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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft.

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex.

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea."

"They are."

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked.

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch.

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late.

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby.

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours.

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon.

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar.

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration.

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do.

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight.

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world.

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear.

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that.

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?"

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that.

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts.

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…?

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting.

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave.

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal.

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want.

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing.

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force.

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…"

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped.

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes.

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come–

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!"

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears.

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor.

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two.

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

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kudossi · 9 months

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Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a—" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

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pandorasprongs · 11 months

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JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office.

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job.

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become.

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City.

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building.

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you.

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible.

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training.

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him.

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?"

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode.

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams.

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system."

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach.

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type."

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway."

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?"

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanficition #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tart fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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flwrkisses · 5 months

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boyfriend! heeseung.

doing these at random and actually having lots of fun writing them! — remember that leaving a like or a reblog shows me you're enjoying the content!

genre: fluff, established relationship. idol! heeseung x reader.

warnings: mentions of arguments, skinship and affections such as kissing.

❀˖° heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki ..

- if heeseung likes someone he might be a little shy at first but once he gets to truly know you and get comfortable he grows so much more bold. so he starts taking his chances and shooting his shot, not really hiding that he likes you, hell he wants everyone to know he likes you.

- your first date was probably to a gotcha arcade where he could win you different things and show off a little. he thought it was the perfect first date because you could go home with plushies and other fun prizes and remember not only him but the fun time you had together. he was always thinking 3 steps ahead.

- because that date went so well, he ended up asking you out fairly quickly. which was kinda expected considering how many times he had begged you to go out with him before.

- personal space is nonexistent in this relationship, heeseung loves to be all over you all the time.

- he memories your favorite perfumes, soaps, creams, shampoo and conditioner because he had just fallen in love with your soft scent so much so that he continues buying you the same scents once he realizes you're running low.

- late night ramyeon dates, where you wear one of his extremely oversized hoodies and walk with him to the convenience store, sit and eat your ramyeon and gimbap and talk the night away.

- literally always flirting, heeseung lives to make you blush and all flustered. he can't help but chuckle each time you get shy when he flirts with you shamelessly.

- mornings are always lazy, especially when both of you can sleep in. there is not waking that man up.

- he's so jealous and possessive, like another man looks at you the wrong way it would get him off. his anger is never directed towards you though. he keeps telling you that you can wear whatever you want because he can fight.

- additionally with not caring how you dress or go out, he will protect you buy standing behind you if you're wearing shorts or a short skirt and you need to bend down, just so he can cover you with his body from anyone walking past.

- the above also goes for when you're sitting down, he would use his arm to cover your legs a bit, or he'd throw a blanket over your legs to make sure you're comfortable.

- kissing is always passionate, usually with giggles in between and smiles. it can never be just one peck, he always asks for more. he just can't get enough of you.

- expect his phone to be full of your pictures, so many of you off guard, candid, and just the selfies you've spammed onto his phone that he can't bring himself to delete.

- get ready for long gaming dates that could start off with you guys playing simple games like mario kart or mario party only to end up switching to much harder co-op games like overwatch or valorant.

- he loves to pull you onto his lap while he plays games, and press kisses onto your skin as you scroll through your phone. sometimes he even mutes his mic to talk to you for a while.

- one thing he will do is tease you if you're bad at the game, but he would also use the excuse of having to "teach" you how to play so he can pull you close.

- believe it or not, as much as he loves his games he loves you more. so the second he notices you getting a teeny bit annoyed over him focusing more on his game rather than you, he ends the match and turns off the game for you.

- when you guys play games together and win he says that he wins because he has the best duo partner in the world. you.

- he is always shamelessly checking you out. no matter what you're wearing or what you're doing.

- heeseung also finds so much comfort in you so when he's nervous, shy, anxious, scared he looks for you. if you're shorter than him he'd bend and curl into your body so you can hold him when he's feeling this way.

- when he calls you, he wants to talk for hours and when you finally tell him you have to go and hang up, he would beg you to stay 5 more minutes.

- in heeseung's eyes arguments and disagreements are natural and unavoidable at times. he listens to your side usually with his head hung low regardless of whos at fault or what the argument is about and would need some time to collect his thoughts and voice them.

- he hates going to bed angry or upset so he would probably stay up resolving the issue until you both are okay again and wrapped in each other's arms.

- your hair will always be played with regardless of length or texture. his hands are always in your hair, he mindlessly plays with it when you cuddle. its just his thing.

- on his phone he probably has your name as "mine ❤️" or something like that. but he would get so embarrassed when you see the contact name he has for you. it's cheesy but sweet.

- sometimes when you ask him too, he'll sing softly while you guys are about to drift off to sleep.

- he would even let you wash his face some nights after work when he's like super tired but most times he can't help himself from trying to steal a kiss from you with a soapy face.

- no matter what it is you want to do he's there supporting you 100 percent. he's your biggest support no matter what and he lets you know all the time that he's there for you.

- if you ever reject one of his kisses he would literally chase you around until you gave him a kiss. mans would not let you go free until he got what he wanted.

- sometimes he gets cocky and sits you down after he noticed you had a long day and tells you that you never have to work if you don't want to because he would work on supporting you. yeah, he's THAT in love.

- he loves singing your favorite songs to you at all times, especially when you're laying your head on his lap and he's playing with your hair.

-over all heeseung's just an overall he's a sweet, sometimes cocky and annoying boyfriend who loves getting a rise out of you.

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

₊˚♡ don't forget to like/reblog to let me know you enjoy this kind of content!

masterlist. — requests are open !

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babywll · 2 years

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She's My Wife — Daemon Targaryen × F!Reader

summary: Daemon can be considered the rogue prince, cruel and greedy. But not when it comes to you

tws: enemies to lovers but he is already in lovers

LOOK AT THIS MAN

part 2 here

After the queen's death, your sister. You found yourself completely lost, and increasingly pressured to get married. You couldn't think straight, or at least give opinions to the candidates the king put forward. Viserys was being kind, even more so when he didn't send you away. You knew you would have to please him somehow.

Then as if everything had been completed, Daemon appeared, he was the king's first choice, who quickly made it all line up with the two of you betrothed.

You hated the idea, since Prince Daemon had his history, his long and terrible history. You believed you deserved better, but at that moment, you just agreed, you didn't want to be a burden to anyone. He was wanted, no doubt. Many women in the realm wanted to be in your shoes, and you tried to ignore Daemon's bad things.

You got married, and your niece presented you with the Dragonstone. It was a beautiful castle, and you could easily get used to it. Daemon was a mere detail. You assumed he'd be having a lot more fun with his dates and their silly fights. You assumed he wouldn't stay there, with you.

But he became present, and protective. He was always around, and you gradually grew closer. It was just you and him. At some point you stopped trying to pretend you didn't like him. He was quite loving when he wanted to be. And then you realized it was just like that with you.

You thought you'd never see Daemon, the same rogue prince everyone knew, giving you attention and being a great husband. Until four months together you had never touched again after marriage. You didn't get pregnant by choice and things went on with you married, you could maybe one day even become friends. The prince certainly had his means of satisfying himself, then it wouldn't be a problem.

You certainly wouldn't think that things would change, and that this marriage would actually turn into something more.

But you ignored all the signs. Or at least tried.

You had just finished your shower, and you were reading a book before getting ready for bed. You two used not to sleep in the same room, he made a point of asking you as soon you two moved to Dragstone. You decided it was unnecessary to share a room. Until the king found out about it, and sent a letter asking you about the decision. So you guys started sharing a room.

Daemon had been gone for ten days on a mission, you heard he came back in the morning, but so far you hadn't seen each other. The night already prevails for some hours, and none of it appears in your room.

You decided that you would finally check on him in his office. Which was where he was.

You walked the stone corridors with only a silk robe hiding your nearly transparent nightgown. You knocked on the door, and entered when you heard him say. His white hair fell down his neck, he had his head down, looking at papers.

"I thought I'd come see you," you said, and he finally looked in your direction.

Maybe it was just you, the candle lights could be getting in the way. But you were pretty sure you noticed the look he gave your body, he was slowly looking down from your eyes. You crossed your arms over your body. There was no reason, since he's already seen you naked, but still, it made you feel vulnerable.

"I am grateful for your last minute decision" he smiled slightly, and you rolled your eyes "I thought you were already asleep, I didn't want to wake you up so I spent more time here" he relaxed in the chair.

"I was waiting for you" you said, almost as if you were confessing.

A glint appeared in his eyes, he was surely just waiting for the moment when you showed something for him.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner" he got up from his chair and came over to you.

He ran one hand through your loose strand of hair, and you let your face rest on his other hand. Closing your eyes with the feelings of comfort he brought you.

Surrendering completely.

You then realized that you had missed him. You've spent the last few days walking around the castle and getting bored of your own company. He usually tell stories about his adventures, which stole all your attention.

"My beautiful wife" he whispered.

You felt his fingers run through your loose hair. And you felt a shiver run from your head to your feet.

"Did you miss me?"

You opened your eyes, meeting his. A smile hovered over his perfect face, and you felt completely lightened by the feeling he brought.

"Please don't stay away so long" you said softly. He had become a friend, maybe more, but it was something that made you feel good.

"I promise, I already told my brother that I will stay with my lovely wife from now on" his icy hands now cupped your face, and he gently brought his nose closer to yours. Touching it.

Your mouths were almost touching, and your breath was getting heavier with every second he threatened to kiss you. As if asking for permission. When you whispered a yes, he attacked you with a kiss. You reciprocated the same, desperate, completely desperate for his every touch.

And he played it, anyway. He touched your hair, neck, waist, thighs, and arms. Every millimeter he ran his fingers through. While kissing passionately. To some extent you had to stop to catch your breath.

"Let's go to our room.." he said low, but it was almost like a question.

You knew what that meant, and it was just everything you wanted, ever since you did it after the wedding. Daemon had an incredible ability when it came to satisfying, and you felt it in your body. You've had orgasms at least four times. And you've been wishing for it ever since, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

"Wait, I need to know, how many have you slept with until today " you took your hands off him, and walked away. You wanted to know.

"How many?" he looked surprised, almost offended by you question "I would never sleep with another woman"

"Don't need to lie Daemon, this seems absurd even to you"

"I'm not lying love" he approached again, and looked deep into your eyes "You were the last I was in bed with, and every time I satisfied myself, it was thinking of you. So just blame me for not being a good husband, and not satisfying you as you deserve"

You were out of breath. You didn't want to think about anything else now, even the question you asked seemed stupid. You actually thought it strange that you hadn't heard any rumors about Daemon being with harlots. But you didn't think that maybe it's because he hasn't actually been.

And he was really telling the truth.

"Tell me what you want" he whispered, his eyes still riveted on you.

"I want you Daemon, always wanted" you confessed.

"You always had me, my dear" he kissed you again, and when he stopped it was to kiss the rest of your face.

"And yes, I want to go to our room" a corner smile appeared on his face, and you already knew that the rest would be even better than on your wedding day.

I'm too lazy to write smut, and this is definitely going to be part two. I didn't proofread so sorry for any mistakes.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #fem reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince daemon targaryen

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

Text

geto suguru loves taking pictures and you are his favorite subject to photograph.

his phone camera roll is just filled with candids of you

candids from dates, candids at dinner, candids in the kitchen, candids while you're taking a nap, candids when you're both out with his friends

will patiently direct you where to stand so the sun catches your face correctly

if you say that you have a good side or a bad side, he'll get annoyed

he thinks all sides of you are pretty <3

he never asks for you to take photos of him, nor does he expect you to

he doesn't ever explain why he takes so many except for

"i don't know, i like lookin' at you."

if you're out on a hike or somewhere pretty, he'll tell you to go stand somewhere so he can take a photo of you

his favorites are when you give him a little nose scrunch and he mirrors your face behind the camera

he won't show them to anyone without your permission, and he will ask for permission every. single. time.

you'll get a call in the middle of the day that says like

"babe can i show satoru the photo i took of you in the garden?"

"sure love, you don't need to ask me if it's just satoru."

"i know, but i feel better making sure you're okay with it anyway."

his beige flag is that he changes his homescreen and lockscreen about 200 times a week

if he had to pick a favorite, it'd probably be you standing under a flowering tree beaming at him like he's your whole world

he keeps finding cute photos of you and sometimes his mood changes

so if he's feeling protective or going somewhere that makes him uneasy in the slightest, he's changing his phone backgrounds so that your face isn't visible at all

not like he'd let anyone take his phone from him, though

the photos on it are too important

also love love love love LOVES polaroids

did i mention he loves polaroids

especially likes it when he catches you off guard and you end up having a funny face immortalized on film

for one of your anniversary presents, he gets you one of those necklaces with the photo inside

the photo is of you, him, satoru, and shoko eating ice cream after a mission

suguru looks like he's on the brink of homicide towards satoru, shoko has a cigarette sticking out from her scoop, and you're smiling at the kind man who offered to take a photo of you and your friends

he's very good about getting the film in his disposable cameras developed and most of the photos end up plastered on your wall

when you're gone on a mission, he'll just look at the photos and miss you and eventually ends up calling you because no photo compares to the real muse

#geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hcs

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rubysunnday · 2 years

Text

nothing ever lasts forever

a/n: if any of you saw the edit i posted to everybody wants to rule the world - that's where this has come from

summary: Anthony Bridgerton refused to even entertain the idea that Y/N Elliot could become his viscountess. She was the perfect woman and a perfect friend. But that was precisely the problem. If he married her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love - and he'd made a vow to himself, that that would be the last thing he'd do.

"You, my lord, look as if you are contemplating murder."

Anthony jumped. He turned his head sharply to the right, looking at the woman who had just spoken.

Y/N Elliot beamed at him as she approached, holding two glasses of lemonade and a small plate of cakes. "Apologies, I did not mean to startle you."

"No apology necessary, I was in my own head. It has been a rather overwhelming evening, Miss Elliot."

"I have heard," Y/N said. Her lips quirked into a smile and she handed Anthony one glass of lemonade. "I would offer you some whiskey, but I do not believe that Lady Danbury has any out."

"I will take anything, at this moment," Anthony replied, taking a big gulp of the sour liquid.

Y/N stood beside him, looking out at the ballroom. She had known Anthony for a few years now - they had formed a bond at the Greenwich ball back in 1810 after Anthony had been forced to dance with a reluctant Y/N.

He had called on her the next morning to apologise for his foul mood and to ask her out on a promenade - strictly as friends. They had walked the length of Hyde Park and around the centre of London, talking non-stop about society and its ridiculous rules.

Ever since then, Anthony had sought Y/N out at every ball or party, looking for a companion who understood him and would not force him into a dance.

"They are not all that bad," Y/N said quietly, leaning towards him. Anthony glanced at her. "If anyone is to blame, it is their mama's for raising them that way."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "I did think you young ladies were taught how to dance."

"Does not mean we are any good at it," Y/N countered. "Most of them are all looks."

"Yes, I did discover that... no one is capable of any worthwhile conversation," Anthony grunted, setting his empty lemonade glass aside and putting his arms behind his back.

"Ah, unfortunately, most mamas view intelligence as a negative trait. They would rather their daughter's butchered Beethoven than read a book."

"I would not mind the lack of conversation if they could play something nice."

Y/N chuckled, breathing in deeply. "Well, you might be asking too much of London's high society."

"All I want is a young lady who will make a good Viscountess and who will bear my children and look after my sister's. I do not need them to love me - nor do I want them to. I simply want a Viscountess."

Y/N tried not to show her surprise, nor slight horror, at Anthony's statement. Of course, she knew the man was a Rake - in fact, his announcement of his intent to marry that season had left her speechless. But she had thought he wanted to marry for love - not just for the sake of it.

"My lord, you make it sound as if you want a machine for a wife."

"Well, it would certainly make this entire debacle significantly easier."

Y/N moved, standing in front of him. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you even considered finding a love match? Instead of searching for the most suitable candidate as if it is a job you are trying to fulfil."

Anthony stilled. "It complicates everything. Love shall have no place in my marriage. Please excuse me, Miss Elliot."

Y/N opened her mouth, wanting to hold Anthony accountable for what he had just said, but the viscount was swiftly walking away and over to his brother, smiling politely at every young lady he passed.

"Was that Viscount Bridgerton I saw you talking to?"

Y/N groaned. "Mama -"

"Did he ask you to dance?"

"Mama -"

"Did he?"

"No, mama. You know our relationship is strictly a friendship - there is no romance there."

"Apologies." Y/N's mother put a gloved hand on her daughter's arm. "He seems to have rattled you, dearest."

Y/N sighed softly. "I thought..." she paused, trailing off. "I thought that, if he was not after love, he would at least be after friendship."

"Yet he has not looked at you twice since his announcement."

Y/N nodded sadly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Whilst I know I should not let it get to me," she inhaled heavily, "he is a man who deserves love and I cannot understand why he seems so determined to forsake it. To forsake love or friendship."

"He is an enigma, darling. I would not let it trouble you - he has clearly made his mind up about his future. Now," Y/N groaned, sensing her mother's change in tone, "how about I go and introduce you to Mr Thomas Dorset and you take a turn about the ballroom with him?"

"Mama, I do not -"

"Just do this for me," Y/N's mother said, squeezing her hand. "Please."

Y/N relented, slumping. "Fine."

Hyacinth was unhappy. It had taken her a few days to figure out why she was unhappy, but one look at her brother explained everything. She knew what Anthony wanted in a wife - well, not the full extent, but enough to know he was being an idiot.

"Hyacinth, you have been staring at me for the past ten minutes," Anthony said, folding the corner of his newspaper down, and staring back at her. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing, brother."

"Hyacinth -"

"Why have you not considered Miss Elliot for a wife?"

Anthony choked on his tea, almost dropping the cup as he spluttered and coughed. "Pardon me?"

"Well, I just thought, since you do not want to love someone, why not marry a friend? It seems like a reasonable agreement."

"Hyacinth, I... I am sure Miss Elliot has many other suitors who can offer her a happier life -"

"She does not," Francesca chimed in, sitting down next to her brother, a notebook in hand. She flipped it open and leafed through a few pages. "She is courting Mr Dorset, at the minute - a man, I know for a fact, she only considers a friend."

"She is courting Dorset?"

"That is what I just said - dear lord, have the debutante's deafened you with their pianoforte?" Francesca asked, scrunching her brow up as she stared at her brother.

Anthony looked down at his newspaper for a moment. "Since when was she courting Dorset?"

Francesca, taking pity on the fact her brother had clearly been blindsided by the news, slid a copy of Lady Whistledown his way, taking his newspaper from him. "It arrived this morning."

Dearest readers,

It would appear that this season has begun with a rather exciting development. Miss Y/N Elliot - the close 'friend' of one Viscount Bridgerton - has been seen promenading with Mr Thomas Dorset. It would appear that, despite his mama proclaiming his desire to wed, in front of every eligible lady at the Danbury Ball last week, Viscount Bridgerton has missed the most suitable candidate from his list: Miss Y/N Elliot.

Perhaps, should the Viscount read this column, he will take it upon himself to rectify things... before it is too late.

Anthony stopped reading as Whistledown moved on to talk about the unflattering orange and yellow gown Penelope Featherington had been sporting. He held it loosely in his hand, staring at Y/N's name.

"There is obviously more than just friendship between the two of you," Francesca said softly.

Anthony belatedly realised that Hyacinth had left the room and it was just him and Francesca. He turned his head to face her, letting his conflicting emotions show.

"Would it be so bad to entertain the prospect of becoming more?" Francesca continued, her tone gentle. "She would be an excellent wife."

"I do not doubt it," he said hoarsely.

"Then what is stopping you?"

Francesca looked older than she had before as she stared intently at her eldest brother. Anthony was suddenly hit with the realization that, at some point, Francesca had grown up into a woman. A woman who knew far more about the world around her than most would.

His sister reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Anthony sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Is it so wrong to fight for what you want?"

"I fight for the family that I have," he replied softly. "That is why I cannot marry for love. When father died, it broke mother. She was barely there, in the months afterwards. I was only eighteen, Frannie. And I was a Viscount and a brother and a father, all at once.

"I do not want to see anyone else suffer the way mother did. I cannot be the cause of anyone's grief. It is better for everyone if I marry out of duty and not out of love. Better for me, better for you, better for Y/N - better for the entire world, I am sure."

Francesca sighed. "As much as I disagree with you, I know when there is no changing your mind."

"I appreiciate that -"

"But will you at least talk to her? Before it becomes too late for anyone to do anything without a scandal coming down around us."

Anthony nodded, swallowing thickly. "I will. I shall talk to her when she comes to Aubery Hall in a few days' time."

Anthony was avoiding Y/N.

He had promised Francesca he would talk to her, but every time he saw her, the words he wanted to say died in his throat. She spent most of her time with Dorset, arm linked with his, laughing at what he said.

It was infuriating Anthony.

And that was precisely his problem. He could not marry Y/N, even out of friendship. Because he loved her far too deeply to be able to keep the distance between them. Anthony knew that he would succumb so deeply that the feeling would overwhelm him and his plan would fail.

He could not do that to Y/N. He could not be the reason she stopped smiling and became a shell of herself. It was not fair to her, no matter how deep Anthony's feelings went.

So, he stood at the side of the ballroom, trying to ignore how empty and dull it felt without her presence, and watched as she danced with Dorset and Fife and smiled in all the right places.

As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. Because even as his heart ached, she was still so beautiful.

He was beginning to see her in his dreams - and when his work became too mundane, Anthony began to hallucinate her laughter. He found himself unable to think about anything else but Y/N. Before, he had managed to contain it - to lock it away in a box and hide it. But now... it was everywhere and there was no catching it.

Sundays were often the quietest days in the Bridgerton household. Nothing really happened and it allowed Anthony a moment of calm to finish the work he'd had since Monday and to maybe go for a walk around the grounds, taking a moment to himself.

It had rained the night before, thunder rumbling out right above Aubery Hall. The majority of the guests staying within the giant house were in their rooms, finding ways to occupy their time until lunch.

Anthony, however, took the solitude and the slightly damp ground and decided to go for a walk. He went down to the stables, checking in on his horse. He walked around the gardens, stopping to admire the hyacinths and the lilies, and he strolled around the outside of Aubery Hall itself, reminiscing over memories lost to time for everyone but him.

"You are avoiding me."

Anthony swivelled on the top of the stone staircase, looking back at the door he'd just walked out of. Y/N stood there, dressed in a dark-coloured spencer jacket and a lighter-coloured gown.

"Miss Elliot, I -"

"Anthony Bridgerton, if you even dare try and lie to me right now," Y/N said, tripping over the hem of her dress as she stepped out onto the landing, "I will hit you."

"Your dress appears a little to long -"

"Mama had the hem dropped because I got new shoes and now it is too long when I wear my old shoes - stop deflecting. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I... I thought it best."

"Why?"

"I did not want to interfere with Dorset's courtship of you."

"That is the most terrible excuse I have ever heard. You were avoiding me before Mr Dorset even began courting me - in fact, you have been avoiding me since this season began."

Anthony shook his head, rocking back on his heels. "Miss Elliot, I cannot tell you why for I fear you will not understand."

"Not understand - Anthony, are you hearing yourself?" Y/N demanded, stepping close to him.

It was as if they were in a standoff. They were slowly turning, Anthony moving away from the stairs and to the door back into Aubery Hall, Y/N moving out into the open.

"Y/N, I cannot -"

"All season you have interviewed and insulted every single eligible woman in the ton. Every single one, except me." There was such fierce anger in her eyes that Anthony was actually taken aback. "Why?"

Because I love you. "Because I did not think you suitable."

Excellent response, Anthony, make the situation even worse.

"Pardon me?" Y/N said slowly, her voice dangerously calm.

"Miss Elliot, I doubt you would even begin to understand why I am doing what I am doing -"

"Of course, I will not - you are refusing to explain it to me!"

"It is not something I want you to trouble yourself with -"

"I am already troubled, my lord. I have been troubled all season because you refuse to even consider me as an option to be your wife! We are friends, are we not?"

"We are."

"Would it truly be so terrible to marry one's closest friend?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes begging Anthony to be open and honest with her.

Anthony was silent. He wanted to say that he would be honoured to marry her. That he would be marrying more than his best friend. But he could not allow himself to say the words.

The silence broke Y/N a little bit more. She inhaled sharply and took a small step back.

"I see," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I am sorry to have wasted your time, my lord."

"No, Y/N, wait, please -"

Anthony stepped forward, a hand stretched out to grab Y/N. Y/N stepped back, trying to move away from him. The hem of her dress caught the heel of her shoe, causing her to completely lose her balance. Unable to catch herself, Y/N's arms flailed, and her fingers brushed against Anthony's as she fell backwards.

Anthony felt as if time had slowed down. He could only watch as Y/N hit the steps, her head smacking with a sickening thud against the edge of the stone stairs. She rolled down to the bottom, her body limp, eventually coming to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

"Y/N!"

Anthony practically launched himself down the stairs, sending gravel flying as he fell to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her body. He put a hand behind her head, gently feeling around, only to pull it away and find his hand covered in blood.

He rubbed his thumb against it, slowly processing what it was. As he looked back down at Y/N's unconscious form, he could see blood slowly seeping out from under her head, weaving through the gravel.

Anthony shook his head a little and forced himself to focus. He somehow managed to lift Y/N up into his arms, putting her right arm around his neck and letting her other rest on her stomach. She was a complete dead weight and he grunted as he stood up.

He stumbled back up the steps, ignoring the puddle of blood where Y/N had laid, and carried her back into the house. His voice kept catching as he yelled for servants to call a doctor and for someone to fetch blankets, his feet carrying him up the stairs and down the corridor.

Guests poked their heads out of their rooms, desperate to know what was happening, only to be ushered back inside by the staff. Anthony followed a maid down to the room Y/N was staying in. He heard Y/N's mother let out a horrified gasp, calling after her daughter as her unconscious, bleeding body was carried past her.

Anthony gently laid Y/N down on her bed, carefully lowering her head to the pillow, his fingers coming away stained with even more blood. He vaguely realized that the collar of his shirt and his cravat were both covered in blood, the once white fabric stained forever.

"She fell down the stairs outside," Anthony said as the maids rushed around, Mrs Barett, the housekeeper of Aubery Hall, effortlessly giving orders to the maids swarming the room. "Hit her head on the stone railing."

"Are you alright, my lord?" Mrs Barett asked, glancing over at Anthony as she undid Y/N's jacket, manipulating it off her body. "You are covered in blood."

"It... it is not mine," Anthony managed to get out, tripping over the words.

Mrs Barett stood up, pausing. She nodded grimly. "Alright. Lord Bridgerton, I know you do not want to leave her, but please can you step out for a moment whilst we undress her and check the rest of her body?"

Anthony nodded automatically and walked through the crowd and into the quiet corridor outside Y/N's bedroom.

"Anthony?" Colin said, pushing himself off the wall, and walking over to him. "Anthony, I saw you carry Miss Elliot inside. Are you... are you hurt?"

"It is not mine," Anthony whispered, looking up at his brother. "It is my fault. This is all my fault."

"Brother -"

"We were arguing," he continued, swaying slightly to the side. "We were arguing and she fell. She fell, Colin."

"I know," Colin said, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "But it is not your fault."

"It is."

Anthony could see Y/N lying on the bed, now dressed in a night gown. She was still and her skin lacking most of its colour. Suddenly, someone blocked his view, putting a hand to the back of his neck.

"Anthony, look at me," Benedict said, his figure filling Anthony's view. "Just breathe."

Anthony looked up at his brother - the only one he had never truly had to parent - tears filling his eyes. "It's my fault."

"It's not."

"It is... it is," Anthony whispered, pitching forward.

Benedict and Colin both stepped forward, catching him between the two of them and carefully guiding him back into a chair.

"It is all my fault," Anthony repeated again, closing his eyes as he slumped into Benedict's embrace. "All my fault."

'It is not good news, I am afraid. She took a heavy blow to the head and lost a lot of blood. There may be memory loss and damage to her brain. But, with time, she should heal.

When will she wake up?

That, I do not know, my lord. '

Anthony threw his pen aside, rubbing his face and sighing. It had been a week. A whole week of bypassing Y/N's room and avoiding most of his family. The guilt was overwhelming him.

He knew he'd been awful to his family. They had been his outlet for the past week - receiving the brunt of his temper and impatience. Colin, especially, had become a regular contender.

There was a gentle knock on his study door and Anthony looked up, forcing a smile to his face at the sigh of Hyacinth poking her head inside.

"We are having tea," she said quietly, "if you would like to join us." She hesitated for a minute. "I miss you."

Anthony swallowed heavily, his eyes stinging a little. "Of course. I'll be there in a minute, Hyacinth."

Hyacinth nodded and quietly left the study. Anthony sighed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He didn't bother putting his jacket back on or unrolling his shirt sleeves - it was just his family.

He walked into the drawing room, sending a tight smile to the rest of his siblings. Anthony hovered awkwardly in the centre of the room, thinking of what to try and say to his siblings. All of them, aside from Hyacinth, Benedict and Francesca, were blatantly ignoring him.

"Anthony, come sit down," Francesca said gently, moving over on the sofa, creating a space next to her.

Anthony walked over to his sister, sitting down beside her. He looked up at Colin, who was looking everywhere else but at Anthony.

He and Colin had fallen out, again, over how much Colin wanted to splurge on another trip. It was always a sensitive topic - money and travel - but Colin never seemed to quite realise how privileged he was. Anthony hadn't meant to snap at him but it was the last straw.

"Colin, I wish to -"

"Did you hear something, brother?" Colin asked, turning to Benedict.

"Colin!" Francesca snapped, glaring at him.

"Our dear Viscount has already made his opinion of my activities very clear," Colin muttered, looking at his plate.

"Alright, that is enough," Francesca said, setting her tea cup aside. "You are acting like a child, Colin."

"How is this my fault?" Colin exclaimed.

Anthony closed his eyes as the bickering resumed once more. He knew he shouldn't have joined them - whenever he did he ruined the mood.

Violet could hear her children arguing before entering the drawing room. She had just walked past Y/N's room and seen her sitting up and smiling at her mother. Telling Anthony in front of everyone was probably not a good idea - but Violet was desperate for her children to stop arguing and she knew Colin was one harsh word away from completely alienating his elder brother.

Perhaps a show of emotion - real emotion - from her eldest would make them realise that he was still their brother.

"Anthony," Violet said, walking into the drawing room. The argument stopped abruptly as everyone turned expectantly to their mother.

Anthony's head shot up and he looked at her, his eyes wide. Violet could tell that, for a minute, pure panic gripped Anthony. But as she smiled at him and nodded once, the panic faded to relief.

"She's awake?" Anthony croaked, staring at his mother.

Violet nodded. "I spoke to her just now."

Anthony smiled tightly, nodding furiously. His face crumpled abruptly and he let exhaled shakily, covering his face with his hands. Every emotion he had been trying to hide for the last week hit him all at once and he just broke.

There was a slightly awkward silence as his siblings stared at him but Anthony simply no longer cared. A gentle hand rested on his back and he moved his hands away from his face, turning his head to the right and facing his sister.

Francesca looked at him, her eyes full of sympathy. She knew Anthony better than perhaps the rest of his siblings. Anthony leant back against the sofa, exhaling heavily. Francesca grabbed his hand with both of hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of his.

"It's ok," she said softly. "You can cry. It's just us."

Anthony smiled sadly, pressing his lips together tightly as he felt a sob threatening to break through. "I know."

Violet, who had been standing in the middle of the room, watching, walked over to him, perching on the arm of the sofa. "I know how hard your father's death was on you. And I can only apologise for how absent I was during that time. But you must know... despite everything I suffered during those months, I do not regret loving your father as much as I did.

"It is only because I loved him as much as I did that I ached as much as I did." Violet rubbed her hand up and down Anthony's arm, pressing a kiss to his head. "You cannot lose her, Anthony. Do not lose her."

Y/N set her book down on her bed and sighed. She looked out the window and out over the grounds of Aubery Hall. Anthony had not visited her since she'd woken up. She wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting from him but it hurt, nonetheless.

Knowing sleep was simply not going to come, Y/N clambered out of bed and put on her robe, tying it at the front. She gently opened the door to her room and walked out into the corridor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb anyone else.

Y/N walked down the stairs and paused at the bottom, turning to look at Anthony's study. There was a gentle glow coming from under the door and Y/N knew he was awake. He was always awake.

She heistated for a moment, not wanting to cause him anymore anxiety. But her desire for closure and to know why he had been ignoring her, won, and Y/N padded over to the door, twisting the door knob and pushing it open.

Anthony looked up as his study door opened and he stilled as Y/N poked her head around the door.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Anthony said, standing up. "Should you not be in bed, resting?"

"I think I have had enough rest," Y/N replied. "It's late."

Anthony glanced down at his pile of paperwork. "I have too much to do."

"I can -"

"No, stay," Anthony said abruptly. He swallowed, pausing. "Please."

Y/N stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. "I have questions."

"I know," Anthony replied, stepping out from behind his desk and approaching her, meeting her halfway. "I was a fool. You deserve to know the truth."

"Ok," Y/N said, nodding. "Where do you want to start?"

Anthony gestured to the leather chairs in front of his desk and Y/N sat down in one, gently straightening her rob. Anthony sat down in the one to her left and cleared his throat.

"When my father died... my mother was a ghost. She barely existed in the months afterwards and the grief almost killed her. Whilst she does not remember most of that time, I remember every waking moment. I can still hear her wails and screams."

Anthony paused, taking a shaky breath in. Y/N waited patiently, not wanting to rush him.

"When I married, I decided it should be free of the ravages of grief. Because I could never be the cause of such pain. No matter how hard-hearted and cruel everyone else may find me to be. My own family included."

He turned to face Y/N, his walls entirely broken. She watched him with an utterly serene, understanding expression on her face.

"Y/N, the reason I never considered you is because I love you," Anthony said hoarsely. "And I could not do that to you. My father lived until the age of thirty-eight and I can not see myself outliving him in any way. I did not want to cause anyone any grief when I die, which is why I searched for a marriage without love."

"By your estimation, you have nine years left?"

"Yes."

"OK, then," Y/N said softly, nodding.

"You're not going to tell me I'm being silly?"

"It is a perfectly reasonable reaction to have considering what you went through," Y/N told him. "I don't expect you to get past this either - you probably won't be able to, not until you turn thirty-nine, at least. But you cannot live the rest of your life in fear of this. You cannot let it control you."

Anthony sniffled, wiping his eyes furiously. "Y/N, if we only have nine years together -"

"Then they," Y/N said, standing up and walking over to Anthony, crouching down in front of him, a hand on his knee, "will be the best years of my life. Time does not indicate how much you love a person. Whether we have nine years together or twenty, I will love you just as much as I do right now."

Anthony closed his eyes, letting his head hang. His shoulders shook as he began to sob and Y/N gently pulled Anthony into her chest, guiding him to the floor. Anthony clung to Y/N as he sobbed, hiding his face in her robe.

Y/N and Anthony sat there on the floor, holding one another, in the dark of the study, crying. He had opened up to her and told her the brutally honest truth - and Y/N had caught him as he crumbled and kept him upright, never letting go.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine

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kairiscorner · 8 months

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question of the day: who would fall the hardest if they ever fell in love?

well... i've got 4 candidates in mind, and i think... (3/4)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel o'hara. — guilty of falling hard for you.

summary: for all of his life, he's never felt the need to be in love or to love, he's never felt the rush, the surge of electricity coursing through his body when he's close to or with someone he even remotely finds spending time with enjoyable--until you happened, you came, and everything changed. pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader genre: fluff as FUCKKKK

miguel o'hara is a stern, serious man; nobody would approach him for anything unless it was absolutely necessary. he made it clear he didn't want to be spoken to by anyone unless he specifically requested to speak to them, he's that professional when it comes to those he works and associates with. though when it came to you, all professionalism it out the window–in private, at least.

miguel o'hara swore to himself that connections and attachment were the last things he needed right now. all that he needed was the safety of the multiverse to be ensured, and that would be it. it didn't matter to him what would happen next or what would happen to him, just not other people getting hurt at his expense or if be could help it. but thankfully, ever since he met that extremely wonderful, strong, kind, and compassionate somebody in his life that changed his everything... he had a new, more personal reason to want to keep the multiverse intact, on top of his other reasons, you were one of his only reasons to keep going.

miguel o'hara is a practical man, he doesn't do things that warrant sentiment, at least not anymore. though little by little, he noticed that you've always done things for him–such simple, everyday things he and other people could do for themselves–make coffee for him, buy him some treats you know he likes from your home dimension, and share with him little trinkets you want him to have or think he'd like.

miguel o'hara was moved, very gradually, by your little acts of kindness and generosity for him. in a way, he's felt the need to do the same for you in return, but all his attempts have been awkward; he refuses to acknowledge your words of thanks outwardly–just nodding or looking away from you and muttering a 'you're welcome' under his breath–and he struggles explaining why he got you those things or did those things for you, well, he always explains, even when the act itself is self-explanatory.

miguel o'hara wants to let you know that it's never his intention to come off as a big, scary grizzly bear of a man; he's just a guy, a guy who has anger issues and finds a lot of things wrong with himself that you find–for some reason–beautiful. "why are you romanticizing my flaws?" he'd ask you with a genuinely puzzled look and questioning tone; he'd never use the word 'beautiful' to describe his own plethora of mistakes, regrets, and reasons why people don't find him approachable or amicable–but you do, for whatever reason that may be.

miguel o'hara didn't think he'd find himself in this situation, being spoken to with these kinds of words–it doesn't feel real, he doesn't feel worthy of this kind of treatment. he's done many bad, irreversible things in his life; unknowingly hurt many, many people with his actions. hearing you say that it's not his flaws that you find beautiful, but rather, it's the fact that he's trying to correct the failures from those flaws he has that's beautiful.

miguel o'hara is perplexed, and he feels a little whirlwind in his stomach and his heart feels a little lighter; he feels... strange, though a good kind of strange–he doesn't want this foreign feeling to end, yet his mind keeps telling him to disengage, tell you not to keep praising him like this–because he knows, he'll fall for you even more than he already has.

miguel o'hara can't believe it, he admitted it to himself: he's fallen for you, he's still falling for you. this scares miguel even more than you can imagine; he's hopelessly, utterly, very much in love with you. you being a strong, capable, and respectable member of his team is one factor in him finding you so amazing–but you being a kind, gentle person towards him is a whole nother thing that made him spiral into this whirlpool of emotions for you.

miguel o'hara wakes up every morning thinking about you, spends the rest of his day with you in the front of his mind, and ends his day with you as his final though before drifting off to sleep–with you being in every one of his dreams ever since you two became close.

miguel o'hara never goes on with the rest of his day without the the feeling and memory of you being carried in his heart–he can't even begin to understand how through your constant smothering of kindness towards him did he become... fond of you. he has never felt this compelled to be near someone, to have his mind casually and involuntarily storing adjectives and compliments to describe you and how you you can be.

miguel o'hara is undoubtedly conflicted about what he should do to quell the feeling, because even though he wants to avoid it at all costs and to ignore that it's there, he desperately wants to be near you and hold you close to him–you're all that's right in the multiverse to him, and if you being kind to him is just in your nature and not because the multiverse decreed you to be so, he's even more in love with your pure and clean heart and soul and he wants to be with you all the more.

miguel o'hara tries to do everything he can to ignore the nagging of his heart and listen to the rationalizations of his mind; you're better off without him, and he's better off not feeling anything for you, even if it means he has to bury it–like he does with all other feelings he has–and never speak of it again to properly hide it from everyone, including himself.

miguel o'hara, though, just can't avoid you. he can't avoid your constant presence in his daily life, he can't avoid your tender, giving self–and he can't avoid you because you're permanently living in his mind rent-free, and you work with him. he doesn't want to avoid you, he just thinks that's what's best for you–but if you have no problem being near him, treating him like a friend as opposed to a mere colleague, and complimenting him in areas where he's confused and conflicted over and helping him grow as a person... then maybe the multiverse is cutting him some slack for once and giving him a chance to... to love, and to love deeply, passionately, and truly for the first time in ever.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

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esamastation · 7 months

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Shizuroth, part five.

Sephiroth looks panicked.

Genesis looks him over with an experienced eye, swiftly and with increasing concern.

Defensive stance with his back to a wall and the Restroom's only exit clear in sight. His face is pale - well, it's always pale, but now he looks practically grey. Shadows under his eyes, wide eyes, mouth slack. Well, for Sephiroth, anyway. The man has a resting face of a statue carved by the thirstiest of hands, and sometimes Genesis wonders if he has a partial facial paralysis, so little does it change. But he can tell the difference between Sephiroth with a resting face and Sephiroth with a spooked face.

"Sephiroth," Genesis greets him.

"... Genesis," Sephiroth says, and it doesn't sound even vaguely irritated. Mostly he sounds confused.

How concerning!

Side effects, then, bad ones. He'd managed to get out of Injections without being held back, so they're not physical. Mental.

No outward aggression, his pose is subtly defensive, shoulders ever so slightly curled in, holding his PHS in both hands. Was he messaging someone? Unlikely, with Sephiroth, he must've been reading something, trying to distract himself, misdirect whatever is going on in his head. Or…

Or it's that… other side effect.

Genesis had been gearing up to annoy Sephiroth back into sanity, but with this new information he quickly changes tacks. Sephiroth isn't about to lose it - he already did. "I heard you were locked up in injections for a full day. How bad was it?"

Sephiroth hesitates and his fingers tighten around the phone. Then he looks down. Demurely?

What?

"Three times the maximum dose," Sephiroth says.

Oh. "What, are they trying to kill you now?" Genesis asks incredulously. "See how far they can push the envelope before it bursts into flames? Questionable indeed is the wisdom of a professor, by the Goddess." Sephiroth's doses are already the highest in the program.

Sephiroth looks at him weirdly. "... Well, my heart did stop," he says finally. "Apparently."

Genesis makes a face. "Condolences," he says, wincing sympathetically. That was always the worst. "What's the damage?"

"I'm fine," Sephiroth says quickly.

"Ha! My friend, legend shall speak of this day," Genesis points out, motioning around them, at the restroom. "Of the greatest warrior - holed up post-op in the Restroom. You scared the poor Third Class who was here, he sent out an SOS."

Sephiroth scrunches up his nose at that, mouthing that, SOS. "And so you're here to save my soul?" he asks bitchily.

Heh, already he's starting to feel better. And to think Lazard panicked about Angeal not being in Midgar to take care of it. Little does he know - Genesis is the best at this.

"I shall be your hero of dawn at this hour," he agrees and steps closer. No defensive reaction, so he dares to reach out. "It's alright, my friend - we've all been there."

Sephiroth looks uncomfortable with Genesis' hand on his arm but doesn't try to knock it off. "I…" he says and then glances down at Genesis' chest. He looks resentful.

Being such a big man, he does small and defensive poorly. It's like watching a dragon curl in a corner. Tragic and kind of terrifying.

"Feel like you got a hole in your head?" Genesis says knowingly. "All your thoughts rattled, memories all up in the air? Any idea about how much you lost?"

"I'm fine -"

"Last year I came out of the labs and I couldn't recite half of the dialogue from LOVELESS!" Genesis admits bluntly. "It was unbearable, I was beside myself for a week - I had to re-memorise the whole thing."

Sephiroth looks confused at that, giving him a wary look. "That's…" he trails away, uncertain.

"A common side effect. Happens to everyone, to some extent," Genesis assures him easily. Honestly, he thought it happened most to Sephiroth. He has the personality of a man chemically lobotomised… like a lot of the early SOLDIER candidates. "Mako gives and Mako takes. In the wake of these crashing waves, we do our best to fill in the broken flood barriers of our minds. So. What is the damage?"

Sephiroth hesitates. "It's… nothing I can't figure out on my own."

Obviously, and even if he couldn't, it wouldn't matter - Shinra didn't keep them on Mako for their brains or their wit. Sephiroth could lose his mind and become a drooling idiot, and Shinra would still pump raw force into his veins, so long as he did their bidding. Which is honestly a shame - Sephiroth, when he could be annoyed into it, had a poetic sense of humour and came across as an intellectual.

"My friend, fates are cruel," Genesis says, shaking his head. "But we need not face their winds alone. What can't you remember?" He was obviously trying to look up something, after all.

Sephiroth looks away, his eyes troubled, and hides behind the PHS. "... My room," he admits finally. "I can't… figure out where my room is."

Genesis carefully doesn't laugh at that. It's not funny. It happens to a lot of fresh SOLDIER, and it's never not hilarious, watching baby Thirds bumbling around like lost ducklings - but it's not funny now. Sephiroth must be seriously distressed. He doesn't know how to get home!

A snicker manages to slip through, and Sephiroth glares at him, hard. "Apologies, apologies, my friend," Genesis says and grins. "Happens to the best of us. Apparently! Did you not check your key card?"

Sephiroth scowls and digs around his pockets, bringing our four key cards. He looks at them with embarrassed frustration and Genesis picks out the one to his private room. "Here - the floor and room number is written right here."

"... Ah," Sephiroth says.

Oh! Genesis didn't know Sephiroth could blush!

Oh… oh, that is terrible, that's utterly horrible.

Genesis clears his throat. "Come, my friend, let me escort you to your dwelling," he says and motions grandly to the door. "Where we shall partake in that awful tea you favour and lament our pride lost!"

Sephiroth, still looking a little flushed, makes another bitch face at him and then allows himself to be herded out of the sanctuary of the Restroom.

Genesis despairs.

This man, this most devastating of individuals, tall and broad and proud and terribly handsome, isn't supposed to be cute!

I have decided that Genesis has the emotional intelligence brain cell and that's how he convinced bunch of SOLDIERs to defect with him; he's the wine mom friend.

Also watch me headcanon SOLDIER lore up the wazoo...

#Fanfiction #Ffvii #Svsss #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #shen yuan #shen qingqiu

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lovings4turn · 2 months

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જ⁀➴ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 . . . (𝐆. 𝐑.)

— two things are definite: you like george, and george likes you. unfortunately, you two seem to be the only ones who don't see it.

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! love this song and i was so excited to use it for a george fic, so i hope you enjoy <3

“oh mate, you’re joking.”

“shut up!” george huffed, running the palm of his hand down his face in exasperation. “it was not that bad.”

he could defend himself all he liked, because in spite of that, george knew it really was.

this was possibly the third time this month that george had fumbled his chance to ask you out, and alex was beginning to grow tired of his friend’s constant pining and lingering stares.

“here’s what you’re gonna do,” alex said, his voice growing more serious as he looked george dead in the eyes. “you’re gonna ring y/n, and you’re gonna tell her you forgot something at her place. a shirt, socks, anything.”

"but i haven't?"

"not the point," alex groaned. "you're gonna tell her that, so you have an excuse to turn up there. this is your chance. don't be a stupid. tell her you think she's cool, that you like her, something to charm her."

george still wasn't convinced. his brows were pinched together as he ran over alex's plan in his mind, able to find a thousand different ways it could go wrong for him.

"right. and what happens when she realises that i haven't actually left anything there, and i just look like a massive twat for showing up?"

alex wasn't sure that he could take any more.

"mate, you can't just sit around and wait for some sort of fairy tale ending to come out of nowhere for you. at some point, you're just going to have to confess to her."

though he was being assertive, alex was still trying to be supportive, laying a hand on george's shoulder and delivering a friendly pat of encouragement.

"i can promise you she's probably thinking the exact same thing right now, anyways."

george scoffed, his answer hanging in the air unspoken. as if.

unbeknownst to george, alex was a lot closer to the truth than even he may have realised.

the events of the afternoon were playing on a loop in your mind as you tried to dissect every last piece of your interaction with george, from how he'd greeted you - a brief side hug and a smile - to how he'd said goodbye - a weak effort to get you to stay and a silly, yet endearing, wave.

was this your life now? driving yourself mad over even the smallest little details, all because of some stupid feelings?

when you'd first started developing somewhat of a crush on the mercedes driver, you made a promise to yourself that it would never become a thing. and you had kept that promise for roughly four months, until you made a huge error: revealing your feelings to someone else.

ever since you had let it slip to a friend that you actually quite liked george in ways that far surpassed the platonic label, you'd been - for lack of a better phrase - absolutely fucked.

now you had people to fuel your delusions, try to convince you that george had to feel the same way, and no, of course he wasn't just being polite when he offered you his jacket, you fool. outside interference and reassurance should have made you more confident in your feelings, maybe even push you to confess, but instead they'd had the opposite effect.

the weight of the word 'hopeless' in hopeless romantic had really started to resonate with you. though you weren't allowed to dwell on your misfortunes for too long.

some may have chalked it up to fate, some may have attributed it to a divine power wanting to laugh at a poor mortal, but whatever the reason, your phone rang with an incoming call from george.

the stupid candid photo you’d taken as a contact picture flashed up on your screen, and the automatic smile that painted your lips made you want to yell in frustration.

"y/n, hi!"

pathetic was the perfect word to describe you, thanks to how utterly gone you were for george, as the mere sound of your name leaving his lips was enough to make your heart jump.

"sorry, know i only saw you a few hours ago, but i just remembered that i think i left one of my mercedes shirts at yours when i was there the other day."

you didn't even think twice about it, why would you? george had left countless items at your place in the past, and he would leave more in the future.

"no problem. y'can always come by and get it, i'll try and grab it for you."

george's chest ached at how ready to help you were.

"yeah? you're a lifesaver, y/n, really. i'll set off now, should be there in about fifteen minutes."

brief 'see you later's were exchanged, and the moment you set your phone down onto the coffee table, your hunt began.

you didn't recall seeing one of george's shirts anywhere around, but previous mishaps had enlightened you to the fact that things could turn up anywhere. you'd thought that the shoes buried right underneath your bed were odd, until a sock turned up in your bread bin a few weeks later.

nothing was off limits anymore.

yet, somehow, no matter where you looked, you couldn't find the fucking shirt. frustration slowly nibbled at your mind, the sound of a knock being the only thing to break you from your frantic search.

an annoyingly attractive george russell greeted you when you swung open the front door.

in all of the years he'd known you, george thought this was the most adorable you'd looked.

your hair was in disarray, the strands unkempt as though you'd been running your hands through it over and over again. your face shone a little, and you were clearly a little out of breath, if the small, panting gasps you took were anything to go by.

your apartment was a mess, and george quickly realised that you'd turned your entire place practically upside down to try and find a shirt that wasn't even there in the first place.

guilt began to bubble up in his throat, and george hoped that, after today, it would all be worth it. he only had one chance, and he wasn't going to fuck it up.

before he could allow doubt to creep into his mind and sow seeds of regret, george lifted a hand to cup your jaw. the feeling of your soft skin against his palm elicited a gasp to slip from his mouth. the parting of his lips provided you with the perfect opportunity to meld your lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.

feelings went unspoken, for now. time would grant you the chance to properly word every last affection you harboured for one another at a later date.

besides, george was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and this kiss was living proof.

george forced himself to pull back, his forehead resting against your own, and he believed that to die like this would be a blessed fate. because you were definitely going to kill him when you found out the truth.

"i lied, by the way. there was no shirt," he mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours with a wince.

"you fucking dick."

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 becca's 'be my valentine' special #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

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sickficideas · 3 months

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I NEED your Al/astor hc's please! He is also my fav and Im dying out here from lack of sickfic

omg of couuurseee💖 he's a prime candidate for being miserable

- this dubbed comic (which is delicious by the way 10/10 recommend) put me on board horribly seasick alastor lol...i think he doesn't really get motion sickness otherwise but on boats he feels like he's dying. unbearable nausea that is not easily remedied by anything. i think when he was alive it was much more manageable. Just a little nausea, and certainly something he'd never admit being from Louisiana but now there's absolutely no hiding it :))

- i think he hates throwing up, not in the emetophobic way, i think he just hates dealing with it. in an "i need to get this over with as soon as possible" kind of way

- does Not ❌️ like people touching him when he's sick or injured. in general not a fan of physical contact but in these instances especially. however when he truly can't do anything to help himself, he'll slowly lower his walls to let people help him, but certain things are still absolutely off limits

- when things are really bad. high fever, awful injury... and he's not all mentally there he'll start talking about his mom, or when mistaking people taking care of him as his mother 🥺 absolutely heartbreaking to anyone around to witness it. he said it once to charlie and she cried her eyes out poor thing. she knows his mother used to take good care of him

- i also love the idea of him being really good at taking care of other people because of his mother 🥺 him being sweet and helpful is very off putting to the majority of the hotel residents lol angel dust is creeped out by it

I have another ask with a request for alastor headcanons as well so I'll make some more on that one :))

#urrghrhgrg.....the alastor and his mom content...owwWWWWW #i need to write a fic about that one .....#hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie morningstar #illness #sick #emeto #vomiting #ask box #fever #angst #motion sickness #seasickness #whump #injury

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bloogers-boogers · 5 months

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I was thinking of an au where Craig calls Cartman for help during a really bad breakup with Tweek. He asks him to help him get Tweek back and Cartman couldn't find himself to say no (+plus something for exchange) so he ends up suggesting something very basic as making Tweek jealous. Initially, Cartman thought he had everthing calculated until both him and Craig figure out that the both "boyfriend" candidates weren't willing to do the job not even for cash.

So they were left with no more options. However while Cartman was thinking for another solution Craig suggests him to be his boyfriend which leaves Cartman both in shocked and in a panic.

"Dude I'm not dating you! What makes you think I'd do that? I would not hear the end of this with my friends!"

"It's just for the month or until Tweek snaps! Stop being such an asshole. I'm also putting my reputation at point by dating you."

So after a bunch of talking (negotiating) Cartman ends up agreeing to do this. Monday hits and they start settling the plan by snooping around and making Clyde their primary target, making him suspicious and eventually discovering the two snuggling behind some bushes.

And lord an behold, next day everyone had their eyes on them. Whispering, gossiping, giving them the eyes, some looked concerned. But most importantly, they succeeded for the rumor to spread of their so called "secret" relationship.

Some of the girls whispered about feeling bad for Tweek as he entered and walked furious through the hallway.

Tweek eventually find Stan and Kyle, and straight up goes twoards them.

"Is it true?"

"Hey, Tweek. What's up?" Stan asks, clearly aware of the issue but was too awkward to add anything more.

"Is it true?" Tweek repeatedly said more sternly.

"Dude, be smart. It's probably some scheme Cartman is doing," Kyle spoke after brief seconds, "I just can't point out what he'd gain from this..." he added lastly before his eyes darted away from Tweek's, seemingly in thought.

"I figured. My Craig would never go that low".

And after that last thing said the devil was summoned. And Cartman had approached the three with a 'innocent' smile.

"Hey, broships.

Tweek." He seethed out the blonds name. Already taking note of the other's furious appearance.

Seconds after Tweek grabs him from his coat and slams him harshly against the lockers; startling everyone there and ofcourse Cartman. Who cursed out loud because of the impact on his back.

It was quite a sight for the students that they started forming a circle around them.

"WHY ARE YOU SPREADING FALSE RUMORS OF YOU AND CRAIG BEING A COUPLE?!"

"They're not false, Tweek." A nonchalant but familiar voice chimes in making the blond gasp silently as he kept his eyes still on the brunette. "We're dating.

Are you okay, Eric?"

The other students gasped, Stan and Kyle were left speechless. Mostly Kyle who watched in disbelief at Craig and then looked at Cartman for any left affirmation of this but the brunette was too focus on getting loose from Tweeks grip to even notice.

"Do I look okay?! Get this bitch off me!!" Cartman screamed annoyed as Tweek let go.

He gave one look at Craig before marching to class without a word said leaving everyone else watching. Again, except for Kyle who still remained looking at Cartman with a open mouth and a shocked expression.

The bell rang and this was Craig's signal to grab Cartman's hand and drag him away from the others. As the students disperse different ways and head to their respective classrooms.

At class Craig was second doubting about the whole thing, a little anxious and wondering if Tweek would ever forgive him after he tells him this is all some set up to get back with him. But what's done is done, and he has to follow through with it.

Eventually lunch time came along and he and Cartman sat in a table apart from others they use this as an opportunity to talk about their situation and the responses of their peers; mostly close friends and ofcourse Tweek's.

Craig was pleased to hear that Cartman was told by Kenny about how Tweek started questioning further about them during forth period mostly interrogating Stan and Kyle as if he suspected them to know more considering they're close friends with Cartman. However they had nothing and Kyle was skeptical and still unsure about the whole relationship thing aswell.

Speaking of Kyle, he waited at last period outside Craig's classroom and the moment he had come out from class Kyle yanked his arm and dragged him away from the crowd of students, not leaving him to process anything of what was going on.

Craig looked at him confused as the redhead checked that no one was around before speaking up.

"What did Cartman get you into? Is he blackmailing you? Is he forcing you to do this?" Kyle began rambling about Cartman typical ways and that he'd understood if he were being blackmailed by Cartman and that he could help him get out from it if he told him the truth.

All of this talking was beginning to overwhelm Craig and he didn't know why it surprised him that Kyle would come his way just to prevent something involving Cartman when both of them are obsessed in some way with each other. It isn't new to him neither to the rest of the school or town.

"Dude, shut up already. I'm not being manipulated, blackmail neither 'threatened' by Cartman," he hold back as he made sure to sound and look convincing to Kyle.

Kyle on the other hand was giving him these strong vibes, Craig just couldn't tell what it was but his stare was intensely focused on him and he was feeling uncomfortable. Normally he doesn't usually speak with any of these assholes aside from Kenny's and sometimes Cartman so he figured that must've been it. The abruptness of the whole thing and who it was.

"I really like Eric," he frowned with uncertainty, it feels so wrong to say that when he was thinking of Tweek. But he must sound believable.

Kyle frowned disappointed with the answer and began looking at him from feet to head as if he was trying so hard to find something on him.

And a couple of minutes an another ramble about not trusting Cartman blah blah blah, the redhead finished off with giving him a warning and to be cautious. Also call him if anything, which Craig just sighed annoyed once he was out of sight.

"Dude, I just got a 10 hr lecture from Kyle," he spat annoyed as he entered the other's home.

They had agree on coming to Cartman's house every day after school to discuss their progress. However Craig was annoyingly frustrated because their plan never had a added bonus of having to deal with some paranoid motherfucker.

Cartman was in his couch writing down who knows what in some notebook.

"Yeah, that's normal. Just ignore him everytime he tries to approach you with something," Cartman just answers so casually and unfazed by it as he continued writing in the notebook.

"So what, I'll just have to deal with that? The hell, fatboy? How do I get him to leave me alone!"

Cartman just laughed, "He won't leave you alone, you'll just have to deal with him until all of this ends."

"I don't want to deal with him! I only want to be focused on Tweek not worry for my next 10 hr lecture."

"Yeah, well. What do you want me to say? Kyle has always been like that ever since I dated Heidi. Get over it and ignore him, cause he'll do anything to keep anyone from getting close to me. Something about it never ending healthy, me being unworthy, heartless all that shit that's link to being a monster or whatever," Cartman finally put his pencil aside and passed him the notebook. Gesturing for he to read it.

Craig didn't until he was given some answer to get Kyle to leave him alone.

"Don't you think that's a little excessive even for you? Like, yeah you're and asshole and shit, no one really SHOULD get with you but that isn't really his business or no one else's but yours."

Cartman paused as he looked around seemingly in thought before shrugging. "Can't stop the ginger."

Craig frowned and got tired of insisting, dropping the whole subject taking account that Cartman didn't seem bothered by it or remotely interested of preventing Kyle from getting involved.

He looked at the notebook in hand and Cartman explained to him that they were instructions of how their "relationship" was gonna work from now on. Gestures, compliments, cheek kisses a peck on the mouth goodbye and in extremes cases a genuine kiss with tongue.

Craig wondered if it truly was worth it when firstly Tweek was giving him the cold shoulder and two, KYLE.

Two weeks in it was either being bluntly ignored by Tweek (worse if they accidentally bump into eachother Tweek would glare at him) or Kyle pestering about how he should reconsider the class of guy he’s with and to break up with him already. Even though Cartman surprisingly has been following the rules he had made to a tee. So he was being a "good" boyfriend infront of everyone.

"I'm telling you it's all an act. Cartman wants something I can feel it! You really shouldn't trust him, Craig. Besides don't you still have feelings for Tweek?"

'God this loser' Craig thought as he closed his locker and continued walking, trying to mind his own damn business.

"Kyle, for the millionth time. I'm not breaking up with Eric. So just stop insisting on breaking my relationship with him cause it's not happening."

Kyle reaction this time was very diffrent from the other confrontations they've had. This time his face was red as if he was embarrassed and he seem sad for a second before he covered it up with a scowl, "I'm not trying to force you to break up with him! I just THINK you should reconsider it. He doesn't even fit the type of guys you're interested in!"

Craig arched a brow to that, "and what exactly is my type?"

"I don't know, blonds?"

Craig huffed, "Dude why does it matter so much to you? Just let it be. If he does something then I'll handle it on my own, that's my problem not yours!"

He was about to walk off but he stopped when Kyle snapped at him, "WHAT DO YOU EVEN LIKE ABOUT HIM?! What was it that got you to look at him and say to yourself 'fuck I want his fatass'! Cause Cartman has done nothing to you for you to like him! Look at him or touch him! So why do you like him?!" it startled the shit out of him he stood still now looking at the fuming redhead, "he's a narcissistic bigoted piece of shit who belittles people for fun and a freaking racist! What's so charming about that? Why put yourself with a person you know isn't good for you! Is it some challenge for you? Are you challenging yourself to change Cartman?? Cause fuck you! He won't!"

"Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Craig spat in disbelief. Kyle scoffed dryly before silently stomping away in defeat.

Maybe he finally realized how crazy he sounded.

A day after Cartman enters his room with out notice, taking him off guard while changing clothes.

"THE FUCK DUDE?!"

Cartman sat on his desk chair, "Kyle knows." He spat casually as he checks his nails.

"WHAT."

"Yeah I told him yesterday."

"Why the hell would you tell him?!"

"Cause he wasn't leaving me alone about it," Cartman shrugged as it his reasons were obvious.

"Dude you said we couldn't tell anyone and that 'Kyle does it all the time, get over yourself and ignore him' !!"

"I never said I would. Don't trip, Kyle won't say anything," he shrugged it off with his hand, "also that's not why I'm here for."

Craig arched a brow confused as he zipped his pants up.

"Kyle told me something interesting yesterday about Tweek. You're welcome btw, cause if I hadn't told Kyle about this you wouldn't be getting this information at all, but whatever I guess.

Anyways, Tweek is planning to talk to you on Friday so don't mess it up."

"Wait, why all of the sudden?"

"I dunno man, jesus, that's what Kyle overheard during P.E. but if you want to know more about it, you can ask Tolkien. Cause that's who Tweek was talking with."

Craig bit his lip contemplating it but denied with his head, "nah, I'll just wait till Friday and find out from Tweek."

Cartman groaned annoyed, "you're so boring and plain no wonder Tweek broke up with you in the first place."

"Tweek broke up with me because I have problems communicating atleast that's what he says I do."

"Uhuh. He does got a point, cause you suck."

"Can you get out of my house already!"

It was Wednesday and he can for sure tell Kyle was no longer gonna be a problem for him, not even a glance his way since he arrived to school; like how it normally was before he announced "dating" Cartman. Well atleast the first few periods, lunch time however Cartman decided to sit with his friends and Kyle look his way for a few seconds before returning his attention on Stan.

He sighed relieved that he no longer had to deal with all of that.

And after what feels like an eternity he finally was able to sit with his friends without feeling uncomfortable around Tweek. He was still ignoring him and was sitting right next to Tolkien but not much drama aside from Clyde's typical gossip.

He couldn't help but take sneak glances at Tweek. His blond locks, pale skin, he even missed seeing those dark eye circles on his beautiful face. He wants to plant plenty of kisses in ever corner and inch of it.

"So, how things with Cartman?" Tolkien asked.

Craig scoffed awkwardly before taking a sip from his soda, "normal I guess?"

"This time you guys didn't sit together?"

"We don't always have to be stuck to the side of the other every hour of every day. I missed hanging out with you guys and he apparently missed hanging out with his friends. Nothing serious."

"You and Tweek always were," Clyde added with not much thought, Jimmy just smacked the back of his head with one of his crutches, "OW!"

"No we weren't, ngh!" Tweek spat defensive. Finally he spoke.

It's been awhile since Craig heard Tweek speak and honestly he could hear him for hours.

But in reality they did. They were very codependent with the other, not that it was toxic in a way but there were moments when he did feel suffocated by Tweek's panic attacks or him being too clingy. He no longer felt like he could asked for space cause that also made Tweek worry.

Craig knew well enough that Tweek knew that, it's not like he hasn't pointed it out before. So it doesn't faze him to see Tweek react that way, he's was always insecure about and tried working on it but he just made it worse by calling him at nights and asking him "was I being too much today?" So yeah, Clyde definitely hit a nerve right there.

And honestly he feels like he was about to hit a few more just to see his reaction.

"Eric isn't the type to stay too long in the same spot with the same person. You'd think someone as clingy like Eric would want to spend hours with you but he's always finding excuses to hang out with his friends or gets easily distracted with something else so I let this one slide because I felt bad."

"Sounds like he's avoiding spending time with you," Tweek spat dryly while poking at his tray.

Craig would smile widely because Tweek had spoken with him if it were that he has to remind himself that they were broken up and he was currently in a relationship with someone else.

"No. I just noticed that pattern with everyone he interacts with, it's like he's always trying to discover something new or get into some wacky adventure."

"You really must like him to notice that," Clyde added with interest, "first time we've heard you talk about a attribute of Cartman in that way."

Craig arched a brow confused, he actually thought he was playing pretty well the roll of boyfriend but maybe in speaking volumes he was never the best at. Even if this was fake.

In reality he just sucked in expressing himself.

"Yeah. This is all new to me y'know, it feels nice to have some freedom in a relationship for once."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Tweek scowled as he looked up at Craig.

Yeah, he definitely hit the nail on this one.

"Nothing."

Thursday morning was like a breeze, the only odd thing about it was that Cartman wasn't too interesting in displaying much of their "couple" act. He claimed he was feeling something was gonna happen tomorrow and that it would finally end this facade once and for all, so he felt there was no need to continue proving people they were a couple when they already seemed convinced anyways. Also he noticed he kept giving glances at Kyle when he held his hand or place a small kiss on his cheek and he didn't kiss him on the lips goodbye either like the previous times. This time he only planted a kiss on his forehead with a hop and left the scene quickly.

Finally friday morning, and now unlike the other two days he was starting to feel the weight of the whole situation. He was dying to know what Tweek had to say or if he was still planning to talk with him after what happened on Wednesday. Still, he was nervous.

He sat in his desk and place his hand on each side of his head looking down while trying to reassure himself everthing would be fine.

He looked up and was surprised to be greeted by Kyle who was holding on to his backpack strap.

"Just making sure, but after you and Tweek talk things out today you and Cartman are gonna end this whole dating thing right?"

"Yes...?"

"Even If it's not what you expect it to be. Like getting back together, you'll leave Cartman out of this?"

"Why should that matter?"

"Because it does. It's clear it wouldn't matter if you continue 'dating' Cartman so why drag him with you. If things with Tweek doesn't work out in the end then you should just learn to move on and let Tweek do the same. Even if it hurts."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because-"

"Kyle!" Cartman sprinted inside the classroom and grabbed the redhead's arm, glaringly, then looks at Craig, "seems you're getting ready for the big day huh."

Kyle glared back at Cartman but rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Aren't you supposed to be heading to your class, fatass."

"I was until I saw you talking with Craig and I don't want you running your mouth for everyone to hear."

"I wasn't planning to say shit," Kyle then yanked his arm away from him, "and let go of me!"

Kyle walked towards his desk and sat down.

"Whatever he told you it's a lie," Cartman spat out.

"He didn't tell me anything?"

"Are you prepared for what you're gonna say to Tweek ?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well duh? What are you planning to tell him if he asks you to take him back?"

"Yes?"

"That's it?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with that?"

"Dude, you're so dry! You need to make sure you're prepared for any question asked, what if he doesn't even want to talk about your relationship? What if it's something else? What then huh?"

Craig didn't consider that as a possibility, being that there's nothing left about them besides their previous relationship. So what if Cartman is right? What if Tweek isn't gonna speak with him over their breakup? What then... what would he speak to him about?

And thats all i have! This is literally the creek/kyman au i mentioned u guys previously i wanted to post it before it gets forgotten in my drafts, i would love for your opinions on this concept 😭

#south park #eric cartman #craig tucker #tweak tweek #kyle broflovski #sp creek #kyman

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