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svndaysaweek · 2 months

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Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}

8.7k words

A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!

*Prequel to “Enlightenment”

******

“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”

******

It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.

After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.

And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.

“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.

“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.

You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.

She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.

You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.

“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.

“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.

“So, third grade? What class are you in?”

“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”

Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on.

******

She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.

“Hey, going somewhere?”

Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.

You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.

“Don’t ask me.”

You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.

“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.

“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—

“You can tell me. It’s alri-“

“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder.

A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.

“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.

“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.

“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.

“You should feel lucky.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.

“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.

“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.

You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.

Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.

“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.

“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.

“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.

“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.

“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.

“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.

“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.

Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.

“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”

“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”

Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down.

You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.

“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.

“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.

When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.

“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.

“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.

“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.

It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.

As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.

“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass.

“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.

It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”

It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.

“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.

“Very much.”

“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.

Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.

“Take a shower first, baby.”

Baby, she said.

Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom.

In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.

You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.

A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.

“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.

But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.

“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.

Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.

Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.

“Finish it.”

Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.

“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”

Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.

You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear.

******

“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-

“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.

“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.

Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—

“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”

You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.

“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.

“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.

“Let’s go.”

******

As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.

Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.

She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.

Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.

It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.

“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.

You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.

When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.

“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.

“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that.

Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan.

“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.

“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.

“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”

Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.

******

You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.

“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.

“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.

“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”

So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.

In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.

And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you.

“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.

“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.

“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.

The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.

No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.

“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.

With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.

“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.

“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.

That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.

And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.

You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.

“Ahh-fuck yes!”

“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.

“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.

“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.

So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.

“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.

“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.

“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.

A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.

That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.

“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.

In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.

It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.

Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.

As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes.

Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.

Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you.

(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)

Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more.

“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.“Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.

“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.” With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.

Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind.

When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.

“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.

******

A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.

Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-

“You haven’t said it yet.”

“Say what?”

“You only said I’m beautiful.”

“And?”

“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”

There you fail to hold out the chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”

Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.

With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.

“Love you, Jimin.”

Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.

“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #karina smut #aespa smut

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onewildwrites · 7 months

Text

Please Please Me [Calvin Evans x reader]

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: You persuade Calvin to spend a little less time at the lab and a lot more time with you.

Warnings: 18+ no minors, smut, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), brief thoughts of somnophilia, praise kink, brief mentions of breeding kink (but no really because it’s mostly just taking about cum and creampies lol), pet names (sweetheart, honey, little wife), no use of y/n, fem reader, a little fluffy ending!

A/N: This took me an embarrassingly long time to write so I hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to comment and reblog🫶

Calvin Evans was an incredibly dedicated chemist. He seemed to care more for his work than anything else in the world.

Late nights were almost always spent in his lab when he could be sure his scientific process would not be disturbed, more importantly there would be no Donatti banging on his door asking when his latest experiment would be done.

His commitment to his work is what many (even those who weren’t particularly fond of Evans) would list as one of his greatest strengths.

Not you though.

Definitely not you.

You didn’t want to be misunderstood, you were truly proud of Calvin and his work. He was a brilliant man who deserved every bit of praise he got. You would accompany him to every award ceremony and never grow tired of hearing speech upon speech about what a wonder he was in the scientific community.

But you were getting very tired of spending most nights in your home alone.

Every night for the past month at 1:35am on the dot, you would be awoken by the feeling of the right side of the bed sinking to the weight of his lanky body. He would apologize profusely for waking you so late, and proceed to move to the couch in the living room.

In the beginning you hoped you could at least have a brief moment of alone time with Calvin in your shared morning before he went off to work. But of course he had already left for his early row by the time you opened your eyes.

Even weekends weren’t sacred anymore since moving some of his lab equipment to his home office. Calvin would leave his office when you alerted him dinner was ready, you two would stick to light small talk ( “How’s your research going?” “This is delicious” “Anything interesting in the news lately?” “Have you heard about what happened to Mrs.Jones down the road?”) Cavin would eat quickly, finishing before you were even halfway through your food, thank you for the meal and quickly peck your cheek before going right back to his office.

Like any sane person you were growing impatient with your husbands never ending busy schedule. A woman has needs just like any man does and Calvin should know that very well by now.

Much of your early relationship was spent exploring all the ways you could please each other. After all, Calvin was a scientist and he would reason the best way to find out was to experiment. That meant hours wrapped up in your white sheets, christening every surface of his home, trying things you never would have even fantasized of doing in your wildest dreams.

You missed that time desperately now and you had a plan to get it back.

–

Calvin was never good at picking up on social cues. Luckily most people thought he was simply pulling their leg when he took a joke or a sarcastic comment seriously. But he knew something had changed with you the moment he stepped into your shared home that Friday night.

He still made sure to close the door with extra caution so as not to wake you, even though he ended up almost constantly waking you when he slunk into bed anyway. Going through his usual routine of removing his sweat soaked running clothes, grabbing a pair of clean pajamas, and jumping into the bathroom for a quick shower.

After thoroughly removing the feeling of grime from his skin he makes his way towards your bedroom rubbing his tired eyes. He knows he has only himself to blame for his recent exhaustion but he’s never been great at putting anything before his work, and that includes sleep.

As he expects there you are sleeping sweetly, your left hand resting gently under your face. No matter how many times he sees you sleep he knows he will never get bored of it.

Calvin was quickly pulled out of his state of adoration when he realized something was off with the usual picture he was used to coming home to. You were sleeping on your stomach with your leg sticking out from the duvet. And Calvin may be downright lousy at picking up social cues but he always noticed a change in his surroundings.

You most certainly never had to worry about Calvin failing to notice a change in your style or a new haircut because he was the first to comment on it. “This new dress looks lovely on you.” he’d say while kissing the exposed bit of your shoulder.

In all the years he had known you, you never once slept on your stomach (it was a deeply inconvenient position for cuddling according to you), and you definitely never let your limbs hang off the bed (some old superstitious fear you had as a child that stuck with you into adulthood).

He decided to investigate further, even if it turned out to just be him reading too much into it.

Striding over to your side of the bed he looked for anything else that might be out of place. Your breathing was normal, the book on your bedside table was laying in the same place you put it all other nights, and your nightly glass of water sat empty. He was about to scold himself for being overdramatic when his eyes caught the lack of fabric on your shoulders.

Maybe you purchased a new sleeveless nightgown, Calvin tried to reason with himself. Maybe it was just a particularly low neckline or perhaps the fabric matched your skin tone so well he just wasn’t seeing it, after all the room was dark. Yes, that was possible.

Of course he couldn’t leave it at that - oh why didn’t he leave it at that and go right to bed? “You’re being ridiculous,” he scolded himself like a child in a whisper. “Just take a quick look, there’s no harm.”

Carefully he reached for where the blanket met your exposed back, making sure not to graze your skin, as much as he wanted to.

Sure enough there it was, you, completely exposed to him. The sides of your breasts pushing out against the mattress and your round ass on full display. “Shit…” the words fell out of Calvins mouth before he could stop them. He felt like a stupid teenager getting his first glance at a nude woman all over again.

Thoughts of temptation filled his mind. What would happen if he did touch you? If his hands slipped down towards the space between your thighs. Would you wake suddenly furious that he would ever wake you from your peaceful sleep? What about encouraging him to join you and take off his towel?

Of course he wouldn’t ever be sure of the real answer as Calvin could not bring himself to touch you while unconscious. It would be downright ungentlemanly.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts.

Calvin was lifting the edge of the duvet to cover you back up when you began to move. Panic filled him as he froze completely, fearing what you would think if you caught him ogling you in your sleep. Luckily enough for him your eyes did not open, but something unexpected did come out of your mouth.

At first Calvin thought he was hearing things, maybe the exhaustion of all these long nights in the lab were finally getting to him. Although that was a strong possibility in his mind there was no doubt the noises he was hearing were coming from you. Noises he was all too familiar with. Soft, breathy, moans.

This was not a sound Calvin knew you could make in your sleep. So similar to the sounds you let out when he was on top of that if he closed his eyes he would swear that’s where he was. While being swept up by his own imagination he nearly missed the words you spoke. “Mmph…Calvin…”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He could no longer ignore the growing bulge under the towel wrapped around his waist. Dropping the blanket back over you, he rushed back to the bathroom.

Leaning against the sink Calvin ripped the towel from around him, freeing his hard cock. Bringing his right hand up to his mouth he spit a glob of saliva into the center of his palm. Wasting no time at all he reached down and grasped the base of his throbbing length causing a gasp to escape him. “Fuck,” He moaned, his voice trembing with arousal. Calvin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this desperate for a release.

Reminiscing about the last time he had gotten you all to himself Calvin began working his hand over his cock. The way you bit your bottom lip when you were close to orgasm, how soft your ass felt in his hands, or how you begged him so sweetly to cum inside of you. “Oh honey,” he groaned with teeth clenched. The more he thought about you the closer he got to the edge.

Keeping his arm still Calvin started bucking his hips forward, fucking his fist while picturing you on your knees below him. Your big doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent glint was his weakness. How was someone even able to look so naive with a cock between their lips? “That’s it, God you're so good to me,” he could no longer hold back.

Picking up his pace Calvins mind went blank, only the sensation of his impending orgasm could be felt. A jumbled mix of curses sprung from his lips as he watched the cum shoot from the tip of his cock onto his fist.

Calvin remained silent in the bathroom, the only sound to be heard was the heavy panting noise of him trying to catch his breath. After a few beats he decided it would be best to clean up the mess he had made, put his pajamas on and get out of there as soon as possible. God forbid you wake up for a late night bathroom trip and see him like this.

Walking back out to the living room he began to wonder how loud he had been, did he wake you with his erratic moans? Choosing to take a quick peak and make sure he hadn’t embarrassed himself further he gracefully nudged your bedroom door open a sliver. Clearly the universe was looking out for old Calvin because there you lay, sleeping soundly.

Letting out a breath of relief Calvin moved back out towards his bed tonight – the couch.

If only Calvin had stayed watching you a little longer he would have seen the sly smirk spreading across your lips.

Everything goes according to plan.

–

The sun peeked through the blinds, shining directly onto his eyelids when he woke in the morning. He had been too distracted last night to set his usual 6am alarm but he welcomed the extra rest. Honestly after the night he had Calvin was surprised he slept at all.

Figuring there was no time to waste if he still wanted to go on his morning row, Calvin sat upright on the couch, wiping the sleep from his eyes. While rubbing his eyes Calvins nose picked up an array of once familiar scents: eggs, toast, bacon, and…was that pancakes? It had been so long since you last cooked breakfast for him –again Calvin knew that was completely his fault.

Cavin was starting to forget what your warm meals tasted like, becoming accustomed to eating the cold leftovers whenever he returned home. Perhaps he could skip the row, just this one time…

Strolling towards the kitchen with a smile on his face Calvin nearly tripped himself when he caught sight of you. Standing as he expected in front of the stove top, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head while carefully flipping pancakes. What he did not expect was the lingerie you were wearing while doing it. He’d obviously lost track of time while eyeing you as you noticed him, slack jaw and all.

You fully turned towards him with a smile, “Good morning sleepyhead.”

–

How you wish you had a camera near you now. The look on Calvins face was priceless. You had never seen him so stunned before, and that includes the first time you agreed to go on a date with him.

“M-morning,” he stuttered, clearly trying (and failing) to fix his uncouth expression.

His gaze wandered across the outfit before him. A light pink set, silk top decorated with a delicate bow in the center of the chest, short ruffled bloomers, completed with a transparent tulle robe.

You turned back towards the stove. “Did you sleep well? I missed you last night. It’s always so lonely in bed without you,” you said, exaggerating the sadness in your voice.

That seemed to snap Calvin back to his normal self, “I’m sorry honey, you know I just worry about waking you up,” the genuine concern in his voice almost made you feel bad for playing it up so much…almost.

“Well you woke me up anyway, so why didn’t you just join me, hm?” You had a feeling you could see the panic on his face without even looking back.

A hitch in his breathing and a sudden step towards you let you know you were spot on. “When exactly did I wake you?” he questioned.

“Oh you know, when you were playing with your cock in the bathroom,” you stated it simply like you were telling him something he already knew. “I have to say I was very disappointed you didn’t invite me Calvin, you know I hate to think of all the cum you wasted without me there to clean it up.” You shut the burner on the stove off, moving the final pancake off the side with the rest.

Finished with the task at hand you looked back at Calvin. No longer the anxious face you were anticipating, no this was a look you recognized instantly, arousal.

Calvin licked his lips, “You dirty little minx,” wrapping his hands around your waist he swiftly pulled you towards him. His hot breath fanning across your face, “You planned all this out didn’t you?”

Batting your lashes at him you whipped out your best virginal response, “I have no idea what you could possibly be accusing me of Dr.Evans.”

He tilted his head to the side, “Are you sure about that?” His hands were now grazing further down your back causing an involuntary shiver to run over you. “So you didn’t sleep naked last night hoping it would drive me crazy? How about moaning in your ‘sleep’ expecting me to get hard?”

You shook your head at every accusation. Watching Calvin grow more impatient with your antics was only egging you on.

He let out a huff, “No? Not even wearing this skimpy thing to cook breakfast in?”

“How do you know this isn’t what I usually cook breakfast in? It’s not like you’re ever around when I do it anyway.” The facade you had put on dropped quickly.

It was clear a lightbulb went off in Calvins head, “Is that what this is about? Have I been neglecting my pretty little wife's needs?” He moved his head into the crook of your neck, his nose pressed against your pulse.

Now it was your turn to stutter, “M-maybe…” Your eyes closed at the feeling of him being so close to you.

His lips moved to graze your neck, making his words jumbled, “Well I think I know just how to apologize for it.”

You were about to ask how when suddenly Calvins lips crashed onto yours, pushing every coherent thought from your mind. Caught off guard you forget to move your lips with his. He pulled away briefly to let out a hoarse whisper, “Kiss me,” The command was so gentle it seemed almost like a question.

You could never deny him of what he wanted. Moving back into the kiss you meet him with equal lust, like you both had been deprived of touch for years. God you missed this, the soft groans passing by your lips as your tongues melted against each other. You noticed a growing hardness pressed to your upper thigh. “Getting excited over a little kiss Calvin?” you teased. Your forehead rested against his, nudging his nose with yours.

“Can you blame me? I mean look at you,” Calvins right hand moved up from its place on your back, undoing the tie in the middle of your robe. You shook it from off your shoulders, letting it fall on the kitchen floor. Calvin took a step back to get a better look at you, making you whine at the loss of contact. “So perfect for me,” he said, like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that it was true.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he sunk slowly onto his knees.

His hands pulled at the back of your thighs, squeezing the soft skin. “I’m thanking my beautiful wife for putting up with me.”

Your eyes rolled at his dramatics. “Cavin I d-” the words ripped from you before they were even out as his lips moved to the inner part of your thigh. Dragging the delicate skin of his lips across you, your eyelids fluttered shut once more. “I should have known you would need me to take care of you,” he admitted.

The petals of his lips roaming higher up your thighs he shifted you so that your legs were flush against his torso. “Don’t you sweetheart, you need me to take care of you?” Although his tone was clearly mocking it still made you feel warm inside.

“Mhm, I do I do, please,” you nodded dumbly.

His smile pressed against your skin, “How cruel of me to ever leave my sweet wife and her needy pussy all alone.” Calvins right hand reached up to the center of your bloomers, thumb grazing over your clit.

“F-uck,” you gasped, dropping your hands to grip the base of Calvin's hair.

“You’re worse off than I thought you were,” he joked. Wasting no more time teasing you Calvin lowered your bloomers, pulling them with his teeth. Your eyes sprung open to watch him work.

Biting his lower lip Calvin admired the wetness dripping from you. “Miss me?”

“Yes, God Calvin Please,” you begged looking down at him with desperation flowing from you.

His eyes met your, “You don't need to beg for me anymore honey, I’m home now.” keeping eye contact with you Calvin kissed your aching clit. Gradually escalating from sweet pecks to open mouth licks you could feel your knees lock below you. Calvin shifted your left leg over his shoulder to drown himself inside your cunt, licking from your clit to your opening.

Moans falling from your lips before you even knew what you were saying, “Yes, fuck you’re so good Calvin,” you swore he always looked his best under you, even if your eyes were having trouble focusing at the moment.

Your praise was the only kind that Calvin cared about you recalled him telling you, and now that was obvious to you. Your words clearly have an effect on his performance. Encouraging him to lick and suck your clit with vigor. His moans vibrate your core pushing you further towards the edge of your impending orgasm.

Withdrawing his face from your pulsating cunt, Calvin lays his face on your thigh. Hastily replacing his tongue with his fingers and continuing the same motions. Seemingly mesmerized by his own actions Calvin stares at your pussy while speaking to you, “Yeah? You like when I pay attention to you?” His words came out wobbly like he was the one being pleasured.

Using all the strength you could muster you tried to really look at him like this. Face flush red leading down to his neck, your slick covering most of his chin, that one vein popping out of his temple. Never before Calvin have you seen a man look so determined to please.

“Mhm Yes, God Calvin, I love it when you pay attention to me,” you groaned.

“Good because I’ll be doing a lot more of it now.” going back in for another taste, he is like a man possessed. Calvin has always been an attentive man, inside and outside the bedroom and it was clear he was trying to prove something to you at this moment.

“Fuck I’m so close Calvin,” you warned.

He broke away from your pussy for a second time, “Yeah, you gonna come all over my face honey?”

You could no longer keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut tight. You wanted to say something- anything in response but the words failed you, opting to nod your head quickly.

“Do it sweetheart, come for me, please,” he coaxed, playing with your clit at the same steady pace he had been previously.

That was all it took for you to come, nearly collapsing into Calvin's arms. He held you upright as your orgasm overtook you. His praise continued as you came down from your high, “You're such a good little wife for me, that’s it honey, come just like that.”

After a few moments calming your breathing you decided to be brave and attempt to move on your own. You joined Calvin down on the floor, sitting in his lap. Letting out a sigh as you came back to your senses, “Fuck me.”

“I would but I'm afraid I may have gotten a little overly excited,” Calvin laughed. You took notice of what he was referring to, a large wet patch on the crotch of his pants.

“Well I’m glad that took care of itself because I don’t know I would have had any energy to help you with it, you drained me.” You jested, but really you weren’t sure your brain was working properly enough to think, let alone suck Calvin off.

The both of you sat in a peaceful moment of silence after that, fixing the others' wrecked appearance. You realized that these were the moments you missed most when Calvin left, simply basking in each other's presence - even if nothing extraordinarily romantic was happening.

“You know when you want me to spend more time with you all you have to do is ask, right?” he broke the silence while brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You know it would be a lot easier to ask you if you weren’t constantly away working or rowing, right?” you asked with the same cadence as him.

That made him giggle, “Fair point, I promise not to let my neurotic ways keep me away from you ever again.” You planted a quick peck in his lips at that, delighted to hear him say it. “In the meantime is there anything else I can do to make it up to you?”

You pretended to be deep in thought about his question, furrowing your brows together and tapping your pointer finger on your chin. “How about sitting down and eating the breakfast I’ve worked so hard on with me?”

Calvin moved from underneath you, causing a frown to appear on your face. He stood up and reached a hand down, inviting you to grab it and pull yourself up. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he smiled, pulling up two chairs to the dining table.

#calvin evans #calvin evans fanfic #calvin evans x reader #calvin evans x you #calvin evans x y/n #calvin evans fanfiction #calvin evans smut #lessons in chemistry #lewis pullman #Lewis Pullman fanfiction #cjs.fics

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dozing-marshmallow · 9 months

Note

i absolutely loved how you wrote my previous request! (them headcanons had me giggling and swinging my feet) soooooooo im back with another request! (if thats alright w chu of course) how about some jealous chris headcanons? maybe with a reader that points out attractive people a lot, like "oh damn he's kind of hot" "she's really pretty" (i realized i do this a lot so thought it might be a fun request)

Awwww I replied to your comment on that post, thank you so much for your kind words❤️!! I’m so happy I was able to provide headcanons that you loved and thoroughly enjoyed! I hope you feel the same with this one! :]

And not a problem! I can definitely assure you this was a fun request to write for!

JEALOUS CHRIS MCLEAN HEADCANONS

Chris Chris Chris.

What he wouldn’t give to be the sun of your life.

It depends on who you interact with and what you’re talking about, but most of the time he’ll tighten the grip he has on your hand or shift so close, his stubble would rub on you.

“(Y/N)... You still love me, right?” He’d ask, voice muffled from his face down on his bed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He lifts his head up, looking straight at the wall,“I...just have this aching feeling.” clutching a pillow to his chest, his doubt oozing from his lips,“Every time I see you talking to other people, I always feel like eventually you might think they’re much cooler...than me...and leave me...and I’ll be alone...”

“Aww Chris.” You came over to kiss him,“I would never do that to you. You know there’s no one else like you, and you’re cool the way you are.”

He wants to believe you, but his doubt worsens when you both get invited to the Oscars as guests where you’re in a room of nothing, but other superstars.

“Hey Chris... Who’s that over that?”

He sees you’re interested. So, for obvious reasons, he’s remains completely vague,“That’s the lead star for that upcoming movie.”

“No way! Savannah Michael in Nightly Guitar?” So much for that,“I never realised how attractive she was!”

“Yeaah... Not more attractive than me though, right?” He’d plaster a smile at first. You’ll kiss him and tell him of course and he’d have nothing to worry about!

But you don’t. Instead, you ignored him and dug deeper,“Wow...she has that sparkle in her eyes.”

“Sparkle...? I have that in mine too...” he gently pulls his eyes down, somehow thinking you’d see whatever there was to see better that way. What was the point when you weren’t looking at him?

Instead, you were listening to her answering an interviewer with a sugarsweet answer of gratitude,“The way she cares for her fans is so sweet! I wanna be like her someday.”

That was the final straw. This time he doesn’t try to top it off- he grumbles and pulls you away,“Alright, that’s enough of her.”

“Woah, Chris! I still wanted to see her!”

“No! You’re supposed to be with me! I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.”

You sighed,“Chris, can’t I admire someone without liking them? Not everything is about you.”

You appeared to read his jealousy as simple annoyance that you weren’t glorifying him twenty four seven...which might have been the case too.

So Chris decided to show you he can be as sweet, in case some mutant hunk tries seducing you with flattery and care, you would already be used to it from him. No receiving the prickly end of his treatment for you!

But then, you’re gone. He looks around: you were at the other side of the room.

What were you doing over there? He makes his way to you,“Heyy (Y/N)!”

“Oh, Chris, hi! Whatcha doing?” You chirp.

From where he found you from, he didn’t get the full picture that you were in the middle of talking to someone. That someone? Daniel McNally.

He shuddered...similar last name? No biggie...

“I was just about to ask! How come you didn’t tell me you were going to speak to the uh, awesome Daniel?” He queried through sucking teeth,“He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“Oh, no! I knew he was going to be here tonight so I wanted to ask about some of his movies! I did tell you, but I must’ve said it as I was going over to him. Was there something you needed?”

Dang it,“I see... Well, now that I’m here, I’d love to hear more about it, and maybe try contribute to this civilised conversation.” He glares at Daniel in the eyes, but kept his tone the same,“That alright with you, (Y/N)?”

You kiss him on the cheek,“You’re always welcome!”

He saw the annoyance flash in Daniel’s eyes, and winked in response.

Well. He grew increasingly bored with the conversation- saying that though would lose his reason to be close to you, so he stuck to nodding.

“Woaah, getting a bit too close there, buddy. Be careful, it’s not guy code to go after someone else’s partner.”

“Chris?” That caught you off guard. He wasn’t even standing close! You grab his hand and pull him away into a space empty enough for a private talk,“Alright, what’s the matter with you? Why did you assume he’s trying to move to me?”

“Assume? No no no. I know he is. I see the way he’s looking at you, how he’s trying to impress you. And I don’t appreciate it.”

You don’t believe him,“Chris, you talk and boost to your admirers every chance you get and you don’t hear me complaining.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“I’m making it clear that we’re exclusive.”

“Yeah and clearly he knew that, before you came...” you fold your arms, slightly unhappy,“This is sounding more like you don’t trust me enough to have a civilised conversation.”

By reusing his words, you cause his focus to shift away,“Chris.”

“You can’t blame me, okay? A cold hearted guy like me doesn’t deserve the warmth of a reincarnated sunflower... I guess I wanted some reassurance that you still love me the way I do you is all.”

“Is that seriously what this has been about?” You shake your head in dubiety. You don’t know what to say. Out of all the days to be jealous.

“Do you think...we could leave early? Pleaaaase?” He tightened his arm around you.

Shameless man. You sigh. That seems to be the only thing that’d make him feel better so you comply. You mainly came for the food anyway.

Bonus:

Looking back at it, for someone like Chris to be so worked up about securing his place in someone’s heart, was...adorable. Everything he did that night was just him displaying how proud he was to have you as his significant other, and subsequently how paranoid he was in losing you.

But he did steal one of the only chances you’d get to talk with your idols.

So you decide to do a little payback by pulling that joke on him where people would make a PowerPoint about who they would replace their loved ones with.

He was frowning when you set your laptop in front of him,“(Y/N)...” he must have read the title Guys I would leave my boyfriend for

The corner of your lip curves upwards, pressing forward to the next slide saying “No one.”

“See Chris. I wouldn’t replace you with anyone.”

He breathes out in relief, and starts smiling,“Whoo! That feels good to-“

“Yeah!” You interrupt him to get the punchline in i.e the next slide. Daniel McNally,“Uh...” you dramatise your expression as though you didn’t know how he got there.

The smile Chris had withered away into a quivering mouth,“I knew it...” Oh dear.

Turns out he didn’t know that this was a trend.

Either way, this wasn’t what was meant to happen!,“Chris, no! I-I don’t actually like him nor would ever leave you for him! It’s a prank people are doing! I’m not being serious, you know I would never do that to you!” You started shouting whatever came to your panicked mind, praying that one of those things would have him cured from his tears.

“So...you won’t leave me for him... What about...”

“Nooo, no one!” You pull him into your arms, his sobs wetting your shirt,“I’m sorrrry, it was a joke, I swear! I would never ditch you for another celebrity!”

Ah it feels great to have you hold him this way. :).

#td chris #chris mclean x reader #request #td chris mclean x reader #chris mclean #tdi x reader #total drama chris mclean #total drama island chris #total drama headcanons #tdi

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bobluvbot · 2 years

Text

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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deadlymistletoe · 10 months

Text

Concerning Hobbits

Pairing: Fili x hobbit f!reader

Request: Anonymous asked: Hello! I absolutely ADORE your writing! Could I request a Fili fic where the reader is a hobbit and really close friends with Bilbo so he has brought them with him to Erebor several times and between their last visit and their current visit Fili has been exchanging letters with Bilbo to learn about Hobbit courting etiquette so he can ask the reader out?

A/N:I hope you enjoy it! I'm honoured you trusted me with this request, especially since I haven't written for Fili before.

Genre: Fluff/romance

Description: Fili enlists the help of Bilbo to learn about hobbit courting customs in order to ask you out in the best way possible.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1471

You’d always been close to Bilbo, he was like a brother to you, so it was only natural that you thoroughly questioned him when he came back months after disappearing so suddenly.

His tale fascinated you, more than it should fascinate a respectable hobbit. You asked questions, about the elves, about the mountain, about Smaug, but most of all, about his 13 companions, the dwarves.

You’d never met anyone who wasn’t a hobbit, but ever since you were young you’d had a fascination with the race of dwarves, reading books about them, begging your parents to bring you back hand-crafted items the dwarves in Bree were selling.

So yes, it was only expected that you would be most interested in Bilbo’s companions - how you wished you’d been able to meet them. But most particularly, you were fascinated by the Durin’s, especially the golden-haired prince who’s good nature and humour Bilbo would fondly talk about.

Therefore, when Bilbo casually mentioned returning to Erebor to visit his friends you immediately begged to go with him. Knowing how much it would mean to you, particularly with your birthday coming up as you so kindly reminded him, he agreed, and one letter to the dwarf king later the two of you were on the road.

To everyone’s (or no-one’s) surprise, you and Fili hit it off immediately. The golden-haired prince had taken an instant liking to you and you to him.

The second visit was much the same, except the relationship between the two of you only grew stronger as you grew closer and closer to the line between friends and something more.

Both of you were beginning to feel things for each other that went beyond friendship, but neither of you said anything as you left with Bilbo once more, this time with a promise to write.

Neither of you noticed the knowing glance Thorin and Bilbo had shared, and after you left, Fili had been subjected to endless teasing from his brother until Tauriel of all people had taken pity on the heir and reminded Kili that he was just as smitten, if not more.

In the weeks after the trip, you and Fili had sent letter after letter to each other, and when Bilbo mentioned taking you on another visit you’d instantly agreed, the blond still vivid in your mind.

What Bilbo didn’t tell you, was that you weren’t the only one who had been in regular contact with Fili. Ever since he had returned to Bag End his mailbox had been full of letters from Fili asking all kinds of questions about hobbits and their courting customs.

It was bad enough reading and answering the incredibly long letters that seemed to revolve around you, but he also had to hide them from you - something that was quite difficult since you’d often bring in his mail for him when you came over for breakfast, forcing him to wake up even earlier to snatch any letters Fili should send before you came over.

In the end, he had sent a thick book regarding hobbits and their customs which had seemed to satisfy the dwarf for the foreseeable future.

Now, he was finally taking you to Erebor again, and you were beyond excited. Little did you know, but Fili, upon hearing of your visit, had been a flustered mess, his usually calm demeanour seemingly gone as he scoured the text in the book over and over as he scurried to make sure that everything was perfect as he anticipated your arrival.

No one commented when your greeting with Fili was far from ‘formal’, his arms winding around your waist as he lifted you from the ground and spun you around, your laugh ringing through the air, your curls bouncing when he set you down.

It wasn’t until later that Fili asked you if he could show you something and the two of you excused yourselves from the company.

You completely missed Kili’s encouraging wink and thumbs up to his brother from behind your back.

Fili didn’t tell you where he was leading you as he led you through halls you’d never seen before. You were about to ask when he pulled open a door, gesturing for you to step through and you stepped into perhaps the most beautiful part of Erebor you’d seen.

It was a terrace, or courtyard of sorts, jutting out from the mountain and looking over Dale, but it wasn’t the view that amazed you most.

The terrace was more like a garden, with grass instead of stone and all sorts of brightly coloured flowers blooming in various places - some you recognised, some you didn’t.

You turned to Fili, a bright smile adorning your face. “This is amazing. Has this always been here?”

He shifted, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sort of. It was awful when I first found it. I’ve been fixing it up since your last visit. I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it!” You assured him, walking further out, relishing the feeling of glass tickling your feet again as you headed towards the only non-plant in the place; a yellow picnic rug set out with your favourite foods.

Fili followed you to the rug, watching you sit down and look admiringly at the food.

“Did you make this too?” You asked, half joking.

To your surprise he didn’t object. “Bombour helped. I hope it’s alright.”

You stared at him for a moment. Did he realise that in The Shire something like this would be seen as an intention to court? Or was he just being friendly? You smiled. “I’m sure it will be.”

As you ate, you couldn’t help but notice that Fili was acting a bit strangely. Yes, he would laugh and smile, but he fidgeted when he thought you weren’t looking and only picked at the food.

You set your plate aside. “Is there a reason for all this? Or am I just that good a friend?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean…” He sighed, seemingly building up his courage before he faced you. “Maybe this will tell you what I mean.

He reached behind him to pick up a bouquet which he then held out to you.

You accepted the bundle of carefully picked flowers, a few immediately sticking out to you. Red roses, both white and pink camellias, red carnations, orchids and tulips.

Clearly, in the eyes of a hobbit, a declaration of love and adoration.

You glanced up at the blond, who was watching you with a hopeful expression. “You know, in The Shire, this sort of thing would be considered a clear intention to court. A declaration of love, even.”

“And what would you say if that’s exactly what it is?”

You smiled, leaning across to place a quick kiss to his lips before leaning back, watching the expression of surprise and happiness cross Fili’s face. “I’d say I accept and the feelings are returned.”

He smiled, leaning closer to brush a stay piece of hair behind your slightly pointed ear, letting his fingers linger. “That’s good, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He kissed you again, this time lingering longer, the remaining food all but forgotten as your grip on the bouquet loosened and you leaned into the kiss.

You’d be lying to say that you’d never thought about what the Prince’s lips would feel like against yours, how his beard would brush against your skin, and it was safe to say that this surpassed even your wildest dreams.

Fili pulled away, blue eyes shining. “Maybe later I can show you our courting customs.”

“I’d like that.” You murmured. “How did you know all this stuff?” You asked, glancing down to admire the bundle of flowers in your hands again.

“I asked Bilbo.” Fili admitted. “And he sent me a book.”

“What book?” You questioned with a smile. You found it adorable that he’d put in so much effort for you.

He grinned back. “Concerning Hobbits.”

Bilbo wasn’t surprised when you nervously pulled him aside the day before you were to leave, glancing anxiously at Fili over the other hobbit’s shoulder, who nodded encouragingly. He’d already talked to his uncle, who had agreed that you should be the one to talk to Bilbo.

“Bilbo?” You began, “Bilbo, I’m not ready to go home. I want to stay here…with Fili…” At his silence you rushed on. “I don’t want to upset you, and I’ll miss you but-”

Your long time friend wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I understand. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He pulled back, smiling at you. “I’m happy for you.”

So with a promise to visit again soon and one last hug, Bilbo left Erebor, and you remained behind, Fili’s warm hand around yours as you returned his radiant smile.

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

#imagines #the hobbit #female reader #Fili #fili durin #fili x reader #my writing

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freesia-writes · 1 year

Note

C-can I pick Howzer for #1, mmmaybe? 👉👈

ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE FOR HOWZER, my love! :D This follower celebration was SO FUN because the variety of prompts and people I have waiting to be written about are just... *chef's kiss*. This one was super fun. It was one of those times where the writing just kind of falls into place as you go along! Hope it's a fun one. <3

#1 - You hear [clone] tell the waitress that they are nervous for their blind date, but no one shows up. So you sit down to act like the date.

Howzer x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k Content Warnings: Kissin and drinkin ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He caught your eye the moment he walked in. He was immediately recognizable as a clone, but he just had a little extra *somethin* that immediately had your attention. Whether it was the tousled undercut he sported or the curving scars across his cheek and chin, you were thoroughly enjoying the view from your perch at the far end of the bar counter. It was always fun to see clones free of their armor, enjoying their scarce free time.

You’d had to stay late after your shift at the restaurant, covering a baby shower that stretched for hours through the day and into the afternoon, and now the dinner rush was already starting. You were free to leave, of course, but an extra dirty martini and some of the mistaken food orders were too good to pass up. Plus, the bartender was your best friend, so when she had a break between customers, there was always good conversation to be had.

“Did you see that test tube specimen walk in just now? Right up your alley…” she asked, waggling her eyebrows at you while she shook a steel canister.

“It’s not ALL clones, Dee…” you said in mock defensiveness. Okay, so you had a type. And there happened to be millions of them. But they weren’t all the same… not that it was worth getting into it with her again. “But yeah,” you admitted, peering over your shoulder again, watching him sit and gently take the menu from his server, “He’s got a sweet vibe.”

“You’ve watched him for fifteen seconds and you already think you can tell his vibe?” Dee challenged, pouring the drink. Without waiting for an answer, she bustled off to deliver it, leaving you to wait for his server to come back to the station next to your seat. As soon as he approached, you were speaking.

“So what’s the deal with table 44 over there?” you asked, earning an immediate snarky grin from Barnes, who was quite the tall drink of water himself, but he’d made it quickly known that he wasn’t interested in women.

“Ohh, you noticed, huh?” Barnes laughed, tapping on the register screen to enter a drink order, which you leaned over to peer at, curious what he might like. “Yeah, he’s a treat. All cute and nervous, too. He’s on a blind date.”

“Ahh, damn,” you said, leaning back to your food. “Well let’s see who he got set up with.”

* * *

You lost track of time, nursing your martini and accepting an extra appetizer that had been ordered and then changed. Dee had been regaling you with a tale from the last party she’d been to, although it was delivered in bits and pieces as she went about her job. It wasn’t until Barnes gave you a tap on the shoulder that you remembered to look for the clone’s hot date. Surprisingly, however, the chair opposite him was still empty, and he was leaning his chin into one hand, elbow on the table, the other hand idly twirling the straw in his drink. He looked so smart in his dark grey uniform, and you noted the way it fit snugly around his chest and arms, tucked neatly in to a belt around his narrow waist.

“Get this,” Barnes said conspiratorially as he tapped on the register again, “He just asked for the check, for just his drink. I think he got stood up. Should I quit and go join him?” he paused, as though he were genuinely asking you, then chuckled. “Ehh, I’m not into the military type. Also, it’s getting busier -- you should get out of here before you get wrangled into serving some tables.”

“Good point,” you said, not really thinking about what he said because you were so surprised and distracted at the fact that Mr. Handsome over there had been stood up. What kind of idiot… Suddenly, an idea popped into your head, as the rest of Barnes’ words finally processed, and you decided to act on it before your rational brain (and cowardly second-guessing) kicked in. “Wait, Barnes, don’t give him the check…” you said, putting a hand on his arm as the receipt printed in front of him. “I’m gonna do it.”

His genuine laugh of delight was infectious, and further fueled your slightly bubbly mood. “Well you’d better come up with a good excuse for making him wait so long… And make it worth his time,” he said, giving you a suggestive wink that earned him a smack on the shoulder. You stuffed your apron into the cabinet below the server stand and rushed to the refresher to see what could be done. The smell of a full day’s work in a restaurant was heavy on your clothes and hair, and the barely-remaining makeup was sparse. Grateful for the little basket of hygiene items kept under the sink, you pulled your hair down, tousling it with your fingers after spraying some refreshing powder through it. You got some paper towels wet and wiped your armpits, laughing at the thought of the clone seeing you now. There was nothing to be done about your outfit -- black button-up shirt and black pants -- but at least you could untuck the shirt now and roll up the sleeves. You made one last stop by the bar, making two rushed requests of Dee.

“Hey -- real quick -- I need that gold necklace from the lost and found drawer, and can you make a dirty martini and another of whatever he had?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, shaking her head fondly as she fetched the necklace that had been left a few weeks ago. “I mean, what the heck. Sounds like fun, and probably nicer for him than going home sad.” Armed with two drinks and as much courage as you could muster, you headed for the table, running through all the possibilities in your mind.

“Hi! Blind date, right?” you asked, wanting to be careful not to lie. His brown eyes lifted to you, expression unreadable. He’d been patiently waiting, but was he the stiff sort who would be indignant at being made to wait? Or was he a pushover so desperate for attention that he’d put up with anything? It remained to be seen.

“Yeah,” he said in that smooth clone voice you’d heard so many times. “Howzer,” he said, standing to greet you. He awkwardly offered a hand, realizing you had a drink in each of yours, and gave a breathy chuckle of relief as you quickly set the glasses on the table and took his hand, giving it a gentle shake. You froze, unsure of whether to use your name, or if he knew the name of the person he was expecting…

“And you’re Xena, right? Here, please, sit?” he continued, standing behind your chair and smiling in such a kind way that the guilt settled heavily on your shoulders. He’d been made to wait an awfully long time, and yet here he was, offering a kind and graceful introduction…And it was also way too much work to try to figure out how to continue the deception as further details would be questioned.

“Erm, no…” you admitted, once he’d cordially seated you and taken his place across the table. His furrowed brow and crooked smile made your heart skip a beat, and you blundered on, “I’m sorry… I work here, well, not right now, but I was hanging out, and I heard you were waiting for someone, and I saw it had been a long time, and I was… well, yeah, I was totally creeping on you from over there… And I just didn’t want you left here hanging cause you’re just… Well you seem really nice… And honestly, you’re really cute… Ohhhh man. This is not a good start,” you laughed nervously, burying your face in your hands. What HAD you been thinking?

Howzer put two and two together and leaned back, running a hand over his tousled hair. You grimaced, hoping it wouldn’t all fall to pieces, and gently pushed the drink toward him once you were willing to show your face again, despite its bright red color. “Here… I brought the same thing you ordered, and… you can just enjoy it, if you want… Sorry, I don’t know what I was aiming for here,” you fumbled, starting to rise to your feet.

“No, wait -- it’s alright,” he offered, raising a hand to accompany his words. “I guess Pivot didn’t paint me in the best light to whoever I was supposed to meet here,” he chuckled dryly. “But it was kind of you to take pity on me… I think? Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, so what do you say to some dinner?”

Relief cascaded down at the invitation, and your shoulders dropped a few inches with the release of tension. You smiled, letting out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and nodded.

“You said you work here?” he continued, opening the menu as if he hadn’t spent the last thirty minutes reading it about eight times over. “What’s the good stuff? Oh, and I suppose I should ask your name too.”

You filled him in, on both points, and had just began sharing about how you got this job when Barnes interrupted you by sliding right up to the table with an air that absolutely demanded attention. “Welllll hellooo again. I see your date showed up?” he said, mock innocence painted all over his face. Howzer gave you a smirk with a raised eyebrow, and you blushed bright red again, chuckling anxiously once again.

“I told him, Barnes,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender. “I’m not cut out for this sort of thing.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Barnes pointed out, pursing his lips at you before sending Howzer a rather flirty glance. “I mean, I don’t blame you. But you’re not skimping on my tip if you’re gonna make me serve you,” he said, turning back to you. His charisma lightened the mood even further, and you assured him that he would not be slighted in any way. After some discussion about the dishes and a few suggestions, both you and Howzer had the food ordered and were left to stare at each other once again. You were trying to figure out what kind of date this was meant to be, what type he may be looking for (or what type he was himself). But instead of trying to make yourself into something you weren’t, you decided to just be authentic and see where it went. You didn’t really have much to lose, anyway.

“So. Howzer,” you said, “How’d you get the name?”

He leaned forward again, stirring his drink again and appearing to be much more relaxed, and began sharing stories from his life so far. It was decidedly different than yours, especially with the fact that he aged twice as fast. You tried not to think about the actual number of years he’d been alive, as that would make you a total pervert by regular human age standards. He told tales of his brothers, their personalities and quirks, and the adventures that his military life had taken him on so far. He shared his thoughts about the world, musing about ideas for the future -- if or when things ever changed. The minutes melted away, punctuated only by Barnes appearing occasionally to refill drinks, bring plates, or clear them away.

You’d always had a soft spot for the clones, but you loved seeing them open up. The unique complexity of each individual was always a delight, and Howzer seemed to have more depth than most. He was simultaneously ambitious yet reserved, steady yet bold. You were finding yourself more and more enthralled, and in a bit of disbelief at your luck. Somehow you’d chatted away the entire dinner rush, and the restaurant was now growing quiet, filled with only a few lingering guests.

The conversation took a bit of a flirty turn, and you found yourself reaching across the table in a fit of laughter, clapping your hand on top of his. He smiled, still chuckling, and turned his hand over to gently take yours, sending another spark through your body. His gaze darkened a little, taking on a suggestive edge that suddenly made you ready to take him home right then and there. His thumb traced softly across your knuckles, and his eyes dropped to your hands on the table.

“Well, things didn’t turn out so badly tonight after all, did they…” Howzer mused. His smooth voice and the thrill of the last couple of hours of conversation and connection had you feeling as though you were living a dream. You smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze, and shook your head.

“Want to get out of here?” you asked, perhaps with more of a seductive tone than you’d intended.

“Oh, ahh, sure… But… well, I mean…” he stuttered, sheepish and hesitant all of a sudden, and you wondered if you’d crossed a line somehow.

“I just meant for a walk, or glow pops, or something to change the scene,” you offered brightly, and though he tried to hide it, he looked visibly relieved.

“Sure -- yes -- sorry,” he continued, running a hand through his hair again. “Look, this has been super fun, and I’m so glad you took the initiative to sit down. I’m just… I’m not much of a one-night-stand kind of guy. I know it’s lame, or whatever, but… I guess I just take a while to warm up that way… The guys make fun of me for it all the time.” You felt your heart swell in your chest at his vulnerability. You definitely hadn’t been expecting that, and somehow it made you crave him even more. Respectfully, of course.

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted, leaning forward and picking your hand up from his to place it on his bicep, emphasizing your words with a smile. “I’ve really enjoyed this. And would like to continue to enjoy it.”

“I mean, I’m not a total prude,” he said, laughing self-consciously, still with that glint in his eyes that hit you right in the soul.

“I don’t know,” you said playfully, being careful to keep it lighthearted, “We’ll have to see about that.” You bit your lip, hoping it wasn’t too much of a jab, but he smirked, primly setting his napkin on the table and rising to his feet, extending a hand to you.

“Well let’s start with a walk.”

After fighting over the bill for a few minutes, since you “weren’t the one he asked on a date” but he “had indeed taken you on a date” but “it was where you worked” but “it still needed to be paid” but “you wanted to be fair”… You let him pay with the insistence that you’d be getting the next one, which gave you a little thrill at the thought that there would be a next one. The coat closet was in the middle of a long, narrow hallway that branched away from the host stand at the main entrance, and the hallway included a few other doors that led to the refreshers as well as the kitchen. Howzer leaned in, scanning the hangers for his coat, and suddenly you heard a loud voice as the restaurant door slammed closed behind someone.

“Hello! I need to be seated immediately. Oh, it’s been a ROTTEN evening. The stupid taxi driver got lost twice, and the train was held up by some idiot old lady, and now I’m incredibly late to meet someone here!” a sharp female voice announced, catching the attention of everyone within hearing range. The realization hit you like a gallon of ice water dumped over your head, and as Howzer leaned out of the closet door to peer at the disturbance, you moved without thinking, pushing him back into the coat closet with so much force that both of you lost your balance and tumbled in, kept on your feet (barely) only by the row of jackets hanging up along the back wall.

Howzer’s arms went out to the sides, hitting the wall with an ungainly thump, and you fell into him, landing against his chest in the most fortuitous way, hands splayed across his shoulders to try to break your fall. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, and heard him chuckle quietly once the initial surprise had passed.

“I wasn’t aware I had this effect on women,” he said in a low voice, and you held a finger to your lips with urgency, tilting your head toward the loud voice still ringing outside.

“What do you MEAN, he left?!” she said shrilly, and you could hear Barnes smoothing things over. “You can’t hold a table longer than two hours? That’s just ridiculous.” You sent up a silent prayer of thanks for his quick thinking and willingness to cover for you. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet, freeing Howzer from beneath you, though you were quite loath to do so, and watched him slowly stand straight as well. His eyebrows raised at what he was hearing, and he looked down at you in amusement.

“I may have dodged a bullet tonight,” he whispered, and you stifled a giggle.

“Fine, well at least tell me where the refresher is, and I’ll be on my way!” the woman demanded, and the quick click-clack of her heels coming down the hall sent you both into a panic again. There was nowhere to hide except behind all the coats, and you both immediately dove into the row of fabrics, pushing them out in front of you and flattening yourselves against the wall, side by side. Now you were trying really hard not to laugh, at the utter ridiculousness of this turn of events, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid making a sound.

“You know she doesn’t even know what I look like, right? We’ve never met,” Howzer breathed in your ear, and you gave him a little push.

“There weren’t any other clones in the restaurant tonight, were there?” you whispered right back, and he tilted his head in concession.

“Good point.”

The sound of the refresher door closing was a welcome one, and you pushed the line of jackets in front of you apart, taking a deep breath of the fresh air that was a nice change from the stuffiness of your hiding place. You were getting ready to head out when you felt Howzer pull your arm, and you turned back toward him questioningly.

“We don’t want to risk it. Better wait til she leaves,” he said, shrugging as though he had no choice in the matter. But the soft croon of his voice and that little shimmer of a reflection of the dim closet light in his eye took away absolutely any reason you may have to argue, and you leaned back into him, facing him now, as he rested against the wall. Jackets were stuffed all around you, draped over your back and undoubtedly sticking out a bit, but his breath caught in his throat as you drew near and the sound made you forget about everything else.

“I don’t want to push you past your comfort zone,” you said softly, feeling the tingles growing as he ran his hands up the outsides of your arms, and you brought your hands up to rest on his broad chest.

“I appreciate that,” he breathed, leaning in a little closer, “But I told you I wasn’t a complete prude.” He was so close now that you could smell him, an intoxicating mix of aftershave, soap, traces of scents from dinner, and the slightest hint of musk underneath it all. His proximity was electrifying, and you lifted your face to take in the fondness in his eyes and the gentleness in his expression. You were hopelessly lost at this point. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, and your cheeks curved into a smile at his gentlemanly request.

“Yes please,” you whispered back, and as soon as the last syllable had left your lips, his mouth was against them, arms wrapping you in a firm yet tender embrace. As if the closet weren’t stuffy enough, the sudden heat of the moment, combined with the two of you pressed together, had you completely flushed with warmth. His kiss was unfathomably sweet, and when he pulled away with a soft smack of the lips, he rested his forehead against yours with a small smile on his face. You lifted a hand to his scarred cheek, reveling in the moment.

The silence was broken by the refresher door opening again, and an aggressive tapping of heels echoed down the hallway as the narrowly-avoided blind date from hell clattered out the front door. You pulled back a little to better meet Howzer’s eyes, though you could have stayed there forever.

“Now how about that walk?”

399 notes · View notes

resowrites · 11 months

Text

Waterloo - oneshot.

Summary: Speculation abounds about his wife's pregnancy and Henry finally has enough…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, angst, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2034

A/N: This was supposed to go up last week but time got away from me. Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Waterloo - oneshot.

Henry couldn't help but smile when he reentered the living room and saw her lying there. They'd walked the dogs only twenty minutes before and she was so exhausted she'd collapsed on the sofa the moment they got home. He watched as her chest rose steadily with every breath, with her legs tucked up and a hand cupping the base of her stomach. Luckily her morning sickness had lessened and the worst symptom her pregnancy was causing at that moment was bouts of extreme tiredness. He was loathe to wake her, especially as he had difficult news to share. Seeing her so soundly asleep reminded him of how vulnerable she was and his chest stirred with a mixture of anger and worst of all - guilt. "Ollie, it's dinnertime, can you wake up for me?" He rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her slowly. But her eyes burst open and she bolted upright.

"M-mmm what time is it?"

"Six o'clock darling, you fell asleep after our walk. I thought you'd like some dinner, you can join me in the kitchen if you're up to it?" She blinked at Henry several times, still trying to get her bearings.

"Yeah, okay, just help me up…" He smiled lovingly and took her by the hands. "What are we having? If you want I can drive to the deli and pick us up a couple of subs?" Henry vigorously shook his head.

"No, it's fine darling, I'm going to make something. Besides, you need to rest. There's… also something we need to discuss." As if on queue, his phone pinged for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Henry tried to ignore it and offered her a reassuring smile. But her mouth set into a frown.

"What is it? Are your Mum and Dad okay?!"

"Yes sweetheart, it's nothing like that. Come on, let's have something to eat first." He attempted to lead her into the kitchen but she held fast.

"Henry, you're worrying me. What is it?" He gazed into her eyes for a few seconds and sighed.

"Look, I really didn't want to bring this up—"

"Bring up what?! Just tell me!"

"Okay, okay… you know we went shopping yesterday and you thought someone took a picture of us?" She nodded slowly. "Well, it turns out a picture was taken. And then posted on Twitter." She blinked at Henry several times.

"So? Sometimes people catch us and take photos…"

"Darling, I… things are different now." He reached for her stomach.

"Oh…"

"Look, my publicist's already called me. The picture's everywhere and she wants to know how we'd like to proceed—"

"What? Why?"

"Well, maybe if we're more upfront the speculation will die down and there'll be less interest…" Henry trailed off, unable to read the look on her face. Eventually, she cleared her throat.

"Henry, it really doesn't matter what we confirm and/or how. People are still going to take our pictures and gossip. It's why I didn't want to do anything in the first place - it's not going to make any difference." His head dropped to his chest.

"… I'm so sorry, darling." She cradled Henry's face and gave him a quizzical look.

"What for?"

"For all of it. I wanted to do my best to protect you and I've failed."

"Failed? It's not your fault someone saw us—"

"Yes, but if you were with someone else, you'd have none of this. You could just live your life without being talked about the whole world over." She chuckled.

"Aren't you exaggerating slightly? It's only a small group of people who really cares about this. Besides, we've been together nearly a decade—"

"I know, but that's not how they see it. I'm just scared that this will all escalate now that that picture's out there—"

"But darling that's beyond our control. Besides, it's not like anyone's made any threats… is it?"

"No, but what if they do? I mean I would never want to scare you but you know how unhinged people can be. If anything happens to you I'll never forgive myself." She couldn't help but laugh again.

"Well, for starters we're holed up here most of the time and security aside, we also have two Akita's who aren't exactly fond of strangers. I'm sure we'll be fine…" But he was in no mood for her teasing.

"Darling this isn't funny, I feel beyond awful. You should never have had these sorts of worries, pregnant or not."

"Don't be daft. I wouldn't trade our life for anything. Okay, so it can be a nuisance at times, but what others think isn't important. We have to live our lives, Henry. We were going to be spotted at some point. It's probably better people know now rather than when we're randomly seen pushing a pram."

"I know, I know. But I still feel helpless. It makes me fear for when the baby's actually here. How are they going to cope with being in the public eye? How the hell am I going to keep them safe as well?"

"Well, they won't even be able to find their feet for the first four months—" Henry's face hardened.

"Ollie, this isn't a bloody joke. Once our kid is out there, there's only so much we can do—"

"But that would be the case whether they were the child of someone famous or not. If there's one thing this pregnancy's taught me so far, it's that we can't have total control. Okay, so one day they'll have to learn why people want to meet their dad and take pictures of him, but that's not a bridge we'll have to cross for some time." He was silent for several moments. "Darling, talk to me…"

"It's nothing, it's just… none of it's worth it. Especially now."

"What are you saying?"

"I saying, I'm ready to—"

"Stop right there—"

"No, Ollie. I won't. Sooner or later it'll become the biggest stressor for us as a family. If the two of you aren't being photographed in the street, there'll be times when you're by yourselves - just the thought of what could happen makes me sick to my stomach."

"Darling, we were out in public and you're a public figure. Okay, so it's unfortunate. But it's not like they got a picture of them—"

"And what about when they do? As you said, we can't fully protect them—"

"Well, for starters, the law's on our side. But other than that you're going to have to learn to let this go. What will be, will be." Henry nearly blew his top.

"How can you be so bloody calm about this?! I'm scared that the more pregnant you look, the more invasive people will become. I don't even want people coming up to you, let alone anything else—"

"I've handled that okay in the past haven't I?" He smiled sadly and held her tight.

"Of course you have, and I'm not saying you're some delicate flower but this isn't just about us anymore. I want to do my best for you and the baby and it scares me how terrible people can be."

"Why? Just what exactly are they saying?" Henry didn't know how to respond. She sighed. "Oh sweetheart, it's not your fault."

"Of course it is! And what can I do about any of it? Nothing unless I give it up—"

"Don't be ridiculous, even that wouldn't be enough. Once you're famous, you're famous. We just have to rise above it."

"But I want to respond, let people know they can keep their disgusting opinions to themselves—"

"And has that ever worked in the past? Look, we really will be alright. You have nothing to apologise for or feel guilty about. We have a wonderful life, Henry. We have so many amazing adventures together and we're about to embark on our biggest one yet…" She rubbed his chest but his head hung low.

"I still want you both to have as little stress as possible."

"What will make me less stressed is you promising not to get any more upset by this, okay?” She bit her lip. “And if it makes any difference, I already knew about the picture." Henry’s eyes darted upwards.

"What?!"

"My sister messaged me when she saw it doing the rounds on Instagram. She's blocked the people trying to get more information." His nostrils flared.

"See?! They've already started harassing our family! We've got to nip this in the bud now—"

"Darling, we're damned if we do, damned if we don't. Luckily we have good people around us and they've promised to say nothing—"

"That's not what worries me. Why didn't you say anything?"

"… Because I knew you were already feeling bad and I didn't want to make it worse." Henry's heart ached.

"Oh, darling. You know you can always tell me anything. Just promise me you won't go reading comments—"

"I won't. But… can you be honest about something?"

"Of course."

"… Do I look big?"

"What? Why would you even think that?!"

"Are you sure?"

"Darling, that's the reason they're in a tizzy, they can't tell if you're pregnant or not—"

"Well… soon they'll know for sure."

"Oh Ollie, please promise me you're not worried about that of all things? All this pregnancy has done is make you even more beautiful—" she scoffed.

"Henry, look… we can work out our plans as a family when we need to. But you love what you do, it's who you are and what you've worked so hard for—"

"No, it's not. Finding you made me realise it never has been. Making you my wife, starting a family… that's who I am. What I've always wanted. I'd do anything now, just so long as you and our kid are always near me." She felt a lump in her throat. "Don't you get it ya numpty? I've never seen your eyes look so soft and warm. It's not about me missing out - I love doing nothing with you Ollie." She swallowed back her tears.

"Well, let's just wait until they're here, okay? Then we can go from there. But I promise you, I'm not worried about that picture, and neither should you be." His head sunk again.

"… They had no right to even take it." She then shot him a mischievous look.

"Well, was it at least enough to distract from the size of my arse?" Henry softened and quickly turned her around.

"Hang on, lemme take a look—" she spun back and thumped him on the arm.

"Don't you start now, mister - I only have so much bloody patience!" Henry's eyes quickly lost their playful spark. "Well, if things get that bad… you could always do a naked calendar. That'd give them something else to talk about—"

"A naked calendar?! You do realise I'm far too hung to appear in-frame?" She clucked her tongue.

"Oh please, the photographer would need more Vaseline for the lens than what's currently in production…" His eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"What are you trying to say?! You're no bloody prize either!" She thwacked Henry on the arm.

"At least they wouldn't be swapping out the lens every thirty seconds—" He gasped.

"Well, I'm surprised that person's phone didn't explode when they took that picture!" Her mouth fell open.

"Oh yeah?! Cos I'm shocked anyone even bothers to take their camera out to snap you—" Henry couldn't stand it any longer and pulled her in for a kiss.

"… Then let me take my shirt off and we'll see just how well I photograph—"

"No fucking thank you! I don't want to be put off that dinner you said you were going to make. In fact, you can now take me out for it—"

"Will a drive-thru be alright?"

"No, it bloody well won't you little bollocks! You know, just for that, you can take me to the new Italian on Harpin Lane—"

"But they won't even do spaghetti there!"

"Tough shit. You should have thought about that before you opened your mouth—"

"Well, from now on I definitely won't be!"

"Good! More breadsticks for me!"

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@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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aurumacadicus · 6 months

Note

I hope that dumb fuck doesn't put you off writing that universe, I for one thoroughly enjoyed it

I hadn't really planned on it, at least for a while, but again: I was surprised by the amount of people who were immediately like "Yes. I like it. Picasso."

SO! Some thoughts:

Obviously the Captain and his Lieutenant are Steve and Bucky. Steve is an alpha and Bucky is a beta and they want nothing more than to form a triad with Tony. The only reasons they don't are: 1) Tony is skittish. He accepts their gifts with a sweet smile but he also doesn't open up at all. They can't tell if he's just being polite, or if he's just that guarded and they're desperate to keep seeing him so they don't push for fear of scaring him off. (Hint: He's just that guarded and he would be scared off.) 2) The war is on the cusp of ending and the brass are talking about them triad-bonding with someone important. They're pretty sure they heard a princess's name thrown around. What they really want is to go home and work their farm again but apparently they're expected to live at the capitol and marry well just because they've been successful in all their missions, even though a failure meant them dying so they didn't really have a choice but to succeed. 3) They can't tell if Tony remembers them at all. Tony had been the lord of their lands growing up, was about a decade older than them, and they're scared that Tony might worry they're using him as a 'peons fucking their lord in revenge' way. They're not, they were smitten with him even when they were young, but Tony is... well, they've come to understand that Tony expects the worst for himself. And they can't really blame him when he's been whoring himself for a decade. (Tony doesn't remember them, but even if he did, it wouldn't change anything.)

The York boroughs were the first to fall in the war as they were closer to Hydra's borders. Tony's parents had died and he'd been unable to control his holdings as an unmarried omega, and as it turned out, Uncle Obie didn't necessarily have his best interests in mind anyway. So he'd fallen in line with the rest of the York refugees as they'd fled their homes to escape Hydra's armies. But he doesn't have the skills that the rest of his people have--he was expected to take on a home and make a family and all that entailed. He knows how to keep books, but there's not a lot of that type of work when a country's at war, he comes to realize, at least for an omega. He has no money, most alphas would rather marry their sweethearts or no one at all before going off to war, and there's really no one he can turn to for help nearby. He needs money to travel to the Van Dynes'. So, reluctantly, he... opens himself for business. Just to get enough money to travel. Just to get to Jan and the safety of her home. (Tony cries and cries when Jan shows up at the brothel a year and a half later and asks him to show her the ropes, and Jan just holds him, feeling sorry for herself and for him and for every other omega in the brothel. They eventually move brothels--following the Shield's army is more lucrative, and eventually they might earn enough between them to buy a tiny place for them to share, if the war ever really ends.)

Steve spends the first several visits just sketching Tony, because he was an artist first and a soldier second, and it makes Tony blush even though he doesn't quite know why. Because sometimes Steve has him pose with Bucky? Maybe. Some of the positions Steve asks for them to get into feel pretty lewd. But then, maybe they feel lewd because Tony expects them to. He's been at this for a few years now and there have been a lot of things he didn't expect to be sexy to be his customers' kinks. (Bucky is mostly just indulging Steve at first, but then he goes into a survival rut after an especially dire battle and knots Tony twice before he regains rational thought, and Tony is so soft and sweet on his knot that he figures his hindbrain is still chasing that high of an omega submissive underneath him during one of his most primal ruts, all wet and breedable, that it makes him incapable of bonding with any other omega.) ((Steve has always been happy with Bucky, but he has to admit he's always sort of wanted a third to complete their triad, and he really likes Tony. He figures it's because of what Bucky was always teasing him about, though--he always had to be rescuing someone. Tony, for all of his blase shrugs and mysterious smiles, needed at least a little rescuing.))

#aurumacadicus answers #anon #ideas #stuckony #lemon?

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lanawinterscigarettes · 4 months

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Hey I just thought of an interesting idea. May I please request a Missy × reader where the Missy has created a special lipstick which anyone she kisses the person sleep if she's wearing the lipstick. Missy finds you and then kisses you, you then fall unconscious and she then kidnaps you

this idea is so so good, and fits Missy really well. (seriously, words alone cannot express just how much I loved writing this)

I hope you're happy with what I was able to come up with <3

Kiss Of Doom (Missy/Gomez! Master x reader)

Warnings: Missy has an unhealthy obsession with the reader, stalking, drugging/poisoning via lipstick, kidnapping, mentioned hypnotism/mind control, slight yandere vibes honestly (but then again it's Missy so what do you expect), the ending is happy for Missy but I can't really say the same for the poor reader, Missy refers to herself once as Mummy in the bonus section at the end

Missy was bored. And when Missy was bored, that meant she needed to do something to entertain herself. There was quite a number of different things she could do, but by far one of her favorites was causing chaos.

She loved to stir the pot and get herself (and others) into a big heap of trouble, all in the name of entertainment. And whenever Missy found herself to be thoroughly, honest to God entertained, that usually meant nothing good, especially for other people.

Take you, for example. You'd simply been going about your day when she'd spotted you out of the corner of her eye, her interest piqued. And because Missy just can't leave things well enough alone, naturally she started to follow you.

It started out innocent enough, or as innocent as it could be for her anyway. She just thought you were so attractive, and would be such an interesting little toy to play with... although it soon became clear after a while that she couldn't just give you up, when days turned into weeks that turned into months and she was still following you around.

Stalking, after all, was such a strong word. She wasn't stalking, per say. Just keeping a close enough eye on you from a safe enough distance away. Obviously.

Missy loved playing her twisted little game of cat and mouse with you, one you weren't even aware you were a part of. Though the creepily detailed handwritten letters that kept showing up in your mailbox and the way you had the constant feeling of being watched certainly should have been a clue that something was going on.

As content as she was to watch you safely from a distance, she soon became rather agitated whenever she saw you around other people, no matter who it was. Friends, family, coworkers, potential partners- all of them were off the table, especially that last one.

Missy had finally had enough the day she overheard one of your colleagues mentioning setting you up on a blind date. Not only was it terribly unclassy, but it was a little insulting. Honestly, she felt just awful for you.

However, she was also well aware that this could be her one and only chance to make a move without anything seeming too suspicious. So what did she do? She kidnapped your friend and hypnotized them into setting you up with her, of course.

Her plan worked perfectly. Not only did she finally get to talk to you in person without having to sneak around, but the date itself wasn't too bad. She really did enjoy herself. And if she was anyone else, that would be all she'd need to be happy.

But she wasn't anyone else. And now that she had you in her grasp, there was no way she'd let you slip through her fingers, just like that.

So, while you excused yourself to use the restroom, she brought out a compact mirror and some lipstick for her to apply. That tube in particular was one of her favorites, not only because the shade was a very flattering color, but also due to the fact that anyone who was kissed by her while she had it on would pass out almost immediately. Perfectly fitting for someone such as herself.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Missy was absolutely delighted when you offered to walk her home afterwards, openly fawning over just how polite you were, causing you to blush. If only you knew.

If only you knew that the house she'd taken you to wasn't hers, and that when she'd teasingly asked for a kiss goodnight you'd black out and wake up somewhere that certainly wasn't your home. But you didn't know that. If you had, maybe you would've had a chance to get away sooner.

Although, come to think of it, it really didn't matter at the end of the day whether you'd caught on to her sooner or not. There was no way she would've ever left you alone after that.

That's what happened when Missy got bored. She'd do anything in her power to keep herself entertained, and now that she had you, she'd never have to worry about being bored ever again.

Bonus (because I just couldn't resist writing out the actual scene):

"Come on, sweetheart. Just one kiss for Mummy. Please?" Missy sweetly begged, sticking her bottom lip out in a mocking pout.

As much as you knew you probably shouldn't because of how late it was, you quickly caved in, unable to resist the alluring temptation of her lips against your own.

"Okay," you responded, watching as her face lit up with (somewhat malicious) glee. You didn't think anything of the strange look she gave you, figuring it must've just been a trick of the light. Boy, were you wrong.

"That's a good pet." She leaned in, pressing her soft lips against yours in a passionate embrace. You didn't know what it was, but you suddenly felt light headed, even though you hadn't been kissing her for that long.

"M- Missy-" you said in a slight slur, your hands reaching out to grab her arm so you could hopefully hold onto her for support. She reached out and carefully brought you close to her chest, allowing you to lean on her as you became dizzy, almost as though you were about to pass out.

"Oh, you poor sweet thing, you," she cooed while brushing her fingernails over the side of your face. You merely stared up at her in response, knowing you'd be unable to form enough words to make a full sentence.

"Go to sleep, dear. I'll be here when you wake up." She softly urged, making you an offer that was very difficult to refuse.

Her face was the last thing you saw before you fell out of consciousness, and if you didn't know any better you could've sworn she was wearing a different shade of lipstick than she had been before.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

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orchidsangel · 3 months

Text

realizing now that i don't have to apologize for not writing. i'm only human, and i have a life outside of tumblr that requires me to use my brain, and unfortunately, i've never been able to focus on both academics and creativity. i've put a pretty good amount of stuff out when you combine everything on my blogs, so i hope everyone still enjoys all of it.

i'm not leaving or anything. i've just been beating myself up about not writing on here in a while, and i just now realized i don't have to. comparing myself to people who can churn out multiple fics in one day will never do me any good. and it's better to just be proud of what i put out.

i'll for sure write again, so idk why it's so hard to accept that it's a little difficult to do it rn. especially because there was a time when i wouldn't write for months at a time, and it had no effect on me.

anyway, i hope you guys stop by in my inbox sometime and say hi. i thoroughly enjoy talking about other things. i've got lots of interests and time on my hands to talk about them. and i hope i'm interesting enough for you to keep following even though i'm taking a break.

#✧ orchids in bloom ✧

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midnight-glasses · 1 year

Note

Hi again! Thanks for answer my question <33. My request is Yandere or normal Carla Tsukinami x Yui headcanons. Btw, I love carla x yui too <33

Firstly, I would like to express my gratitude for your kindness and enthusiasm towards my content. Therefore, I will fulfill your request to the best of my abilities and I hope you enjoy it!

To be honest, I am not a big fan of the character Carla Tuskinami, my favorite couple in this franchise is definitely Shinyui.

However, I cannot deny that Carla is an interesting character, his dynamic is truly endearing.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing these headcanons, and I am considering the possibility of writing about Yui and Shin too.

POSSIBLE TRIGGERS:

Cuteness overload;

None;

Yui initially fears and is intimidated by Carla's cold and mysterious demeanor, but gradually starts to see his softer side as their relationship progresses.

Carla's soft side towards Yui becomes more apparent as their relationship progresses, and he becomes more protective of her.

Carla is initially reluctant to show his softer side to Yui, but her kindness and warmth eventually breaks down his walls.

Yui's strong belief in God resonates with Carla's sense of duty to his race and family, and they find common ground in their faith.

Carla becomes more protective of Yui as their relationship deepens, even going so far as to put her needs above his own.

Despite his cruel tendencies, Carla is capable of deep love and devotion to those he cares about, and Yui becomes one of the most important people in his life.

Yui's naivete and indecisiveness sometimes frustrate Carla, but he learns to be patient with her and guide her towards the right decisions.

Yui's kindness and compassion towards Carla help to bring out his better nature and challenge him to be a better person.

Yui's influence on Carla also causes him to become more compassionate towards vampires, even though he still harbors some resentment towards them.

Carla's willingness to put Yui's needs above his own sometimes causes conflict with his own sense of duty and pride as a First Blood.

Yui helps Carla to let go of his desire for revenge against Karlheinz, and they work together to create a better future for their race.

Carla and Yui are dating and Shin is still a part of their lives. They make an effort to include Shin without leaving him out.

They might sneak secret glances and gentle touches when Shin's back is turned or when he is otherwise occupied.

Carla might make an effort to include Shin in their activities or conversations, as a way to alleviate any tension between them.

Yui might become more hesitant to express affection or initiate physical contact when Shin is around, feeling self-conscious or nervous about being seen.

Carla and Yui often have lively debates about the themes and meanings of the books they read. They challenge each other's interpretations and explore different perspectives.

Carla sometimes helps Yui with her schoolwork, explaining difficult concepts and encouraging her to do her best.

Carla and Yui often read books or watch movies together in the evenings, snuggled up on the couch.

Yui and Carla have a special ritual where they brush each other's hair before bed. It's a calming and intimate moment that helps them relax after a long day.

Yui loves how soft and silky Carla's hair feels under her fingertips. She's always careful to be gentle and not pull too hard on any tangles.

Carla enjoys having her hair brushed by Yui because it feels like a soothing massage. She often falls asleep while Yui is brushing her hair, feeling safe and cared for.

Yui loves to play with Carla's hair, running her fingers through it and braiding it into intricate styles.

Sometimes, when they're in a rush, Carla and Yui will brush each other's hair at the same time, standing in front of the mirror and giggling as they accidentally get their brushes tangled.

Carla loves to watch Yui sleep, finding peace in just watching her breathe and feeling grateful to have her in his life.

Yui cook Carla's favorite meals, clean up after him, or do little things to make his life easier such as packing his lunch or preparing his clothes for the next day. These acts of service demonstrate her love and commitment to him.

Carla could surprise Yui by leaving small love notes for her to find throughout the day. He could leave them in her bag, on her pillow, or in her lunch box. The notes could be sweet and romantic, or silly and playful, depending on what he thinks Yui would enjoy.

In contrast, Yui could plan a surprise picnic for Carla in the Banmaden gardens, complete with all of his favorite snacks and drinks.

Yui could also surprise Carla with tickets to a play or musical he's been wanting to see.

Carla's love language may be acts of service and physical touch. He may not be the most expressive with his words, but he would likely show his love for Yui through his actions, such as doing things for her or making sure she is taken care of.

In terms of physical touch, Carla may show affection by holding Yui's hand or placing his hand on her shoulder or waist. He may also enjoy cuddling and physical intimacy as a way to express his love for her.

Yui might initiate cuddling, hold Carla's hand or lean into him during a movie, or give him a massage after a long day to show her love and affection.

While not as high on her list as physical touch and words of affirmation, Yui also appreciates when Carla does little things for her.

Carla could surprise her by cooking her favorite meal, doing the dishes for her after dinner, or even just taking care of some household chore she's been dreading. These acts of service show that Carla is thinking of her and wants to make her life easier, which can be incredibly meaningful to Yui.

Yui loves it when Carla reads to her in her deep, velvety voice. Sometimes, he will put on different accents or voices for each character, making the story come alive in a new way.

Carla and Yui enjoy quiet nights at home, simply enjoying each other's company and conversation. They often talk about their dreams for the future and make plans together.

When Carla and Yui talk about their future together, the topic of having children naturally comes up.

Carla is excited about the idea of starting a family with Yui and often talks about their future children.

Yui is initially supportive of Carla's desire to have children in the future, but becomes a little freaked out when she learns about Carla's expectation of having more than four children, she starts to worry about the practicalities of raising such a large family.

Carla and Yui have a heart-to-heart talk about their expectations and plans for the future, and come to a compromise. They decide to start with a smaller family and see how things go before making any firm decisions about having more children.

In the end, Carla and Yui have two children, and both of them are happy with their decision. Carla still occasionally talks about having more children, but they both know that they are happy with the family they have.

My favorite part of this writing was exploring the different ways Carla and Yui expressed their love for each other, as well as how they navigated their relationship with Shin still being a part of their lives.

Thank you for trusting me with your request, and please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any further requests!

#diabolik lovers #tsukinami carla #diabolik lovers carla #carla tsukinami #carla headcanons #carla tsukinami headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanons #midnightglasses headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanon

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isfjmel-phleg · 9 months

Text

At the antique store today, I found a Batman comic from 1989. I didn't get it (although I did pick up another from the previous year that has a brief Angry Jason moment), but in the back was a letter page with responses to A Death in the Family and I took pictures. Here's a glimpse of what the 1989 Discourse was around Jason's death:

Some readers approached it in terms of story quality, like Bob U., who wrote a lengthy piece comparing it in quality to a previous story and concluded with

The voting, well, that was rather crass, if you ask me, but all in all, I think the characters stand up, and the pure adventure of it all will be remembered for years to come. You allowed the fans to contribute, and that couldn't have been easy. So thanks, I guess, for a few fun months of Batman and Robin, and what I hope will be some really brutal Dark-night Detective stuff in the months to come.

But other readers, like Rene S., had more emotional investment--in case some rather harsh and uncalled-for hatred of a fictional teenager:

After reading the conclusion of "A Death in the Family," I've only one thing to say: thank you very much for killing off Robin! I never liked the little gnat; he is not even the original Robin! I always thought that Batman looked a little bit silly running around with a fourteen (?) year old sidekick. Now the Batman is restored to his old glory, and I sincerely hope there won't be another Robin for some years to come (although I liked the girl Robin in DARK KNIGHT [i.e. Carrie Kelley], maybe you can do something with that...) Robin is dead, long live Batman!

Mitchell K. had none of that meanness but showed a fan-like interest in alternate endings:

I have been an avid Batman fan since I was a boy, and I just finished "A Death in the Family" series and thoroughly enjoyed it. I voted for Jason to live and was very shocked to see him die, but I was still very impressed with the rest of the story. But I can't help wondering how the story would have gone if Jason had lived. I would like to know if there is any way that DC Comics will ever publish the second ending.

To which the editor replied:

Mitchell, while we understand your curiosity, we have no plans at present to ever publish the "alternate" ending to BATMAN #428. Very few people even at DC have seen those pages, and sorry to say, but that for the time being the material will stay locked up tight in my file.

I hope Mitchell was inspired to create his own version of that ending! (Those top-secret alternate pages have since been glimpsed; they feature Batman holding Jason as he does in the original but exclaiming, "He's alive! Thank God!" and then Jason in the hospital in a coma with his recovery uncertain.)

Alvis S. has an unfortunate story about his thwarted intention to vote for Jason to live:

As I read "A Death in the Family," this time in the Graphic Novel form, I relived the frustration I felt when I read BATMAN #428. Why did I feel this frustration? It could be that on September 15th and 16th, the South Texas area was being threatened by Hurricane Gilbert. At that time, the Phone Company asked that the phone lines be kept clear for emergencies. Maybe my friends and I, who had planned to vote on keeping the late Jason Todd alive, could have made a difference. We made sure we voted on November 7th, though; but this time we have no excuses. What is done is done, but I will miss the effect Jason was having on our hero.

Shon G. was disgusted by the fandom's murderous attitude toward Jason:

It saddens me to see that comic fans are becoming so blood thirsty. I have never seen a character like Jason Todd be disliked so much. Maybe it was because he was no Dick Grayson. Who knows? But I know this: it tells you how far some people will go to get their way. I have also noticed that when a writer terminates a character, most people write in that it was a cop-out. This time it is not the writer's fault directly. It is ours. And it appears that a few people are being quite hypocritical. It is a shame you let us choose, for it is very frightening to know that, if given the chance, people will vote for the death of someone because of dislike. People always seem to miss possible alternatives. That makes us not only ignorant, but also narrow-minded. I am aware that this letter does not apply to everyone, but I wanted to, at least, voice my opinions on this situation. [...] P.S. Whatever happened to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness"? Especially for those heroes who have given us so much--whether we admit it or not.

To which the editor replied:

Voicing opinions is what letter columns are all about, Shon. But I really don't think you give your fellow readers enough credit. Try to keep in mind that Jason Todd was a work of fiction (despite the incredible feelings of angst and finality we all felt as the votes came in [...]). You know as well as I do that if the phone vote was over the life or death of a real-life, living, breathing PERSON, the results would have been a little different. A LOT different.

...would it have been? For someone so apparently hated? Some people can be surprisingly just as cruel with real people as they are with fictional ones.

Similarly, Rob H. is concerned by such attitudes in the fandom:

First of all, let me say that I am not writing to complain about his [Jason's] death, nor am I writing to cheer about it. Personally, I do wish he had survived, although I must admit I wasn't fond of his character after his origin was changed after the Crisis; however, he was still an interesting character. I don't mind the fact that he is dead as much as I mind the manner of his death. The Joker didn't kill him. The readers did. He didn't die for any good purpose that I can see. He died because of some stupid idea to garner some free publicity. Look at all the media coverage it got. If it hadn't been for the phone-in poll, I doubt his passing would have gotten much attention at all. It just seems to me that the only reason he died was to make some money. I am not so concerned about the money aspect of his death, but with many readers' outright joy that he died. The letter column seems to be full of people gloating that they helped kill him. Why are they so overjoyed? They really seem to have hated him a lot. Why? It seems more and more readers are calling for the deaths of characters. In SUICIDE SQUAD, the readers keep pleading for more people to die. In NEW TITANS, readers seem to be calling for Danny Chase to die. What is this obsession with death? Admittedly, these characters are merely fictional, but doesn't this fixation with death seem like a sad commentary upon society? I, for one, like it when the heroes prevail. Sure I like realism in comics, but I also like the escapism. There is enough death and destruction in the world today. It seems to be getting harder to occasionally escape from the madness for even a short time.

In light of the outcome of the vote, it's good to know that there were some people who were disturbed by all that. Sure, it's "just a fictional character" whose death wouldn't matter in the same way that a real person's would, but if a fictional character is ultimately so inconsequential, why was there enough investment to warrant that level of vitriol? I tend to agree with Rob; it's "a sad commentary on society" that readers were so harsh.

Even if it resulted in some fascinating storylines, both shortly after and much, much later.

#comicsposting again #have fandoms really changed much since 1989?#just imagine if all this had taken place in recent years now that we have the internet

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lostmyremembrall · 1 year

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haii ^^ congratulations for reaching 1K followers!! seeing the way you worked hard for this blog and the way you write your works, you very much deserved it 🤩 may i join your event if thats still alright?

-𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 — 🐍

Go on a date with Tom! Send in anything you're comfortable sharing about yourself (such as your love language), and I'll write a mini HC of date with Tom, specifically curated for you.

im a hufflepuff with a white stallion as my patronus. my love language is gift giving in terms of giving, but if we're talking about receiving i think mine would be words of affirmation and act of service? like, idk why but the simplest supportive words like "i believe you can do it," could make me cry (my teacher once said that to me and i accidentally cried in front of her lmfao)

im an introvert, and sometimes im shy but i dont think to the point where i avoid people. half of me is shy but the other part of me got a little thrill from meeting new people. it's scary at first, but i think it's interesting to make new friends and get to know people. i realised i tend to reached out to people first, after thoroughly study them from afar lol. i'd say i have a big circle of friends, but a small circle of precious, treasured besties.

i like to take pictures and videos. most of the time if i took videos of my friends and i, i'd edit the videos for memories (the type with background musics and such)

i like to style myself. i love doing my hair and my style of outfit is the feminine type, i love wearing dresses and skirts. i do it for myself, it feels good somehow

if i were in hogwarts (we are indeed hogwarts students but whatever) subjects that i'd excel in are charms and herbology. potions would be the subject i'd least like

thats all i think, i hope its not too much because i don't know what i should say in general 🥲 do not rush in doing this! have a nice dayy

🐍 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐂 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐦

A/N: Thank you so much for the sweet messages! I'm sorry I took such a long time to get to yours, but I really enjoyed writing this. The info you provided gave me so much inspiration for different scenarios! And you can probably tell I was swooning just writing about this haha. Anyways, hope you'll enjoy it!

You reached out to Tom first. To be fair, he acts cool and arrogant, and never shows any interest that he might have in others.

You found him intriguing in ways beyond what others saw in him, that he might be more complex than a simple prodigy.

It took a long time, but you helped him feel seen and heard, helping him open up.

Tom likes watching you style yourself, especially on the weekends while he waits for you to get ready for the date.

One morning, he stood up from his usual spot on your bed without a word.

You were sitting in front of the mirror, drying your hair with your wand.

He sat behind you, and ignoring your inquisitive glance, took some strands of your hair and began to dry it with his wand.

Somehow, Tom had memorised your styling routine to perfection.

Flabbergasted, you lowered your wand and quietly observed him through the mirror.

His serious eyes were trained on your hair, but you didn't miss the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

His fingers gently rustled through your locks of hair.

It was impressive, his adept fingers moving your hair with such precision, you could've mistaken him for a professional hairdresser.

Soon enough, he moved on to brushing your hair.

He was even more gentle with it, if that was possible. Holding your hair in his left as he brushed with his right.

It was comforting in an intimate way you've never experienced, to have someone running their fingers through your hair.

You gave a shiver every time his slender, cool fingers brushed against your neck.

He gave you a black silk ribbon on the back of your hair.

You found yourself blushing as Tom's face zoomed next to yours.

Through the mirror, you found Tom's eyes still focused on your hair, twirling the wisps of leftover strands of hair in his fingers to give them a curl.

You felt the heat emanating from his face, and your cheeks burning in return.

He tucked in a strand of hair behind your hair, and gave one curt nod to himself, content with the outcome of his work.

Tom acted nonchalant about it for the rest of the date, but needless to say, you

For his Christmas present, you gave him a photo stand of you two together.

He doesn't smile when taking photos. He used to be averse to them, so he's come a long way until he reluctantly agreed to take photos with you.

The photo stand features his serious, almost suspicious gaze at the camera and your smiling face. You catch him off guard with a peck on his cheek. The photo loops after Tom turns his shocked eyes to you.

He showed his appreciation when he received the gift, but as always, he did not smile.

But, the next time you visited his room, you found to photo stand on the bed stand. The only photo he has in his room.

Still, months after Christmas, you catch him staring at the photo. Whenever the photo-Tom gets shocked with a peck, he huffs out quiet laughter from his nostrils, and his lips turn into an amused smile.

You think he actually enjoys looking at the photo in his free time.

Many of your dates include studying.

Tom doesn't technically need any help with Charms or Herbology, but he comes seeking your advice, saying that he can "always strive for perfection."

Tom is a massive help with potions. He gets very invested in your grades, which can become a nuisance sometimes.

But, most often, the after-school help in the potions classroom can become very romantic and wholesome.

Tom quickly noticed how well you respond to encouragements.

Tom knows that your grade in potion comes from your disinterest, and not your ineptitude in any way.

During brewing draught of the living dead for Slughorn's assignment, in which timing is of the essence, Tom intentionally backed off to let you brew the potion on your own.

You were focusing on brewing, since there is essentially no time in between the procedures.

Tom observed you closely, and murmured "I know you can do this."

It lit your heart aflame knowing that he knew you to be fully capable.

And when the draught came out perfectly, earning you full marks, the satisfaction was even greater.

You two are the couple that constantly betters each other: challenging each other to get out of their comfort zone and grow. Not by pushing each other to the limit, but by encouraging each other and believing in each other. And, if things fail, you both would be waiting for the other with open arms ❤️

#1k celebration #1k event #1k milestone #1k followers #1K follower event #harry potter #1k follower celebration #tom riddle #tom riddle jr #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tmr #tom riddle fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader

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sandradoodles · 2 years

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oh my gosh, I love you adrienette bffs and ladynoir obsessively in love with each other idea. it gives amazing development and irony to both main ships of the love square at the same time! can’t imagine the looks of adrien & marinette’s faces when the reveal happens and they’re just like, “I can’t believe how stupidly in love I was and still am with you?? I should be thrown but I want to marry you even more now???”

(This is the original post, for the uninitiated; anyone who is interested should please check all the tags and comments over there because people have expanded on the idea in absolutely brilliant amazing ways that I never would have thought of. TEAMWORK IS BEAUTIFUL, I love this fandom.)

I have developed such a fast attachment to this au haha. Best Bros Adrienette and Actual Couple Ladynoir have sooooo much potential for consistent development throughout the whole story, more so imo than the actual canon setup. I do have an idea of how I think events would progress and cobbled various scenarios into this rough timeline fic that devolves into notes and then almost-fic again and then more notes at the end because I can't seem to decide if I'm writing a real thing or just yelling my story ideas at everyone. Either way, I WROTE A LOT, hope you enjoy!!

----

Seeing her ladybugs repair everything for the first time fills her with a sense of wonder and triumph, erasing her first mistake with Stoneheart so thoroughly that she feels like they repaired something inside of her as well. Ladybug's confidence swells, and she thinks to herself: yes, they can do this!

"All right, now we've got to get out of here before we transform back!

"Wait-- Ladybug!" She stops and turns back to her new superhero partner, who reaches out to take her hand. She allows it, considering what they just went through. "That was incredible." A smile spreads across her face. He's as much in awe of her new powers as she is, it seems, and he's right. They've done something incredible together.

"I’ll be quick. I just want to say..." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "I know I was a little over-eager before. Getting the chance to be Chat Noir, it changes everything for me."

He's been full of jokes until now, and this sudden rush of sincerity touches her. They don't have much time before they transform back, but she's transfixed, unable to bring herself to hurry him along for some reason. Her face feels strangely warm.

"I was already looking forward to being a superhero, and now, knowing that I get to do it all with you? Well..." He gives her a grin, back to playful sauciness, but this time it doesn't trigger her impatience. She isn't sure what it's triggering. "I'm ready to follow you anywhere."

She ends up barely getting to cover before her earrings run out of time, and she tells herself that her heart is pounding because of the close call. But that is definitely not the reason.

----

As soon as Nathaniel--well, the akumatized version of him--leaves her room, Marinette leaps to her feet and transforms. What a crazy day! She’s going to have to think of something clever if she wants to manage this situation from both the Marinette and Ladybug sides...

There’s an alert from her yo-yo before she can fully settle on a course of action.

“Hey Chat Noir,” she answers, trying to sound casual. “How are things going with Chloe?”

“Oh, charming.” She is privately beyond pleased to hear the dripping sarcasm. “Listen, she did give me a clue though, by accident. I think the villain might be after this girl--” There’s a chime from her bug phone. Ladybug checks the screen to see a picture of herself (her other self, that is), giving a wide smile and cheesy victory sign. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Pretty cute, isn’t she?”

“Wha-- buh-- you think-- Marinette-- cute?” GET IT TOGETHER, GIRL; why is she talking like this all of a sudden??

He laughs, a dreamy sound even over the phone.

“Not as cute as another girl I know. It sounds like there’s something wrong with our connection, so I’ll make this quick. Can you keep an eye on her? I’m sending you the address.”

“I-- I can’t,” she stammers, trying to figure her way out of this one. “You’re going to have to do it. I've got... a special mission!” Oh no that sounds so fake; he’s going to figure her out--

“Great! Chloe can do her own homework.” Okay, he’s just relieved. “I’ll head right over there.” He hangs up without further question and she experiences a moment of relief herself before the panic sets in.

Wait, Chat Noir is coming to her house? Noooo, what if she turns into a complete babbling disaster again?

(Spoilers, that is exactly what happens.)

----

The first time Marinette suspects Adrien of being Chat Noir she is very uncomfortable with the possibility. It doesn’t even make sense, like why is she even considering something so insane... Just because they have the same allergy?? Chat Noir is a handsome, confident, utterly swoon-worthy daredevil; Adrien is a very nice, kind of awkward, and totally naive boy in her class. Once she gets the tiniest piece of evidence that swings in favor of them being different people, she is more than happy to lay that silly theory to rest.

After a while, she's put the thought so far out of her mind that she forgets she ever had it in the first place.

----

“There’s this... girl.” Adrien blushes, and he looks so adorable that Marinette just wants to put him in her pocket.

“A giiirl? That is so cute! Who is she? Do I knooow her?”

He flaps his hands at her, possibly regretting the decision to say anything. It’s too late now; Marinette is like a dog with a bone.

“No, no, you don’t know her. She’s my-- my pen-pal!”

“You have a pen-pal?” Well, if that isn’t just the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. And kind of sad. Was that his only way of making friends before he was able to come to school?

“Right. And sometimes we... video chat?” He’s so awkward; why does it sound like he’s asking a question?

Marinette continues to press.

“And you liiike her?”

Adrien hesitates, and she thinks about how rarely he must have the chance to talk to anyone about his feelings. He’s barely allowed to leave the house (seriously, the scheme she had to come up with just to get him permission to visit her today...), his mother is gone, and his father might be one of the most emotionally withholding people on the planet.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she assures him. “But I might be able to help you out. I can give you insight, from a feminine perspective.” It’s a bold claim from a girl sitting with her legs spread-eagled on the floor and croissant crumbs on her shirt.

“She’s... so amazing,” Adrien sighs, and at that moment a new level of friendship unlocks between them. Love guru Marinette is on the case. She’s already formulating a plan; gosh, she is going to help this sweet naive boy so much and definitely not make everything more difficult for anyone involved!

----

Ladybug saves Chat Blanc but wrecks her own heart in the process. Now she's seen for herself what it would mean for her to act on her feelings for her superhero partner. Her love doomed him to the most miserable existence she can imagine; how could she ever allow herself to risk that happening again?

But she's shown Chat Noir too much of her hand, too much of her heart. In order to convince him to give up on her, she has to do something unforgivable: she has to lie to him.

Two days later, Marinette and Adrien are hanging out in the safe space of her room. He sighs and admits, "She turned me down. She said... there's someone else."

He looks absolutely wretched, and Marinette immediately flies into a frenzy. That sounds fake, just-- utterly ridiculous (and you know she wouldn't borrow words from Chloe of all people unless they actually suited the situation.) Who would turn down Adrien? He's kind, and cute, and multi-talented, and tons of other positive things! She tells him as much, with a great deal of emphatic gesturing and stomping back and forth across her room.

"You can't give up, Adrien! Promise me you'll keep trying!" Even if her own happiness can never be realized, she will NOT allow the same fate to befall her friend, who deserves some happiness more than anyone!

The next day, after they've captured the latest akuma, Chat Noir catches Ladybug by the wrist before she can yo-yo away.

"Hey, I'm about to change back!" She still has a good three minutes and they both know it, but the feel of his hand is dangerous and she wants to run.

"I have to tell you something first. I... I'm not giving up. I'm in love with you, and my feelings aren't going to change. I just want you to know that." He releases her hand as soon as his declaration is finished. She wants to throw her arms around him. She wants to throw him off the roof. She manages to keep herself from acting on either impulse, and instead just... bails without a word.

Later, as Marinette lies in bed with her insides doing some sort of crazy churning, fluttering dance between guilt and hope, a thought worms its way into her brain: isn't the timing of her love life and Adrien's a bit... coincidental?

She doesn't voice this thought aloud, to Tikki or even herself.

----

Ladybug keeps up the facade as best as she can, though there are times where her acting becomes so flimsy she just knows Chat can see right through her. Surely all of Paris can see right through her.

Then one day everything really falls apart.

"I don’t... I don’t know if I can do this.”

Chat Noir is right by her side, as he's always been, despite her repeated attempts to create some distance between them. His hands come to rest on her shoulders, firm and reassuring, and she leans in towards him despite herself. "Don't say that, m'lady... You're going to be an amazing guardian. I know it."

"No, I--" She shouldn't be saying this, not to him. But she can't go to Alya, who is too curious for her own good and would want all the details she can't share, and Adrien... Well, Adrien would be the perfect person to talk to about her anxieties if not for the fact that Kagami has somehow gotten it in her head that he and Marinette are, what? Secretly in LOVE with each other or something? Marinette can't confide in him right now; she needs to give them both some space so he can figure out his feelings and ask Kagami out already, then she'll realize that Marinette was never a threat and they can all be friends again. (And Adrien can fully move on from his mystery girl, who only seems to hurt him lately.)

Until then... staying away from him is painful, more than she wants to admit. The pressure, the isolation, the fear of failure have all been creeping up on her so long. Why does it feel like she always has to be the responsible one, always has to make a sacrifice so that someone else can be happy?

“I’m so tired,” Ladybug admits, a faint quaver in her voice. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up-- being responsible for everything, protecting other people, always... lying to everyone.”

"You've never lied to me," Chat Noir says, and tries to put his arm around her shoulders. She ducks away from him.

"Are you serious? I lie to you all the time! I've been lying to you since the day you told me how you feel about me! Don't tell me you really think--"

Wait.

How is she only just now realizing that Chat Noir... is an idiot?

"Do you actually believe I’m not in love with you?" She’s been fighting so hard but her true feelings are still so obvious, aren't they? Aren't they??

Apparently not. He’s just... staring at her, absolutely dumb-founded. Oh no. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything, this was a terrible idea, now she has to figure out how to fix this before it blows up in her--

That thought falls right out of her brain because Chat Noir has now pulled her into the kind of embrace that Marinette used to have wistful daydreams about on a regular basis.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, breathing the words into her hair, and his voice is actually trembling with hope. How she wishes she could feel the way he does, like the doors of possibility are flung wide open. Even for a second...

“Of course I do, but--” The words start tumbling out of her mouth, and before long she's telling him things she never meant to tell him, about her feelings, about her fears, about Chat Blanc. Not everything about Chat Blanc; even as all her walls are crumbling, she shields him from the worst of it. But she shares enough for him to understand.

“And that’s why I’ve had to keep pushing you away, pretending like I’m not in love with you! If I let it happen-- if I tell you my identity--”

He interrupts her with a brush of his hand against her cheek. “I’ve never needed to know your identity to be in love with you.”

She somehow manages to meet his eyes. How is he like this? She just told him that he might end up miserable, alone and devastated if he takes a chance on her, and his response is to make a tender declaration that weakens her at the knees.

"Did you even hear what I just said?"

"I heard you,” he assures. “But... just because that happened once doesn't mean it's the only thing that can happen! It could be something different this time, something incredible. We could be something incredible."

Something about his sincerity is infectious. She's dizzy, his words are giving her a fever. He loves her so much.

"Please... take my hand, m'lady. We could go anywhere together."

She doesn't bother with his hand. She grabs him by his face, feels the exact plunging physical sensation that accompanies a leap from a tall cliff, and kisses him with the fervor of a love long deferred.

----

AND BOOM, power couple Ladynoir is a thing. There are a few bumps in the road but about 95% of the dysfunction that arises in S4 (in canon) is eliminated because they TALK TO EACH OTHER and RESPECT EACH OTHER’S FEELINGS. Chat Noir is all too happy to bring in new team members because she trusts him with the details (and it’s hard to be jealous when you’re getting regular smooching time with your superhero gf.) He’s her #1 confidant and he knows it. She can finally let herself trust someone else and step out of the pressure cooker that is her own expectations/need to control everything all the time.

Meanwhile bff Adrienette have been working on the problem of Adrien’s crappy life (in this au the dodgeball conversation from Risk happens about two seasons earlier and without requiring the influence of an akumatized villain.) With Marinette having his back, Adrien is able to start looking forward and thinking about what he wants for HIMSELF and his OWN FUTURE. His entire circle of support is expanded because Marinette helps him assimilate more closely into their friend group, and because her parents have essentially adopted him. He gets the chance to process the fact that his father is a terrible person in a gradual, healthy way (which better prepares him for the eventual revelation that the guy is a legit supervillain.)

Felix has to come up with some new sneakiness to take Adrien's place in Risk, because Adrien turns down his offer to help in this version. Later, when Ladybug tells Chat to de-transform and prevent Strikeback from duplicating his power, he has nothing to prove and actually listens to her, meaning... he's not around when she comes up with her plan to recruit a new hero. She goes to grab Adrien, her dear friend, and Marinette lizard brain knows something is wrong but she tells herself it's because of the akuma, and because not having Chat by her side is messing with her head too. They capture the akuma and defeat the sentimonster, Strikeback never gets to Cataclysm anything and Paris is 90% less destroyed than it is in canon, so things seem pretty good until the inevitable happens and Felix steals Ladybug's yo-yo.

Panic attack in Adrien's room. Miraculous, gone. When Adrien throws open the bathroom door, Ladybug hasn't run off yet because Marinette needs him--Adrien, her friend, the person who hands out second chances like candy. It's a character trait that annoyed her when those chances were being handed to Chloe, or Adrien's father, or anyone else she deemed undeserving, but now Ladybug is the one who's made an unforgivable mistake, the one who’s lost everything--

"You can't blame yourself," he insists, and he's putting his arms around her for some reason, pulling her close. "If I'd only told you before... I've wanted to so badly, from the beginning. This wouldn't have happened if you knew who I am... m'lady."

She clings to him. While everything else collapses around her, one thing suddenly falls into place. She's been in love with Adrien Agreste this entire time.

----

And THAT'S AS FAR AS I'VE GOTTEN IN ANY DETAIL. Adrien doesn't totally blame himself for the mistaken identity, he just helps her lift some of the blame off herself. I feel like there's a good chunk of time where Ladybug knows who Chat is but they mutually agree she should stay anonymous. The Ladrien is GLOWING. Marinette has to pretend everything is normal and also like she's not absolutely head over heels in love with her bff, which is... exactly as convincing as one would expect. The final reveal is beautiful!!

#ask #anon #sandra talks #sandra writes #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #adrienette #marichat #ladrien #lovesquare #ml season 4 spoilers #au

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