wall of the slytherin common room when regulus told barty, evan, and dorcas that he was dating xenophilius lestrange, ravenclaws resident conspiracy theorist (pandora, of course, would have been overjoyed to have someone to trade ideas with)

regulene | 7/10 - they intrigue me tbh, like marlenes brashness and regulus’ coldness contrast in just the right ways. theyre like fire and water and i love that. plus the potential for a quidditch rivalry is phenomenal, especially considering that they could both be the seekers for their respective teams. theyre kinda similar to dorlene imo

regulilylene | 9/10 - im gonna be honest here i think i made this ship up, but i really like their dynamic. marlene and regulus are on the opposite extremes of hot and cold and lilys right there in the middle to keep them grounded, she evens them out

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agaypanic · 5 months

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Could you do one of Steven Hyde x reader (fem reader if you could) where they don’t really get along and fight a lot but then something happens that changes it (like Hyde realizing he has a crush on reader or something like that) and it eventually leads to them kissing so basically enemies to lovers trope.

On My Nerves (Steven Hyde X Reader)

Masterlist

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Summary: Despite having the same friends for years, you and Steven Hyde have never seemed to get along. Your latest squabble with the boy sparks a fire, both literally and figuratively.

A/N: au where jackie and hyde didn’t date so at the campout, kelso’s just trying to get back with jackie. also kinda hints at smut at the end but not too much

***

Since it was planned, you’d been looking forward to your friends’ campout to celebrate graduating high school. Four grueling years of education finally coming to a close. You were a bit anxious that you all decided to make the trip the night before graduation, but you were reassured that you’d all make it back to town in time for the ceremony.

But as everyone prepared to leave, some things came up that you weren’t really looking forward to.

First, Eric’s sister Laurie was coming with you. You didn’t really know why, considering she had graduated high school years ago and always fought with her brother. But you knew the boys were more than okay with her company, some having different reasons than others.

Second, Jackie was also coming on the trip. This was more acceptable to you because although she was a year younger than everyone, she was actually a part of the friend group. But you weren’t looking forward to whatever would happen with her and Kelso. Although the two had broken up multiple times, Jackie really seemed to like having the boy fight for her attention.

Third, because of tent space and not wanting to sleep outside, you and Hyde would have to share a tent. Sure, you and Hyde were kind of friends. But you definitely preferred being with other people in the group instead of him. It was like the man was born to get on your nerves.

“Oh, yeah. Just keep moving slower, Y/n.” Hyde said, watching you set up the tent you’d unfortunately have to share. “By this rate, the tent will be ready when we have to leave tomorrow.”

“You know, if I had someone to help me, the tent would be set up by now.” You sneered, locking one of the poles into place.

“Fine.” He replied, and you could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. He reached for the pole in your hands and yanked it with such force that it came undone and somehow smacked you in the face.

You yelped in surprise and pain, hand flying up to your forehead. You could see Hyde’s eyebrows raise, maybe in remorse or humor. Humor was more likely. But he didn’t make any other moves.

“Thanks a lot, jerk!” You snatched the tent pole back and stood from your slightly crouched position.

“Y/n, I-”

“Just go get firewood with Kelso and Fez.” Hyde looked like he didn’t want to do that, and you assumed it was because he either didn’t want to do anything at all or he didn’t want to hear Kelso fawn over Jackie.

But eventually, he started to walk away. You muttered a quick ‘asshole’ under your breath, and Hyde seemed to have heard it from the way he slightly stiffened. But what surprised you was that instead of coming back to pick another fight, he kept walking into the woods.

***

When Hyde came back, you were still alone. The tent was finally up, and you decided to set up chairs and logs around where your friends wanted the campfire.

“Hey.” He said, dropping the sticks in a pile and sitting in a chair across from you. Instead of responding, you crumpled up some newspaper and put it in the pile. “Sorry about your forehead.”

That surprised you a bit. Steven Hyde wasn’t exactly known for apologizing.

“Whatever.” You said, and you couldn’t decide whether it was to say that what had happened didn’t matter to you or that his apology didn’t matter to you.

“Why do you have to be such a brat?”

“And why do you have to be such a dick?”

You weren’t entirely surprised that the two of you were fighting so quickly. But it would be nice to have a little break from it, especially since you guys were supposed to be celebrating.

“It’s not my fault your face was in the way.” Hyde leaned back in his chair, looking at you through his shades.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You said, clearly not amused. “God, I’m starting to think you like getting on my damn nerves.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s hard.” He said, standing up and walking over to you. You stood up as well, crossing your arms. “You’re always wound up so tight; it’s like any little thing will set you off.”

“You don’t know anything about how ‘wound up’ I am.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, you just don’t know how to have any fun.”

“Well, we all can’t be high every single day, can we. Some of us have actual lives.”

“Oh yeah, like you’d know anything about having a life.”

Wrapped up in your little fight, you hadn’t noticed until now how close you and Hyde had gotten to each other. You could almost clearly see his eyes through his dark sunglasses. You gulped, eyes darting all around his face because you couldn’t decide on where to focus. Meanwhile, Hyde took a deep breath, glancing at your scowling lips before trying to look away.

“Whatever.” You said again, digging around in your pocket and pulling out a matchbox. You lit one of the matches and threw it in the pile of sticks and newspaper, starting the fire. With one last look at Hyde, you stalked off to your tent.

***

Before you knew it, it was almost completely pitch black. The only thing lighting up the campsite was the bonfire, which you and your friends huddled around. You’d probably be lying if you said you were actually enjoying yourself. The night had been filled with nothing but Fez drooling over Laurie, Eric and Donna talking about their future as a married couple, and Kelso playing stupid songs for Jackie on the guitar that he had brought.

And Hyde was grumbling about every little thing, but that was nothing new.

“Hey, Kelso, can I see that?” You asked innocently, hand reaching out for the instrument. Kelso hesitantly but willingly handed it to you, maybe thinking you would play a song.

Soon, everyone laughed and cheered as the guitar quickly burned in the fire, their ears and sanity finally saved.

“Hey!” Kelso yelled, shock written all over his face. But you ignored it, for some reason more focused on Hyde’s little snickering hidden behind his hand.

One by one, everyone in your group had somehow left the bonfire. You didn’t pay too much attention as to why, just knowing that the lake nearby seemed to be everyone’s destination. But once again, you and Hyde were sitting across from each other, the only ones at the campsite.

For some reason, there seemed to be some new kind of tension. You didn’t care for that, so you were about to get up and leave when Hyde said something.

“I really am sorry, man.” He said, staring at the fire. “About… well, you know.”

“It’s fine.” You said quietly.

The two of you sat in silence, more comfortable than usual. Wanting something to do, you grabbed a stick and started to roast a marshmallow. You leaned closer to the fire to try to take in some of its heat.

“Shit!” You hissed, yanking your hand back and dropping your stick. You don’t know why you had suddenly become so susceptible to injuries today, but you found yourself cradling your hand to your chest after it had been licked by a flame.

“Are you okay?” Hyde was suddenly beside you on the log you were sitting on, carefully pulling at your hand so he could have a look.

“What do you think?” You asked sarcastically.

“Don’t be a brat.” You bit your tongue, too tired to start a fight. Your lack of response surprised Hyde, but he didn’t comment on it. “You’ll be fine; it doesn’t look too bad.”

You nodded, deciding to trust his assessment. Hyde didn’t let go of your hand, keeping it in his grasp as he looked up at you. Once again, your faces were very close to each other, and you gulped.

You couldn’t find it in you to back away, not really wanting to for some reason. It seemed like Hyde felt the same way, because the two of you were frozen in place.

Until Hyde started moving even closer. It was subtle, but his face inched closer to yours, and his eyes darted down to your lips. His sunglasses weren’t able to shield his eyes’ movements; instead, they hung on the collar of his shirt.

Hyde pressed his lips to yours, gentle movements seeming uncharacteristic based on his snarky attitude. But then, once you got used to the contact, the kiss became more rough, and you started grasping at anything you could. You pulled at his hair while he gripped the back of your neck.

“Maybe we should test out that tent.”

“You’re so gross.”

#agaypanic #steven hyde x reader #steven hyde #that 70s show x reader #that 70s show

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etherealperrie · 2 years

Text

Stuck With You {pt. I}

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: In which Class President!Reader is paired with Stoner!Eddie Munson for a class project. Despite their best efforts to get a new partner and a general hatred one another, Reader and Eddie find out there might be more to one another than they first thought. And...Hey, wait, you're actually kind of sweet and misunderstood?

Word Count: 2k

Contains: Mild language | Enemies to friends to (later) lovers trope | Class President!Reader | Fluff & cute banter |

A/N: Italics indicate a flashback sequence. Story takes place pre-season 4, so no spoilers for the newest season (aside from Eddie being a character and existing in the ST universe). (Almost) gender neutral, aside from the use of the word "madame" a handful of times. My first time writing for Eddie Munson. Hope you enjoy <3

This is the first part in the "Stuck With You" series! Here are the links to parts 2 | 3 | 4 |

...

You were meant to be helping prep for tomorrow’s pep rally, but you’d somehow let Eddie the freak Munson convince you to trek across town to Forest Hills Trailer Park just to get some work done. Convenient for him, at the least. You’d never even been to this side of Hawkins before. Well, you’d driven past on your way to and from school, but you’ve never spent any real time here. Not until today. Groaning, you glance down at your watch as you trudge across the grass, searching for the right trailer. 8:13pm.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try to get a different partner, it was that Ms. O’Donnell refused your plea. Eddie didn’t look pleased about the pairing either, but he didn’t often look pleased about anything. The only time you ever saw him smile was when you caught glimpses of the Hellfire Club meetings after school in one of the empty classrooms as you passed by on your way to and from student council meetings. The room was always loud and raucous, shouting and whooping both at and on behalf of Eddie as he rolled some dice. In the classroom though, he was rarely present – physically or mentally. Barely passing the class, you assumed, which was why Ms. O’Donnell had the sadistic idea to pair him with you: in hopes of finally getting him graduated.

“I prefer to work alone,” you say, looking up into the eyes of Ms. O’Donnell.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “This is a partnered project, it’s too much work to do alone.” She starts to turn away but you refuse, pushing yourself up from your desk to step between her and the chalkboard.

“But, I’ve already read The Scarlet Letter! And, we both know I’m going to end up doing all of the work anyway. Anyone else, please.”

The words tumble out of your mouth, sounding a bit more desperate than you wanted, but it was just unfair. You had a winter ball and a pep rally to plan, plus a student council to run, you didn’t need to waste time trying to get a deadbeat student to do some work.

“My mind's made up, my dear. You should get to work, I’m certain you and Mr. Munson will work well together if you put aside your differences and try.”

You open your mouth to object once again, but she holds a hand up, signaling that the conversation was over. Groaning, you turn back to the class, everyone in the room divided evenly into pairs. At the very back is none other than Eddie Munson. He’s leant back in the chair, his feet propped up on the desk, a smug grin on his lips.

“Madame President, what an honor,” he teases as you slide into the seat next to him. He sits up at attention in his chair, mocking a salute. The silver skull ring on his middle finger glints under the stream of sunlight coming in through the adjacent window. His fingers, long and nimble, crash down onto the desk as he chuckles to himself, too proud of his own joke.

You roll your eyes, sliding him a copy of the book Ms. O’Donnell had given you. “Trust me, I’m just about as delighted with this pairing as you are.”

He scoffs, feigning hurt, and picks up the book. He pages through it haphazardly before setting it back down, all in the same second. His eyes move to you, his smile spreading. “Actually – Madame President – I am quite delighted with my partner. This is the last class I need to pass to get the fuck out of here and I have a feeling you’ll be able to get me that passing grade.”

“I’m not doing all of this by myself to float your ass to graduation so you can go jack off with your stupid club and sell drugs in the meantime.” You cross your arms harshly, shooting him an accusatory look.

“You are a truly ruthless leader, Madame President.”

“Enough with the nickname already, Munson. Or, if you’d prefer to stick with them, I have a few I could use for you.”

He raises an eyebrow, challenging you. “Would ‘Oh, Mighty One’ be better?”

You open your mouth to argue, but snap it shut.

He didn’t know you and didn’t want to. You didn’t know him either, but you didn’t need to. It didn’t matter much either way, there was a project that needed to be done and you weren’t going to let a stoner like Eddie Munson tarnish your permanent record, not with graduation just a few weeks away. You could both graduate and move on with your lives, this project would be nothing but a small blip in the rearview mirror of life.

“Let’s just get this over with. The sooner we start, the sooner we can be done. What are you doing after school?”

“Oh my god are you asking me out?” he gasps, his voice lifting an octave as he twirls a piece of hair between his fingers.

“For the project,” you hiss. “We could meet in the library before my student council meeting.”

He laughs loudly, catching the attention of a few of the students around you.

“I’ve got Hellfire Club.” He lifts his hand and puts up a finger, counting each thing off with his other hand as he talks. “Then a couple of drug deals – the usual, weed, Special K...you know how it is–” he looks up at you with a smirk, chuckling at your wide eyes. “And then after that, I’m working with the band. So, no, the library won’t work for me. But you can drop by after we’re done.”

The evening was cold and dark, fog rolling in over the small town. You thought you might hear the final moments of Eddie’s band rehearsal as you approached a light blue trailer near the end of the park, but they must’ve been long finished. You wondered if they were actually any good. You couldn’t actually imagine liking it, you weren’t a fan of metal music – more of a Cyndi Lauper fan, yourself – but you couldn’t curb your own curiosity. To your dismay, it was eerily quiet. Tugging your jacket a little close to your chest, you hope you’d stumble upon the Munson residence sooner rather than later.

“Boo!” A voice shouts, echoing into the night. You jump, goosebumps crawling across your skin as you crash into the side of the trailer in front of you, your heart thumping loudly against your chest. “Woah, woah, sorry, I didn’t really mean to scare you.” Eddie Munson comes into view, his long hair wild and mussed, his eyebrow quirked. A haze of smoke pools around him, a cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. He takes you in, his gaze moving down your body and back up to your face, assessing the situation.

“You okay?” His smug smile fades, his brow knitting together in worry. He drops the cigarette and stamps it out, stepping closer to you.

“I think so.” You peel yourself from the side of the trailer, your heart still pounding, your breathing labored and ragged. “Ouch,” you mumble. A tinge of pain stings your head, where you’d smacked it in your moment of panic. You cough, batting away the smoke and reach up to rub the sore spot.

“I thought you saw me, that was a shitty idea, my bad.” He steps forward, leaning over you to check out your head. He was so much taller than you thought, a good foot taller than you. As he hovers nearby, you breathe in the scent of him: cigarettes, sweat, and a musky cologne flooding your senses. “Come on in, I think I’ve got some ice for your head.” He yanks open the trailer door and steps through the frame, leaning back to help you in.

You’d never been this close to him before nor seen him outside of school. You were always rushing around at school so you never really had an opportunity to study him. A pair of black jeans hang low on his hips, held up by a studded dark leather belt. Standing with his hand resting on top of the doorframe, a thin strip of his stomach is visible underneath his Hellfire Club t-shirt. Your eyes work their way up his long torso, taking note of the various tattoos scattered across his arms and collarbones.

Before you know it you’re sitting on the edge of Eddie Munson’s bed, holding a bag of frozen peas to your head and watching him rush around you. He stashes a black metal lunchbox into his dresser and kicks a pile of clothes into the tiny closet, shutting the doors behind him. The room was small and stunk of cigarettes and weed. An ashtray sits on his bedside table, along with a small collection of silver jewelry, a couple of figurines of characters you didn’t recognize, and his copy of The Scarlet Letter – a bookmark fit snugly between the pages. Had he actually started reading it?

His voice draws you back to reality. “I know it’s a mess, sorry…but at least my uncle, uh, had the peas.” He finally stops cleaning and plops down onto his bed, leaving plenty of space between the two of you.

“It’s okay, really, thank you.” You lift the pack of peas from your head and set it down on his black duvet. “I think I’ve been healed.”

“You sure? You’re not having any hallucinations, are you?”

“Sitting in Eddie Munson’s bedroom, I feel like I might be. This is happening, right?” You nod in the direction of the book on his nightstand. “Like, did you actually read that?”

“I skimmed the book.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a small laugh. “And I could say the same thing, I almost don’t believe our class president, the sweetheart of Hawkins High is in my bedroom right now.”

“Sweetheart of Hawkins High is a bit of an overstatement.”

“Only the most adored person ever would say that.”

You shake your head. “No, people adore girls who are sweet and charming, like Chrissy Cunningham. Some kids respect me, because I make a lot of important decisions — like starting tater tot Tuesday — but for the most part they just tolerate me. They don't like me.”

A beat of silence falls between you.

“Well shit, Madame President.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. Sighing, he scoots down to the edge of the bed where you sit, being careful to not get too close. Suddenly, you’re not sure if you would mind.

“I get it, you’re looking at Hawkins’ resident freak. Though, they don’t really even tolerate me.”

“To be fair, you do come across as mean and scary.”

His lip twitches as he thinks over your comment. “I do? Is it the tattoos or the hair?”

You laugh. "I think it might be the satan shirt and the Dungeons and Dragons worship."

He glances down at his shirt and shrugs, snickering to himself.

“I hate to break it to you babe, but you come across the same way.”

“Shit, I do? Is it my impressively high GPA or my amazing pep rallies?”

“I actually think it’s the obnoxiously big ‘Class President’ patch on your denim jacket.”

“Fuck, Munson, I was just starting to not hate you.” You blurt, watching him. He laughs, knocking his knee against yours. “Seriously, you’re not like I thought you’d be.”

You immediately regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. Eddie didn’t need to know you thought about him, about who he might really be underneath the school facade. You’d never considered he might be different until tonight, until you noticed the way his face softened when he thought you might be hurt or scared. You didn’t think he really even cared what people at school thought about him, but like you, it was more bothersome than he let on.

“I don’t hate you either, Oh Mighty One.” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, “and I’ll admit, you’re better than I thought you’d be.”

Within seconds your eyes reconnect with his. Brown eyes bore into yours, a smirk painted across his pink lips. Heat pulses through your body, rising in your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you hold up your book, smiling. “Then, let’s get to work.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #Stranger Things 4 #st spoilers #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #etherealperrie #my writings #stranger things #st4

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twisted-tales-of-all · 6 months

Text

The Enemy of My Enemy

Summary: When your home port suddenly claims a ban on pirates docking there, you and your rival are forced to join forces. Characters: Kim Hongjoong + Gender Ambiguous Reader; ft. ATEEZ members Genre: Fantasy Short Series (part 1) with a bit of Angst (and possible fluff in later parts) Tropes: pirate!AU, enemies to friends (to lovers in a later part), working together against a mutual enemy Word Count: 2.9K Contains: pirate-related violence (explosions, knives, injury, blood, etc), betrayal, cursing, mention of death and loss of limbs, homoromantic undertones for certain characters (nothing explicit or confirmed), use of 'sir' as honorific without gendered undertones

A/N: support banner by @cafekitsune ; pirate divider by @firefly-graphics 🤍

You aren't new to discrimination, not by any means. However, that didn't stop you from getting blindsided as you tied your ship to its usual post at the port.

"This ship and its crew are unwelcome in this port." A stern, deep voice booms from behind you, loud enough to gather the attention of everyone nearby - all but yours, at least.

As you finish tying the knot and stand up, you feel the figure looming directly behind you. You hadn't the slightest thought that they were speaking of your wondrous Moon Raider, not after the past three years of ensuring that your crew respected the port and its customs.

Turning, you ask the man, "What ship is unwelcome, exactly?"

Although you wanted to hide your irritation, your crew noticed. The man also must've noticed since he clears his throat harshly before responding with a tone rivaling that of an automated robot.

"Any and all pirate ships have been banned from docking on our port. Leave immediately or face the consequences."

Your irritation morphs into booming laughter, "We always pay any fines you assign us. What's with the extra formality this time around?"

As you mimic his stature, you notice another officer walking past your boat's position. You watch him announce the same rehearsed statement to the captain there as he hops out to anchor his ship to its post. However, rather than offering him a chance to leave, he grabs his arm, locking him into constraints instantly. At this point, you realize the gravity of the situation, but it's all too late. As you're focused on the Sun Howler, the officer in front of you approaches and places restraints on you. You call out to your crew, reminding them to stay calm and follow all the rules.

Dragging your rival, the other officer follows behind as you walk with your officer silently. Trying to remain calm, you attempt to calculate why this may happen. Although you may not follow all the rules perfectly, everything worked out up until now. And, although you may not enjoy competing with him, you know Captain Hongjoong plays fair just like you. For the harbor police to arrest you both, there's really only one option: new port ownership. Although this was your first time back to the dock in months, you hadn't expected such a drastic change.

Reaching the prison, the officers shove you both into a cell together. Through the bars, they remove your cuffs.

"You sure we won't kill each other in here?" You joke, screaming at their backs as they leave, entirely unfazed by your comment.

"I think they'd prefer it," Hongjoong scoffs as he taps on the sheath on his hip, "Otherwise, they'd at least remove our obvious weapons."

Cursing, you sit down with your back against the cold brick wall. Fidgeting with the frayed fabric on the thigh of your pants, you wonder if the situation could get any worse.

"What'd you do, Raider?" He prompts, using your boat as your name, somewhat of a custom between you.

"Nothing here. Not in a long time. We've been gone for three months time. What of you, Howler?"

You look up to see him leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and one foot laid over the other. He shakes his head, and - although his hat covers his face - you can imagine how hard the cogs turn in his head to analyze the situation.

"It wasn't like this when I left either. We've only been gone about seven weeks. How'd something happen so quickly?"

After a long period of silence, you hear footsteps approaching. Even simply seeing their shoes, everything clicks for you. You can tell Hongjoong understands as well, as you can sense him tense up.

"Hongjoong.Y/N. What an amazing situation for us to reunite."

The callous tone pricks at your skin, leaving goosebumps in its stead, but you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Your cellmate, however, is far too quick to anger to stop himself. He leans against the bars as he curses at the person who once sailed the seas opposite you both.

"The fuck is going on, Wooyoung?! Why in hell's name are you standing there high and mighty while we're stuck in a damned cage in this cellar?!"

Hands up by his head, Wooyoung stifles a laugh, "Quite aggressive now, aren't we? I know we were rivals on the sea years ago, but it looks like I won out."

"Sell out. Traitor. Fucking turncoat."

This time, he allows his laugh to echo through the prison. Cockily, he steps closer to Hongjoong, leaning in just barely out of reach.

"Does it matter what I did if I won? You look pathetic, Captain."

With this comment, you interject, "This is why you never had a loyal crew, you know. Your ego got in the way and Topaz Shields lost out because of it. Such a gorgeous ship, too. So sad. How's the leg?"

Knowing he wanted to hit below the belt, you remind him of his greatest tragedy by asking about his leg. Due to his ego, he drove his ship directly into the sirens' call and barely escaped with his life. He lost his loyal-to-a-fault first mate that day two years ago, all because he couldn't stand the thought of the other two crews finding a sacred treasure before him.

"Don't you dare mention Shields, Raider. The leg was the least of my troubles, and you know that much."

"Right, right. Pardon my impertinence. How could I forget that you lost your boyfriend as well?"

Trying to hold his composure, he reminds you that San was only ever his first mate, nothing more. Despite what everyone knows to be true thanks to their actions and Wooyoung's immediate reaction to the man's untimely death, he has denied his feelings since the incident - something to hide behind to lessen his feelings of guilt for causing his death.

"Well, whatever the case, I've come here to alert you that we'll be charging you for crimes against the city through your illegal market dealings and disregard for the laws of the area."

Hearing a former pirate captain charge someone for essentially being a pirate feels laughable, but you simply ask for the price point of said charges.

"Oh, no price for this one, Y/N. You both have been sentenced to time in jail equal to that of your career length. For you, that's three years; Hongjoong, you have 4."

Quick to react once again, Hongjoong unsheaths his dagger and swings it through the bars. It cuts Wooyoung on the lower part of his cheek, but the sound is far more intimidating than the actual damage.

Bringing his hand up to his face, Wooyoung smirks as he sees his red-stained fingertips. You keep a hand on your weapon, worried he might lash out against you both, but he simply turns to walk out.

"Enjoy your years. Once you return, there will be no Sun Howler. No Moon Raider. No pirates." He doubles down with his irritating remarks by waving his hand nonchalantly as he turns the corner.

As soon as the click of his footsteps fades to silence, Hongjoong drops into a squat. He curses Wooyoung and grumbles about the ridiculous sentencing. Seeing him freak out like this makes you giggle. He's usually light and free, the shining sun amongst a hoard of disheveled and mangled captains. You share that commonality with him - you've never quite been one for abandoning health and presentation, even if that's what many people picture when imagining pirates. The crews from this port rarely saw those kinds of pirates, not when the three captains who called this place home were you, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung. So, seeing one of these captains falling apart on the floor while cursing and swinging at someone makes you wonder how quickly you could also fall apart.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you break the silence, "What's the plan, Howler?"

He looks at you dumbfounded, "Plan?"

"The escape plan? Ain't no way I'm letting that one-legged chicken act all high and mighty like that. We aren't gonna sit here and accept years of punishment for things he once did with us."

Suddenly recognizing escape as an option, Hongjoong stands up straight. You see a fire burning in his eyes and tricks within his crooked smile. He twirls the dagger around carelessly as he paces in the small box of a cell. With his newfound joy, he examines the bars, the lock, and every crevice that might be used to thwart Wooyoung's scheme and escape from the prison.

"I think this calls for a good old-fashioned bust out. Unless you think you can pick the lock from in here."

You approach the bars, trying to find the perfect angle to see what you need on the lock. However, you can't find the necessary parts to allow you to pick it from awkward angles. Turning to your cellmate, you shake your head.

"Bust out it is. Not as quiet, but it gets the job done all the same." He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a small trinket about the size and shape of a pocketwatch, which confuses you. He must be able to read the confusion on your face, because he explains, "My first mate loves to tinker, and he's made some marvelous contraptions. Stand back at the bars and watch."

Listening to his advice, you stand flush against the metal bars, the cold bleeding through your clothing to leave your skin feeling fresh. He stands next to you, flips the gadget open and closed quickly, and tosses it to the opposite side of the cell. When it connects with the wall, you hear a clicking noise and instinctively close your eyes. In that short moment, you feel Hongjoong move from beside you to in front of you. With the cold on your back and the warmth from his body closely in front of you, you barely process the explosion. When you open your eyes, you see the captain boxing himself around you, framed by the outside light streaming in. You assume it's around midday from how strongly it enters the room, and you try to look anywhere that isn't directly at Hongjoong's face.

He clears his throat as he steps back, "Sorry. I didn't want debris flying into your chest or anything."

Noticing him fiddling with his shoulder, you quickly thank him before asking if he's injured. Although he blows it off, he refuses to turn around, so you know debris likely lodged itself into his upper back. You decide not to fight it until you reach the docks, so you simply make your way over the rubble and out into the sunlight, letting him follow behind to hide his injuries.

Despite the explosion, nobody seems interested when you walk past. The only looks passed your way feel like those typical for known pirates walking around. As you reach the docks again, your crew quickly catches sight of you and rushes off the ship. You're glad that they make it to you long before his crew can see you.

"Mingi, can you tend to him? We blew our way out of jail, and he got hit with debris. He's acting like he's fine, but drag him aboard anyway."

Hongjoong tries to argue, but Mingi ends up behind him and sees the injury. With your first mate yelling at him for hiding it, he can't help but walk onto the Moon Raider for medical help. As he passes you, you sneak a glance at his back and see the top left corner of his otherwise tan shirt torn and stained dark red already. Trying to figure out the trajectory of the rubble, you place your hand on your right shoulder and vow to find Hongjoong a new shirt as thanks for blocking it from hitting you.

After reassuring your crew that everything will be okay and joking that you may be fined for the massive hole in the prison wall, you make your way past your prized ship. Approaching Sun Howler, you receive a much colder reception. Bowing before the ship, you address the first mate.

"Quartermaster of Sun Howler, I wish to inform you that your captain is currently aboard the Moon Raider receiving medical care from my crew. He protected me during an explosion of his creation, so I took it as my role to aid him with our supplies. He will be fine, and we will send him to you once his wound is properly dressed."

As you raise your head, you notice an exceptionally pretty man standing about ten feet in front of you. He nods as you acknowledge him before thanking you for taking care of his captain. You weren't expecting someone who could shine in his own respect to be Hongjoong's right hand, but hearing him speak makes you understand exactly why he would be in such a position. A voice that rivals one of a siren, the grace in his speech patterns, and his subtly decorated uniform all suggest a royal background. You begin to wonder whether he was a runaway or kidnapped and assimilated.

"Stop gawking at Seonghwa, Raider. Don't go stealing someone else's first mate." Hongjoong struts up to you, shirtless other than the bandages circling his chest, back, and shoulder blade.

Although Seonghwa laughs at the comment and explains the situation, Hongjoong doesn't back down in his jests, pointing out Seonghwa's obvious beauty.

"Sometimes, even I swear you're a siren. Even royals don't typically look and sound as good as you. You sparkle, Hwa." He reaches the boy as he talks, placing a hand on his shoulder to emphasize his final sentence.

"Captain, stop with the flattery. A first mate is never as wonderful as the captain, and yet you forbid us from saying those types of comments towards you."

Feeling out of place in the interaction, you quietly excuse yourself and begin walking back to your ship, but Hongjoong calls after you, "Y/N, let's find a new port together."

You try not to react, but the comment makes you trip over the air by your feet. You hope that they don't notice while you continue walking, making your way to your ship to break the news to your crew that you need to find a new home base and likely won't be able to return. Some crew members are quick to show their anger towards Wooyoung, but you reassure everyone with one simple claim.

"If we've done everything we can and they still don't want us here, we shouldn't want to stay either."

You explain how there likely isn't any time for goodbyes since the police likely won't waste time chasing you down again, so you work towards setting sail immediately. Luckily, your crew instinctively filled up on supplies while you were stuck in the cell, so there isn't much left to do.

"Cap'n, there's someone requesting to talk to you. Should we allow him aboard?" A member screams across the ship.

"Who is it?"

"Captain Hongjoong of Sun Howler, sir."

"Let him board."

As your new companion faces you, you address him properly and lead him into your chambers. Motioning to the nearest chair at your desk, you drop the formalities in the privacy of the room. Dragging out another chair to sit in front of him, you ask about the plan. As he recounts the pirates and their known home ports, you deduce that the safest plan would be to sail north, up the coast to the city rivaling this one.

"Won't they shun us away?"

"Didn't you and I once shun each other away and brace this port together regardless? Or what of Wooyoung taking over this city to shun us away from here?"

Nodding in acknowledgment, Hongjoong confirms, "So, we head north? Stop at each port we come across?"

"We might end up too close if we do that. Does your crew have the supplies to sail safely for a week before finding a port? I don't want to taunt Shields too soon; I want to be ready to fight back."

Uncertain of Wooyoung's response to your escape, the captain agrees to meet again in a week's time. After the seventh sunrise, they will look for the closest port. In case of landing at different ports, you agree on a plan to find one another via smoke signals and a trail of coded notes. To stay one step ahead of potential enemies, you assign each other new aliases to use in the notes, basing the initials on the boats' names and their respective quartermasters: Sea Heist Sails and Mightly Reel Mast.

After agreeing on the specifics, you shake Hongjoong's hand and wish him luck on his journey. Leaving you with a quick show of comradery in smiling and claiming that he'll see you in a week, he heads back to the Sun Howler to untie her and set sail. Following his lead, you untie Moon Raider and instruct Mingi to head north, staying near the coastline if possible.

As you drift out of the port, you hear a commotion behind you. Eyes drawn towards the ruckus, you see Wooyoung red-faced and angrily yelling at his guards. As he flails his arms in the direction of your ship, he makes direct eye contact with you. With a smug smile on your face, you remove your hat in a mocking salute, signaling to the man that you've won this round without breaking a sweat.

Tags: @yourfatherlucifer @pyeonghongrie

#cultofdionysusnet #wonderlandnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez hongjoong #pirate ateez #ateez pirate au #kim hongjoong #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fanfic

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nariism · 6 months

Text

links ➠ event masterlist ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

STATUS: CLOSED

thank you everyone for participating <3

hiii all my lovelies💗 i'd like to give a huge huge huge thank you for 1k followers and friends (!!!), 4.5 months of endless support, and the chance to be a part of such an amazing community of people :')

i've always been on and off with writing because of my self-doubts but i've come to absolutely love writing as a hobby and remember why i enjoyed it so much in the first place back when i was a dweeby 13 year old kid 🫶

i would love to do a small appreciation writing event for anyone who would like to participate. it's open for everyone so don't feel nervous to send an ask! see below the cut for more info.

if you're just stopping by, then i'd like to tell you thank you for everything!! 💐

info — you choose 1-3 prompts/tropes + a character and i'll write a drabble/one-shot! requests can be sent to my inbox like this (preferably off anon so i can let you know when it's up!)

prompt number: fandom/character: additional info: (ex. tropes you want, angst, fluff, platonic, etc. anything you'd like to add that you want to see!)

i will be closing requests for this event on 13 Nov EDT

the same rules apply as my regular writing rules. please see those before you send a request!

note. all writings will be x gn!reader. i have free creative liberty for anything i write and i may not get around to all of the requests if i can't think of anything for the combination submitted. i am also busy with life stuff so it might take me a bit to finish things. remember, this is all for fun!

FANDOMS/CHARACTERS OPEN

blue lock: itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi

genshin impact: open for any characters!

haikyuu: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, ushijima wakatoshi

other: hayakawa aki, gojo satoru, geto suguru, loid forger (💐)

++ i would consider characters not listed here that you want to see!

TROPES

1. friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers

2. forced proximity

3. fake relationship / marriage of convenience

4. soulmates (any rendition)

5. coffee shop

6. roommates

7. accidental confession / accidental kiss

8. handcuffed together

9. hurt & comfort

10. enemies / rivals to lovers

11. mutual pining

12. oblivious pining

13. one bed

14. drunk confession

15. second chance

16. unrequited love

17. matchmaking / matchmaking gone wrong

18. domestic

PROMPTS

19. "do we like... hold hands now?"

20. "please, come home."

21. "i could kiss you right now!"

22. "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

23. "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

24. "i'm done waiting."

25. "i've always needed you!"

26. "you look so beautiful in the moonlight."

27. "i think i'm in love with you."

28. "don't look at me that way."

29. "do you want my jacket?"

30. "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

31. "i can't sleep."

32. "i can't believe it took you this long to admit you like being the little spoon."

33. "your necklace fell off... let me put it back on for you."

34. "i could stay up all night talking to you."

35. "say it again. please."

36. "we're fighting. i'll take the couch tonight." ➡️ (bonus) "we were fighting???"

++ feel free to add any you want! these are just some examples

i'm so thankful to each and every one of you. i hope you enjoy! <3

links ➠ event masterlist ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#pls don't flop please #blue lock x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #haikyuu x reader #csm x reader #jjk x reader

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat.

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it.

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary?

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies.

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.”

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter.

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer.

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?”

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along.

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.”

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?”

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.”

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side.

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.”

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.”

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?”

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did.

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.”

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.”

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?”

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center.

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.”

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was.

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?”

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.”

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him.

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment.

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.”

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face.

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?”

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.”

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you.

“That’s fair,” is all he says.

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.”

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight.

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway.

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way.

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.”

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.”

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently.

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist.

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around.

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.”

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same.

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile.

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?”

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.”

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.”

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly.

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.”

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you.

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.”

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.”

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.”

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.”

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his.

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases.

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape.

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?”

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’.

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.”

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing.

Your phone.

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips.

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly.

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer.

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker.

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone.

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?”

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all.

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it.

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.”

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.”

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you.

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?”

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess.

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.”

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time.

7:41. Shit.

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?”

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone.

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time.

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him.

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off.

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling.

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader.

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo.

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind.

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable.

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself.

“Dangerous.”

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it.

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat.

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed.

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.”

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.”

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over.

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible.

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.”

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours.

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours.

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #let's see if i can get it to post in one try this time

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