#because he did admit he did not know what the hell that meant.
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i. ride the sun away || all i could do
“All I could do was love you hard and let you go.”
“Go and ride the sun away."
Pairing: Lee Jihoon x f!Reader
Summary: 5 years ended with a note on the coffee table.
Warnings: angst
Word Count: 1227
A/N: Hello! It's been a long while, but this idea has been on my mind for a long time. This musical means a lot to me and so does this fic. I know Jihoon is an asshole in this... sorry lol
join the taglist!
back to library || next chapter
The glint of light on the coffee table immediately drew your attention as you walked into the living room.
I called Chan and Seungcheol to help me get the rest of my stuff.
I know you wanted to go see another counselor… but I don’t know what the point would be. I know I’m not the only one who’s hurting here, and I don’t see what the hell else we can do.
I don’t think you could see how deep the cracks run, or that I had run out of rope.We could keep fighting each other, keep hurting each other, but I think it’s time to just face it… I couldn’t be what you wanted.All I could do was love you – and god did I love you – love you hard and let you go.
-Jihoon
The weighty cream piece of paper lay on the coffee table and on top of it, Jihoon’s silver wedding band, identical to the one on your own finger. The lights are off, but the room is far from dark. The sun outside is at its zenith and its rays spill into the room and wash the air with enough light to see dust floating in the air. Aside from the note and silver band, glimmering in the light, nothing in the living room had been touched in weeks.
The walls are still covered in pictures of the two of you smiling and you wonder if all the “I love yous” ever meant anything or if the foundation was cracked from the beginning. You’re left with more questions than you’ll ever have answers to and all you can think of is how unfair it is that Jihoon felt that he had the right to decide that things were over.
He was the one keeping secrets. He was the one who moved on before things had even ended. He was convinced that you were the problem. He was the one running away. And you were covered in scars you didn’t earn.
I should be crying, you think to yourself. But you don’t. You haven’t cried in a while, really, because honestly, to say you didn’t see this coming would be a lie.
From the minute you met him five years ago, sitting at a table on the fourth floor of the library and madly scribbling into a worn leather notebook, you knew he was on a one way road to something bigger. You suppose it was only a matter of time that he would outgrow you too.
While nearly every other seat was occupied by students with strewn out textbooks, notebooks, and half-dead laptops cramming for midterms, he was writing a song. School was on the backburner for him (as were most other things), a backup plan in case his dreams were just a little bit too far. Interestingly enough, that was what drew you to him.
“Whatcha writing?” you had asked him, the nervous crack in your voice betraying your casual attempt at conversation. You had noticed him as soon as you sat down to study an hour ago, as he was one of the only people around without a laptop in front of him, but waited until your break to finally let your curiosity get to you.
It took a few seconds before he realized you were speaking to him and he finally lifted his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but smile as you realized the redness on his cheek from resting it on his fist and the messy state of his dark hair.
“Me?” he questioned as you nodded.
“There’s no one else at the table,” you teased.
“Oh,” he looked around as if he hadn’t given any attention to his surroundings in a while. “I’m working on a song,” he admitted softly.
“Cool,” you replied. “Is it for a class? My friend is in a songwriting class with profe–”
“No,” he interrupted, scribbling something else down before returning his attention to you. “It’s just for fun.”
“Fun, huh?” you began. “You have time for fun in the middle of midterms?”
He let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “I like to think I have my priorities sorted,” he answered. “I’m Jihoon.” He extended his hand out for you to shake.
You looked down at his hand, noting the calluses on his fingertips before taking it in yours and introducing yourself.
“So what about you?” he returned. “What class are you studying for?”
You turned your laptop around to show him the powerpoint you had pulled up from your music and neuroscience class. “I’m actually in a class about how music affects the brain,” you explained.
Jihoon’s face lit up in interest. “Really?” he asked. “How does it affect the brain then?” It had been a while since you were able to gush about your interest in neuroscience.
“Well,” you began, pointing your finger over the brain scans on the slide. “There’s some recent studies showing that music could help treat people with Alzheimer’s and some other neurological issues in elderly people.”
You looked over to Jihoon’s brows furrowed in interest as he nodded along. “That’s pretty cool,” he mused.
“Yeah,” you continued. “I saw a couple of videos that show patients with forms of dementia suddenly remembering complex ballet dances and specific memories just from certain musical cues with synaptic activity in many voxels that–” you cut yourself off, realizing you were going to start rambling.
“That what?” Jihoon looked back up at you, clearly still interested in what you had to say.
“That uh,” you blinked at him. “This isn’t boring you?”
“Huh?” he questioned. “This is really cool,” he laughed. “As a musician, it’s nice to know music is more than just something pretty to listen to. I could be making synapses move and what not. I’ll be making an impact.”
You laughed and nodded your head. “Well, synapses don’t move,” you corrected as Jihoon rolled his eyes before giving you a smile. “But thanks.”
“For what?”
“For listening.”
It’s easy, even now, five years later, to remember the way he looked bathed in spring sunlight and the feeling of his callused hands in yours even if you couldn’t remember the last time he actually touched you. He used to trace circles against your skin, humming melodies into your ear, a soft reminder every time of the day you met.
You look down now at your hand and pull off the band, setting it down next to Jihoon’s rather than picking them both up. They’re small, but something tells you they’d be heavy like lead in your palms. So instead, you opt to leave them there, to join the rest of the abandoned and untouched reminders of a life once shared.
On another day you’d take down the pictures of Jihoon kissing your cheek at the fair, the plaque you jokingly made for him out of macaroni after his first single first charted, and the blanket he bought you from Germany on his first tour. Maybe one day you’ll find a lesson to learn in all of this. But all of that would wait till another day when you can begin to move forward the way Jihoon has. But today, you choose to return to your room, to hold onto some semblance of familiarity, still hurting.
taglist: @sana-is-ms-rmty @yksthings @iamxelia @coveyland @xuimhao
#lee jihoon#woozi#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#woozi x reader#woozi scenarios#woozi fluff#lee jihoon x reader#woozi angst#lee jihoon angst#seventeen angst
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Subspace & a reader who is a toxic player!
HEYA, FELLAS!!!
sry I didn’t have time to write, I was quite busy these few days ;-; but hey, now I have time to write! I’m just cramming out whatever time I have to finally rest and finish up reqs :D
honestly I like writing for you all, so I’m not a fan of going inactive LMAO
anyway, enjoy!
requested by…yeah, you already know who you are, you just don’t wanna admit it. I know who you are :)
-
"At last."
Subspace could feel the smugness radiating off of Medkit as he fired a crystal, instantly healing his teammates. Subspace had tried to chase after and take down the other team's Shuriken for one and a half minutes, only to get shot and taken down by Medkit himself, his sworn enemy.
Or rather, Subspace himself didn't try to take down Shuriken.
It was the player. The one controlling him.
More specifically, someone named (Y/N). He overheard the name when someone yelled at them to keep quiet…and judging by the tone, it seemed like this wasn’t the first time.
Deep down, Subspace never wanted to fight anyone. He just wanted to stay in his lab in Blackrock, tinkering on his newest experiments and inventions, improving the Biografts he held so dear to him...after all, the Biografts were the "people" he truly felt close to, the beings he saw as children.
But no, the creators of the endless game he was trapped in pulled him out of Blackrock for ungodly amounts of time, only being able to leave when the server was shut down for maintenance or when the game was closed for updates.
He rarely even got to see his creations as often, only being able to catch sight of them in what the players called a "lobby" or during one of the matches. Regardless of whether Biograft or Hyperlaser was on the same team as him or not, a familiar sight was always appreciated.
To the players, it was just an average video game where you use random characters and fight each other with swords and stuff.
To Subspace, it was hell.
He wanted to be left alone to work on his creations in the eternal winter of Blackrock.
But no, he had to be pulled out of the comfort of his lab just to fight people, most of whom he had never met before.
He didn't even have control of his actions either- everything was decided by the player.
The player. Subspace shuddered at the thought.
He always hated losing control of his body, watching helplessly as the player controlled his every movement. Controlled where he walked, who he attacked, how he attacked...Subspace couldn't even run to save his life if he wanted to.
Sometimes, whoever the player was would be nice to him. On those days, the player would make smart decisions to avoid death, allowing him to effortlessly eliminate multiple opponents by utilising his poisonous tripmines to shred the opposing team's defences.
In other scenarios such as this one, however, the player controlling him was terrible.
They would make the worst possible choices, immediately charging into battle even though he was meant to attack from a distance. They never used his crystals effectively, missing the opportunity to immobilise and slow down his opponents...they made so many bad decisions it was almost impressive.
Today, however, seemed a lot worse.
Not only did this one player, (Y/N), suck at utilising his abilities, but he would also curse him out for being "bad" and "useless".
And now, here he was. He was faced with a death screen with his limp body on the ground as Medkit ran past him to heal the rest of his team.
The player had spent almost two minutes trying to take down a SINGLE PLAYER. The amount of misfires on other people was impressive at that point...
And now it was all for nought.
"Damn it! You suck at this! I spend so much time trying to kill someone and I can't because you do less than 5 hitpoints for your normal attack!"
Subspace internally groaned at this. He was not allowed to cry out loud or make a sound outside his usual voice lines- that would alert the player that he and the others were self-aware about these phights being nothing more than a game.
He forced himself to keep his mouth shut.
Subspace was irritated- he wanted to yell out loud, retort at the player and get some common sense into his head. He wanted to instruct the player as to how to properly play him so that maybe, just maybe, the player could shut up for thirty seconds.
He was tired of seeing the death screen so many times in one match. By then, he had seen it seven or eight times in four minutes and was slowly getting tired of it.
He just wanted to break free from the puppeteer's grasp.
He just wanted to get out of the lobby. He wanted to head to Crossroads, down the familiar concrete path back to Blackrock. He just wanted to put on a warm coat amidst the everlasting blizzard in his faction.
The blizzard gave him a warmth in his chest...a warm feeling that reminded him of home.
"One last minute..." Subspace thought. One more minute, and he could rest for another thirty seconds...until being pulled straight back into another nightmarish round, another round where he'd experience the constant and tedious cycle of spawning, being controlled, getting killed, spawning again...
He wished he could go home, back to Blackrock. He did not like it here.
As the round ended, Subspace got a glimpse of the results screen.
He was last. Again. With thirteen deaths, zero kills, and only two assists.
“Darn it! Why’d I even pick you? Your damage output is trash!”
Subspace could hear (Y/N) let out a string of profanities upon seeing another loss. Just as Subspave thought all was lost and he’d die from madness after all this, he heard Zuka announce something- something he had yearned to hear for the past thirty minutes.
“Phighters- I got a message from the developers. Server’s gonna shut down, maintenance is happening soon.”
Five seconds later, Subspace felt energy return to his joints as he stumbled onto the floor.
Subspace tried moving his arm, then went on to flexing his fingers. It worked.
He let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over.
One by one, other phighters around the lobby stumbled and toppled over as they regained energy in their joints as the players got kicked.
The puppeteers were gone.
Zuka gestured into his van.
“We’re going back to Crossroads. Hop in.”
As the familiar tower in Crossroads emerged in the distance, Subspace finally let his shoulders relax. He was closer to Crossroads, closer to his laboratory, closer to his home…
Subspace wouldn’t need to fight his beloved Biografts like he was forced to in phights. It always tore him apart to attack his creations, the very things he had worked so hard to perfect…the closest thing he had to a true companion.
But now, he could rest.
Other phighters lounged around in Crossroads. Rocket could be seen making small talk with Sword
Hyperlaser and Katana could be seen heading to the nearest bar.
All the phighters seemed to want to have a chat with someone else before heading back to their respective factions.
Instead, Subspace trudged down the path to Blackrock without saying a word, exhausted and irritated from everything that happened.
Biograft spotted this and immediately sprinted towards his creator.
“I just don’t get it!! Why me?? Why do I always seem to get the most talentless players?? I can see their stats and half the people who play me are newbies!!”
Biograft listened. That was his task, anyway- to identify the needs of his creator and adapt to them. And right now, Subspace needed a listening ear- someone who would listen to all his woes about the day.
“Why am I even doing this?? It’s been a week without seeing a player that knew their stuff!! Dear Illumina, WHY?!”
Biograft may have been a robot, but he was programmed to understand what his creator needed and how to respond.
If he needed food, Biograft could cook up a meal.
If he needed a certain tool, Biograft could bring Subspace his trusty toolbox.
But right now, all Subspace needed was some comfort.
The duo trod back to the familiar snowy landscape of Blackrock in silence. Biograft knew that his creator just wanted to go home. He didn’t have the energy for this.
Back in the lab, Biograft listened to Subspace.
The lab was Subspace’s haven, the only place where he felt comfortable enough to let loose.
Subspace spent so much time in the lab, more time than in his own house so much so that Biograft would often worry for its creator. Subspace would then reassure it, saying that he’s just doing what he enjoys. Never once would Biograft ever see Subspace at his workstation without his concentrated expression, only changing when Subspace chuckled softly every time a component worked as intended.
But today was different.
Subspace was resentful of the player, and back in his lab was where he finally let out all his pent-up rage.
Upon entering the lab, Subspace collapsed onto a nearby chair, groaning in annoyance.
“That little sh-!! I did what I could to accommodate his stupidity, but what did he do?? Curse me out, that’s what!!”
Subspace got up, pacing around and stomping on the ground to emphasise his point.
Biograft watched his creator. It could hear everything the player said, and despite being on the opposite team, it could almost feel a sense of empathy towards his creator, deep down in his processors.
“And do I have a damn choice as to whether or not I get controlled?? No!! This crap is all part of a VIDEO GAME, and I don’t have a say as to whether or not I participate!! Can’t I like, call in sick??”
Subspace picked up a screwdriver and was about to hurl it at the wall…but he paused, looked at the tool, and set it back down on his workbench.
He collapsed back into the seat, groaning in annoyance.
“…apologies, Biograft. It’s been a rough day…and I finally get to let loose.”
Understanding his situation, Biograft’s processors whirred to life, processing the new information. The soft hum of the processor was the only sound in the lab as Subspace lay on the chair.
As Biograft’s processors grew silent, it walked over and put an arm around its creator.
For once in a long time, Subspace felt some warmth.
And it wasn’t from his usual coat.
-
thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
if you do have feedback, please drop it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D
#phighting!#phighting#phighting x reader#subspace phighting#biograft phighting#subspace tripmine#subspace x reader
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West Coast: The Train Ride
(Check series warnings on series masterlist)
You had left later than you had meant to, but you were lucky enough to still arrive on time to board the train. You weaved your way through each car, looking for any available seat. This is why you wanted to be early. You were almost to the last car when you spotted the first available seat next to a muscular, bear-like man. He didn’t look friendly necessarily, but a seat was still a seat and so you sat down, settling your luggage at your feet. He didn’t acknowledge you as you made yourself comfortable, and so you turned to introduce yourself. You were going to be on this train for hours, after all Being friendly might help the time go by.
You extended an arm out as you told him your name, and he raised his brow, columbian eyes piercing through yours. After a moment, he finally took your hand, you could feel the callouses that decorated his skin, scarred tissue that would never heal. Nonetheless his touch was nice, warm.
��Name’s John Price, doll,” he smiled sweetly. He had a wild, rugged look to him that you couldn’t seem to convince yourself to look away from, and found yourself getting lost in his colombian blue eyes. They were beautiful enough to swim in, and you found yourself leaning in, as if preparing yourself to dive and explore what lays beneath the crystal waters.
You hadn’t realized you were still holding his hand until you heard him chuckle. You blushed out an apology, letting go of his hand and folding yours on your lap.
“‘S alright,” he responded and your face flushed. What the hell allowed this man to be so attractive?
Then he smirked at you, “Don’t know, doll, guess it’s just genetics,”
Could this get any more embarrassing? Probably not. Was this man going to be the death of you? Probably.
You had a four hour trip to find out.
The next twenty minutes went by in silence, him reading a book you couldn’t see the title of due to his hand placement, and you watching the scenery blur by through the window.
You watched the green of the trees mix with the mundane browns and grays of the manmade buildings. Not necessarily a pretty picture, but a picture nonetheless.
Every now and then you swear you could feel Mr. Price’s eyes on you, but when you turned to face him he never was looking at you. But what did it matter? It’s not like you wanted this handsome stranger to pay you any mind.
You yawned, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back before settling again in your seat.
“Tired, darlin’?” he asked, and you turned to face him.
“A little,” you admitted sheepishly, smiling at him, but not looking in his eyes. You didn’t want to lose yourself in them again, and so instead you focused on his lips. On the thinner side, but they looked soft, kiss-able.
“You can lie down on me if you want, I don’t mind,” he spoke, voice gravely.
You blushed, “Oh it’s- I- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Price,” you stuttered out, incredibly flustered.
“It’s no bother t’ me, love. But you don’t need if you’re not comfortable. And please, call me John,”
You bit your lip, contemplating the offer. A rest would be nice, so would cozying up to him. However, you didn’t want to impose. But he did offer, so he mustn’t mind, right?
Besides that, you’ve only just met him, so how can you be sure if he’s trustworthy? For all you know he could have ill intentions.
You must be more tired than you initially thought, and it must be clouding your judgment because you found yourself laying your head on his shoulder, muttering your stop and asking him to wake you then before you drifted to sleep.
•••
You awoke to a baritone voice in your ear, “Mornin’ sunshine, this is our stop,” he says as you sit up, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes.
“Our stop?” you question and he nods.
“Mhmm, I get off here too, darlin’,” he smiles at you, extending his arm out to help you up.
You let him walk you out the train, turning to him once you exit.
“See you around?” you ask bashfully, a undertone of hopefulness that you pray he doesn’t catch.
He smiles at you “if you’re lucky, doll,”
And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. You stared at the spot where he had stood for several moments before gathering yourself bearings.
Your best friend, Shelby, should be here to pick you up and take you to your apartment. Better to not keep her waiting.
You got into Shelby’s dusty blue Chevrolet, buckling yourself in as she started driving.
“So how was your trip?” she asked, voice bubbly as ever.
“Oh, it wasn’t much of a trip. I was just visiting my parents for the weekend, you know this,”
Shelby tutted, “I know, I know. But did anything exciting happen? Fun?”
You pondered that for a second. Was meeting Mr. Price- John either of those things? It wasn’t necessarily fun, and it wasn’t all that exciting in the moment. But he sure did leave your belly full of butterflies and critters of the like after.
You turned back to Shelby, “No, can’t say so,” you shrugged. Shelby knew everyone in this part of town, if John was a regular she would surely know him.
Which is why you didn’t tell her. You’ve been wowed by the idea of too many men and left disappointed by the real thing each time.
Maybe John would be better off kept in your head.
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© xxshadowbabexx 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.
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https://www.tumblr.com/skullsandcorals/738285799236321280/im-dyslexic-im-not-stupid
1. Holy shit I am so happy I found another person who gets how smart Percy is, and gets that every instance of Percy looking/getting called stupid is due to his dyslexia or people not telling him anything.
2. Which book/chapter is this from? I need to bookmark it ASAP and start shouting it from the metaphorical tumblr hills.
3. We really don't talk about how good a mom Sally is? Like yeah she's badass and gentle but like. She respects Percy. When the school system failed Percy, she's the one who still not only believed that he was smart but still acted like it and probably taught him too. Queen mom Sally Jackson right there.
1.) YEAHH EXACTLY. Or his ADHD 😭 It drives me NUTS whenever Percy is treated as the dumb + comedic guy. Like I get what they're saying and why they're saying it, but sometimes his character gets reduced to JUST that and it hurts my soul. I get that he's funny as a narrator and as a character and sometimes he can be a little "clueless" but it just feels like some people like to think of that as either all he is or a huge part of who he is. I believe I've also seen Leo get this treatment despite literally being insanely smart at such a young age so. that's...fun. They can be funny and smart too 😞
2.) It's from the 10th Anniversary edition of The Lightning Thief! It's Rick's cover letter for the first readers of the manuscript & a note from the narrator. I don't have a copy of that edition myself, but I've seen some pictures of it on Rick's blog and someone posted one of the pages on Reddit (where I got it from).
Here's the full page from Reddit (source) & the picture from Rick's blog where the page is visible (source):
3.) YEEEAHHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!! What I would do to get adopted by her rn. The way she talks to him makes me kinda teary-eyed because she's just so...you can just tell how much she loves Percy and that she would do anything to make sure he grew up resilient and kind in a world that's always out to get him. She believes in him so much that it just makes me lose my mind a little. It's just so sweet and I can't help but feel so moved by it.
I'm not sure if you've read Chalice of the Gods, but there's this scene where (spoilers, kinda) Sally talks to Percy after the whole thing with Hebe and honestly this scene makes me want to sob and cry and weep
“You are a lot of things, Percy. But helpless isn't one of them.”
#personal mail ♡#long post#pjo/hoo#percy jackson#sally jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#the lightning thief#chalice of the gods#don't get me wrong tho. i know percy can and had acted clueless or oblivious or whatever.#but my gods. at least think about it for a hot second.#adhd + dyslexia + people just not telling him shit + other characters treating him like he's stupid + gods know what else#i wouldn't have said anything if they were just talking about the book#and about that one specific scene where percy called his teacher an old sot#because he did admit he did not know what the hell that meant.#but c'mon :/. percy will say anything relatively smart and people will discredit the shit out of his intelligence and knowledge 💀#has acted*** just ignore any typos I'm sorry 😭#the impertinent thing isn't even that big of a deal 😭 it's like...one relatively “big” word. but gods forbid right 💀#but anyway I love sally she's great and awesome and no she is not perfect but she sure tries her damn best to be who Percy needs her to be
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smooth operator
written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic
Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.
“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”
The audience chuckles collectively.
“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”
Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.
It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.
“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”
The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.
He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?
“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”
Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.”
Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk.
author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steddiemicrofic#steddie microfic#steddiemicroficjanuary#myblurbs
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Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out.
Hehehehe
Lobe u babes
omg I love this, let's do it hehe
Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out
Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader
Word Count: 2,3k
Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...
Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired
„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.
He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.
You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?
“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.
You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…
It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.
“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.
“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”
It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.
“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”
Little did he know you meant that.
-a week later-
“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”
His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.
“Oh, just work.”
No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.
Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.
You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…
“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“
“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.
Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-
He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.
“Off to bed with you.”
“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.
You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?
Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.
-a few days after-
“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.
You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.
But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.
“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.
“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”
Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.
“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”
With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.
“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.
“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.
“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.
“I’m completely back to normal!”
“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.
“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”
Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.
“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“
“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.
“The combat training with the first year-“
“Done.”
“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”
“Done.”
“Taking care of-“
“Done.”
This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?
“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”
Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.
“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”
“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.
“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”
“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.
“Call her in right now.”
Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.
“And let her leave again in about an hour.”
-an hour later-
“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”
“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.
You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.
But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?
“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.
“Ehm...so…well…”
“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“
“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.
“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.
“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”
“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.
“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”
“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.
“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”
It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…
You open the door with a swift motion.
Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.
The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.
He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.
“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.
Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.
“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.
“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.
But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-
Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…
“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.
You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.
And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…
“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.
You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.
He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.
“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.
“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”
Tags:
@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix
@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete
@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3
@sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly
@froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi
@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper
@baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp
@localhehecat @alicerhr @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world
@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44
@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy
(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#in a world of boys he’s a gentleman#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#jujutsu gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo husband#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk satoru#satoru gojo#satoru x reader#satoru x you#yuji#jjk yuji#jujutsu megumi#jjk megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi#nobara#itadori#jjk trio
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DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2
"I have to open it."
"Nope."
"Gareth. I need to open it."
"The vault is sacred," Archie says.
At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."
Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"
"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.
Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.
"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.
"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.
Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."
Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.
It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.
He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.
Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.
Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.
(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)
From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.
Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.
"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.
"Is that how we ask?"
"I could always yank the key off you."
Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.
Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.
Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.
And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.
But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.
Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.
Or maybe Steve was just that hot.
He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.
His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:
I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.
Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.
"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.
"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."
"What did he say?" Archie asks.
Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.
Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.
"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.
"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.
Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.
"What do I say?" he asks.
Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."
"I don't know how!"
"You ground against a guitar-"
"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"
Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"
"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.
Jeff barks out a laugh.
"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."
"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.
Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?
"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.
"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"
"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.
Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.
"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.
"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.
"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."
"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"
"He might be ace."
"Archie, shut the fuck up."
He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.
Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.
He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.
This is. So bad.
And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.
Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.
I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.
"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.
"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.
"He's single!" Gareth cheers.
"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.
"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.
They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.
But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.
He writes back, once he's calmed down:
Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.
#ria writes#dilf and concert#d&c au#steddie#steddie ficlet#st#st ficlet#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#corroded coffin#rockstar eddie munson#dilf steve harrington
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hobie x fem! reader
thinking of hobie brown rn…!
hobie who knows you love the height difference between you two and uses it to his advantage. is constantly angling his head upwards, which causes him to purposely peer down at you through his thick eyelashes. you always get flustered each time he narrows his eyes and tilts his chin, and him being the ever so perceptive spider he is, takes notice of your heated cheeks and continues to do so.
whenever he’s near a doorway or a thick frame he lovesss to lay a palm on the top of it, trapping your body beneath his as you ramble on about whatever it is you’re rambling about. he makes sure to nod along while effectively moving a hand towards your plush waist, bringing your figure flush against his own. he plays with the seam of your shirt, and urges you to keep going when you stutter from the sudden change in position.
hobie who loves to annoy you with his British slang. it’s not necessarily because he uses it often that irks you, it’s the fact that you have no idea what he’s saying and he never makes an effort to help you understand. (he actually finds it amusing each time you attempt to guess what he means and is completely off base every single time).
“babe, I’d love ta get ya that shirt you’ve been beggin’ for, but I’m skint right now. try me next week, yeah?” he hummed, kicking his feet up on the railing next to your bed.
“skint? I feel like you’ve used that one before..” you muttered, huffing in irritation by the smug look on hobie’s face, his lips quirked in amusement.
“told ya what it meant last week. thought ya said you could ‘se context clues?”
“whatever bee, maybe you should speak english.”
“‘aint that what ‘m doin’?”
hobie who always has a blunt neatly rolled on his dresser, his ash tray placed gently to the left of it. he often smoked before running off to whatever it is he did when he wasn’t home (he was very unpredictable as he switched it up weekly to “fuck up consistency” whatever the hell that meant).
hobie inhaled gingerly before tilting his head towards his peeling painted ceiling, his fingers lingered tightly on the wood before lifting it to your lips, “want a go?”
you shook your head, nuzzling further into his shoulder, “mhm no, too tired.” hobie chuckled before greedily puffing the joint, shuttering at the burning feeling it left.
“suit yourself love, more for me.”
hobie who you introduce differently to your friends each time you bring him up. one day he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s your significant other, and the next he’s your ‘close friend’. they always question the constant switch ups, but you don’t ever seem to mind. you know where you stand with the man, and to him that’s all that matters.
“so what’s up with you and…..” your friend trailed off, stirring the ice in her drink.
“hobie?” you questioned.
“yeah him, so is he your boyfriend or what?”
“it’s complicated, he hates labels, makes him feel confined.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you lay your head on your palm.
“that doesn’t bother you? is he like scared of commitment or something?”
you scoff, lightly shaking your head, “no, he just doesn’t want to contribute to the system.” you answered bluntly, taking another sip of your lemonade.
“the system?” your friend asked, eyebrow raised at the quip.
“nevermind, don’t worry about it.”
hobie who subtly brags about you to his people. loves to show you off, and has no problem admitting he does.
“yeah bruv, my girl jus’ got into her dream fuckin’ college. been workin’ hard for that shit all year, man.” hobie boasted, pushing his hands out in order to bounce off the wall next to him.
“oh my goodness how wonderful! when do we get to meet this companion of yours?” pavitr questioned, flinging his body upwards to keep up with the male to his right.
“eh, don’t know yet, when I feel like it, yeah?”
all in all hobie is so cute and I literally am in love with him!!
#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#hobie x reader#atsv x reader#atsv hobie#literally loml#also obsessed with smoker hobie#don’t mind if I got the British slang a little wrong#I literally looked up popular British slang and ran with it 💀#so bare with me there 🤞🏾#hobie brainrot !#fem reader !!!!
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Okay, so, Hi! Could I request a Vox x reader, where the reader is his assistant, and they're like, really compliant and obedient twords him, and he thinks it's because of his hypnosis or whatever, but it turns out the reader is immune to it, and neither of them knew this.
A/N: I'll admit I really liked writing this one! I was a little worried about writing this request because i didn't know how i wanted to approach it, but this was a interesting one!
Character: Vox
Type: Headcanons (Vox x obedient assistant!reader with a hypnosis immunity, Fluff)
In the beginning, Vox would constantly use his hypnosis on you, just as he did the rest of his employees. It just made things easier. It left him with fewer messes to clean up, especially when an employee was first beginning their employment at Vox Tech. Sure, you acted more competent than a good majority of the lot, but it was still a precaution.
The two of you worked closely together, you were his trusty assistant after all. You even got to meet the other Vee's on occasion, too! Before he knew it you were always by his side... and occupying his mind.
He liked you and he knew it too.
Gradually, he'd stop actively using his hypnosis on you, it made him feel bad. And eventually, he actually stopped using it on you all together. Only you kept on as if he hadn't, as compliant and obedient as ever. It made him wonder if it really was turned off when he was with you.
That is until he and Velvette were having a meeting for some upcoming collaboration. They were airing some fashion show or something along the lines and were hashing out the details and what needed to be done by whom.
You were promptly given a list of tasks to get done by the end of the week and dismissed. With a smile that nearly made Vox buffer and a soft "You got it, boss," you were on it, leaving the video star alone with his younger cohort.
"Damn Vox, you've really got this one wrapped around your finger. Don't even need your Hypno-shit for it, neither."
Wait, what?
Sure enough, after a little bit of digging, he finally figured out that he hadn't been using it. The other Vee's would probably tease him for the better part of a year once they found out he didn't know, but he couldn't care less. But the icing on the cake? After discussing it with you, he finds that this whole time, you've been immune to the effects of all forms of mind control. He was elated! This meant that you would be equals, he wouldn't have that power over you, well, aside from him being your boss and all.
Loyalty, TRUE loyalty, was hard to come by in hell, but it only made him love you more. He probably short-circuited/buffered when you tell him. Of course, that meant that every time he had tried to use his hypnosis on you in the past, you knew
And yet you still smiled at him and carried out orders dutifully like you always did. Because of course, you complied because it was your job, but you smiled and spoke softly because you liked him. Oh, he was so smitten, and honestly, so were you.
While you may have remained his assistant, you also went on to become his partner. With you by his side, Vox knew he could take on whatever hell could throw at him.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin headcanons#hazbin imagine#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#vox headcanons#fluff#request
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Alastor x Wife! Reader
Oneshot / fluff
After you and alastor had moved into the hotel to “help.” Let’s just say that the rest of the hotel residents saw pda all. The. Time.
Vaggie watched as alastor kissed your hand again! “Sweet satan can those two get a room already that’s literally the seventh time he kissed her hand.” She grumbled out “aw come on vaggie you have to admit it’s sweet seeing love like that’s down here, it’s rare, except our love of course.” Stated Charlie.
“I get it, we get like that, but the difference is that we do it SOMETIMES they do it EVERY TIME they have the chance.” She Argued “and besides I just really don’t like that radio dipshit.” “Oh please you don’t like anyone attached to a dick.” Angel dust butted in while he laid on the other couch busy looking at his phone.
Vaggie could only roll her eyes in response “well I think our pda is not of your concern.” Spoke alastor with a smug look which made everyone except you jump a little “satan’s asshole do you always have to come out like that?!” Argued angeldust “it’s more entertaining to watch all of you jump in a little scare.” Alastor replied proud of himself to make them a little scared.
“Dear even if it was quite hilarious we can’t do that to them all the time… it wouldn’t be entertaining anymore like that.” You advised him while you walked towards him to be next to him. “You’re right my dear, wouldn’t wish that.”
“Yep a match made in hell.” Grumbled out husk then he continued to take his beer “husk is right my dear we the perfect pair.” “I don’t think that’s what he meant sorta, but we are perfect for each other.” Just then you looked to see the clock then you let out a gasp “oh Al we don’t want to be late for our dinner reservations.” You stated, “oh yes, we must get ready.”
With a simple snap of his finger’s you and alastor were completely dressed “what’s up with the getup?” Angeldust questioned “it’s our anniversary, so we going to the cannibal colony to alastor’s favorite restaurant.” You smiled “wait you’re a cannibal too.” Vaggie asked in shock “well… I did try demon meat and it’s not that bad.” You answers shrugging your shoulders “so that’s a yes? Or … no?” Charlie questioned further “mmm yeah I believe so.” You answered again.
“Huh didn’t take you for a cannibal.” Spoke husk “yeah have you ate another’s man pecker and Al if she did would you be ok with that?” Questioned angeldust “absolutely not.” You both answered “enough with the questions we must hurry (y/n).” Demanded alastor “goodb- you didn’t get to finish you’re farewell due to alastor, once again he snapped his fingers and you were at the restaurant.
“Thankfully my love we made it on time.” Alastor spoke while he grabbed your hand and guided you inside the restaurant. A host was at the front seeming to writing something “welcome to the FedOnPals how may- when he looked up he immediately panicked “T-The alastor by hen smiled wider “yes me the radio demon and my lovely wife!” Alastor stated proudly also just because you knew he was an attention whore so he wanted others to know he was there.
Of course some of the cannibals in the restaurant seemed nervous. “Well- yes um of course I see you’re name on the list so… let me b-bring to your table.” The man said clearly wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
Of course you two got the best seats in the house “a waiter will be with you shortly very… shortly p-promise.” The host immediately left with only made alastor chuckle “I do love the perks of being an overlord.” “Aw even more than me?” You teased with a smirk, he smiled wider “no dear you know I can’t love anything more than you.”
You smiled “I love the outfits you picked for us by the way very classy.” “Of course, only the best for my wife.” Just then a waiter came in “hello I’m Mindy and I’ll have your orders.” The demoness spoke as she gave you two the menus.
As the demoness left you two picked out your orders, ate, alastor paid then you two left to go to a jazz club to dance “oh honey you rembered my favorite spot.” You spoke with pure joy “I could never forget, besides our love for jazz is how we meet.” You smiled brighten as you pecked his cheek making him lightly blush “adorable.” “Me? adorable!? dear don’t joke like that.” Alastor demanded making you laugh “oh honey alright just having a little fun.”
Alastor opened the door for you, the song ‘lets misbehave’ by Irving Aaronson filled you’re ears “oh that’s a good song.” You stated, you thanked alastor and went through and he went after you.
You immediately dragged him to the dance floor which he happily let you, both you begin doing the Charleston funny enough this song always reminded you have alastor.
He then brought you into the foxtrot dance, you both looked into each others eyes that are filled with love. He the suddenly gave you a kiss making you blush but immediately kiss back.
You two continued dance, happy to in each others arms and having a loving relationship and knowing that you two where always will be inseparable.
<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#alastor x wife reader#reader insert#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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reader not feeling safe at night alone outside and calling Chris and js wants to talk to him for comfort and he gets all protective and wants to come pick her up but she says no and he keeps worrying and reader just thinks it's super cute and tells him and idk anymore
12 am - c.s
a/n: let’s thank spotify premium for getting me through this and the next few fics 😔🙏
the air was oddly cold as you walked the quiet streets back to your apartment after working a little later that you usually do.
normally, you wouldn’t have worked an extra shift due to how irritating your job was, but the extra money meant a lot to you at the moment, especially because your car was currently in the shop.
the neighborhood you lived in wasn’t too dangerous, but the silence and random dark corners you’d find yourself looking at sent chills down your spine.
taking out your phone, your hands subconsciously pulled up a very familiar contact and called before you could stop yourself.
less than four rings later, a soft,
“hello?” filled your ears.
“chris.” you winced to yourself, a little annoyed by the enthusiasm that you had.
“hey, what’s going on?” you weren’t given the chance to respond before he cut in again, “you okay?”
“yeah, no, i’m fine.” you brushed off his concern, “i just didn’t feel comfortable walking home in silence.”
a beat went by.
“walking home? you’re taking late night walks at twelve am? what the hell are you talking about? you should’ve been home three hours ago.”
“it’s not a purposeful late night walk, when’s the last time i did that without you?” at your question, chris get his cheeks heat up. it was true. anytime you thought about going out late, chris was immediately by your side, “i stayed a few hours later to help you.”
“yn, it’s twelve am and you’re walking home. i get that your cars in the shop but if you were gonna stay late you should’ve told me. i would’ve made matt pick you up.”
your shoulders fell.
you knew he wasn’t mad at you, but more so upset that you risked putting yourself in danger for the sake of not forcing matt out of his comfortable position in bed.
“i didn’t wanna be a bother.”
you could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone before he scoffed, “you’re never a bother, you know that. even when i want you to be.”
knowing he’d be embarrassed if you pointed it out, you didn’t respond to the last part, instead trying to reassure him,
“i’m almost home—”
“too late. we’re picking you up.”
you heard the car door shut and the engine start.
“chris—”
“you know what? you have to pass our house to get to yours, right? you can just spend the night.”
“i promise you, i’m fine.”
“i don’t care.”
you could practically see the shrug he gave just as headlights of car filled your vision.
chris hung up as soon as he spotted you looking at the car with a look of faux annoyance.
he wasted no time in hopping out the vehicle and trudging over to you.
“i just wanted to hear your voice while i walked home.”
“you can’t call me at twelve in the morning while you’re walking home by yourself and expect me to just give you words of encouragement for your journey.”
knowing he was right, but refusing to admit it, your cross you arms over your chest, “it’s twelve thirty.”
“that’s not helping your case.” he snorted, watching a smile make its way onto your face.
he pressed a hand to the small of your back, the feeling sending a rush of warmth throughout your body, “get in the car. we can watch movies and cuddle.”
the giddy look on his face made you selfishly happy for calling him at twelve am.
taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb @itzdarling @julliaaaaaaaaaaaaa @dracoflaco @heartsforchrisandmatt @lily-strnlo @alliehansson @stinkytwinkwinky @mstarniolo @mxqdii
#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo imagine
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Kinktober Day 20- Roommate!Miguel x Reader
*Requested by Reader ;) *
It was your third year of college and you had decided to get one of the dorm houses right next to the college. Finally! No more small apartment in a large dorm hall; no more random fire alarms because someone didn't know how long to cook popcorn; no more being locked out of your dorm room because you were in a shared bathroom; and finally, no more loud and obnoxious roommates. Having this house meant that you picked your roommate. You had your freedom.
What better than a roommate who is going to have their heads stuck in the books or at the library? You interviewed so many people, but only one caught your attention as the perfect roommate.
Miguel O'Hara
The man was not only eye candy, but one of the smartest students on campus. Correction, he was the smartest student. You were surprised when he was in the hunt for a roommate. The two of you got along and you decided to go with him. All you ever heard about him was either girls wanting to fuck him, or that he was a hardass who kept his head in the books. A perfect roommate.
Things were going smoothly for the first few months. You barely saw him due to your conflicting schedules, but he kept his part of the house clean. There was never any loud noise from his room, nor was there any reason to complain. The only little issue you were having was that he was too fucking sexy.
Lord did the impure thoughts start when you saw him exit the shower one day. You swore drool was coming out of your mouth as you stared at him. You would have never thought that Miguel was so fit. No wonder why all the girls on campus wanted to date him. The man had a body of a god!
"Perhaps I should charge a fee," Miguel said, waking you from your trance. Your face was flustered,
"Sorry! I was just surprised!" You admitted, hiding your embarrassment.
"Surprised it took you long enough to know why I like to hide here instead of the library?" You could have sworn you saw a smirk on his face, "Midterms are coming up. Let me know if you need help...studying."
Oh man, you were embarrassed. Since then, Miguel had gotten a little more snarky with you. In a playful manner. Honestly, it felt like he was pulling st your heart strings. The man was smart, hot and a menace to your thoughts. You were ashamed to say that you had thought about your roommate a lot at night as you played with yourself.
You weren't the only one. Miguel was pumping his dick in his hand every night to the thought of you under him. You were pretty dangerous to be around. Walking around in your underwear and a shirt; laying on the couch; hell, Miguel was even aroused by you cooking dinner. In his eyes, you were already his. He just hadn't sealed the deal yet.
"Argh, I hate men!" You cried out, planting your face onto the couch. Miguel was sitting on the side chair,
"Including me?" He asked, not straying away from his essay. You huffed, face him,
"No..."
"Good, now who do I have to beat up for annoying my precious roommate?"
"Hahaaa, just one of my classmates. We were doing a project and he had the gall to tell me I had no idea what I'm doing. I fucking major in the subject!"
As you were venting, Miguel was staring at you. He found it cute how red your cheeks got when you were angry. How tight your clothes were against your body. Miguel wanted to see you strip. To get lazy and comfy. It was something only for his eyes to see. He moved his laptop over his bulge, wanting to hide the fact that he was getting turned on from just staring at you.
"And then he had the absolute nerve after all that to ask me out! Like, why would I want to date a rude snob like him?! After I said hell no, he called me a bitch and went to shit talk me to his friends!" You whimpered, tears threatening to spill.
Miguel immediately went to your aid. He brought you a box of tissues, sitting beside you now. You rested your head against his shoulder, trying your best to not cry.
"I can beat him up for you, amor. (love). You can do so much better."
"Haha, thanks Miguel."
---------------
After that, you went back to your hard studies since Finals were around the corner. That boy who had bothered you prior stopped bothering you completely. In fact, he avoided you. It was strange, but you were happy about it. All you needed was to pass your classes. Miguel helped you study for midterms, perhaps he was willing to help you again for finals?
You were sitting in your shared living room, waiting for Miguel's class to get out. You were getting frustrated from trying to figure out stuff from another class. Glancing at the time, you inhaled deeply. There was still plenty of time before Miguel came home, you could use a little destress. Laying against the couch, you spread your legs and began to rub your clit was massaging you breast.
"Mhm, Miguel," You closed your eyes, imaging that it was Miguel toying with your body.
Raising your hips, you started to feverishly rub your clit. Whines coming out as you desperately wanted Miguel to touch you. You lowered your fingers to your aching hole, doing your best to finger yourself.
"Miguel!" You whined.
"Fuck," Miguel groaned as he walked through the door. You gasped loudly, fixing yourself,
"M-Miguel!? Y-Your c-class-?!" You panicked. Miguel hurried to your side,
"Don't you fucking stop now." He groaned, his hands making haste into your shorts, "Fuck, hearing your moans when I walk in. Cómo puedo contenerme? (How can I hold myself back?)"
You gasped as Miguel had you pinned to the couch. His hands quickly replaced yours and he entered two digits into your wet cunt. You moaned, arching your back into the couch as he pumped his fingers roughly. Your pussy clentching down against his hand whike your hips moved against his palm. His fingers were so thick, bigger than some of your toys. He was already stretching you out.
"Hah, ah, M-Miguel..." You whimpered a moan as he curled his fingers. Miguel licked his lips,
"Qué hermoso. Tu cuerpo se está desmoronando por mi culpa. (How beautiful. Your body just falling apart because of me.)" You trembled as you reached your first orgasm, "What a naughty roommate. Teasing me so much."
You panted heavily, never experience an orgasm like that before. You followed Miguel's gaze, watching him undo his pants as he licked his fingers. His pupils almost looked blown once he had a taste of you. It made you wetter. Finally, all of those wet dreams you've had of fucking your roommate was about to come true. Miguel cussed lowly as his belt got in the way.
"I never seen you this stressed," You teased, helping him undo his pants, "How long have you been wanting this?"
"Why do you think I became your roommate?" Miguel watched your reaction towards his large dick, "You?"
"Before midterms,"
You stroked his dick with both hands. His low rumbling groans were turning you on more. You brought your lips to his tip, licking the precum that had started to drip. You winced at the salty taste but continued to suck him. Miguel's hand rested on your head as you bobbed your head against him. It was difficult and you could not take him fully, but Miguel seemed to enjoy it. Tears formed from the corner of your eyes as Miguel forced your head lower.
Muffling against his dick, Miguel stopped, allowing you to breathe. You crawled over his lap, positioning his dick over your soaked hole. Miguel held your hips and placed you on your back before entering. The two of you moaned in unison. Miguel held your legs up as he stretched you out. Miguel was destroying your pussy and he hadn't even moved yet. You gripped the couch's blanket, raising your hips as he kept pushing himself inside.
"Looks like you need help with your finals," Miguel groaned, watching your pussy suck his dick as he finally fit his whole length, "Let me start by teaching this naughty pussy a lesson."
"Mhm, p-please," You begged. Miguel pulled back then slapped his length into you with force, "Ah~!" You cried out.
"Qué compañera de cuarto más cachonda. ¿A punto de romperse después de un solo empujón de mi polla? Tu coño fue hecho solo para mí. Mira lo mojada que estás, sólo para mí. (What a slutty roommate. About to break after just one thrust of my dick? Your pussy was made just for me. Look at how wet you are, just for me.)"
"M-Miguel!"
You gasped for air as he fucked your brains out. Each thrust was bringing your orgasm closer and closer. Miguel grabbed your breasts, playing with them as he sucked on your collarbone. His dick pounding you relentlessly. He had his body pinned against you like an animal in heat, refusing to let you go. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning into his ear as you reached another orgasm. Miguel shivered in delight and decided to reward you. He slammed his cock a few more times, filling your womb with his cum.
"Looks like you're going to need a lot more lessons, cariño (sweetheart). But don't worry, I won't charge my dear roommate."
"Y-You better not." You huffed. Miguel smirked as he gave you another slap of his dick, "W-Wait~ Mhm, d-don't...d-do that." Your whines turned into moans as Miguel kept abusing your poor cunt.
"After waiting this long, you really don't think I'm not going to fuck you dumb? Gotta make sure I keep tutoring you."
"Hah, hah, y-yes," You replied, throwing your head back in pleasure.
You did not care how many times you needed to ask Miguel for help. You knew that he would tutor you seriously. It was your payment that you really looked forward too. Anytime either of you were stressed, you two had some of the best sex. When it was time to renew your lease for the house, both you and Miguel did not hesitate to agree. Miguel was the perfect roommate. Perfect boyfriend. You were not letting go of him, and neither was he of you.
#kinktober#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel
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ITOSHI RIN gets easily jealous. He's unconsciously possessive of you.
He hates it whenever he sees you being all giddy and friendly with his rivals; special mention, isagi and sae. He despises it, so much.
Something about seeing you with another man making you smile somehow fuels his jealousy, it makes his heart burn with rage.
He isn't even the type to show his emotions. He just stares at you with a blank face, and it's difficult to figure out what the man in front of you could be thinking of.
Whenever you ask if he's okay, he'll just respond with “yeah i'm okay.” and give you a long hug, and you have to tell him that he's heavy and you can't breathe.
But by the end of the day, he knows you'll only be his. Why's that?
Because no other man could simply have you begging to be stuffed full, no man could have you all sprawled out on the bed, crying and whining.
Maybe, just maaaaybe, there's a part of Rin that thinks that breeding you is the solution to keep those annoying luke warm bastards away from you.
The idea of them seeing you with a belly all swollen, and seeing those guys back away from you makes him want to breed you.
Or even better when you carry a child with you that looks exactly like him, thinking of how adorable you two would be,
it really makes it hard for him to pull out and just breed you, wanting to baby trap you.
Oftentimes, Rin's soft with you in bed. Unlike the nonchalant persona of Rin that you always see with his peers, he's actually really soft. He always made sure you were okay, and he never did something you didn't like nor make you uncomfortable. He praises you during sex, kissing your tears away whenever his cock enters your pussy, trying to distract you from the stinging pain which seemed to never go away; you never got used to his length.
Though, during this time, it's different. He's mean and all cocky, humiliating you with his words and spatting all degrading words and not even giving you time to adjust to him, just straight up fucking you selfishly to how he likes.
Rin isn't easily overwhelmed, but whenever this happens, he just can't help but think with his cock rather than his own mind, fucking you insane while whispering all naughty thoughts to you.
“fucking hell, you whore, doing that on purpose?” he'd say in your ears all the while his cock thrusting in and out of your hole as you cry out that you definitely did not.
“come on, just admit it, you were provoking me to do this.” he'll accuse over and over again, along with degrading insults.
But of course, Rin also has a heart. He'll probably snap out of it once you actually start whining and telling him to pull out. He has to respect your wishes, after all.
With all his might, he tries his best to get a grip on his self control and pull out just before cumming and his seed dripping down to your abdomen.
Rin tries his best to comfort after that, he'll say sorry over and over again, and even cook for you even though you tell him that it was okay and you just got a little scared.
Rin loves you, really he does. He cuddles you after that, telling you jokingly to stop being so close with those bastards unless you actually want to get knocked up.
He really doesn't like sharing you even in a friendly manner, and maybe, just maybe, you'll provoke him and be close with his 'rivals' again if it meant getting another hard fuck from him.
© zeijias. do not copy/steal, translate, modify my work. ALL CHARACTERS R 18+
#bllk x you#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk smut#bllk x reader#blue lock smut#blue lock x you#bllk#itoshi rin smut#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin
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I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.
@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.
Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face.
The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun.
But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine.
And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected?
So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.
(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)
(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.)
By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it.
From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.
#i like how the Job sequence both shakes things up and doesn't at the same time#it's not totally necessary to make the arc work but the context helps you understand so much more#good omens#good omens meta#good omens 2#good omens spoilers#crowley#v watches good omens#job flashback
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Bucky needs to be smothered in kisses. No sex has to follow, just him allowing you to pepper kisses all over his cute face simply for being him and for looking so pretty and cute. Like, "Shut up, Bucky and take it" - proceeded by dozens of kisses 💋💋💋
Bucky deserves all the kisses! How about a little something for our tattoo artist?
What Dreams Are Made Of
Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader
Summary: You're on Bucky's mind before your date.
Word Count: Over 1.5k
Warnings: Ki-ssing, Fluff, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly
A/N: My second Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 1) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Sin on Skin AU, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky flopped down on the break room couch with a tired smile. He had a hard time sleeping the night before and wanted a little rest before his first client of the day arrived. It didn't surprise him when he struggled to sleep. He could sometimes be a night owl when he wasn't dealing with the occasional nightmare, but last night was different. You consumed his thoughts after he went home.
Every single one of them.
You thinking of me, Sugar? I hope you are.
Hell, you hadn’t left his mind since he first walked into your shop. His beautiful, sweet baker with the warm smile and humor to brighten his day. You looked too pure to be with someone who looked like him. He wasn't blind to the stares he received whenever he went out. With his physique and exposed skin littered with ink, many wrote him off as dangerous without a second thought. They would’ve been shocked to learn he was a bit of a science nerd who loved to read in his spare time or that he served his country alongside his best friend.
Something told him you’d appreciate all those little details about him, especially since you asked him out.
"Wish I was taking you out now, Sugar," he whispered to himself as he shut his eyes.
Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that he was a little nervous. From his chats with you, he gathered enough of an idea on where it would be good to take you for your first date. He didn’t want it to be generic though. If he couldn’t make it unique, it at least had to be special. Something you’d remember. You deserve the best.
And he wanted to show you he was nothing like your prick of an ex.
"Hey."
The sound of your voice beside him made his eyes open, his heart racing as you smiled. He hadn’t even heard your footsteps. When he tried to sit up, you pushed him to lay back down. The sugary scent that lingered on your skin from the shop had him licking his lips as you moved on top of him. But instead of your normal work clothes and apron, you wore a sundress.
One that was dangerously riding up your hips as you straddled him.
And he was too in awe to stop you.
“How did you get back here?” he whispered, not at all upset that you managed to sneak into the room.
“Steve let me in,” you whispered back, framing his face. He couldn’t decide where to place his hands. He wanted them all over you. “I had a break and couldn’t wait to see you.”
“You saw me last night,” he smirked as you leaned down, your lips dangerously close to his. “Not that I’m complaining.”
While the guys heard all about you and expected to meet you at some point, no one thought you would rush into the shop the way you had. You didn’t know it yet, but they all had a soft spot for you because of Bucky. Even if they didn’t, not a single one of them would’ve put up with how your dick of an ex spoke to you. Respect meant everything in their establishment and any man who talked down to someone the way he had with you had no right to be there.
The fucker made you cry, but I wiped that smug look off his face just for you.
“Too long to wait,” you smiled, your breath skimming his mouth. It paralyzed him as he waited to see what you would do next. “And I know our date isn’t until Friday, but I want to kiss you now.”
“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he smiled because yours was contagious.
“Because I want to thank you.”
“You don’t need to,” he promised. He’d stick up for you no matter what the situation called for. Call him smitten or a decent guy, that was just how he was.
“I want to. I also want to kiss you because you’re pretty. And, yes, you are pretty because I say so,” you teased, which earned an almost bashful smile from him. He was far from pretty, but any sort of compliment from you meant the world. “But mainly because you’re a good man and deserve a kiss.”
“Just a kiss?” he asked as he did his best to keep his hips still. You didn’t just deserve the best date, but you deserve a gentleman as well. Fuck, did he want you though and the things he wanted to do to you were far from innocent. He wondered if you felt through his jeans just how much he did.
“Just a kiss. For now,” you said, closing the gap between the two of you.
There was no hunger or desperation when your tongue slipped past his lips. Even when he deepend the kiss, you didn’t rush. It was soft and tender, but held the promise of something more just like your first kiss had. He wasn’t just a moth drawn to your flame. He carried the fuel and wanted to douse you in it.
Bucky craved to be the one who brought your fire to the surface until it consumed you both.
“Am I dreaming?” he exhaled, finally gripping your hips when you dragged your lips along his face. The featherlight motions were enough to drive him mad, tempting him to flip you over so he could explore your body properly. No, he needed to let you stay in control for now. “Sugar, you’re killing me.”
“And what a way to go, Hottie. So, shut up and take my kisses,” you giggled.
He chuckled as you smothered him with your lips and he took the opportunity to hold you closer. It felt right to have you in his arms. He couldn’t recall the last time he fell for someone so quickly, if ever. What if that scared you?
What if he scared you?
“It’s time to wake up, Bucky,” you whispered in his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”
Bucky’s brows furrowed as you faded from his arms. “Sugar?” he asked. Where did you go?
“Buck, you need to get up!”
Steve’s shout startled Bucky awake and it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the couch. His heart pounded before he realized he had been dreaming. You weren’t in the back room with him. You hadn’t smothered him with gentle kisses.
He was all alone.
“What the fuck?” he whispered, tossling his hair as he sat up.
Figures. It was just a dream, but I’m glad I had it.
“You okay?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his friend. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare you. Called your name a couple of times and that didn’t do the trick. Didn’t think I should touch you either.”
“I’m fine. Thanks,” Bucky huffed a little. Both of them had their share of nightmares after being overseas. Steve wouldn’t have yelled his name if he thought something was wrong, so he must’ve appeared peaceful enough. Peace. That was what you gave him, even if his jeans felt a little tighther and uncomfortable.
“You need a minute?” the blonde smirked when Bucky adjusted a bit.
“Why did you wake me?” he replied, avoiding his question. The guys knew well enough how crazy he was about you and didn’t need to know he was dreaming about you in the shop. “I’m sure it was extremely important.”
“Because your client should be here in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the appointment. So, yeah, extremely important.”
With a nod, Bucky slowly got to his feet. “Space is already cleaned and disinfected. Stencil’s done, too,” he said. He liked to prepare as much as he could and they prided themselves on having a clean and safe workspace. “Um, Sugar hasn’t stopped by, has she?”
Steve shook his head. “No, she hasn’t,” he answered, giving Bucky a small smile when he frowned. He knew all about the date. “But Friday is just around the corner if you don’t see her before then.”
He tried not to feel disappointment and swore he could still smell the sugary scent of you in the air. It must’ve lingered on the couch from when you were there the night before. He wished he could have that smell on his pillows and sheets. “I like her.”
“I know you do. We all do,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We even told Hal he wasn’t allowed to go into the bakery out of fear that she’d fall for his charm,” he added with a wink.
I’m charming, too.
“No, punk,” he said, not wanting to be more vulnerable than he already had. “I really like her.”
The playful look on Steve’s face fell, replaced with something softer. “I know, jerk. And I think she really likes you, too. So be the good guy we know you are and sweep her off her feet.”
That’s exactly what Bucky planned to do.
Bucky, our hearts are yours! Check out more of Hottie and Sugar wiht Sweet and Strong. Love and thanks for reading! 💙
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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Text
Yandere Jock x Reader
You did not want to be here.
The seats were cold. Your butt hurt. It was loud. And the smell of sweaty feet and gym shorts was nothing short of a headache this early in the morning.
You knew you were being dramatic. Nobody liked gym class. Well. Nobody except maybe Loren. The campus “wonder boy”.
You guess you understood the hype. I mean the guy was a star player for your colleges team. Not to mention, insanely athletic, and good at about, well, just about anything. Except for y’know. His studies.
Which y’know gotta have that little cliche in their right? Who doesn’t love a big dumb jock huh?
And of course he was otherworldly pretty. Because obviously.
Okay maybe you were being a little hard on the guy. You didn’t hate him. Hell you hadn’t even talked to him!
A small part of you was willing to admit it might’ve been a slight case of jealousy
But only slight! The guy had everything practically handed to him and here you were busting your ass!
It sucked yknow? I mean what’s someone gotta do around here to get a helping hand-
“Hey! Watch out!-“
Suddenly the sound of rubber against skin boomed in your ears. A sudden shadow blocked your sight, and it took a moment for the sound of your own heart beat to settle, for you to realize what had just happened.
“Hey, you okay?”
The shadow moved, revealing a large hand, firmly grasping a stray volleyball. A volleyball that would’ve smacked you straight in the face because you were too busy monologuing to-
“Hello?”
Oh right
You hesitantly moved your eyes upwards, and nearly groaned out loud.
Wonder boy. Of course.
Time to embarrass yourself with your poor social skills!
“Oh shoot, hey, sorry-uhm..thanks for totally saving me back there! I mean, saving might be a stretch cuz the worse that could’ve happened might’ve been a bruise or on the very slim chance a concussion- but still I appreciate-“
“Pfft..”
Mother fucker did not just
Loren must’ve noticed your sudden change in mood, because he quickly coughed into his empty fist with a shy smile. His brown eyes were twinkling obnoxiously in your opinion, from the reflection of the faux lights.
“Sorry- sorry…I just uh…you’re kinda dorky”
This bitch.
A scowl quickly took residence on your face, a snarl being on the verge of pouring out.
“Right. Well I said thanks so, I think I’ll be on my way now. Thank you, again for the save. Or whatever.” The last part came out as more of a grumble than anything, and yeah you might’ve been a little petty for it, but come on who says that to someone you just met??
As if realizing his mistake, Loren’s grin fell agape, and with slow reaction time, unusual for someone like him, he moved to follow after you towards the door way.
“Hey wait no! I meant it in-“
The door closed with a thunderous slam.
“-a cute..way.”
“……”
A hand perched itself on Lorens broad shoulder.
“Hey man! Who you talkin to?”
A fellow player chirped at the brunette, who’s lips had settled into a troubled frown before he snapped his eyes towards the other player.
He didn’t know his name.
There was a brief moment where the player swore he was being glared at by the Star member, but it was gone so fast he figured it to be a trick of the artificial light.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to the group yeah?”
—————————————-
God what a long day
Loren sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour, sweat pouring from his brow as he roamed the mostly barren halls.
It was fairly late in the evening.
There was the occasional straggler, most of who greeted him enthusiastically.
“Hey Loren! Can’t wait for the game this week!”
“Loren! You goin to the BMZ’s party tomorrow?”
He responded the way he normally would. Smiles, “hell yeahs”, and high fives. Though at this point he was just going through the motion. He didn’t really feel the need to show up to the parties. But he decided he’d wait to see how he felt by tomorrow.
Right now, he just wanted to get home and relax.
“Stupid- fucking professor! Couldnt wait till I- goddammit!”
Maybe home could wait a while longer
Loren peeked around the corner, and swore he almost did a backflip at the sight of you slouched against an empty classroom door.
Perfect.
“Hey!”
The moment your eyes drifted to his he swore he almost forgot how to breathe. You were way too cute.
But the frown on your kissable lips was disheartening to say the least.
“What do you want?”
Okay that hurt a little, but he kept his easy going grin as he strode to stand above you,
a visual he found…almost unnatural really.
It felt weird. Wrong, to be standing above you like that. But he disregarded the feeling for now. No matter how strong the desire to drop to his knees was.
“Need a hand?”
He heard you scoff
“Right..the professors gone so unless you have a key to the city than-“
Click!
He wanted to laugh at the stunned look on your pretty face. But that didn’t go well last time so he settled for a smile.
“…Ta-da!”
You looked less amused than he had hoped, with the way your head whipped back and forth before you carefully stepped in.
“Why the hell do you have a key that opens this classroom?”
“When you’re the “School Pride” you get a few extra privileges sometimes.”
You mumbled something at that, but he was unfortunately stood too far away to hear what you said clearly. He figured it was a jab at him. Not that he minded.
With quick, but still obviously cautious steps, you peddled on over to one of the front desks, where a lonely bag sat.
Quickly and nimbly you scooped it over your shoulder and made your way back to the brunette, who stood guard at the doors entrance. Almost dutifully.
Loren had to beg the universe that you didn’t hear his thundering heart and stuttering breath when you stopped directly infront of him.
Fuck you were so fucken cute up close what the fuck
“Thanks.”
“Huh?- Oh! Yeah of course anythingforyou”
.
.
.
.
“What?”
“What?”
“……”
You eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before seeming to sigh in resignation.
Moving out from the doorway, and away from him, you paused outside where you had previously had your little breakdown.
“Anyway. Thanks again. For the double save and stuff.” You almost looked pained saying that if he was being honest. But he’s take what he could get for now. “See you around. Or something.”
Wait what?
You were leaving again? Already? He barely even had time to stare at you!
I mean. Talk to you. And make up for embarrassing you earlier!
“Wait!”
You paused, almost irritatedly but seemed to ultimately decide to be civil and hear him out. Probably because you liked him now.
(No you were just tired.)
“How about you come to my game this week yeah? It’s on Thursday.”
.
.
“Why?”
“Because i want you to. And I wanna make up for this morning.”
Loren watched anxiously as you seemed to weigh your options.
“Please?”
Again, you sighed, before turning around and beginning to stalk off down the hall.
“I’ll think about it. I guess I owe you anyway.”
Nowaynowaynoway
Loren waited for you to turn the corner
“YES!”
He jumped up excitedly, “yes yes yes! Hell yeah!” clenching his fist with a enthusiastic grin, eyes practically shooting beams of excitement with how bright they were.
This was it. This was the beginning.
Fuck yeah! He was so pumped now!
You could consider this Thursday’s win dedicated to you.
———————-///—————
A/N: this ask/story was so fun to read and write about! I love getting asks so don’t worry about sending too many btw <3 thank you so much! Perhaps we’ll see more of Loren in the future? Hope you like my take <3
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