#and I like to try and figure out why that is
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MR. TELEPHONE MAN!
"𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺'𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!"
Synopsis: Pick up, pick up, pick up— still no answer. Desperately trying to reach you after your argument, Boothill finds himself repeatedly directed to the operator's automated voicemail. 'Please hang up and try again, baby.'
Genre: Comfort, fluff
Character: Boothill x gn!reader
Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of Dan Heng, a little strayed from canon events maybe, slightly ooc, mentions of prior argument, slight angst if you squint, half of the fic is just Boothill and Dan Heng having a heart to heart bro talk lol
[masterlist] [about me]
Boothill cursed himself silently, though as vigorously as he could manage since his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning. Walking briskly around the Parlor car, phone gripped tightly in hand, he couldn't escape the relentless sound of the dial tone on repeat. Meanwhile, Dan Heng observed him with a quizzical expression, one brow arched in curiosity.
Witnessing Boothill in such evident distress was a rare sight for Dan Heng. The ranger typically exuded an aura of nonchalant confidence, often adopting a "fudge it, we ball" attitude towards life's challenges. Consequences were either dealt with head-on or circumvented through sheer audacity.
Reckless. Yes, that word seemed to define him perfectly. And perhaps that's why he was so visibly agitated now. Boothill's thumb hovered over the name 'sweetcheeks' on his phone, a term that made Dan Heng cringe inwardly, yet he dismissed it knowing it was a manifestation of love.
"May I inquire as to your purpose for boarding the Astral Express today? If your intention is merely to cause a disturbance, I suggest you reconsider," Dan Heng stated firmly, crossing his arms and adopting his usual stoic expression, his brow arching slightly. While he and the other nameless welcomed all aboard the Express with open arms, Boothill remained a figure of caution, especially given recent events, despite the significant assistance he had provided.
"What? Ain't you the one who said I could drop by anytime?" Boothill retorted, his frown deepening as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His attention flickered momentarily to his vibrating phone before returning with disappointment when he heard the all-too-familiar phrase that had been echoing for the past half-hour. "Sorry, please hang up and call again."
"I never made such a claim," Dan Heng countered, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his narrowed eyes as he observed the disgruntled expression on Boothill's face. "Apart from the conductor, Pom Pom, none of my colleagues have had the pleasure of meeting you. It would be prudent for you to acquaint yourself with them before boarding."
Boothill let out a derisive snort, his thumb instinctively jabbing at the 'dial again' button as he locked eyes with Dan Heng. "Aw, come on now. The conductor already gave me the green light. Ain't that sufficient? And you, you actin' like a youngster. Do I gotta meet your folks before I can come over and play?"
Instantly, Boothill regretted his words, his lips forming a tight line as he realized he had overstepped. "Well, shoot. My apologies," he conceded, his voice softened with regret as he retrieved his hat and made his way to the nearest couch, slumping down with a heavy sigh. This was his perpetual dilemma— he was too forthright, too bold with his language. His words spilled out before he could filter them.
Boothill was baffled by his own behavior. Apologizing to strangers or mere acquaintances came naturally to him, the words slipping out effortlessly, whether they were genuine or not. But when it came to you, it was as if his internal wiring malfunctioned. His mechanical body buzzed with static, sparks dancing erratically, and his words emerged in a tangled mess. The simple phrases— "I love you" or "I'm sorry"— seemed trapped behind a barricade, struggling to find their way past his lips.
"Forget it," Dan Heng sighed, striding over to the dejected figure slumped on the couch. "But do enlighten me as to why you're here just to make a phone call, presumably to your significant other? Is it a must to reach them while aboard the Express?"
Boothill simply shrugged, emitting a grunt of frustration before pulling his hat down over his face, a gesture of defeat. "There ain't no signal anywhere else, I reckon. Figured your train might lend me a hand, even just a tad."
As the number continued to ring with no response from you, Boothill finally opened up, his voice softening as he admitted, "Got into a spat with my partner."
With those words, he began to dismantle the barriers surrounding his emotions, allowing them to spill forth within the confines of the Express. Dan Heng listened attentively, offering a supportive presence to the troubled man.
Boothill couldn't shake the feeling of remorse gnawing at him. He knew he had deeply upset you this time, and he had no one to blame but himself. Who wouldn't be hurt if their own partner hurled insults at them, especially when all they wanted was to show care and concern? Boothill couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed, and the mere thought made his stomach churn.
"I think I really got under their skin— no doubt about it," he muttered to himself, replaying the scene in his mind where you were left with a furrowed brow and glistening tears threatening to spill. In that moment of frustration, he couldn't fathom why you would bother caring about him. After all, he was no longer flesh and blood; he was encased in metal, his heart silent, and his tear ducts dry.
He couldn't feel pain or sorrow like he used to. So why should you waste your concern on someone who couldn't be harmed or hurt? He couldn't feel anything beyond his face. There was no need for you to worry about him getting into trouble or getting hurt, because he wouldn't feel it.
It was a selfish thought, he admitted, yet at the same time, it wasn't. After all, you were human— a fragile being whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant— while he remained invulnerable. So why waste your energy worrying about him, when he should be the one worrying about you?
As Boothill drowned in his sorrows, his metal hand tapping incessantly on his phone in a desperate attempt to reach you, Dan Heng listened intently, a somber hum escaping his lips as he nodded along.
'Sorry, please hang up and call again.'
Well, fork me.
"Have you apologized?"
"I want to," Boothill admitted, his brows furrowing with guilt. He mulled over various ways he could make it up to you without actually uttering those two crucial words—an apology. Perhaps he could buy you your favorite cake, shower you with affectionate kisses until you couldn't help but giggle, and lavish you with words of admiration.
"That sounds more like a birthday celebration, Boothill. It would be selfish and ignorant of you to avoid apologizing," Dan Heng interjected, cutting through Boothill's thoughts with a firm reminder.
"But— But it's dang near impossible to say those words!" Boothill groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he sat upright on the couch, dialing your number once more, silently pleading for you to answer. "It's like pulling teeth."
"And that's precisely the issue you need to address," Dan Heng replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.
The Ranger slumped back, averting his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of defeat. "…What do you suggest I do, then?"
"Apologize."
"…you—alright. Fine."
"But apologize like you actually mean it, not just because you have to."
As Dan Heng's words sank in, Boothill felt a sudden jolt of realization. Apologize like he meant it— not just because it was expected of him. The gravity of those words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to freeze in place, his wide eyes meeting Dan Heng's steady gaze.
With a nod and an encouraging thumbs up from Dan Heng, Boothill was left to ponder his next move in solitude. Did he truly mean it, this apology? Absolutely. It shouldn't be so difficult to utter those words, right?
His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar automated message playing once more: "Sorry, please hang up and call again, baby."
A small gasp escaped Boothill's lips as he jolted upright, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his phone. Could it be? Was it really you on the other end? "W-wait—! Darlin'? Sweetcheeks? Is that really you?" he stammered, lifting the phone to his ear and pacing in circles, heart pounding with anticipation.
"Forgot my voice already?" Your retort hit Boothill like a punch to the gut, and he could almost see the frown forming on your face. He let out a noise of frustration, his head bowed as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket, rendered momentarily speechless. "Erm— nah. How could I?"
If he still possessed skin and flesh, Boothill was certain his palms would be sweating profusely right now. A man who had faced countless bounties on his head, vanquishing his enemies with a flick of his gun, and executing daring escapes from perilous heights— now reduced to a speechless fool at the mere sound of his lover's voice.
"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to breathe out, his voice laced with uncertainty. He could almost hear the slight scoff on the other end of the line, a sound that made his heart ache with regret.
"About what? I don't think there's much to talk about after the tantrum you threw at me," your voice came through, laced with a hint of bitterness. Were you being immature? Perhaps. But you had every right to be upset, every right to be salty.
Boothill swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he stumbled over his words, the apology he wanted to offer caught in his throat. "I- uh, um…" He cursed inwardly, his free hand nervously tugging at a few strands of his hair in a panic.
Darn it, why didn't he ask Dan Heng when the Express would reach the planet where you resided?
"I wanted to say that I…I'm so—" He groaned in frustration, slapping his hand against his face as he gritted his teeth in irritation. Why was it so blasted difficult to express himself? "I-I'm sorry, darlin'. Truly, I am."
The silence from your end only intensified Boothill's nerves, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. Was this it? Were you going to leave him, leaving him to wander aimlessly without a home once more? "Please, sweetheart. I'm pourin' my heart out here," he pleaded softly, his voice trembling with genuine sincerity.
He listened intently, straining to hear any sign of your response. From the muffled sounds of sheets rustling, he could only guess that you might be on the verge of tears again, and it tore at his nonexistent heart. "I'm sorry for…for yellin' and such. I was actin' selfish and ignorant, and I know that was wrong of me," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt as he cast his gaze downward.
Desperation clawed at him, the longing for your touch, the warmth of your presence beside him each morning, the comfort of your embrace— it all flooded his senses. He yearned for a home to return to, a sanctuary where he could find solace in your love once more.
"I'll make it up to you, I swear," Boothill vowed earnestly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.
He heard a quiet sigh escape your lips, and he squirmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting your response.
"You've got 10 minutes to get your ass back into our home, right this instant," you blurted out, attempting to inject a joking tone into your words, but Boothill could detect the slight tremor in your voice.
His heart soared with relief and joy at your words. "Alright— okay, I'll be there. Just let me ask Dan Heng when we'll be arriving, alright?" he replied eagerly, his demeanor brightening considerably. This was his chance to make things right, to rebuild what he had almost shattered. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers.
As Boothill's metal boots echoed through the halls of the Express, his heart lightened at the sound of your voice. "I miss you," you confessed, the sniffle in your tone tugging at his wired heartstrings.
A chuckle escaped him, his hand reaching for the doorknob that led to Dan Heng's room. "I missed you too, sweetcheeks. I'll make it up to you, I swear on my bounty," he promised, determination lacing his words.
He could sense the relief in your giggle as you bid him goodbye and hung up, prompting him to knock on Dan Heng's door. "Yo, bro! When we makin' a stop at my planet?"
"We're not," Dan Heng's muffled voice responded, causing Boothill to freeze in his tracks. "We're stopping at Penacony to go to The Reverie to pick up my colleagues."
"…We're what."
#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr fluff#hsr imagines#hsr boothill#boothill x reader
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rafe looks even cuter when he's asleep.
you don't know how the thought has never crossed your mind up until now—it's so alarmingly obvious to you right now. you stare—a bit stalkerish, even for you—but that doesn't deter you at all. you watch his chest rise and fall with each breath, the way he's completely crazy, sleeping firm on his back with one arm on your waist and the other tucked behind his head.
maybe rafe seems even cuter just because he's escaping all the stress of his real life right now—firmly asleep with hopefully nothing but nice dreams about you. and as much as you try to avoid it, you are the primary cause of all of rafe's stress. he worries about you from dawn to dusk, even when you try to convince him there's nothing to be worried about.
it's become something of a habit for him—taking care of you, making sure you're okay, even when he's not around. and you—well, you've gotten quite reliant on it. on him. you're not positive—but you think rafe likes it.
even now, on the verge of waking him up because you can't sleep, you hope he doesn't get mad. it doesn't stop you though.
"rafe," you whisper, pushing his arm softly, and then a little harder. "rafe. rafe."
he groans, eyes still shut. the third push has him blinking, staring up at the ceiling and getting his bearings.
"what time is it?" he slurs, clearly still half-asleep. "still dark, kid, go back to bed-"
"i can't sleep," you say a little too quickly, your restlessness presenting itself quite clearly. "please. i don't know why. i'm scared."
rafe closes his eyes, but then opens again, no matter how hard it is to stay awake right now. he sits up a little, propping his back against his headboard. when he turns to look at you, he doesn't feel so tired anymore.
you look really awake, like you haven't had an ounce of rest since the two of you went to bed hours ago. fiddling with the straps of your nightgown, you look up at him the way you always do—like rafe can solve any one of your problems in a minute.
and he likes it. rafe doesn't even try and hide it anymore—he loves it and loves that about you.
"what're you scared of, huh?" he asks, voice still thick with sleep. you breath in and out, trying to figure out how to explain.
"i dunno. i just am."
"okay," rafe says quietly. he closes his eyes for a few moments and then opens again. your lips curl into a pout automatically—you feel bad for waking him up. "how can i help?"
"i don't know that either. i just want to feel close to you."
"m'right here, kid-" rafe extends an arm around you, bringing you into his chest. you curl up against him like you always do, breathing in the scent of his skin and the warmth from where his hand rubs your back. but it's still not enough.
"i want to be even closer," you murmur, feeling a little more tired but not nearly enough to actually fall asleep.
"how d'you suppose i do that, hm?" you look up at your boyfriend—cuter still with his eyes closed like this.
"can't you just.." feeling surprisingly bold—probably from how wired yet exhausted you currently are—you sneak a hand over rafe's pajama shots, pressing your hand down until-
"jesus, kid. gimme some warning, huh-"
"what? you said you're 'never too tired for that', remember?"
"well, i lied. c'mon baby, just go to bed, i'll fuck you first thing in the morning."
"hmpf," you scoff, turning around and taking much of rafe's comforter with you. you don't have to see rafe to know what's going on—he's rolling his eyes and sitting up, probably has his head in his hands for a moment.
"jesus, kid. you're gonna kill me. c'mere," rafe says, turning you back around to face him with just one hand. your body flops next to him, staring up at rafe, seeing what he'll do next.
"we don't have to do it," you finally say, watching rafe move around in the sheets for a few moments. "can't you just... put it inside?"
"sure i can. c'mon," he says, and you climb onto rafe's lap as swiftly as you can. it doesn't take much—he slides up your nightie with one hand and pulls down his shorts with the other. you feel rafe prodding at your tight hole when he grabs at your tits, letting the skirt of your sleepwear fall back down.
"you just said-" rafe cuts you off.
"still gotta wake him up, remember?" you roll your eyes but they end up rolling all the way back. rafe slides in quickly—you almost fall onto his chest at the feeling.
incredibly full, realizing this is exactly what you needed, you let yourself curl back up against him. rafe's saying something quietly to you, one of his hands firm on your ass and the other on your back, but you can't even hear him.
"thank you rafey," you murmur, interrupting him without even realizing. "this is what i needed." rafe presses a kiss to your hair and you fall asleep before you even hear him whisper back.
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ᡣ𐭩 YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME
FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm on another pm!reader & dazai kick LOL, prepare for an influx of fics about them. i'm starting with this one because it's softer, the classic sharing a bed fic & u guys deserve some lightness after uu6 (warnings: fem!reader, nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)
Dazai doesn’t think you notice when he sneaks into your room at night.
To be fair, you don’t think you noticed the first few times. He’s very careful to make sure you’re still sleeping when he lets the door crack open so he can slip in. He shifts the blinds around just enough so that when he lays down and the sun starts to rise, it’ll hit him right in the eye, waking him up before you, so he can slip out unnoticed.
But he messed up two weeks ago. Or, well, it wasn’t really his fault. The hinges of your door creaked just a bit too loudly when he pushed it open, stirring you from your sleep, but he was evidently too tired to even notice. Your first reaction was obviously to tell him to get the fuck out, irate that he’d woken you up, but you found yourself hesitating as he began his swift and efficient process of setting up your room so he can lay there with you to get some rest and disappear before you wake up.
He slept above the covers on the edge of the bed, careful to keep space between the two of you—whether it was because he didn’t want to risk waking you up, or if he just didn’t want to touch you, you didn’t know, but you think it’s the former from the way you’ve noticed his body unconsciously trying to seek you out at night, only for him to startle awake and immediately move away.
You told yourself that you would address it the next morning—ask him what the fuck he was thinking sneaking into your bedroom—but you faltered when you saw how refreshed he was in the morning, bouncing around your apartment, the perpetual bags beneath his eyes mostly faded. You put together then how long he’s been doing this: three weeks, at least. You’d been wondering why he was suddenly so energetic some days, but it was easy to figure out that those days are the ones that he slips into your room to sleep.
You’d known for a while that Dazai doesn’t sleep well. Spends most nights wandering around your apartment looking for things to do if he doesn’t have missions; he only ever does sleep when he’s so drunk that he ends up passing out on your kitchen floor or he’s so tired that he physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer. You’d always wondered if it was because he can’t sleep or if it was because he doesn’t want to sleep, plagued with nightmares, memories whenever he closes his eyes.
So you let it continue—it doesn’t really bother you, he’s always careful to not disturb you and you figure that it’s better he gets at least some decent sleep so he doesn’t get himself killed on a mission because he’s depriving himself of it.
It’s not until a few weeks later that he realizes that you know. You’re half asleep when he tries to sneak into your room, barely conscious; you don’t remember to pretend to be asleep.
The door creaks open and shuts and you instinctively roll over, shifting up onto your elbows and squinting, eyes focusing on Dazai’s figure shrouded by the darkness, halfway across your room to your window. He freezes as soon as he realizes you’re awake.
“Dazai?” you ask quietly, voice a bit rough with sleep, mind moving a bit slow as you try to piece together what’s going on..
“I-” he starts to say—for a second, he’s caught off guard, fumbling for some sort of excuse. But Dazai is Dazai, so he recovers quickly. “Oh good, you’re awake. You see, I was trying to-”
“Shut up,” you murmur, laying back down and pulling the covers back, realizing what he’s here for. “Lay down.”
Dazai doesn’t budge. “What?” he breathes out, caught off-guard and clearly exhausted. You can see the dark bags beneath his eyes—he’s been on a mission for four or five days now, dealing with Mishima out in Tokyo. You figure that he hasn’t gotten any sleep since he left. “What are you talking about?”
His voice takes a cooler tone after the initial ‘what’, a defense mechanism, and you know Dazai is about to bolt to try to avoid this conversation, but it’s been weeks and you think it's about time. You crack an eye open to scowl at him, noticing the closed off expression on his face and the anxiety thinly veiled behind his dark eye. Before he can make a run for it, you push yourself up. You’re quick and Dazai is exhausted, so it’s easy for you to scramble forward and grab his wrist, wrangling him onto the bed with you.
Dazai kicks and flails, you scowl at him when he messes up your duvet and he bares his teeth at you like a wild animal. You tumble on the mattress with him for a few seconds, he bucks you off of him and nearly onto the ground, you spit a few curses at him—wide awake now—and grab his wrists, pinning them above his head and pressing your knee into his lower back. If Dazai wasn’t half asleep, he’d probably have been able to come out on top but you can feel how tired he is with how sluggish his limbs move and how heavy they are whenever one of them lay on you, as if he can barely hold himself up.
“What’s your issue?” you demand, biting back a yawn as you glare down at him.
Dazai twists his head to the side, looking at you from the corner of his eye with an indignant expression. “My issue?” he spits out. “You just manhandled me onto your bed. Let go of me.”
“You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a month, Dazai.”
Dazai stills and you watch as his cheeks instantly flame up. His eye is wide as he stares at you from the corner of it. You’d almost think he’s cute if he wasn’t Dazai.
“I have not.”
He lies. He lies. He lies as if you haven’t literally caught him in the act. You stare at him aghast, you thought maybe he’d try to wiggle his way out of it with a ‘no, you’ve misunderstood,’ not a straight up lie.
“You liar,” you accuse, voice pitched in disbelief. “You just lied right to my face.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Dazai lies again; his face is even more red now, and you think that’s to show just how exhausted he is because Dazai usually wears countless masks to hide himself from everyone. You think you strip him of one, and there are two more there protecting him—like a goddamn hydra, cut off one head and two more grow back.
But it seems like catching him in the act tonight, while he’s already tired and half-dead on his feet, was the equivalent of burning the heads of the hydra. His masks are gone and he’s left embarrassed and fumbling. You almost want to laugh, but you’re so incensed by the sheer audacity he has to blatantly lie to your face that you can’t even bring yourself to.
“You just did it again.”
“I did not.”
“Dazai,” you say exasperated, shifting a bit and he lets out an irritated grunt, tossing you an outraged look as you accidently dig your knee even more into his back. “Stop fucking around. You’ve been coming into my room at night every three days for at least a month.”
Dazai looks mortified.
“You’ve known for a month,” he demands. He wiggles like a worm trying to free himself from your grasp but you double down, pressing your weight down on his back. “You’ve known for a month, and you never said anything. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’ve known for two and a half weeks,” you correct, “but I figured it was a month or more based on when I started noticing your…mood improvements.”
A gentle way of putting that he doesn’t look like he wants to murder anyone that looks in his direction at any given moment, but Dazai obviously understands what you’re getting at and looks even more humiliated.
You almost feel bad.
Almost.
“It’s not-” Dazai starts to say. He stutters. He stutters. A part of you wishes that you could record this, knowing you’ll never get the chance to see Dazai so caught off guard like this probably ever again. “I don’t-”
“I don’t care, Dazai,” you sigh tiredly. “I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me. Just stop fucking being a creep about it, Christ.”
“No,” Dazai says, voice raised in pitch and petulant as he turns his face to press it down into your pillow. His words are muffled as he continues, “No. No. It’s ruined now. You’ve ruined it.”
Your eyes slide shut, you sigh. You’re suddenly tired again, you decidedly don’t want to deal with Dazai Osamu’s fickle and capricious nature. Because of that, you let go of him. You shake your head as you move off of him, sitting back down in bed and giving him a chance to flee, like he wanted to begin with.
Dazai does not budge.
At all.
You stare at him in disbelief.
Did he fall asleep?
You poke the side of his head and Dazai doesn’t let out a noise of complaint or shift even a centimeter, his shoulders rise and fall slowly and you turn your gaze up to the ceiling, praying for patience.
“You can’t sleep like that,” you say more to yourself than him. “You’re gonna suffocate yourself, you loser.”
You try to push him onto his side, but he startles awake as if he’d only just barely started dozing off. You watch as he jolts, sluggish limbs trying to push himself up, blinking blearily. You think he looks even more mortified when he realizes that as soon as he rested his head down, he immediately started drifting off.
“Dazai, you’re exhausted. Sleep,” you say, amusement dwindling as your brows furrow in concern. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so off-kilter before.
Has he really not slept since he left?
“No,” Dazai says, and even though the exhaustion is clear in his voice, he’s stubborn and trying to push himself up. “I can’t sleep because you had to go ahead and ruin it.”
“I didn’t ruin anything, Dazai,” you say, becoming increasingly more irritated as you lose out on more sleep. You have a meeting with Mori in the morning and you don’t want to head into it half-asleep. “You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a-”
“Stop saying that,” Dazai complains, covering his face with his hands as he sits at the edge of your bed, back turned to you. “It’s not-you’re just selfish.”
You gape. “Excuse me?” you say, even more appalled at this outlandish insult than you were over him lying to your face.
“You’re selfish. You keep the soft blankets and the nice mattress all to yourself. You’re selfish, you leave me with the scraps and then call me a creep for wanting a decent night of sleep,” Dazai says, voice a sulky hiss.
You stare at him—you don’t respond, just stare at the back of his head, willing yourself not to get violent, because there is no way that the boy who has moved himself into your apartment, leeches off your food, shampoos, soaps, and conditioners, has made a home on your couch and in your guest bedroom, who sneaks into your bed without even a small complaint from you, has the nerve to call you selfish.
As if Dazai can feel the rapidly approaching violence coming from you, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, visible eye wide and deceptively sad, head tilted to the side at a demure angle that you know he uses to get what he wants from whatever fool falls for the shitty act. You think he has some nerve trying to use it on you as if you won’t see right through it.
“It’s not fair,” he says. His voice is soft and sweet now, honeyed but you can all but taste the venom of the manipulation in the sweetness. “I just want to sleep too. It’s not fair you get all of the comfortable stuff. You’re making me seem like a creep, but I just want to sleep, and now everything is ruined.”
Therein lies the issue: the mattresses in your bedroom and the guest bedroom are in fact the same, and the sheets are the same brand and style but in different colors. The comfort of the bedroom is not the issue here. So, you choose to play his game.
“Fine,” you agree lightly. “You can take my bedroom. I’ll move into the guest bedroom. Nothing will be ruined anymore. Problem solved.”
“No.”
The sweet expression on his face drops, his gaze sharpens as he stares at you from the corner of his eye. You can barely refrain from rolling your eyes.
“No?”
“No.”
“And why not, exactly?” you ask tightly, the thin smile on your lips strained.
“You’re not allowed in my room,” Dazai says matter-of-factly.
Oh my god, you think to yourself, feeling a headache coming on, the fucking audacity of this boy.
“That is my guest room,” you say slowly. “If I want to go in there-”
“It’s been mine for over a year. It’s mine, and you’re not allowed in, so you have to stay here,” Dazai corrects firmly. “Therefore, everything is still ruined.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No.”
“Why, Dazai?” you ask, becoming frustrated quickly. “What is your fucking issue? Jesus, I’m tired, I-”
“I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep unless you’re yhere and now it’s ruined because you weren’t supposed to know,” Dazai says so suddenly and so loudly that it startles you, and then he looks distressed as if he didn’t mean to say that. “I can’t-I don’t know why-it just happened-I don’t-”
Dazai cuts himself off with a sharp breath when he realizes he can't even talk his way out of the situation, only fumbling over an explanation and making things worse for himself. If he looked embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. His visible eye looks glassy, expression twisted and uneasy. His exhaustion has loosened his tongue too much and now he looks like he wants to rid himself of it entirely. His fingers are curled into fists so tightly that you think his uneven nails must be drawing blood from his palms.
At once, all of the fight left in you disappears.
“I’m going,” Dazai says more to himself than you. “I’m going. I’m just going to go. It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”
You don’t know if by go he means go to ‘his’ room or if he means leave your apartment and hide away in his shipping container for days like he usually does when he’s upset about something. Either way, Dazai is close to dead on his feet—you can see it in the way he sways as he tries to push himself up and you can see it in the way his visible eye droops down, hardly able to hold it open. You don’t think he’d make it to the hall without his legs giving out on him, much less to his shipping container halfway across the city—he’d be easy pickings for the numerous enemies he’s made waiting for a chance like this to finally take him out.
You sigh and before he can get half a step away, you snatch his wrist and tug him right back down into the bed. He shoots you an affronted look.
“Stop manhandling me,” he complains again. “You’re turning into a brute like Chuuya.”
“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, “and lay down. How is going somewhere else going to solve your sleeping problems? I don’t know how you’re somehow both the dumbest and smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Dazai curls in on himself a bit, and you frown because he’d usually preen and tease you about the compliment, but he only looks unsure now. “It’s ruined-”
“Lay down,” you say, firmer this time, watching as Dazai’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he averts his attention to the ceiling. He lays down awkwardly, head resting on your pillow; he turns on his side so that his back is to you. He makes no move to pull the covers over him.
You let yourself roll your eyes now that he’s not looking at you, reaching down to pull the covers over both of you. You hesitate for a second, but then you choose to shift closer to him, resting your head down on the pillow as you wrap your arm loosely around his waist. He stiffens instantly, and you give it a second to see if he relaxes. When he doesn’t, you start to push yourself back away from him but before you can, he grabs your wrist to hold you in place, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he relaxes back against you.
“Nothing is ruined,” you murmur, eyes sliding shut now that you can finally rest. “I told you, I don’t care. Just sleep, Dazai. You need it.”
“... Only for tonight, one last time,” he yawns, unconsciously shifting back closer to you. It’s another blatant lie, but this one only makes you smile fondly.
“Sure,” you agree. “Only for tonight.”
When you wake up in the morning, Dazai is tucked right into your side. You’d shifted at some point during the night to lay onto your back and he’d curled right into you, resting his head on your shoulder and slinging an arm around your waist. Your gaze flickers to the clock on your nightstand and you let out a soft breath when you see that you have thirty minutes before you have to be at the main headquarters for your meeting with Mori but…
Your mouth dries when you glance down at Dazai. His bandaged eye is pressed into your body, but you can see the way his visible one is slid shut, lashes brushing his cheek as he sleeps. His face is so smooth and relaxed, breaths deep and even, peaceful in a way that you never really see of Dazai Osamu. You hadn’t fully closed your blinds before falling asleep last night, and you find yourself entranced by the way Dazai looks underneath the early morning sun, breath hitching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before shifting closer to you.
Fuck.
You let out a puff of air, eyes sliding shut. There’s no way you’ll be able to slip out of bed without waking him up, and you find that you don’t want to wake him up. Dazai is an irritating little shit, and he makes your life as difficult as he possibly can, but you think you’d be cruel purposely disrupting the little bit of peace in his life that he can have.
(You also think that you never give a shit about cruelty unless Dazai Osamu is somehow involved and the recipient of it, but you instantly dispose of that thought.)
Decision made, you reach for your phone and quickly shoot a text to Mori:
Something came up. Meet later.
And you promptly shut your phone off before settling back in bed with Dazai, arm curling around his waist and head falling to the side so that you can bury your face in his soft brown hair. You notice, as you doze back off, that it smells suspiciously like the expensive vanilla shampoo that you specifically told him not to use, but you’re already too sleepy to make a fuss out of it.
You’ll bitch about it later, you decide.
(If you can feel him smile against your shoulder as you fall back asleep with him, you ignore it.)
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you#dazai fluff#bsd fluff#bungo stray dogs fluff
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viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.
Pairing: max verstappen x reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!
Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.
“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”
“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?”
“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?”
The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.
And who is he to deprive his girl?
He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.
And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.
So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”
“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”
“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.”
A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”
“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”
“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.
“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”
“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.
“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips ��� and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow.
It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.
“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?”
There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?”
“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?”
“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?”
“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”
He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?”
“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.
“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”
“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”
His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”
Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”
“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?”
You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”
“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.
Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”
“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?”
“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”
Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.
“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.
You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?”
That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.
Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.
“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.
The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.
Though he has other plans.
Of course.
So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”
“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?”
“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.
“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips.
It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.
But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.
Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.
With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?”
“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.”
A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.”
“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?”
This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning.
#monzabee#requests open#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#formula 1#fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#imagine#fluff#angst#smut#max verstappen fluff#mas verstappen smut
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Hey darlin'! I just saw your one-shots and i REALLY love them!! I need morr about Eddie with Hopper!Reader <33 Please!! A fluff or a smut where the Reader have to deal with her father. Hope you can answer. Have a nice day!! ✨️
-🩷
You and Eddie try to have a chill night in, but it's difficult when you have the world's most paranoid chief of police as a father — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff
warnings: none
words: 1.2k
a/n: thanks for submitting a request! I'm sorry it took so long, I've been so busy lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to end it lmao but I really hope you like this fic!!
Even though your dad knew about you and Eddie dating, he was definitely not as okay with it as you would have hoped, but honestly more than you had expected.
He had met Eddie a few times since he found out you were in romantic cahoots with the familiar criminal, and despite your fears, they had gotten along quite well despite their history and their differences. But no matter how many things they actually had in common, no father would fully trust Eddie Munson to be alone with his little girl.
“Door open three inches!” Your dad called from the couch. “You know the rules!”
You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed to open the door to Hopper’s liking.
The door was open three inches, and you swore that it was the draft causing the door to move slightly, but you knew your dad would never believe you.
“Seriously, Dad?” You asked him.
“Rules are rules.” He confirmed. “If you don’t like it, then the boyfriend can go.”
You let out a heavy, dramatic sigh before returning to your boyfriend, who was currently sketching out a Dungeons and Dragons character based on you for his new campaign.
Eddie looked up from his paper when you sat back down next to him. “You can do a lot with three inches, you know?”
You put a finger over his mouth—which he playfully tried to bite—and you shushed him while holding back a laugh at his incredibly stupid, albeit funny, joke.
“He’s gonna hear you, and he’s gonna drag you out of here. Keep drawing.”
He put the finishing touches on his design, then let out a sound of satisfaction over it before turning the notebook so you could see it better.
“I think I did pretty good.” Your boyfriend proclaimed. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”
Oh, how you lucked out with this mysterious dork. You thanked him by pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before your dad became suspicious of you two once again.
“You think I should get it as some ink?” Eddie asked you.
“Like, you want to get it tattooed?”
Eddie nodded, eyes going back and forth between you and the cartoon version of you that he just made.
“Absolutely not.” You replied.
“What? Why not? Do you not love me enough to let me tattoo you on me?”
He was ridiculous, staring at you with big, fake puppy dog eyes and a pleading lip.
“Of course I love you, but as your girlfriend, I also need to stop you from doing stupid things.”
“What if I keep your tattoo separate from the creepy skulls and spiders?”
Well, that was an offer you almost couldn’t refuse. Even though it was tempting, you would never let him know that he can get to you like that, so you played it cool.
“Ask me again in a year.”
His face erupted into a devilish smile and he held his hands to his chest like a cartoon character in love.
“I’m getting a tramp stamp of my girlfriend in a year!”
Before you could protest his proclamation, he pulled you into his arms in what you hoped was just a teasing gesture rather than a genuine expression of excitement for something you were certainly not going to let happen.
Just a second later, your dad cleared his throat very pointedly, which practically frightened you out of your boyfriend’s arms.
“El wants to watch a movie.” He announced. “Come watch with us.”
You sat up and shook your head lightly. “Um, no thanks, Dad. We’ll pass on that.”
Your dad raised an eyebrow and looked at Eddie’s arm around your waist. “You have something better to do?”
It was at that point that you knew him telling you about your sister and the movie was an order, not an invitation. You bit the inside of your cheek and luckily, Eddie spoke up before you could say something snarky.
“A movie sounds great, chief. Count us in.”
“Good.” Hopper said curtly before turning around to the living room.
Eddie stood up and started teasingly pulling you off the bed. You laid down and let out an annoyed groan, resisting his attempts to move you.
“C’mon, babe, movie time.” Eddie encouraged.
“It’s just gonna be The Wild Bunch. That’s one of their favourite movies and I know El’s been wanting to see it again lately.” You mumbled. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”
“Well, your dad might never let me back in your house if he thinks I’m trying anything with his daughter in the other room, so we have to. Plus, I like The Wild Bunch too.”
Your face formed an exaggerated frown as you finally got up off the bed.
Eddie smiled and escorted you to the living room. And although you had just started to build up excitement within you for this movie night, it already got worse.
El was in her favourite recliner—the VHS case for The Wild Bunch was on her lap, you called it—but your dad had plopped himself down in the exact middle of the couch. Not only did you have to watch a movie with your family instead of chilling with your boyfriend, but you couldn’t even sit next to him because your dad hates the idea of you having fun.
Before you knew it, you were in a full on stare-down with the Hawkins chief of police.
“Take a seat.” He said passive aggressively.
“I want to sit next to Eddie, Dad. Could you move over?”
He shook his head. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks. I was a teenager once.”
“Yeah, like a thousand years ago.” You mumbled.
The comment was quiet but your dad still heard it.
“Careful, any attitude and I’ll assume it came from the moron and he won’t be allowed back in the house.”
You looked over at Eddie with a defeated expression on your face. He looked back at you, sympathetic and willing to comply—the latter was a complete switch from his normal mood.
Your boyfriend understood completely why your dad was worried about you and Eddie dating, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Of course, Eddie was willing to do whatever he could to seem like the boyfriend every parent would want for their daughter—he really was, some people just couldn’t look past the exterior shell to see it—so he held his tongue and went along with anything.
The two of you sat down on opposite sides of the couch, separated by your relentless father.
“Alright, El, play the movie.” Hopper said.
He then leaned back and kept his eyes on the television in front of you all.
Eddie soon caught your gaze from across the couch, and he stretched his arm behind his head, oh so conveniently placing it a few inches from your shoulder.
You grinned at him, keeping it subtle, and took his hand in yours.
The two of you watched the rest of the film like that, holding hands in that slightly uncomfortable way, and the night wasn’t as insufferable as it seemed like it was going to be. All thanks to Eddie, of course.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x hopper!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fluff
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q&a
Alexa: Will we ever get to hear about Tessa's time in the Spiral Labyrinth? I think that would be so cool. 2) Why does Jem always say that the Carstairs owe the Herondales? I know that Jem feels that Will saved him when he was a child, but Jem saved will just as much as Will saved Jem. I'm curious if you have any more thoughts on that, like if it is just part of Jem's personality that he feels so keenly that he owes Will.
Sure, Jem saved Will just like Will saved Jem, but that isn't going to make Jem feel like he owes Will less, because indeed, that's not his personality (or Will's — Will would say the Herondales owe the Carstairs.) For Jem, this is a very pure feeling, that he will always owe this debt to Will and to the Herondales, and even though he wouldn't deny he also saved Will, he wouldn't qualify the statement — "The Carstairs owe the Herondales, though, you know, the Herondales also owe the Carstairs and so it's basically even but I'd still like to help out" because it would undercut the strength of his conviction. None of that means he doesn't know he did a lot for Will and Will's family too! As to whether there's more to Jem's belief that the Carstairs owe the Herondales than the obvious, we will have to see.
Anonymous: THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES. I SEE YOU HAVE WICKED POWERS IN THE WORKS (NOT SOON ENOUGH).... FOLLOWING KIT HERONDALE AFTER 2012 ERA BUT HERES MY QUESTION.... YOU HAVE ALL THIS GAP BETWEEN THE LAST HOURS SET IN 1900S UNTIL THE 2000S WITH THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS. WE, AS FANS DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CARSTAIRS ETC, SUCH AS AFTER CHAIN OF THORNS.... ...... YOU HAVE MANY MANY MANY GAPS HERE TO BE TRYING TO END THE SERIES..... SOOOO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS WITH THE CHARACTERS. (AND YES IVE READ EVERY SINGLE BOOK).
Ack, the caps! Hello, friend. It is true that not every moment of every day of every decade has been described in a series, but that is fairly normal! We don't know exactly what transpires between Last Hours and Mortal Instruments (though we have many hints in the various short story collections, especially where it comes to the time of the Circle) — nor do we know what, for instance, was happening in the New York Institute during The Infernal Devices. With a big universe, you're never going to know what's happening in every place at every time. There will always be gaps; it's neither a bug nor a feature, more a natural consequence of the format.
I totally understand being like, "The Shadowhunter world cannot end with Wicked Powers, there are more stories to tell" but — whenever it all ended — there would always be more stories to tell.
princeash asked:
Hi Cassie!! So excited by the announcement! My question is, are we getting a Ash pov in tlkof?and could we maybe get a snippet of him 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 (also, I'm very happy about finally getting a release date and i dont mind waiting because i know you'll make it worth the wait!! 🤎)
Hello! We are not getting Ash's POV in TLKOF, unless something major changes. Ash is a bit of a mysterious figure for quite a while. Figuring out what makes him tick and what he's really up to is part of the fun. Also I'm working on not overwhelming people with so many POVs. :)
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personal trainer!zoro headcanons
black fem!reader (plus sized), reader is a bodybuilder/weightlifter, humor, banter, reader is self conscious (not for those reasons but you’ll see!), fluff, best friends to lovers, sfw + nsfw under the cut, public sex (they use gym showers + equipment), riding, backshots, full nelson, praise kink, calls reader baby, good girl and princess, heavy squirting, throatfucking, other things
I am like highly obsessed with gym rat!zoro and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head so enjoy!
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.
personal trainer!zoro has been obsessed with you since the day you guys met. He’s watched you since your weightlifting days in high school and has been infatuated for years.
personal trainer!zoro has always had a love for working out and the gym..a second home of sorts and the only place he feels he truly thrives. It was no question to anyone what he’d end up doing with his life once he got older. Thus became a personal trainer after going to school.
personal trainer!zoro, who helps his clients with workout plans and meals, all to become their best selves and reach their goals..is notorious for his intense regimens. Many would call him a ‘beast among men’. Even so, they’d get the results they desired.
personal trainer!zoro was the first person to encourage you to pursue weightlifting on the competition level and trained you throughout your journey.
personal trainer!zoro was also the first person to welcome you back to the scene after an injury put you on hiatus..he was however concerned once your session ended that day and personal trainer!zoro saw a side of you that he never had before…
“hey, what happened out there? You froze up a little bit at the end. I told you, hesitating when lifting can seriously hurt you. Gotta be more careful next time, okay?” “I know, I’m sorry..it’s just that I don’t really feel like I belong here anymore.”
personal trainer!zoro sat and listened as you explained away your fear and anxiety of returning to the weightlifting scene. Afraid that you wouldn’t be as good as you once were. Naturally, all he did was laugh!
“Well yeah, of course you’re not going to be the same. That’s how injuries work. It doesn’t mean you give up on something you love because it gets a lil’ tough..that’s a bullshit excuse if I’ve heard one.” “Damn, not even gonna try to spare my feelings a little bit, huh?” “And why would I do a thing like that? You’re my girl, I’d never let you stay in a place like that.”
personal trainer!zoro instantly flustered at the thought of calling you ‘his girl’ and noticed you did the same..however, that awkward tension soon turned into something more when the two of you packed up for the day and headed to the showers.
personal trainer!zoro couldn’t help but to notice your curvaceous figure whilst he prepared to go over to the men’s side..not to mention, the way you kept staring at him when he took his shirt off!
“What’s up with you? You keep being all weird and shit. Are you sure you want to do this?” “Yes! I’m fine..”
personal trainer!zoro knew he could be blunt but this wasn’t like you! Acting all nervous around him like you guys hadn’t seen each other at every point in your life..high and low, best and worst and certainly like this. He just didn’t understand the issue.
personal trainer!zoro wasn’t prepared when you began to confess that you were nervous around him because it’s been ages since you last saw one another and he looked so much better than you expected..from his muscular build to his tan and even the couple tattoos he’d acquired. You were bigger than most women that came through here and yet, he looked like he could toss you over his shoulder with no problem!
“Oh..so that’s it? I see..somebody’s got a crush, how cute..” “..you’re such a jackass, you know that? I just said you looked good! That’s all..” sending the both of you into laughter.
personal trainer!zoro still wasn’t going to let you off that easy..inching closer and bridging the space between your bodies.
“Well you know I could say the same for you..I see you’ve been working out more than your arms..” referring to the round and plumpness of your thick ass. “And of course, that face is still just as pretty.”
personal trainer!zoro was never one for beating around the bush and he could sense there was something more than friendly banter between you guys. Truthfully, he needed you..needed to let you know that his feelings were more than that of a friendship. Which he did so by caressing your body and eventually shoving his tongue into your mouth!
“I never knew you felt that way about me..” “..maybe you should try paying more attention..”
personal trainer!zoro wastes no time in sloppily kissing you as you guys peel each other’s clothes off before making it to the showers.
personal trainer!zoro is taken aback when you sink to your knees underneath the flowing waters and begin to tease his cock..running your tongue around the tip, suckling slowly before eventually devouring the entire thing. Which had him clawing the walls and screaming out as his shaft made home in your throat.
“Fuck..I missed you.” “Yeah, baby? Show me how much with that pretty mouth..”
personal trainer!zoro has to stop himself from orgasming too quick and all but shove you away because it’s obvious weightlifting isn’t your only skill!
personal trainer!zoro can’t help but be infatuated by the jiggle of your ass as you pull him along underneath the warm waters..that he just can’t resist the urge to make you grip the wall and bend over so he can pound you from behind. Feeding you deep strokes and backshots. “Right there, Zo! Fuck yes..don’t stop, please..” “..Don’t worry, not until I stretch this little pussy out..you’re not going anywhere.”
personal trainer!zoro fucks you almost animalistic. Never once breaking eye contact with you, grunting in your ear and pounding you with all he had..even if his knees buckled from the insane grip of your cunt. Especially when he forces you to squirt all over him; splattering him with your juices.
“That’s my good girl..let that shit out. I can tell you haven’t had a good nut in a while. You needed this, didn’t you, baby?” “Yes, baby. You’re fucking me so good..”
personal trainer!zoro circled back to your earlier comment about how muscular he had gotten and wanted to put it to the test! “Here, grab my neck, sweetheart. I got you.” Instructing as proceeded to fuck you in a full nelson. Picking you up and slamming you down on his cock until he felt himself getting close.
personal trainer!zoro painted your face with ropes of his warm cum, right there in that gym shower..not concerned with anyone or anything else.
“Kiss me..you look so pretty like this.” Cupping your cheek before shoving his tongue in your mouth. “Welcome back, princess. Same time tomorrow, alright? And you better be ready to go harder.”
personal trainer!zoro was feeling more motivated than ever in his work, now that he had his favorite person and client back.
#cherry’s works ✦⭒#one piece#one piece x black!reader#one piece headcanons#roronoa zoro#zoro x black reader#zoro headcanons#zoro smut#one piece smut#one piece hcs#ronoroa zoro#one piece zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x plus size reader#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece modern au#modern au#black fem reader#black reader#black reader smut#op zoro#zoro#one piece drabble#one piece fanfiction#personal trainer au#cw smut#op headcanons#op smut#zoro roronoa x reader
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we can’t be friends, part 2
a/n: the highly requested part 2 of we can’t be friends is finally here!!! again, this is super rushed because i wanted to post it as soon as possible for you guys, so forgive me 🥲
also, part 3? 👀
my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
Lando had never before considered himself a “lucky” man. He was always of the belief that things just kind of…happened.
But when he saw you in the paddock on that one particular day, after months of being away from you and only watching you from afar, he thanked his lucky stars.
That was part of the reason why he couldn’t resist coming up to you, introducing himself with only one thought in mind: I need to get her back.
You hadn’t known why the feeling of his hand in yours felt familiar when you shook his hand, why the tone of his voice made tingles arise on your delicate skin, or why his smile and dimple seemed like something you had seen before, seemingly in another life.
Something in your gut was telling you that you had met him sometime before, but you just couldn’t figure out where you knew him from.
Which Lando was grateful for.
He had realized he hadn’t been a good boyfriend to you before, he could see his mistakes and what he should improve now. He knew what he had to do.
After the fateful meeting in the paddock, you started bumping into him more and more.
At the grocery store in Monaco, at the museum where you were strolling with your sister, at the hair salon, at the nail salon, he seemed to be everywhere.
You didn’t think anything about it at first, telling yourself that Monaco was a very small place and coincidences were bound to happen.
But you gradually began to feel like it was not the case, and you settled for confronting him to get to the bottom of the problem.
“You’re following me” you had caught him yet again, seemingly trailing around the flower shop where you usually spend your mornings.
Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing before he settled for shaking his head.
“Bumping into me once or twice is a normal coincidence, but you’re everywhere I go. I turn around and you’re there, like a ghost. Can you please tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to creep me out” you said, making sure to keep your distance from him.
Lando’s heart began hammering in his chest, panic quickly settling in his body.
This was not how it was supposed to go down. You were meant to find it cute, endearing even, but he couldn’t have you thinking that he was a weirdo, not when he was desperately trying to make you fall in love with him once again.
How was he supposed to win you back if you thought he was a total creep?
“I’m not trying to be creepy, I promise. I just didn’t know how to approach you without being awkward” he tried to explain, realizing he sounded even more like a creep.
You cocked an eyebrow. “And you figured following me around was the solution?” you had to admit that seeing him flustered and trying to explain himself was becoming funny to you, any trace of annoyance long gone.
You couldn’t describe the feelings you had whenever you were around Lando. There was a foreign sense of familiarity every time you would talk to him and whenever you would be near him. Like your body was already used to being around him.
“No, no. God, this is so not how I wanted this to go down” he murmured the last part to himself, but you heard him nonetheless.
“Look, as much as I might find this stalking of yours kinda cute in some twisted way, what’s really going on here?” you asked, crossing your arms one on top of the other.
He sighed, hanging his head low. Should he just be honest about why he was following you? Tell you about everything you had done so much just to forget? Should he just lie and truly start from scratch?
There were so many questions clouding his judgment, dozens of ideas and excuses floating around in his brain.
But in the end, he decided that wiping the slate clean was his best bet. You would never agree to go out with him if he even mentioned how your previous relationship had ended, that he had hurt you so much that you chose to completely forget everything about him and your relationship.
He didn’t want to risk a new beginning by plaguing it with events from the past.
“Okay. Truth is, I really like you, and I wanted to ask you out but couldn’t seem to find the words to do it. You’re gorgeous and kind and nice and I didn’t think you would want to go out with me, given what the internet has been saying about me” he confessed, scratching the back of his head in fear of what your reaction would be.
Once upon a time, he could read you like the back of his hand, knowing your every little tic and every tell. He knew every single thing there was to know about you, but as you stood there in front of him, he felt like he didn’t know you.
Even while you smiled at him with that same smile he had come to love over time, you were not the person he had left behind. You were someone else entirely, only the memory of you hiding behind your eyes. But was it wrong that it intrigued him? That it made him want to get to know you again so badly?
Maybe. But he didn’t want to resist it any longer.
Finally looking up at your eyes, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the smile he loved vibrantly shining on your face, a sense of familiarity filling his chest.
“I don’t care what the internet says about you, I want to get to know the real you. People can have their opinions of you, I want to have my own” you said, stepping closer to him.
Lando felt like he couldn’t breathe. Having you so close to him after so much time apart made him want to lose his composure and just kiss the life out of you, but he couldn’t.
No, he wanted to do it right. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again.
“What are you saying?” he asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t misinterpret anything.
“I’m saying that you should give me your number” you said, trying to suppress the smile that was inching towards your lips.
You didn’t know why you were acting like this. Accepting to go on a date with a guy that basically followed you around, asking him for his number? You were never that irresponsible when it came to dating, so why was he so different right now?
You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something deep within you which was screaming at you to trust him. There was that sense of comfort that you felt whenever you were around him ever since the two of you bumped into each other, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. How could you feel so at ease with someone you had just met?
It was weird, definitely worrisome if you were being truthful with yourself. But then again, what harm could it do?
Lando had never taken out his phone as fast as he did in that moment, almost dropping it in the process, which made you laugh a little.
Seeing him so flustered made him blush, almost embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his act together.
He gave you the phone in the end, and you put in your number and the name y/n💕, giving him the phone back and leaving, kissing his cheek as you passed by him.
Lando felt like he was dreaming as he felt your lips touch his skin, however briefly the contact had been. And unbeknownst to you, you were biting your lip and blushing as you walked away from him, eagerly waiting to get a text from him.
And thankfully, it was merely an hour later when your phone dinged, and the butterflies started acting up once again.
♡♡♡♡♡
The moment of your first date with Lando had arrived after texting back and forth for a couple of days, and it was safe to say that the both of you were freaking out.
You, on one hand, were freaking out because it felt like you hadn’t been this excited about going on a date in forever. Lando, on the other hand, was freaking out over wanting to make sure he didn’t screw things up the second time around.
The nerves that he felt as he waited in front of your apartment building were nothing like he ever felt before. He hadn’t even been this nervous when you two went out the first time all those years back. But as he stood there, flowers in hand and yet another gift in his pocket, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.
That was until you finally appeared, dressed in his favorite dress of yours, sandals and curly hair, smiling from ear to ear when you saw him waiting for you.
“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t decide what to wear. Have you been waiting long?
Lando’s brain froze for a split second. Had he been waiting there so long that he didn’t even notice you had been late? Taking a quick peek at the watch resting on his left wrist, he realized he had been standing in front of your building for more than 20 minutes.
“Um, no. Just got here like 5 minutes ago” he lied, content when he saw the relieved smile you gave him. “These are for you” he said, holding out the flowers towards you.
You took the bouquet from him, blushing once you noticed that he had bought you your favorite flowers.
“How did you know these are my favorites?” you asked, bringing the flowers up to your nose and inhaling the sweet aroma.
He shrugged, and left it at that. He couldn’t really tell you how he knew they were your favorite, so he figured he shouldn’t say anything else.
The night went by beautifully, the conversation flowing as if you had known each other your whole lives. The laughter you shared was natural, you felt so at ease while talking to him.
As the end of the night grew closer, you were walking hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence between the two of you. You had never felt at ease with anyone else in your entire life, yet here you were, feeling more at home with Lando than any other person in your life besides your family.
“Thank you for tonight” you said, smiling sadly once you arrived in front of your building.
Lando smiled, stepping closer to you.
“It was my pleasure” he whispered, the distance between the two of you almost non-existent.
He looked you in the eyes as if he was asking for permission, and the second you nodded he leaned in and kissed you with everything that he had, making your knees go weak and almost buckle.
You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and started playing with the hair at the back of his head, almost accidentally letting out a moan at how good his lips felt on yours. Every inch of your body was on fire, your senses tingling as you got lost in the feeling of Lando.
Lando, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions. Even though he had been waiting for this moment for so many months, he felt guilty. There he was, using the fact that you had no memory of your past relationship to win you back. Was he being selfish?
Should he tell you the truth about the past?
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#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris blurb#lando norris drabble#lando norris one shot#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff#mclaren#mclaren f1#mclaren formula 1
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after hours, i can be whatever you want me to be ⭑ ( lhs. )
⭑ FEATURING horrendously down down bad lee heeseung x kinda naive philophobic fem!reader. where heeseung has no intentions of escaping your cages, forever remaining under the spell of your love. ( ARCHIVE? )
⭑ GENRE & WARNINGS fluff, toxic situation, almost kissing, mildly suggestive WORDCOUNT 0.834k
she's crazy but i love her.
heeseung's steps are slow and calculated, eyes glued on your figure trying to make your way to his car. stumbling and wobbly in heels you (kind of) seem accustomed to, feet clicking against the pavement in a hasty stride. he's worried. you were out with friends past midnight on a weekday, called him all drunk to pick you up from the bar and now you are barely able to walk straight, ankle on the verge of twisting at any given moment but you wouldn't let him hold you. he's worried sick.
"angel please just hold onto me hm?" he pleads rushing over when you visibly slip on an uneven part, hands almost gripping around your waist as you manage to keep your balance, staggering back into his arms in a couple of steps.
"you! who are you!" your hands push against his chest as you turn around startled. there it goes, again! heeseung sighs knowing what's to come. it's the third time in the last fifteen minutes, going over this exact conversation word to word.
"it's heeseung, your cousin's friend and your friend," he makes sure to emphasize on 'your friend' trying to stop this before it gets further into the loop.
"where's my cousin?" you ask, looking around the rather empty parking lot.
"he working," heeseung's explanation is dry because he knows you'll cut him off before he can say anything more,"and why are you here?" just like that. he remembers the first time this happened, when you were actually sober and met him at your cousin brother: jay's workplace. you showed up out of nowhere, without any notice and jay was going bonkers at how he'll get you back home when he has the most important client waiting for him in the next room. heeseung hadn't thought much when he offered to drop you off, a favor for a friend that was all it was to him.
"because you called me, angel," but god was he wrong, for he swears the moment he laid his eyes on you he was a goner. you were too darn pretty to be just a favor. you were younger, a party girl always running out to frat and sorority gatherings, bars and clubs. often calling jay to pick you up to avoid letting your parents know of your shenanigans.
"why did i call you and not my cousin?" everytime he had wished it was him and not jay, even though ultimately he was the one who went. carrying your cute drunk ass to your mansion and getting you to your room as discreetly as possible. you are a rich girl, two worlds apart and heeseung has felt it in many ways than not.
"because i'm your cousin's friend and you know me well," heeseung never thought he'd ever be more than just your cousin's friend to you. at least he hopes he is more. you have done things with him that you'd definitely not do with just your cousin's friend. a space curtaining acquaintance and lover, he hangs dangerously cold and heedless.
"so where's my cousin?" between days left ghosted and nights you throw your arms around him he stands unsure of his place in your life. at times he feels you know he's the one who could treat you better than any of the guys you cry for. yet there are moments when there's this sturdy wall you build, holding him away for the sake of not losing him like others. afraid of love is what you refuse you are but heeseung knows your conceptions of it are a little too twisted, broken he dare say. and his love for you is so far and conflicted to the things you have experienced, he understands the lengths and the time it will take for you to recognize and accept him.
"you know what, i'm getting you in the car myself," in an instance his hands grip at the back of knees and the curve of your waist, hauling you up in his arms. he walks quick to his car parked at the far end, smiling through the constant pouty mumbles of yours. eyeing you every two seconds, not being able to resist that pretty face of yours.
it is absolutely not in him to ever resist that pretty face of yours, your pretty eyes and your pretty lips as they graze against his own in gentle brushes. arms looped around his neck and thighs resting on the soft matress of your bed, albeit on each side of his own, yet again. sitting on his lap, so close, bodies pressed. "heeseungie, please stay," your voice a sultry whisper of a whine, a naive vixen, if that's even a thing.
lee heeseung knows he will never have the power to refuse you, he will be whatever you want him to be for how ever long you will want him to be.
you make him crazy and he loves you for that.
taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun @enhacrumbsss @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @mxxnintheskyreblogs
#enhypen imagines#BROTHER's BSF trope In A NEW wAY#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen heeseung imagines#heeseung imagines#enhypen soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#enhypen reactions#enhypen headcanons#enhypen hard hours
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finding excuses to be alone with each other - Buddie
hi, and thank you! sorry this has taken a while, and also i have no explanation for why i decided to write new year's eve fic in june. BUT: here you are!
a stolen moment
1200 words | buddie | developing relationship | secret relationship | kissing | fluff
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There are too many people at this party.
Normally, this isn't something Buck would even think to complain about. Maddie and Chim are hosting, since Bobby and Athena are still living out of a tiny one-bedroom while work continues on their house, and Hen and Karen are still trying to get Mara settled back at home—New Year's parties are apparently not conducive to a quiet, predictable bedtime routine, and the Wilson family unit will probably be heading out well before the ball drops anyway—and nobody else has even close to enough room. It's still packed to the brim, overflowing onto the back patio, clusters of people chatting over drinks in the kitchen while the kids have taken over the living room TV for a vicious Mario Kart showdown that Chris is currently winning. Maddie's in the back bedroom putting Jee down for bedtime, and Chim is holding court over the dessert table, and it's all—great, honestly, it's great. It's awesome, having his family here, and happy, and together under the same roof after the year they've all had.
He glances up and meets Eddie's eye from across the dining room. Gets a quick smile in return. Eddie's cheeks are pink, maybe from the warmth, maybe from the two glasses of wine he's had, since Buck will be the one driving them home. He's wearing a green Henley that Buck knows is exactly as soft as it looks and worn-in jeans that mold lovingly to the lines of his thighs as he leans back against the door frame, and it's all pretty distressing, honestly. Buck's hands are itching to touch.
When he meets Eddie's eyes again, Eddie is grinning broadly. Caught, Buck ducks his head. He's blushing, he knows, and he doesn't have the excuse of the wine.
They're keeping it to themselves, at least for now. That was the decision they both made after Eddie kissed him in the loft two nights ago, after Buck kissed him back, after they didn't actually manage to make it all the way up to the bed and ended up on the couch instead, gasping into each other's mouths, fumbling and eager as teenagers. They're keeping it to themselves until Eddie figures out how he's going to tell Chris. He's skittish about that still, and Buck isn't going to push. So he'll probably be sleeping on the fold-out couch tonight instead of in Eddie's bed, and he's not going to kiss Eddie in the middle of the party, no matter how much he wants to.
It's okay. They have time.
"Hey, didn't someone bring dessert plates?" Chim calls from the kitchen. "Please tell me someone brought dessert plates, we're all out of the big ones and I'm really not up for doing dishes tonight."
Ah, shit. Right. That was Buck's job. He's pretty sure he did pick some up, actually, but they're probably still out in the Jeep, which is parked somewhere in the snarl of cars crowding the Han driveway and pulled off to the side of the street in front of their lawn.
"I got 'em," he calls, setting his soda down.
"My hero," Chim retorts, only half-teasing by his tone. Buck rolls his eyes and goes to find his shoes.
He doesn't realize that Eddie is following him until he's already slipped them on in the entry hall, a few steps away from the party. "What's up?"
Eddie shrugs, guileless, and crouches down to retrieve his shoes as well. "Figured I'd help you."
"You figured you'd help me…. bring in a package of paper plates?"
"Yeah," Eddie says innocently, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and god, Buck really wants to kiss him.
"Okay," he agrees instead, and pulls open the door. Eddie follows him out into the night, cool and dim even with Christmas lights still lit up all down the street. There's a dampness to the air that feels like rain; it's not that cold, but it's enough of a contrast to the warm house that a shiver goes through him. Eddie falls into step beside him, then reaches for his hand.
Buck shivers again, for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold this time. Eddie's hand is warm and broad, and he strokes his thumb lightly against Buck's, lighting up nerve endings he didn't even know he had.
It's such a small thing. But they've never actually done this yet. It all feels so new, sparkling like fireworks through his veins.
"Okay?" Eddie asks, and Buck realizes that he's stopped walking.
"Yeah," he says. He's not doing a very good job of keeping the smile off his face, or out of his voice, but Eddie's got the exact same dopey smile on his face, so it's fine. They weave through the cars to where Buck's Jeep is parked, close enough to the street that they'll probably be able to get out without playing vehicle Tetris. Far enough from the house that they're shielded from view by Bobby's truck parked alongside them, so he's not all that surprised when Eddie lets go of his hand only to push him gently against the side of the Jeep and kiss him.
He gets lost in that for a little bit. The heat of Eddie's mouth, his hands moving from Buck's shoulders to cradle his jaw—he did that the first time, too. Held Buck like he's holding him now, like he's something precious and worth treating with care, and Buck's already hooked on it. He slides his hand up Eddie's back, feeling the warmth of him, to cup the back of his neck as Eddie licks into his mouth with leisurely sweetness, like he's got all the time in the world to kiss Buck just like this on the sidewalk on New Year's Eve.
Sooner or later, someone's going to come looking for them. It still takes a while for Buck to break the kiss, and when Eddie tugs lightly at his lower lip with his teeth before pulling away, he almost dives back in again. Almost.
"We should probably get back to the party," he says, very reluctantly.
"Yeah," Eddie sighs. He leans in and kisses Buck again, a sweeter, softer thing before leaning past him to open the door. Buck ducks into the back seat to retrieve the package of plates and the bottle of wine they forgot to bring in earlier, and when he straightens up, Eddie is watching him. He looks—hesitant, almost. Nervous. He looks the way he looked two days ago, right before he kissed Buck.
"What's up?" Buck asks.
"I want to tell Chris," Eddie says, all in a rush. "Maybe not—right now, at the party, but when we get home, I want to tell him. About us."
Buck takes a quick, sharp breath. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about you."
"Eddie."
"It's the truth. And—I want him to know. Even if it's an adjustment, even if it takes some time to—I want him to know. I want everyone to know. If that's okay with you."
"Eddie," Buck says again, and then, "yeah, yeah of course it's okay."
"Good," Eddie says, with a sudden, brilliant smile. And well—Chim can wait a few more minutes for his paper plates. Buck sets them down and pulls Eddie back in.
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back from the dead | a.h x fem!reader
ꨄ requested: @vyviiennestar
ꨄ genre: angst
ꨄ summary: you find out that your best friend wasn't actually dead and you're extremely pissed that aaron, your husband, kept it from you for as long as he did.
“y/n, get back here." aaron called after you, hoping that his voice was strong enough to keep you from walking out of the door. everyone stood there watching the scene unfold before them, still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that emily's not actually dead.
you could hardly believe that she was back, after all those months of sulking and crying to aaron about the loss and not being able to get out of bed. it had been a rough couple of months and you were just starting to come to terms with the fact that you would never see her again.
aaron was the last person you'd expect to do something like this to you, to the team. although it wasn't just him, ji was involved too, it sure felt that way because jj wasn't the one who sat up with you at night comforting you and telling you that everything would be okay.
you stopped in the doorway, your hands balled into fist by your side. there was an anger bubbling inside you, the type of anger you hadn't felt in years. "are you saying that as my husband or my boss?"
emily looked between you both and cleared her throat, signaling to the rest of the team to give you both some privacy. they made sure to close the doors so that when you started yelling—which they knew was coming—it wouldn't travel out of the room.
"y/n, don't be upset. please just sit down and let's talk about it." aaron followed after you as you rolled your eyes and walked out of the room, not caring if anyone else heard the conversation.
"why, aaron? so you can tell me about how my husband lied to me about my best friend being dead months? there's nothing else to talk about."
you stopped at your desk and gathered your things, you figured that you could follow the hunch about the case you'd gotten by yourself. aaron stood at the top of the stairs watching you, he didn't say anything else because he knew there was no point. just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand slid through them to stop them from closing all the way, you could tell it was spencer by his hand.
"do you mind if i come with you? i can't stay here any longer." he sighed and fixed the strap on his satchel, you looked over at him and nodded your head.
#golden1u5t#myrarants#criminal minds fandom#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader angst#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x fem!reader
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Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.
It goes so great.
As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.
"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.
"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."
"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"
"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?
Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"
Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?
Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."
"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."
Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?
####
When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.
"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."
Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."
"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."
"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."
They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—
—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.
"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"
"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"
"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"
Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."
But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."
"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.
Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"
"Yep!"
"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"
"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."
"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.
"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"
"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."
"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."
"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.
Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.
"All of them!"
Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"
"Yep! Every last one!"
"Is the design changing that much?"
"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"
"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"
"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"
"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."
"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."
Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.
He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.
On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?
After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"
"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.
"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?
But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"
"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.
This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.
Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"
"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"
"Loud and clear," Ford said.
"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."
Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"
"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."
Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"
"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."
"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...
He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"
"Is it working?"
"It was! Don't let us distract you."
Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—
"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"
"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"
Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."
"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"
"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."
Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...
Then something went wrong.
There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.
"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."
Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.
"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.
"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.
The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond.
They screamed.
"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"
They screamed again.
"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"
Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"
"Ow. What the heck, man."
Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it.
Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.
Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"
"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"
"How?!"
Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—
"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"
"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.
The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.
He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"
"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.
"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."
There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—
Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"
"What—!"
Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.
Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"
He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.
Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.
Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"
Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"
"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"
"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."
"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"
"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"
Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."
"Let's get you back where you belong."
Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.
Ford said, "You're never doing that again."
"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.
"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"
"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.
"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.
Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.
"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.
For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.
Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.
"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"
Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."
####
"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"
Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.
Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"
Teeth waved his hands emphatically.
"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"
Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.
"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"
"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."
"Why not?!"
"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."
8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.
8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."
Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.
8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."
"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.
"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."
Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.
"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.
"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."
"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"
"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."
"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."
8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"
"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."
"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"
"I'm in."
"Teeth?"
Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."
"Big Z?"
Zanthar gave a thumbs up.
Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"
Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."
She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."
"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.
Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."
"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."
Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.
Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."
####
Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.
And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.
As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."
"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."
"So, we're doing the right thing?"
Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."
####
(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)
#dipper pines#stanford pines#grunkle ford#fiddleford mcgucket#henchmaniacs#(for the art & chapter)#bill cipher#human bill cipher#(who doesn't make an appearance in this chapter but the whole fic's about him and nobody can shut up about him so he's getting tagged)#(is this the first chapter bill hasn't appeared in?? might be)#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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Puppy—
Art calls you out after you give him the silent treatment.
A/N: sorry this is not eddie/st related!! I am OBSESSED with challengers and unfortunately im an Art Donaldson apologist so yeah. completely AU! no movie spoilers at all, just nasty girl shit. -bird
tags/warnings: 3k words | smut | f!reader | sub!art | toxic relationship | name calling | spit | c*nnulingus | pinv
———
You were sitting on his bed, repeatedly scrolling on your phone. It was as if Art was invisible to you while he stared at you, twisting his racket into the carpet as he sat across from you.
You could feel his stare and your eyes finally rose just above the phone, still covering a majority of your face.
“What do you want?” You sneered.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re mad or are you going to keep ignoring me like a bitch?” He asked unenthusiastically, his eyes threatening to roll back as he gave a wry smile.
“Art, I already told you, I’m not mad,” You said bitterly as your eyes flicked back to your phone.
“And I am going to tell you again that it’s obvious that you are, and you won’t even explain to me why.” He replied before moving to sit down on the bed right next to you.
He leaned over, attempting to peer over the top of the phone screen to look at your face. Art then gently grabbed hold of the top of your phone, tilting it upwards to try and view your face. He grinned mischievously as he attempted to pry the device out of your hands.
“Give it back, Art. I’m not playing with you,” You warned, your eyes dark and confusing. He could never read your expression, but that’s probably one of the reasons he was so in love with you.
“Oh?” He teased as he snatched the device out of your hands, holding it above his head as he held it out of your reach.
Art grinned as he saw your frustrated expression as he taunted you for a brief moment, until he looked at the phone screen to see what had you so riled up.
It was an online article about the last tournament. He immediately handed the phone back with a look of disbelief.
“Babe. You’ve been mad at me about the game?”
“I told you not to look,” You grunted as you elbowed him in the ribs and snatched your phone back. He groaned softly as he flinched from the impact of it.
“I’m not mad about your fucking tournament,” You scoffed, plopping back into bed. You sprawled out on your stomach, going back to scrolling on your phone again, going silent once more.
“You’re absolutely infuriating.” He huffed, uncomfortably shifting back in the chair beside your bed.
He paused for a moment, staring down at your face from above. He studied your expression intently, trying to figure out what had you so frustrated.
“And you’re getting lazy. You don’t think I know why you keep losing your matches, but I see right through you, Art,” Your brows furrowed as you sat up to finally look at him. You draped yourself over your knees, your head propped up on your arms.
“You just know everything don’t you?” He muttered under his breath, his eyes studying your facial expressions.
He raised an eyebrow at your comment, his expression growing more serious.
He suddenly grabbed a hold of your chin, tilting your face upwards as he leaned in close. He stared deep into your eyes as a tense silence filled the room.
“If you think you know everything, smartass, then tell me why do I keep losing my matches?”
You roughly shook out of his grip then grabbed him back by the chin and pinched his cheeks inward.
“Because you’re mad at me. You’re mad that I fucking told you I don’t need all that romantic shit, I don’t want you to call me your girlfriend. But you decided to fall in love with me anyway,” You growled. “Now you’re so stuck on me, you can’t win any of your games,”
“You’re such a jerk” He hissed with his cheeks squished in between your fingers.
Art was completely and utterly dumbfounded by your response, blinking a few times in bewilderment.
He then let out a bitter laugh.
“That’s bullshit and you know it, you’re just making up shit because you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you.” He snapped back, pulling back from your grip on him, stumbling back on his feet.
“And what if I am?” You scoffed in disbelief.
You knew you felt something for him, but you refused to let him know. You liked what you had with Art, you didn’t need to define it, but he tested your patience everyday.
“That doesn’t mean you’re my boyfriend, Art,” You stood up with him, your arms folded tight as your intimidating gaze reached him.
Art stared at you for a moment, his expression a mixture of shock and frustration.
“So what am I then? Just a meaningless fling? Is all this completely one-sided to you?”
Art snapped back, his fists balled tight and his jaw clenched. He couldn’t seem to comprehend your lack of emotions, his gaze fixated on you, searching for any hint of affection in your eyes.
You inhaled deeply through your nostrils and exhaled through your mouth, trying to regulate your heart.
You grabbed his collar, pulling his forehead to yours.
“You are here to adore me… to chase me… to fuck me…” Your tone was raspy and gruff.
You tugged down on his shoulders, forcing him on his knees. You now hovered over him. You raked a hand through his hair, lifting his head and bringing his gaze back to you.
“You are my puppy,” Your thumb grazed his face, affectionately.
You loved the dumb look he gave you when you did this. His clear blue eyes looked so much better when he was eager to submit to you.
Art’s eyes widened as his knees hit the floor, staring up at your form above him. Even from the floor, he was tall enough to reach your collar if he was on his knees. Art’s face flushed red as his cheeks heated under your touch. He looked up at you as his eyes flickered between your gaze and your pink lips.
When he felt your thumb gently graze against his cheek, he let out a soft whine and nuzzled into your hand.
A malicious smirk grew as your thumb dragged down his lips, parting them slightly.
“You are adorable and utterly pathetic,” You pouted at him. “And you’re mine,”
This isn’t just what he wanted, he craved it. Art was never happier than underneath your thumb. He whimpered softly.
His eyes widened once more as he heard your demeaning words, a shiver running down his spine. His heart raced as you claimed him as yours. His pupils dilated as he gave in to your teasing, rubbing his face into your hand, silently begging for affection.
“See that wasn’t that hard, was it?” you laughed.
“Now stop having a fucking attitude with me and tell me what you really want, hm?” you dragged your finger up his neck and rested it under his chin.
Art’s face flushed even more as you asked him what he wanted. He stared up at you with an expectant expression and a pleading look in his eyes.
“Can I have a kiss?” He muttered shyly as he glanced away, feeling too embarrassed to make eye contact with you.
“That’s it. You’re so much better when you’re well behaved,” You lifted his chin with your fingertips. As he looked at you, you laughed softly as he gave you his dumb, desperate look.
“You can have a kiss, Puppy. Open your mouth,” You demanded, sticking out your own tongue to demonstrate what you wanted.
Art slowly parted his lips, his tongue sticking out slightly, imitating you. His face was burning red at this point, staring up at you. Art’s grip on your hips seemed to tighten as he became extremely flustered and eager for your affection.
You spat into his mouth, your saliva trailed down your tongue onto his. You were pleased to watch him keep his mouth open and accept you. You slowly lowered your mouth down giving him a sloppy kiss, your tongue exploring his before encasing his lips in yours. You then tugged his hair back to get a glimpse of him falling apart.
“Was that what you wanted, Puppy?” Your voice hoarse with desire as you continued to toy with his hair.
Art then whimpered even more when you tugged him back. He was completely at your mercy as he panted softly. When you spoke in a huskier tone, his knees would have buckled if he wasn’t kneeling already, making him shiver with excitement.
“Mhm. More please..”
You found him so adorable when he begged like this. You leaned down to kiss him some more, distracting him as you pulled down your shorts and panties. You led him with just your lips to the edge of the bed where you sat, your legs propped up on the wooden frame of it.
Art was absolutely lost in the sensations, practically in a trance. He willingly let you guide him, moving wherever you directed him to go without any protest.
Once you led him to the edge of the bed, he knelt down on the floor in between your legs and began to nuzzle his face against your inner thigh.
Art was panting softly, staring up at you with a needy expression.
“Babe, are you..” Art muttered, his thoughts completely broken and scattered as he stared at you with an expression of excitement and eagerness.
“Hm? What was that, Puppy. You gotta speak up,” You cooed as you watched him crawl toward you.
You laced your fingers in his hair once more as you quietly exhaled. His soft lips gently nibbling on your sensitive skin made you loudly exhale in response. Art let out a soft moan as he heard your teasing. When he heard your gasp, a shiver ran down his spine as he looked up at you, a look of satisfaction growing on his face.
“Can I taste you?” Art mumbled against your thigh, his grip on your legs getting a bit tighter.
“Yeah. Make me come,” You laid back, propped up on your elbows.
You spread your legs, allowing him to feast his eyes on your glistening pussy. You craved having his mouth on you. You wanted to use it.
Art’s lips parted with a soft gasp as he stared at your beautiful body for a moment. His eyes flicked back up to your face, looking at you for a bit before he slowly began planting kisses down your inner thighs, his warm breath brushing against your skin. He left a trail of gentle nibbles on you, drawing closer to your eager center which he knew he couldn’t wait to taste.
As Art started greedily lapping at your center, you threw your head back in pleasure. Your quiet whimpers were addicting to him. Your grip on his hair got even rougher as he continued. You loved the wet noises that came from his tongue.
“Such a good fucking boy,” You exhaled loudly.
Art felt his face burn as he heard your moans and your tight grip in his hair. He loved pleasing you, so much that he was willing to do anything for you.
He eagerly lapped at your center, his eyes meeting yours. He was incredibly flustered to know that you were loving what he was doing, the desire to please you even more increasing as he continued. As your thigh squeezed against him, his eyes flickered shut as he began to focus more on your sounds and your reactions.
Your body pressing against his face made him feel a bit lightheaded but he was too eager to care, wanting to continue to please you. He began to lick even faster, his gaze still fixed on your face as his tongue twisted against your sensitive skin. Art’s hands gripped your thighs, desperate to hold on to you while he worshiped you.
“Art!” You hissed, almost forgetting to keep your voice down.
You shuddered against him as you reached your high. Your hand finally released your grip on his hair as you lazily dragged yourself on his tongue. You smiled with satisfaction as you wiped the sweat and your essence off his bottom lip.
“God, baby, you’re amazing,” You mused.
Art gasped softly as your hand left his hair, feeling incredibly proud in making you reach your high.
Once you got a good look at him, he was an absolute mess, his hair sticking up in different directions, and his bottom lip completely wet and glistening. He exhaled heavily as you wiped his face off, a look of bliss on his face as he stared up at you with a dopey expression.
“Yeah?” He muttered quietly, still lost in a daze of pleasure.
“Mhm,” You replied, half paying attention to him.
Your focus was elsewhere. You lunged forward, dipping to pull down his shorts and boxers in one swipe. You readjusted yourself back to the edge of the bed as you grabbed his waist and pulled you toward him. You knew you wouldn’t be satisfied unless you felt him inside you.
Art gasped as you pulled him towards you, his eyes widening as he stumbled forward, catching himself with one hand against the bed.
He stared at you with a slightly bewildered expression at your eagerness. He shuddered as he felt your warm body against his.
“Babe-” Art wanted to protest, but it was a half-hearted attempt.
“C’mon, Puppy. I want you. Don’t you want me?”
You were taking what you wanted from him, as you always did. You made sure he looked in your eyes as reached down and touched him. His length was already achingly hard for you. You stroked him for a bit before angling him against your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. Art’s heartbeat quickened as you continued to touch him, his breathing coming out in short gasps. He stared at you with a pleading look in his eyes, desperate to please you.
“I want you so bad,” He stammered, his hips twitching in your grasp.
You gave him a darkened look before encircling his body with your limbs. Your hands at his neck and hair, your legs around his hips. You jerked forward, causing him to enter you, your center eagerly enveloping every inch of him. A gasp of relief left you, followed by mumbled dirty nothings as you felt his length plunge inside you.
A guttural moan escaped Art’s lips as he felt you pull him closer, his body completely enveloped by yours. He gripped onto your thighs, his head tipping back as he felt you tighten around him.
His mind was in a daze, your body completely wrapped around him making him shiver with pleasure.
He then leaned forward, resting his head in the crook of your neck, his voice coming out as a soft gasp.
“Oh God, babe-” His voice strained with pleasure, unable to think straight as he began to feel completely enveloped by you.
The size of him was enough to make you come undone, but in combination with his helpless blue eyes looking back at you, made you crazy.
“I know, baby. It feels good, doesn’t it?” You teased in between your panting.
You then parted your lips and captured his. The kiss was sloppy and rushed, matching the desperation of your limbs squeezing around him as he rutted himself into you. Art let out a shuddering moan as you continued to tease him, his eyes fixated on yours. Every thrust of his hips was messy and uncoordinated, desperate to have more of you, to be completely enveloped by you.
“M-more..” He begged against your lips.
“God, you are so needy,” Your words came out like an insult, but you adored his loss of control when he had you.
Your hands traveled down to his hips, finally giving some direction to the rhythm of his thrusts. Once you set the pace, you were off, quickly climbing to your peak.
“Fuck… just like that,” You breathlessly demanded as your nails left red streaks across his waist.
Art’s back arched at the feeling of your nails clawing against his skin. He gasped softly as he thrusted into you in a more steady rhythm, your words of directions going straight to his head as his thoughts continuously deteriorated. Art could feel himself getting closer to the edge as he listened to your soft moans and gasps, the feeling of your body was overwhelming.
“Babe… I’m not gonna last long-” He panted heavily.
“Just wait, I’m almost there,” You instructed, pulling his hips tighter as you writhed against him.
You could hear his thighs slapping against the wood of your bed as he continued to pound you into it, the speed was increasing and there was no stopping him. You had to find your release now, so there was time for him to pull out. Art let out a shaky gasp as he listened to you and nodded, willing himself to hold on just a bit longer for you.
“There it is. Fuck! I’m coming,” You quietly yelped as you climaxed, your vision fuzzy as you sighed heavily into his shoulder. You tried to compose yourself as quickly as possible as you anticipated his release not too long after yours. He continued to thrust into you, desperate to please you, his grip on you getting a bit tighter as he got closer to his own edge, teetering on the precipice.
“Oh God-” He groaned, unable to form words. His eyes were fixated on you, watching you fall apart, and it was almost enough to send him over the edge himself.
Before he could finish inside you, you shifted your hips, slipping him right out and onto your stomach. Thick, white ropes escaped him and fell onto your waist. Your eyes sparkled a bit to see the amount you were able to draw from him.
“Such a good boy,” You purred.
Art’s body went stiff as he felt his release all over your stomach. His legs were shaking as he leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms against the bed frame.
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Her Wrath
Wednesday Addams x Female Reader (Request)
Masterlist
A/N: So, the request was originally Jenna x Reader with Percy instead of Xavier, but I don’t do Jenna stories, so this was the alternative. Wednesday and R are dating, and R has epilepsy, also Wednesday is rather protective over R. Xavier, as jealous as he is, pulls a “prank”, causing an epileptic seizure. Hope you enjoy @delicateenemyjellyfish
Word count: 0.8k
You were sitting in the quad, waiting for Wednesday and Enid to have a lunch together, since Enid managed to rope Wednesday into coming with her to Jericho. How she managed to do that, you had no idea, but it was honestly impressive that she did it.
It was a nice day, cool, but not cold, perfect to just spend it together with your girlfriend and one of your best friends, you relaxed, closing your eyes and leaning back and enjoying the breeze hitting your face. Wednesday was going to complain the day was too nice, and that she’d prefer rain, and sure, rainy days had their perks, but you couldn’t agree with her on everything.
All of a sudden you could swear you were being flashed with a laser right to your face, and even with your eyes closed it irritated you. You tried to cover your eyes as you slowly opened them and tried to find out who was doing it, but all you could see was the laser, going on and off, disorienting you and making it difficult to figure out who was behind it. Still, even as dizzy as you were getting you could recognize the tall, slim figure and slightly longer hair. Xavier? Why? Was he that jealous that he would try to make you have a seizure?
You tried to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn’t come out, you were to dizzy, too overwhelmed by the lights flashing in front of your eyes, and no one seemed to notice. Everything else began fading into background but you still heard the one person you never thought you’d hear raise her voice yell your name.
~X~
Wednesday swore she would never be like her parents, yet here she was, searching for a gift for your “three-month anniversary” as Enid called it. It was ridiculous in every way possible, but Wednesday wanted this with you to work, and it was working, but she wanted it to really work. And a way to make it work was to show effort, that much even she knew. So, she got you a gift, nothing too big, just the chocolate you loved, because Enid warned her not to go over the top.
She was not her parents. She would not have gone over he top.
Her and Enid, along with Thing, walked into the quad just as you dropped to the grass next to the table and Wednesday saw red. Red laser light blinking in your face, red haze overtaking her, everything was red. “Y/N!” she yelled, running toward you as fast as she could, which was fast and dropping to her knees, her death glare was the only warning Xavier got to get away, she would, after all, deal with him later. You were her priority now. She quickly took a small pillow she carried with her just in case of something like this happening and placed it under your head and untied your tie and unbuttoned your collar to make breathing easier for you as your muscles jerked.
She watched, anger burning deep inside her, and no doubt showing on her face. Xavier was going to pay for this, he was going to regret ever approaching you in the first place. She was going to make sure he knew exactly what the consequences for hurting you were. Enid placed an arm on her shoulder as she knelt next to you.
“Wednesday,” Enid tried but Wednesday just shook her head, she wasn’t in the mood to be comforted. She just wanted you to be fine and then to make Xavier pay.
Eventually, after excruciatingly long time, because every second of you suffering was a second too long and not in any way the kind of torture Wednesday found to be enjoyable, you stopped having a seizure and she turned you onto your side and took your hand, letting you know she was right there. That she wasn’t about to let you go, that she was sorry she wasn’t there to stop it in the first place.
Your eyes opened slowly, and she could see you were disoriented, but she saw some recognition in your eyes as your eyes met hers. Fast recovery was a perk of your type of outcast, and she was thankful for that.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered, and you managed a weak nod and squeezed her hand.
Later that night she barged into Xavier’s shed and before he could even register what was going on she tazed him and pinned him on the ground. The blade in her hand shone brightly as she nicked his neck. “If you ever even look at her, let alone repeat what you did today, I will make sure there is nothing left of you to bury,” she promised him as he whimpered pathetically. She should have his head, but that would only get her expelled and potentially separated from you, and that was one more form of torture she didn’t wish to endure.
#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams#jenna ortega x reader#x reader#x female reader
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sixteen — what happened
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 2.1k
content. profanity, mentions of alcohol consumption, break up scene
Satoru swears that he must’ve missed the signs. He was always so good at reading you, at figuring out your next move, at trying to piece together what the next step was for the two of you. He was always alert, always aware. So he doesn’t know how he missed the signs, how he couldn’t see what must’ve been happening right before his eyes.
He remembers waking up the morning after one of Yuji’s infamous ragers, the ones that always sent people stumbling home at six in the morning, passing out in the classes that they were unlucky to have the next day. He remembers touching the space in his bed where you were supposed to be, eyes closed but certain that his fingers would eventually brush against the skin of your shoulder, the warmth of your neck.
He remembers opening his eyes then when all he was met with was the cold sheets of his bed. You had left your imprint on his mattress, but you were nowhere to be found.
He got out of bed, barely awake, but already intent on one goal: Finding you.
You couldn’t have wandered too far, but you weren’t in the bathroom down the hall—the one he shared with Yuta and Suguru—and you weren’t on the landing before the second floor, the one with a bay window that you often spent your time looking through with a cup of coffee in your hands.
Satoru nearly fell as he stumbled down the stairs, bare feet loud against the wooden steps. Where could you have gone? Where would he find you?
Eventually, he found his way to the dining room, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw you sitting at the table, eyes low as you nursed a glass of water in your hands.
He remembers how you looked at him then. Not with your usual bright smile. Not even your lazily hungover grin. You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights, like you were somehow guilty of something he didn’t exactly know.
“Hey, princess,” he greeted, walking over to plant a kiss on your forehead. When his lips touched your skin, he noticed the way you flinched. It was small, a slight movement that could’ve been passed off as you simply moving against his touch. But he knew it was something else. He didn’t know how, but he could tell.
He pulled back, worry painted across his features. “You okay?”
You weren’t even looking at him, you had your eyes glued to the glass in your hands. You hummed, a strained sound, like you were trying to make it sound normal and you were failing horribly. “I’m good, ‘Toru,” you told him. “All good.”
He opened his mouth to ask you if you were sure. If you meant what you were saying. But he knew better than to question you.
You slipped out of your chair and started puttering about the kitchen, putting away bowls on the drying rack, placing slices of bread in the toaster, making a batch of fresh coffee. You were just trying to help out, you told him when he asked you why you were doing all that. Satoru couldn’t bring himself to press, to ask what was wrong, to ask why you were acting so strange.
When you left the house, you only gave him a peck on the cheek before you were rushing out the door. It was as if you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.
“She leave?” Naoya asked, stepping out of his bedroom. He yawned, stretching his arms behind his back as he did.
Satoru nodded, a frown on his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “She was… weird.”
His housemate chuckled. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Satoru said, because he truly had no clue what that was all about. “It was like she was avoiding me the whole time.”
“Ah, well, she’s a girl,” Naoya told him. “Girls are weird sometimes.”
Satoru couldn’t seem to argue with him. As much as he wanted to, the whole interaction with you had rendered him depleted, unable to think about anything other than the fact that you had been so distant. So cold.
Naoya patted him on the back on his way to the kitchen. “She’ll come around,” he said. “You gonna eat this toast?”
Your boyfriend shook his head. “You can have it,” he murmured. “I’ll be in my room.”
“Okay, big guy,” his housemate said. As Satoru started up the stairs, Naoya called after him, peering up at him when he stopped in his tracks. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Maybe she just needs some space.”
Satoru nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
The next few days didn’t prove to be any better. Satoru tried continuing the little routines the two of you had built in your time together. Picking you up from training. Meeting with after your classes. Having dinner on nights when the two of you were free.
Everything seemed normal on the surface. A happy girlfriend with her devoted boyfriend. You played the roles well, but that was all it felt like—roles that the two of you were fulfilling for no other rhyme or reason aside from the fact that you were supposed to be a couple.
The change had happened seemingly overnight. Before that morning in the kitchen, Satoru hadn’t noticed a change in your behavior. The two of you were fine. Perfect even.
At Yuji’s party just the night before, you had been your regular sparkling self. You filled the room with endless conversation, mindless drunken chatter. At some point, you had even looked up from a conversation with Suguru to smile at your boyfriend when you realized that he was looking at you.
Satoru realized that was the last time you smiled at him that way.
It had been building up when it finally happened. When you decided to put the final nail in the coffin.
“I don’t think this is working,” you told him that afternoon on the steps of the science building. “I think we should break up.”
Even then, Satoru found himself caught completely off-guard. He had seen this coming and yet that didn’t seem to be enough. Because he didn’t know why it had come in the first place, he had no clue.
“But why?” he asked. He tried to reach for your hand, but you were already stepping back, already pulling away. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye. “You can’t just do this to us.”
You gnawed at your lower lip, playing with the hem of your shirt as you continued to avoid his gaze. “It’s not working,” you told him again, like it was the only thing you knew to say. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”
“Tell me why.”
“Satoru, I don’t want to hurt you.”
The sound he let out was the most desperate one he’d ever made in his life. It was somewhere between a wail and a gasp, somewhere between pain and shock. “You’re already hurting me,” he told you. “At least have the decency to tell me why.”
“Because,” you said uselessly. You finally found it in yourself to look up at him, to meet his eyes, all wet now with tears. “‘Toru, please don’t cry.”
“Then don’t break up with me,” he insisted. “Princess, baby, please.”
But you were resolved. He could tell from the way you looked at him, your eyes full of tears, but also full of certainty. This wasn’t something he could argue his way out of. He could never argue with you. It was a winless fight.
What you said before you left would haunt him for the time thereafter. It would leave him with so many questions. So much confusion. So many sleepless nights, just trying to figure out what you meant. What possessed you to say such a thing.
“Maybe the next one will be the one for you,” you told him, offering him a smile that he was certain that he would remember for the rest of his life. Your lips quivered as you gave him one last look, one last pitiful goodbye, before you left, completely slipping out of his life.
She doesn’t know how to bring this up. It isn’t the kind of thing you can just casually mention in a conversation. Not the kind of thing you can just ask someone about without having to face the repercussions.
She’s spent the past few minutes trying to figure out what the right plan of action is. She gives up. Propriety be damned, she thinks as she marches over to the bed.
“Satoru, what is this?” Kimi asks, letting the thing fall from her hands and onto the duvet beside the spot where Satoru sits.
He put his towel down, caught in the middle of drying his hair. He raises his brow at her before looking down at the thing she’s just dropped. His eyes grow wide. Fuck.
“I, uh, that’s just—fuck—I don’t—why were you going through my things?”
Kimi frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t going through your things,” she tells him. “I asked to borrow a shirt, remember? It was in your drawer.”
Satoru stares at the box on his bed. Small, just enough to fit in the palm of his hand, covered in the tell-tale velvet that these kinds of boxes come in. He doesn’t need to open it to know what’s inside. He already knows. It can only be one thing.
He offers his girlfriend a sheepish grin. “Right,” he says. “I did tell you to look in there.”
She looks at him expectantly. “So? Can you tell me what that is?”
Satoru picks the box up, holds it in his hand with a tenderness it doesn’t deserve. “Don’t make me say it.”
Kimi sighs and sits down on the bed beside him. She watches as he turns the box over, studying each of its edges, the groves at the spot where the box opens. She may not love Satoru, but she’s been around him enough to care about him. To not want him to hurt as badly as he does.
“Was that for her?” she asks.
He hums, unable to say the words out loud.
Kimi pulls her legs up on the bed and holds her knees to her chest, swaying side to side and allowing her shoulder to gently bump against his. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it,” she says. “But I think I deserve to know a few things. With me being your girlfriend and all.”
Satoru turns to look at her, smiling softly as he presses a kiss to her temple. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “What do you wanna know?”
“What happened to the two of you?”
“Damn, coming at me with the big guns, huh?”
She lets out a little laugh. “It’s really the only question I have.”
Satoru purses his lips and shrugs. “I don’t know,” he tells her. “I really don’t know.”
“Did you ask her?”
“I tried. When she ended things.”
Kimi stops swaying and reaches over to place a hand on Satoru’s thigh. “I’m sorry.”
His hand moves to cup hers. “Thanks.”
“What was she like before she broke up with you though?”
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno,” Kimi says, pulling her hand away and placing it on her lap. “It’s just that relationships don’t usually go from perfect to dead without something happening. Did you get in a fight?”
Satoru shakes his head. “No, not a fight,” he says. “But I did notice she was acting weird before that. I don’t know.” He looks at Kimi like a sad puppy, pouting. “You’re a girl, you probably have more insight than me. What do you think happened?”
“Well, I don’t know her that well,” Kimi says. “Or you for that matter. But…”
“But?”
“When someone breaks up with you out of nowhere, there was probably a trigger,” she tells him. “Maybe she did something. Or maybe you did. Or maybe something happened in her life that had something to do with your relationship. Or maybe someone said something to her, got in her head, you know. Could be a bunch of things, but it was probably something.”
It’s not a lot, but hearing her say it just confirms what Satoru’s been thinking this whole time. Something must have happened for you to change so drastically, for you to want out of the relationship just like that.
He looks at the box in his hand. Inside is the ring that he—admittedly stupidly—picked out way before either of you were actually ready to get married. He had a lot of hope in the two of you, and he knows that for the longest time, you did too.
He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know if he ever will.
notes. needed to give my boy gojo some screen time 😌 we’re also getting closer and closer to what caused the break up and it’s getting more and more confusing 🫣
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so basically, it’s Spencer and reader’s 3 month anniversary, and so reader made them matching bracelets or some sort of matching gift. he’s so appreciative of the gift and vows to wear it all the time and he goes into work with it. Derek or Emily playfully teases him about it because it’s his first real relationship and he’s basically got heart eyes for u and is wearing the gift. but ofc they’re just happy to see Reid content in a relationship and it’s out of love for him that they joke
Your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you carefully thread the beads. A blue bead after a purple one and a pink and green one after the next few, the color choices didn’t exactly match but you didn’t mind, you were doing it based on how you felt and who you were feeling towards.
It was yours and Spencer’s three month anniversary coming up and you hadn’t been this happy in a while, if ever. You thought that little tokens like matching bracelets between couples were adorable and adopted to try and make some of your own. You took inspiration from all the crazy & colorful socks Spencer has in his wardrobe and wanted to see if you could make something akin, while also adding a few details that aligned with you.
Once the bracelets were done, you put one on yourself and wrapped the other one in gift wrapping, albeit it being done poorly it didn’t matter as it was the inside that counts.
You’ll never forget the joy in Spencer’s eyes when he unraveled the mess of colorful beads from the crinkly paper. He held it up and admired each bead carefully and tried to figure out exactly why each color had been chosen.
“Don’t think about the concept too much now, I made it by feeling not logic.”
Spencer grinned as you chuckled and enveloped you in a hug, his lips pressing a kiss into your hair, “That does seem to be the way you do things.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it, would you like to do the honors?”
“Of course.”
Pulling back you took the bracelet from Spencer’s hand and slowly put it on his wrist.
“It fits perfectly.”
“It does, doesn't it? A starter wedding ring if you might.”
Spencer knew that you were just joking, but God knows how long he could hold it out until he actually was on one knee in front of you.
Walking into work, Spencer’s eyes darted back to the bracelet he was wearing every time it came into his peripheral vision. His lips curled up into a smile and his thumb brushed over the beads as he was reminded once again how much he loved you.
Spencer was brought out of thoughts by hearing chuckling.
“You got some new jewelry, pretty boy?”
Derek patted Spencer on his back and grabbed his wrist to look at the bracelet more closely.
“That must’ve taken a long time to make.”
“Ask Y/N, they made it.”
“Did they now?”
Spencer freed his hand from Derek’s grasp and nodded as he massaged the area Derek had a tight hold on.
“Now that’s adorable. I wish I had someone to do arts and crafts with.”
Spencer excused himself and went over to his desk to start with his work, and to try to hide the fact that he could feel his cheeks turning scarlet red. Morgan always had a way of tearing down his confidence, even if he meant it in a playful “brother” like way, it still got to Spencer at times and he didn’t always know if the things Morgan said were supposed to be taken in a good or bad way.
As the day went on, Spencer’s focus was turned to his work but he occasionally heard snickers coming ahead. He saw his teammates discussing something while glancing his way and he knew that the topic of the bracelet was in question.
Spencer was a very private person and the topic of you had come up only a few weeks ago and it had been a complete accident. The team were out in a nearby bakery, ordering some treats when Spencer ordered an extra one to bring you later. When asked about the extra donut, Spencer blushed and stuttered out that it was for you, and that’s how the team learned about the special person who had made Spencer the happiest he’d been since his last relationship.
Spencer felt his eyes drooping and saw it as a sign that his body needed some coffee. Quickly rising to his feet, he tried to maneuver his way past everyone so as to not become a topic of ridicule again. Derek called out to him, but Spencer walked ahead until he was in the kitchen and turned the coffee maker on.
A moment later, Derek walked into the kitchen and stood next to Spencer and watched him pour the coffee into his cup.
“Have you got something on your mind?”
“What?”
“You’ve been ignoring us all day, what’s up?”
“I just haven’t felt like talking.”
“That’s not the Doctor Reid that I know.”
Spencer shrugged and Derek chuckled as he realized what could’ve been the reason why Spencer was so quiet.
“You know I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I think it’s awesome, you know? I’m glad you found someone to be with, we all are. I’m sorry if it came off in a mean way, but I’m proud of you, I really am.”
The frown that had been present on Spencer’s face for the entire morning had now been replaced with a shy smile. Hearing someone be happy for him meant a lot, and it meant even more that it was coming from Derek Morgan.
“I’m still going to tell Y/N what you said.”
“Oh c’mon now, you know they won’t let me live it down ‘til the end of times.”
“That’s the whole point.”
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