#best ask of the year i would love to discuss this more with you
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Day 5: When they want a romantic night, and instead you’re obsessing over a fictional character; jealousy jealousy <3
Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (lol)
Word count: 0.8k, 0.7k, 0.9k, 0.7k, 0.8k, 0.6k, 0.9k (respectively, for a total of ~5.8k) again, wayyyyy too long :(
Content and Warnings: soft yandere (though can be read as not yandere, for most of them), love, jealousy, SPOILERS FOR JJK AND SNK (though I think everyone knows about the current state of jujutsu kaisen and shingeki no kyojin finished ages ago now), insecurity, threats from Y/n, Hoseok's section gets spicy, mature 18+ content, baby talk in Hoseok's, grinding, gn reader for most of them except Hoseok's where reader is very vaguely implied to be afab, kissing, throwing pillows, implied cosplay sex (?) for Namjoon, lingerie in Namjoon's, isolation from loved ones, UNEDITED (I thought this day would be pretty tame, but with with this big paragraph, maybe it isn't?)
Author's note: Beep beep boop. Beep boop beep. Beep boop. Boop beep beep. Boop. Boop beep boop. Boop beep boop beep beep. Boop beep boop. Boop boop. ...Enjoy!
Seokjin (ft. Levi Ackerman from snk):
“It isn’t fair, you know, the fact that he had to go through so much. He was humanity’s strongest but really he was just an abused boy who did the best he could. He deserved so much better. I mean, at least he didn’t die. God knows that Hajime Isayama loves to kill all his characters.”
Seokjin just gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes locked with the wall.
“But like, still, considering everything, if one person deserved a true happy ending it was him.” You waved around your hand like a professor emphasizing the point they were trying to make as the other flipped through the pages of the manga you’d been talking about for the past fifteen minutes.
“Like, at least most of the other characters from Paradis had somewhat normal childhoods. They had some sort of happy memories, but Levi never got to have that joy. Everything in his life, when he would begin to cherish them, would get snatched from him! Petra, Gunther, Eld, Oluo, Furlan, Isabel, Erwin—all taken from him!” You pouted as you gazed down at Levi’s bandaged face, your frown only deepening at the sight of his missing fingers.
In a hushed voice, you said, “if I were Isayama, I’d have given him the best ending possible.” Then you let out a sigh before moving on from the sad page of Levi’s injuries. “But then again, Isayama barely gives anyone a happy ending, so the fact that Levi even survives is a miracle,” you mumbled near the end.
Jin just hummed, refusing to give you any proper response.
Just how many times do you need to discuss Levi when he’s right there in front of you? Quite rude of you to be talking about some other man in his thirties when your boyfriend has been sitting beside you for the past twenty five minutes. This should be considered cheating right? Emotional cheating, as you gush over some other guy instead of your handsome boyfriend? Seokjin sure thought so.
“You know the manga has been done for years, right?” Seokjin couldn’t bother hiding his snippy tone crossing his arms across his chest. “Maybe it’s time you get over it, and focus on more important things.”
Your brows furrowed together, looking up at him for the first time since you brought down the small stack of manga volumes from your bookshelf. You were greeted with the sight of you boyfriend sitting at the absolute far end of the couch from you, arms crossed, back straight, as he glared a hole into the wall beside the tv. He refused to look at you, even though you were sure he could feel your gaze with how he momentarily shifted in his seat.
“What’s this ‘more important thing’ I should be focusing on instead of Levi?” you asked, as you shut the book and placed it with the others on the coffee table in front of you.
Seokjin just shrugged his shoulders. “Idk, maybe your handsome boyfriend who finally had some free time today? You know, maybe him?”
His lips were downturned again, as you moved to sit right beside him.
You tried to fight back your smile by pressing a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “But Levi doesn’t have free time today?”
Jin turned towards you so quickly, you were afraid he’d pull a muscle.
You giggled at the affronted look he gave you, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“I’m just kidding!” you defended yourself, trying to pull his arms from his chest but failing miserably. “I’m sorry, okay? My gorgeous boyfriend is you, and I shouldn't be talking about some fictional character when he’s gotten dressed up so well for me. Isn’t that right?”
You managed to pull his arms away from his chest to give you a view of the nice clothes he had put on specifically for you. He wore your favourite clothes today, hoping you’d fawn over him, only for you to spend the better part of the past while talking about some drawing from a book. He thought you hadn’t noticed the effort he had put into today, but hearing evidence if your absolute attention had red creeping up his neck and onto his ears.
You threw yourself into his chest, causing his arms to wrap around you to steady the two of you. You nuzzled into him for a few seconds before looking up at him with a small grin.
“I love you, you know? More than anything and anyone. And I care more about our happy ending than anyone else’s, even if it is humanity’s strongest’s.” You strained up to press a kiss against his neck which left a chill against Jin’s skin, before settling down in his lap. Pleasure coursing through you at the sight of Jin’s pleased smile from below.
His arms tightened around you before he bent down to press against your forehead. “As long as you know who matters most,” he mumbled against your skin.
Yoongi (ft. Blade from hsr):
You finished up the simulated universe world. Even though you hadn’t gotten great relics this time around, you still got to collect the weekly rewards, so you couldn’t be too mad. But you had to admit, it did sting a bit.
You switched back to the character screen after salvaging the useless relics that you obtained and checking on your stock of stellar jades. Blade stared back at you as you fussed with the relics that you had currently adorned him with and tried to level up the one promising relic you had obtained. When you ended up with defense being levelled up for the second time, you gave up on the relic, instead just salvaging it as well.
You sighed as you clicked back to Blade, seeing him stare back at you before performing his idle, bringing his sword up to his eyes, inspecting it before bringing it behind to his back as it disappeared into shiny gold.
“Bladie, Bladie, Bladie… Why is it so hard to find good relics for you…?” You rested your chin in the palm of your hm gazing lazily at your monitor.
Blade, of course, did not reply. Instead he stared right through your soul as if putting the blame right on you.
“Hmm… I was so lucky when building Kafka, but the relics just suck when I’m farming for you.”
You clicked out of the character screen and instead ran around the map with Blade, listening to NPC dialogue and fulfilling random small tasks for stellar jade. You were out of trailblaze power and had nothing of significance to do. So you just enjoyed watching Blade’s mechanics as he interacted (being pretty liberal with the definition of “interact”) with other characters and took in his visuals.
He was your favourite character when you first started playing honkai star rail, but with time you realized you should probably try and make him stronger with more elite relics. It was harder than you originally thought. And now, even after a month of only farming for Blade, you had yet to pull what would be a legendary relic for him.
As you lamented your poor luck, you failed to notice the door to your gaming room opening behind you.
Yoongi creeped up behind you, listening to the music streaming its way out of the speakers he got for your set-up on your last birthday. He wasn’t surprised to see a zoomed in view of Blade’s face on your screen when he peered over your shoulder. He had expected it as soon as he’d heard the hsr soundtrack.
He stopped behind your chair, starling you as he began to speak. “Here I was hoping to see my wonderful spouse after work today, but instead I see them on a date with some depressed guy in my own home.” He sighed for effect, placing his hands on the back of your chair as he leaned over you to look at your screen.
“Oh hush,” you told Yoongi.
“What? So I can’t even speak up when I catch you with your second boyfriend now?” He placed his chin atop your head.
You laughed a bit, jostling Yoongi around a bit. “Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a date?” You finally played along.
“Not if it's between you and Blade, no it’s not. He doesn’t get to steal you away from me.” He wrapped his arms around your neck, holding you close against him almost as though he was pulling you away from Blade’s reach.
You held onto his arms as you laughed, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. Between laughs, you said, “Stop! You’re embarrassing me in front of my date.”
“Fuck your date.” He removed his arms from around you, spinning your chair around so you faced him. “You’re going on a date with me now.”
He pulled you up and out of your chair into his arms. He pulled you right into him until not even one air molecule was in between your bodies.
“Get dressed, I’m taking you out for dinner.” He reached a hand behind your intertwined bodies and turned off your pc with a pointed click.
He was willing to entertain your interest in other men so long as they were like Blade: fictional. The day he feels your interest swerving to real men, he wouldn’t take it so lightly.
Hoseok (ft. Choso from jjk):
“Look at him being all emo but so sweet!” you cooed at the man on the screen.
Choso was speaking to Yuuji about being brothers and just being all adorable, and it was getting on Hoseok’s nerves.
“Like when you look at him, you’d think he’s gonna be all grouchy or mean, but look at him—fuck, I’d ruin him.”
Hoseok’s eye was twitching.
“Like he’s so pure? But so hot? But so loveable? But so destroyable? I’d definitely ruin him.”
Hoseok’s blood pressure was rising.
“He’d be such a good father to my kids.”
Hoseok’s patience broke. “Well too bad Choso’s not real then since you wanna date him over me so badly!”
You jumped at Hoseok’s loud proclamation. You weren’t prepared for the enraged look on your sweet boyfriend’s face. Had you gone too far?
“I wasn’t being serious, baby,” you started, speaking as softly and level as possible. “He’s just a character that I find cute.”
Hoseok scoffed, his lips pulled into a frightening, annoyed half-smirk. “Yeah, a character that you want to have sex with.”
You placed a hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Pfft, so now you feel bad? Not when you were talking about how another guy was so hot and how you want to have kids with him? And how cute you find him? Do I mean nothing to you?”
Hoseok’s leg was shaking now, falling and dropping under your palm restlessly. You tried to smooth your hands over his leg to soothe him, but it only seemed to agitate him further.
He scoffed again, not even giving you a chance to defend yourself against his accusations. “You’ve never called me ‘destroyable.’ What, do I not get that right? Do I need to put red eyeshadow around my eyes and paint a black stripe over my nose for you to think me worthy of being the father to your kids?”
You winced. You didn’t think something as harmless as a fictional crush would upset your darling boyfriend so bad, but now you could see how you’d been out of line. I mean, maybe you wouldn’t like it if Hoseok had spoken about some other person, fictional or not, like that in front of you.
You crawled over to him on the couch, straddling his thighs despite how they shook even with your weight pressing down on them. He hadn’t stopped his periodic scoffs, his eyes locked on a point to the side as he seemed to be caught within his internal dialogue. He seemed to only be making himself madder with each second.
“Baby,” you called him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
Hoseok just shook his head, still not meeting your eyes.
“I was being stupid,” you continued. “Choso is pretty—”
He scoffed once again, causing you to wince. Wrong way to go about the apology, yet again. Goodness, why did you suck at apologizing?
“—But! I love you, not him. If anyone is cute, it’s you. If anyone is hot, it’s you. If there is anyone who I find loveable, it’s you. If there’s anyone that I want to destroy, it’s you. So don’t be mad, baby, he’s nobody.”
You did feel a little weird about how you had to make it clear that Choso wasn’t stealing you from your boyfriend, but you hated to see Hoseok so upset.
And it seemed like Hoseok appreciated the reassurance, because he was finally looking at you.
He watched you for a second, as you continued to massage his shoulders while sat in his lap. Hoseok could see Choso over your shoulder on the tv, and it gave him some sort of kick to know that despite him being on screen, you had your back turned to Choso. Your full attention on him, only him.
The worry on your face made contentment bubble in his chest, this is exactly how he liked you: fawning over him.
“Yeah, baby?” He asked, pulling you into him by the hips until he had his face pressed into your neck, placing small kisses on your pulse. “You like me more than him?”
You felt heat rise to your cheek as his hands slipped under your shirt, rubbing one hand on the small of your back as the other gripped at your waist, guiding you to grind against him.
“Yeah…” you managed to get out between soft gasps as he began to move you harder and faster against his hard-on.
He bit into your neck, rubbing his tongue over the teeth marks he left behind possessively. “You don’t sound all that convincing, baby.”
“I, um, I—” you gulped, overwhelmed by how quickly the situation had changed. You could feel him getting harder and harder under you. “I mean it, I only see you that way.”
Hoseok pulled away from the marks he’d sucked and bit into you. Looking up at you with a hooded gaze. “How you gonna prove it to me?”
You didn’t know what to say. Isn’t it proof enough with the way you were panting on his lap with his bulge pressing into you?
“Would you do anything to prove it to me?”
You nodded frantically at the olive branch he had extended towards you. He was giving you an out, and you would be a fool to miss it.
“Yeah, baby? You’d do anything?”
“Yes,” you purred, head falling onto his shoulder as he pulled your shirt off of you. “—do anything for you,” you said between gasps.
“Good,” he said, pressing his lips to yours, reaching down to unbuckled his belt. “Then make me a dad.”
Namjoon (ft. Nanami from jjk):
Nanami Kento was the living embodiment of a gentleman. The guy you’d bring home to your parents. The guy you’d imagine living the rest of your life with. The guy to buy you a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. The guy who’d listen to your rants about work drama, or friend drama, or family drama, any drama really.
He was perfect.
And he reminded you entirely of your boyfriend, Namjoon. The man you could always rely on, the only one who you’d brought home to your parents, the man who forwarded you real estate listings every weekend as he’d sweet talk you with the plans he had for your future together.
He was perfect.
And you needed to see Namjoon in a Nanami cosplay.
“Please, baby, pleaseeeee.” You gave him the best puppy dog eyes that you possibly could. “Please, please, please, please! I’ll do anything for you if you do this for me!” You had your hands pressed together as you begged in front of him.
He had just gotten out of the shower after a hard day of dance practice, and with just a towel covering his bottom half, he was bombarded with you and the outfit spread out on the bed.
“Please, please, please! If you do this for me, I’ll even put that lingerie set that you got me as a gag gift, just please, try it on.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him from the ensuite door, closer to the bed. He had to hold onto his towel with the other hand to prevent it from falling from how hard you were pulling him. You’d, in the time it took him to shower, spread out an off-white suit, a blue dress shirt, a set of brown suspenders, and a yellow tie with brown animal-esque spots out for him.
“Love, I do not want to get into a suit right now. I just showered.” His hair was dripping onto the clothes as he looked down at them.
“Baby! Please! It won’t be for long, I swear! I’ll get you out of it as quickly as I get you into it, promise!”
Namjoon raised an eyebrow at your words, a smug smile shining down at you. “Oh~ I see how it is. Me in this outfit, you in that skimpy lingerie—you seem to have a very precise idea in mind of how you want this to go, hmm?”
You couldn’t help the embarrassment from washing over you. You punched his shoulder lightly with a whine, before wrapping your arms around his muscular bicep, pulling yourself into his side. You pressed your cheek against his cool, damp skin as a way to hide your shame. You could feel him chuckling at just how quickly he’d seen through you.
“I wasn’t thinking of only that… I also wanted to take some pics of you in the cosplay ‘cause I thought you’d look cool in it…”
“Fucking liar,” he laughed more heartedly at your piss poor attempt of saving yourself from further humiliation.
“I swear!” you defended yourself, looking up to see his dimples smiling down at you, eyes filled with love. Your heart stopped for a second looking at the handsome man. Did you need to see him in a Nanami cosplay to have some fun? Cause right now, looking at his sparkling eyes and wide smile, you didn’t think you’d be able to give him the chance to put on the outfit before you jumped at him.
He raised a questioning eyebrow at your sudden stillness. “Not gonna beg me to indulge in your fantasies anymore?”
You shook your head before pressing your cheek back into his bicep, only for him to pull him into his chest instead. He was looking down at you with that look again. The look that reminded you of how this was the only mad you’d ever consider marrying.
“I think,” he said, swinging you around his arms a bit teasingly as he continued to look down at you with his wet hair, and glossy skin, “that I could put on this outfit despite how tired I am if you stay true to your promise of that lingerie. Think you can do it?”
You thanked God everyday for blessing you with a man who indulged you as much as Namjoon did.
“A-huh,” you replied, breathless.
“Okay, then get to it.” He gave his head a shake, causing the water from his hair to rain down onto you, making you giggle, the tension easing. “You get as long as it takes me to put on this cosplay to figure out that set of straps that they called lingerie before I come to get you myself, okay?”
Jimin (ft. Alhaitham from genshin):
“Turn it off.”
“No.”
“Turn it off.”
“No.”
“Turn it off, please?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on!” He threw his arms up before throwing himself face first onto the bed. He whined into the duvet convulsing around before rolling onto his back when you didn’t come over to him to soothe him.
“You hate me,” he said, looking at the ceiling.
“Nope.”
“You do, I know you do.”
“Nope, I do not.”
“You do, otherwise you wouldn’t be playing that stupid, partner-stealing man’s story quest.”
“Nope, it just means I like the character.”
“It means you hate me.” He shuffled up to sit beside you at the headrest of the bed. Letting his head fall onto your shoulder as he watched Alhaitham’s inexpressive face on the phone screen. Stupid, stupid man.
“Just admit it, you hate me. We might as well break up since you like this guy more than me.”
“Literally when did I say that?” you sighed, trying your best to pay attention to the plot of the quest as Jimin continued interrupting you.
“Just now.”
“When?”
“When you just said it.”
“I actually didn’t say anything, Jimin.”
“You said it in your mind and I could tell.”
“Jimin.” You turned to look at him. He was still glaring at Alhaitham. “You’re always doing too much.”
“Just admit you want to break up.” He weaseled his way from your shoulder into your lap, his head right under where you held your phone, looking up at you with fake teary eyes.
“Baby, it’s a video game.”
“It’s a declaration that you hate me and that you want to break up.”
“Jimin, if you keep saying that, I might actually think this is your way of breaking up with me.” You went back to tapping at your phone and trying your best to recount what you were meant to do next.
“I would never!” Jimin defended, burying his face into your stomach.
You relented to his whining, bringing one hand down to run through the hair on the back of his head.
He was picking at the side stitches of your shirt absentmindedly though he was still buried face first into your stomach.
You felt him mumble something into your stomach. “Hmm?”
He looked up at you, repeating what he’d said, “I’m gonna delete your account if you don’t pay attention to me now.”
“Jimin!” You turned off your phone, trying to push him away from you only for him to hold onto you tighter, resuming his position against your stomach. “I’ve spent years on that, you can’t just delete it!”
He’d followed through on these sorts of threats before, so you knew he was not just joking when he said this. “I don’t care, I’ll delete it if it gets between you and me.”
He’d deleted contacts of friends, peers, and coworkers from your phone before, but you never thought his jealousy would extend to video game personas.
“Jimin,” you stressed. “He’s just a bunch of pixels on a screen.”
“And those unfeeling pixels are stealing your attention from me.” He looked up at you with a pout that would be cute if he wasn’t being completely disagreeable once again.
“I literally spent the whole week with you, didn’t open genshin once, why can’t I just play for a few hours now? Besides, aren’t you supposed to be at work right now anyway?”
“Can’t go when my spouse is threatening to leave me.” He was kicking his feet now, clearly content with how his threats had worked. Your phone was off now and you were looking at him, speaking with him.
“Goodness, Jimin. I really don’t know what to do with you.”
“You could kiss me for a start.”
“Not after how much you’ve annoyed me today.”
“So you are breaking up with me? For a stupid fictional scholar? A scribe?”
“You know an awful lot about the man you despise so much, why is that?”
“He’s trying to steal you away from me. Successfully stealing you away from me. God forbid I did some research on the man.”
“Just for that attitude, I’m not gonna give you any kisses.”
“Okay,” he straightened out in front of you, sitting between your legs. “Then I’ll give you kisses.”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek with a goofy smile. Then your forehead. Then your other cheek. Then your nose. With each kiss, another bit of your anger subsided.
“Now you kiss me.” He puffed out his cheek, bringing it in front of your face.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grabbed his cheeks, and turned him to face you before giving him the proper kiss he’d been craving all afternoon.
He instantly melted into you, attempting to deepen the kiss, only for you to pull away from him.
“You only get more if you promise not to delete my account.”
He huffed. “Fineeee. I promise… for now.”
You smiled, shaking your head. “I guess that’s good enough… for now.”
Taehyung (ft. Howl Pendragon from Howl’s Moving Castle):
“Do you prefer blond Howl or black-haired Howl?” You were lying down on the couch with Taehyung lying on top of you, his head resting on your chest as Howl’s Moving Castle playing. You had stopped rubbing his back when you asked him the question, though your eyes remained on Howl turning into green slime over his dyed orange hair.
Taehyung just grunted, half asleep. His arm reached behind him, forcing your arm to move up and down his back again before letting go when you’d resumed your previous ministrations.
“What do you think?” you asked him again.
He was practically asleep, maybe it wasn’t the best time to be asking him about the movie.
Just when you thought he had fallen asleep he replied, “Orange-haired.”
You laughed. “Be serious for a second.”
“I am.” His arms tightened around your back, pressing harder into you.
“Come on, you’re not being serious. Blond or black?”
With his voice heavy with sleep he said, “Black.”
You hummed at his answer. “Yeah, black hair is nice on him. But I liked him blond better.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“His actual hair colour is black. It suits him better. It’s his true self.”
You pondered. “I guess so, but I just am a sucker for his blond look. Makes him feel… I don’t know. I don’t really have an explanation, I just like it.”
Taehyung was quiet again, you turned to check if he was asleep now but instead he was looking up at you with a scowl. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to go blond again?”
You brought a hand up to cover your smile, knowing it’d only cause him to be more adamant. “No, Tae. I was just talking. People always seem to discuss which Howl version they like more. Just wanted to know what you thought.”
“Well, I think I should go blond.”
“Literally why?”
“Cause you’re thinking of some other blond man. Want you to only think of me when you think of blond.”
There he goes again. “God, Tae. Forget I said anything.”
“No no, go on about how you hate my black hair and want to see me fry my hair to be blond again.” He was now propped up over you, using his hands to keep him hovering over you. All his sleep whisked away due to the arising fight.
“I wasn’t trying to imply anything, Tae. I love you how you are, I love your black hair.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
You were getting angry. Over the past few weeks he was getting more and more accusatory. Accusing you of not loving him. Of wanting to change him. Of having ‘wandering eyes.”
You were tired.
You didn’t even want to defend yourself at this point.
“Come on, say it.”
You closed your eyes, biting at your cheek as you tried to control your frustration. The last thing you want to do is give into his taunts and turn this into a full-on verbal fight.
You opened your eyes, bringing your hands to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back into your chest. “Baby, let’s just watch the movie.”
Tae allowed you to play with his hair as he considered whether to drop the topic. With the way you were caressing him, he really wanted to, but the nagging voice in the back of his head urged him to continue.
You watched him analyze your face for a minute or two. And you did the same for him, counting the beauty marks scattered across his beautiful face. His black hair falling into his eyes as he held himself above you. It was hard to believe that this angelic man was the one who would make day-to-day life so difficult at times.
“Can we?” you asked. You brushed his hair back from his eyes, holding his bangs back for a second before letting them fall back to their place.
His eyes flitted between yours, debating. Then he gave in, falling into your arms once again. “Fine. But I choose the next movie, and I’m gonna make sure there are no pretty blonds in it.”
Jungkook (ft. Gojo Satoru from jjk):
“Nah, I’d win!” Jungkook yelled, running away from you, ducking from the pillows you’d throw after him.
“Stop it!” You picked up the fallen pillow before resuming your chase.
“Nah, I’d win! And then—” he traced a line across his neck with a wide smile, before throwing his head to the side, tongue sticking out.
“JUNGKOOK! Stop it!” You threw the pillow at him again, but Jungkook easily dodged it, running into the kitchen.
He giggled loudly as you chased him around the kitchen island, stopping when you stopped to catch your breath but then giving you another taunt to make you chase after him again.
“What happened to your big strong boyfriend, huh? Couldn’t keep up with Sukuna now could he?” He asked with a wide toothy smile.
“Jungkook!” You called the name through your snarling teeth.
“What did you say again?” He put on the most atrocious imitation of your voice humanly possible and said, “He’s Gojo Satoru! He’s the strongest sorcerer alive! He’ll beat Sukuna easy!”
“Jungkook, I’m gonna kill you!”
“Oh, like Sukuna killed your little sassy boyfriend?”
You threw the pillow at him again, only for it to hit the Gojo figurine you had placed on your side table. You both watched it tumble onto the ground.
It was still in one piece, but seeing it on the ground made your anger flare up even further.
“Jungkook,” you sneered, turning to look at his frightened face.
He had his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t hit it, you did.”
“Jungkook,” you bit out the word, stalking towards him.
“Hey, baby, it’s fine! Look, it’s fine.” He picked up the figurine, and to be fair, it was fine. But your anger didn’t care about that now. Your anime/manga boyfriend was dead, and your actual boyfriend was being a dick about how upset you were over it.
You had picked up the pillow again, walking towards him slowly, and as you pulled your arm back to hurl it at him again with a scream, he sped off for your bedroom.
“Y/n! I’m sorry!” He didn’t seem all that sorry considering he was back to giggling again like a child as you ran after him. He jumped around couches and tables before slamming the door closed before you could follow him into the bedroom.
“Open the door!” You slapped your hand at the door a couple of times, jiggled the doorknob only to find it locked. “Jungkook, let me in!”
“Nope!” He popped the p sound, giggling behind the door. “You gonna kill your real boyfriend just cause the inferior, fictional one died?”
He was honestly very happy that Gojo had died. He was tired of not being the only golden man in your eyes anymore. Jungkook was the one who was good at everything that he did, not that dumbass anime man. And he had proved it, didn’t he. Inadvertently. After all, Gojo was dead, so he wasn’t perfect now.
Jungkook was full of glee.
“Jungkook, if you don’t come out right now, I’m gonna rip your collectible posters.”
He just giggled again. He could imagine your angry frown perfectly. How you probably wanted to destroy all his anime memorabilia as revenge for how he made fun of Gojo’s death. But he knew you were all bark and no bite.
“No, I’m not opening it.”
“Open it.”
“Hmmm,” he pretended to think out loud. Then: “nope!”
“Jungkook, you’re gonna have to come out eventually, and when you do, I’m gonna be waiting right here for you.”
Jungkook laughed, but when three hours had passed and you remained in front of the door, periodically knocking and asking to be let in, he didn’t find it as funny anymore. Well, it was still a little funny, but also it was a bit scary how your anger wasn’t subsiding.
Jungkook listened to the doorknob rattle from the bed, but didn’t bother opening his eyes. It was locked, you couldn’t get in.
So then could someone explain why the door was swinging open and you were suddenly set on top of his supine position. Your eyes red with both anger and sadness, your scowl set deep.
“Hey, Y/n,” he said sweetly.
“Hi, Jungkook. Wanna repeat what you said earlier?” Your hands were pressed against his pecs, face leaning in closer to him with each second.
“I don’t think I should,” he said with an eased smile. His arms were crossed behind his head, as if he didn’t have his angry spouse sitting on top of him at the moment.
“Not gonna gloat that Gojo’s dead?”
He laughed, jostling you around with each breath. “Don’t need to. You already know,” he said with a smirk.
You took your pillow from beside his head and smacked him upside the head with it. The soft downy fluff only made Jungkook erupt into giggles once again, his hands coming up to try (and failing) to prevent subsequent hits. He only laughed louder and louder, until he had wrapped his hands around your torso and tugged you into him.
You continued to struggle against him. “Let me go!”
“Nope!” He pressed kisses all over your face between giggles. Laughing at your half-hearted slaps at his triceps and forearms. “Can’t let you go when I’m so happy to have my partner all to myself again. Fuck that Gojo guy.”
You stopped struggling, exhausted from chasing him around and making a lockpick to get into the bedroom. “You’re so mean,” you whined. “Remember you used to like him too. You said he reminded you of yourself.”
He pressed a kiss to your head. “Not since he made me second place with my own spouse.” He turned you to look at him, giving you a smile before kissing you sweetly.
You returned the kiss before breaking it. You pressed your temple against his pecs, snuggling up into his arms. “So fucking extra.”
As you can probably tell, I'm still salty about some things lol.
#bts x reader#jin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#yandere jin x reader#yandere yoongi x reader#yandere hoseok x reader#yandere namjoon x reader#yandere jimin x reader#yandere taehyung x reader#yandere jungkook x reader#bts scenarios#bts drabbles#series: love amour aur pyaar#ev's writing
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Imaginary Games
▪️Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem. Reader
▫️Genre: Romantic, Smut, Exes to Lovers, Smidge of Hurt
▪️Warnings: 18+ Explicit language, sexual content (vanilla), pining idiots, past infidelity.
▫️Summary: The only thing that could make a destination wedding - in which you're the maid of honor, who has to give a speech in front of a crowd, who has to wear a dress that cost you a pretty penny that you'll never wear again - worse is the fact that your cheating ex is the best man.
▪️WC: 8k and some change
▫️AN: Repost from previous blog. Honestly I just really liked this fic. It wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea and I get that. Cheating is one of those things that we all have very strong opinions on, naturally, and that’s totally valid. For me, I just really enjoyed writing this and I liked how it turned out. The whole bit about Taehyungs ruined cashmere alone was enough for this to make the reposting cut 😂🧶
“He isn’t here yet, he won’t be here until dinner tonight so you can relax,” Fi, your best friend and blushing bride-to-be tries to comfort you as she shifts around on her beach chair.
She’s talking about Taehyung, of course, you don’t need to ask. He’s your ex, that you haven’t laid eyes on in two years. Not since the night that he admitted to cheating on you with a co-worker. You’d felt so incredibly stupid. You’d been casually babbling about meal planning of all the mundane things (it’s more cost effective and healthy blah blah!), and he started crying and spilled the whole story out of guilt. You’d been too stunned to argue, or fight, so you did what you always do when someone hurts you: You said nothing, or at least nothing of value, and you walked away. He’d tried to run after you, begged you to just talk to him, tried to wipe the tears that fell from your face in a devastated shower, but you wouldn’t let him. You slapped his arm away so hard your fingers had tingled for an hour, and you told him never to speak to you or touch you again.
A typical person might fight, scream, or try to have a discussion. A typical person would ask questions between bouts of screaming like “Do you love her?” “Did it mean anything?” “Do you still want me?” - the kind of questions that are natural when you’ve been fucked over like that. You definitely dwelled on those questions a lot, but you were too stubborn to ever ask them, because that would mean you’d have to speak to him, and you’d made it clear you were done speaking. If you spoke to him that might give him the impression that you were willing to listen to his side of things, and that might lead to him thinking you could forgive him. Can’t have that.
You’re not a forgiving person, not when the offense is that deep and it was. You loved Kim Taehyung with your whole heart. You planned on doing ‘old and gray’ with him. You built future plans together, he was your best friend, he was your safe place and you were all those things for him as well. It was right, he was Mr. Right.
You find it so unusual and infuriating that even after two years, you feel that pain like it was freshly served every time you think of him.
“I’m relaxed,” you tell her with a stiff shrug, “and this weekend is about you and Joon, not me, so I don’t care when he’s coming.”
In the two years you’d been broken up with Tae, you had found it quite challenging to keep up your friendship with Fi, considering her significant other - and now fiance - was Taehyungs older brother. In fact, they met because you and Tae had set them up on a blind double date. You managed, however, to avoid him at all costs. Until now, because who else would Namjoon choose to be his Best Man other than his brother?
“Yeah you really look it,” Fi snorts, “you’re sitting beside the ocean underneath a warm sun and you look so uptight that I’m scared you’re going to start shitting diamonds.”
“Well maybe I’ll shit a necklace, it can be your ‘something new’,” you tease and she laughs, maybe you’ve dodged the wrath of her observational skills.
You try to go back to your book, you’ve made it all the way to page two, but just like every other time this morning you’ve attempted to read - the words start to blur together when your mind begins to think of the inevitable: He will be here. You will have to interact. You’ll have to play nice.
“You know, Joon says he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you two split,” she offers casually as she flips onto her stomach.
“Fi…” her name comes out as a warning.
“Sue me, I’m just saying that it’s worth noting the man has been punishing himself the entire time you’ve-,”
“Where’s your phone? I need to check the time,” you say quickly, digging in her tote until you feel the shape of the device that you don’t need whatsoever. You’ve got nowhere to be until dinner this evening.
“You can change the subject all you want, but tonight at dinner you’ll have to face the problem you’ve been running from all this time head on,” she reminds you, painfully.
“I’ve not been running Fi. I walked away, with the entire thing blowing up behind me and didn’t look back. There’s a difference,” you point out.
“Fine. Avoiding is the better verb then. Semantics,” she eyes you from under the brim of her hat, “you never gave him the chance to explain what happened.”
You scoff, “Unless his dick leapt off his body and kamikazed into her vagina I don’t really need to know what happened. Do you know what happened?” you ask out of curiosity, though you immediately regret the words, it gives the impression that you give a shit.
“No, I don’t. I promised you I wouldn’t discuss you with him and I haven’t - though he’s tried many, many times - but I do think it’s a conversation you should have with him ___,” she props herself up on her arms, “People move on from affairs all the time, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The point is that they decide what’s best based on all the information, not just the pain it caused.”
She’s making you angry. You bite down hard on your lower lip to ground yourself. You don’t want to yell or fight with her, not this weekend when it’s her big moment. Her wedding.
“Hey, I’m starting to feel the sun,” you say, and it’s not a total lie, “I think I’m going to go in and cool off, get some water and lunch. Do you want anything?” you ask.
You look up towards the hotel and see that Namjoon is on his way down with a towel draped over his shoulder.
“Ah, nevermind,” you pat her on the back, “a buff Sea God approaches. He’ll take care of you.”
You gather up your own things and start walking up the beach access where you cross paths with him.
“Joon,” you greet him with a little nod.
“Hey. So, how many mimosas has my bride had this morning?” he chuckles.
“Four,” you answer, “but those last two had like the vapor of OJ in them, so I think it’s probably time for a dunk,” you wink.
You don’t quite make it into the hotel before you hear Fi’s shrill scream and you smile as you watch Joon pluck her off the chair, toss her over his shoulder and head to the water. They splash and play and you can’t help but enjoy it - but then pain encroaches on the moment and your smile fades as it so often does, and you disappear into the hotel before anyone can see how bitter you are.
~~~~~~~~~~
Namjoon and Fi had wanted you all to carpool to the restaurant together, but you’d insisted on driving yourself for a few reasons.
For one, it gave you an immediate means of escape, should the sight of Kim Taehyung drive you to projectile vomiting. Also, it gave you some time alone to talk yourself up, to psych yourself into thinking you could navigate this evening without succumbing to any emotions. You’d done such a good job, for two long years, of not letting him know what he did to you. Not letting him see how he devastated your life. Most importantly though, not letting him in.
“The Kim-Park wedding party?” you tell the hostess as you walk into the lobby. It must be freezing in here, the way your arms and legs erupt in chills.
“Sure,” she smiles brightly and points across the dining area, “out on the patio, just through those glass doors.”
“Thanks.”
No less than sixty seconds ago, getting out of your car, you’d felt confident. However, as you close in on the patio doors you realize that despite knowing this moment was coming, despite going over it in your head every night for the past few months - you have no idea what to say to him. You’d not practiced the conversation even once in your head, which is unprecedented for you.
You pull your hand off the door like it burned you and slip to the side before anyone from the party can see you through the glass. You press your back up against the cold wall and take a deep breath.
“I think we’re both doing the same thing.”
His voice, so deep and familiar, daggers you. You look over and sure enough, on the other side of the doors he stands there, tall and lean, pressed up against the wall with his fists shoved into his pockets.
He crosses over to you, and you take an instinctual step back, he notices but doesn’t remark on it.
“I’m hiding from you and you’re hiding from me,” he continues.
At some point, you’ll have to speak. Eventually he’s going to think you’ve either lost your voice or worse, that his presence has rendered you speechless and you refuse to let that happen.
“Why would I hide from you?” you ask, correcting your posture and steeling your nerves.
“Because you don’t know what to say, and you hate not knowing what to say,” he answers and your blood boils at the fact that he’s right. You hate that he knows you, inside and out, knows your personality, your faults, your strengths, your comforts. He knows what you look like naked, what you love in bed and how to - STOP. There is absolutely no way you’re letting your mind go there.
“Why would you be hiding from me?” you ask instead of admitting he was spot on with you.
“Because I was afraid at how much it would hurt to see you,” he says, “turns out it was worse than I’d thought.”
He looks at you then, really looks, from your face all the way down to your heels.
“You look so pretty,” he whispers with the saddest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a human being. You think you also see the glint of tears dusting his lids.
“Thanks,” you say in a cold, disinterested cadence, “We should get in there before they start wondering where we are.”
“Listen, __, I’d really like to sit down and talk to you this weekend,” he stops you by placing his palm gently on your shoulder. It may as well have shocked you, the way you stiffen up and shimmy away from it.
“Taehyung,” you say sternly, “We’re here this weekend because your brother and my best friend are getting married. It’s their weekend, and you and I are responsible for making sure everything is memorable and good. That is the beginning and end of my obligations. So I really couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you want.”
Then you push through the doors without giving him a chance to reply.
You hate yourself. You didn’t have to be that cruel, not after two years of giving him the silent treatment. The look on his face tells you that you may have taken it too far.
However, by the time you’ve sat down you’ve already switched gears. You angrily set your clutch on the table. The look on his face? On his face? It’s nothing compared to the look that was on yours. The look you wore for months in the wake of what he’d done. So he can look however the fuck he wants. To Hell with him.
A waiter brings you a glass of champagne and you fight the urge to chug it down and ask for another. That won’t do any good though. The last thing Fi and Namjoon need is for you to get hammered at their party and ruin it. Besides, champagne hangovers are the worst. It’s not worth upsetting Fi.
When you look up to see Fi storming towards you, you think that ship may have already sailed.
“What?” you ask like a child about to get yelled at.
“What did you do to him?” she hisses, taking the seat next to you. You don’t dare ask who she means, else she might smack you out of your chair.
“Nothing?”
“That’s weird,” she scrunches her face, “because Joon is in the mens room convincing Taehyung not to leave! He’s crying ___.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes.
Her hand squeezes your arm, more violent than comforting, “Go fix this. For two years I have been on Team ___ one hundred percent. I have cried with you, screamed with you, drank with you, wallowed with you and hated on him with you. It’s my turn. Please go be on my team.”
Her words hurt, and you suddenly feel like a villain.
“Okay, okay,” you stand and finish off your champagne, “I’m going right now.”
When you swing open the mens room door you catch sight of Taehyungs disheveled face in the reflection of the mirror. You have to look away because he’s so devastatingly handsome, but also because it turns your stomach in knots to see him hurt, even after everything that happened.
“I’ll just,” Namjoon mumbles, side stepping you towards the door, “yeah.”
You both stand there silent for a long time, the only noise in the space are his sniffles, which echo against the metal stalls. Eventually someone is going to come in so you need to move it along.
“I won’t apologize to you,” you begin with, because you feel like it’s important to outline that boundary. You owe him nothing, least of all an apology. “There are no words that I could use against you that will hurt you more than you hurt me.”
“I’m sorry,” his apology comes out in a hoarse rasp that grates on your deepest heartstrings. “___, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to know that by now. I’ve not dated another person, I’ve not even fucking touched anyone since you walked out of my apartment - two years!”
You don’t believe for a second that he’s been touch starved for two entire years, and you add that on to his pile of lies.
“I love you, still, I’ve loved you every second,” he blurts it all out in a rush, and you expect he assumes you’re going to walk out or slap his mouth shut any second. The words still effect you, the notion that he still loves, after all that’s happened, and you feel your throat tighten with the threat of tears.
“Don’t,” you hold up your hand, “Just don’t. We need to get it together. Namjoon and Fi expect us to be there for them this weekend and that’s what we need to do. So we’re going to walk back in there together like we’re best fucking friends, go on, do what you need to do,” you wave toward the sink.
He sighs, resigning to you, and turns away.
When he’s splashed his face and dried off the two of you end up where you started at the patio doors. He offers you his arm.
“Pretending to be friendly doesn’t require you touching me Taehyung,” you point out.
“Can I at least open the door for you?” he asks, pushing the door ajar before you can answer. The palm of his hand ends up resting against the small of your back. You stiffen and shoot him a look.
“Sorry,” he pulls it away rapidly, “old habits.”
“Break them,” you seethe, then transition back into the party, trying to look pleasant.
Your back tingles in the wake of his touch, or maybe tingle isn’t the right word, but you feel it. Like a phantom pain. You hate that it felt good, natural, and like a comfort.
You try not to think about it. You try not to think about how different this weekend would be had he not ruined everything. You try not to think about how happy and fun it would be to celebrate Namjoon and Fi together, as a couple. Would he have proposed by now? Would he have done it this weekend? After Fi and Joon ride off into the sunset together, would he have taken your hand and walked you down the beach and given you a ring?
You push it down, pretending that you’re not hurting. You smile through a dance with Taehyung and Joons father, and brush it off when he mentions how disappointed he was how things ended between you and his youngest son. You smile through a photo of the wedding party, which just consists of you, Tae, and the bride and groom - thankfully you stand on the opposite end of Taehyung.
You wait until you get back in your hotel room to fall apart.
~~~~~~~
“No rest for the wicked?”
Namjoons voice startles you. You’ve been sitting in an outdoor area of the hotel that overlooks the ocean.
“I don’t get to come to the beach often, just soaking it in,” you tell him and look out over the seemingly infinite darkness of the water against the night sky.
He hands you a beer and sits down in the seat next to you.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you,” he says, “for talking to Tae so he wasn’t a sniveling mess all night.”
“I didn’t,” you reply honestly, “I have no interest in talking, but I did tell him we needed to keep it together for you and Fi.”
Namjoon nods and sips his beer.
“You’re still angry with him?” the question sounds more like a statement, but either way it irks the shit out of you.
“Wouldn’t you be?” you snap a little.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Maybe. I’d think I’d at least want some closure though. So I could move on with life without being so angry all the time.”
“I’m not angry all the time,” you argue.
“Aren’t you?” again, it sounds more like a statement.
“You know, since it’s such a monumental event I’ve been trying really hard not to knock your heads together, but if you and Fi don’t stop dredging up my relationship with your brother I make no promises,” you half joke, half warn.
Namjoon laughs a little, but his smile fades after a few moments.
“Maybe we just see something you don’t.”
“Yeah? What do you see?” you challenge.
Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to be brutally honest?” he asks permission.
“Sure,” you lie and take a difficult swig of beer.
“I see my little brother, who made a mistake. A terrible, awful, stupid mistake - but a mistake no less,” he begins but you cut him off already.
“Namjoon, a mistake is filing your taxes wrong. A mistake is forgetting to pull the roast out of the oven. A mistake is something you didn’t mean to do. Fucking someone else is a very long string of choices in which multiple opportunities to stop occur and the person chooses to continue anyway,” you explain.
“Okay, fair enough,” he sighs, “I see my little brother who made a very awful and stupid choice. I’ve watched him rot in it for the last two years. I’ve watched him punish himself to torture. He won’t let himself enjoy anything, he won’t let himself be happy. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh. I’ve never seen him in such a dark place.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart,” you mutter darkly, taking a long sip.
Namjoon tenses, but he doesn’t scold you.
“Then I see you,” he points the tip of his bottle towards you, “who’s writhed in your own misery for two years. You never even had a conversation with him, you just stamped a period down before the sentence was even over. You love him,” he holds his finger up to shush you when you start to deny this, “Don’t deny it. Just shut up and listen. You love him, because if you didn’t it wouldn’t still effect you so much. He loves you too, by the way. I’m not saying you need to get back together with him, I know it seems like that’s where I’m going with this but I’m not. What I mean is that you need to talk, and I’m sure it will be a very uncomfortable conversation, but you both need that closure. This misery has to end.”
“He cheated on me Joon,” you say pathetically, chin wobbling.
“I know, I know he did and it was so disappointing to all of us. We were all pissed at him, but I also know how uncharacteristic it was. He’s never done anything like that before, and I doubt he’d ever do it again. You’ve got to stop acting that even entertaining the idea of forgiving him or even speaking to him would make you lose this imaginary game that no one is playing,” he says.
An imaginary game that no one is playing.
The words play over and over in your head long after you finish your conversation with Namjoon. They plague you all night, and most of the next day.
Are you playing a game in your head? The more you allow yourself to think about it, the more you realize that you’re no different than you were that night. You haven’t changed or grown or moved forward in any direction in two years. You’re still the same wounded, humiliated, hurt woman who was sitting in his apartment while he told you he fucked someone else. Maybe you should have had a discussion - no maybe - you should have. Probably not that same evening, God knows you were in no condition to have a stable, adult conversation.
In the aftermath though, that’s when people start to rebuild, and you did nothing of the sort. Not with Taehyung by any means, but not with yourself either. You’d chosen to stay miserable, chosen to hold that hate so strong in your heart that no one, not him or anyone, could penetrate it. You’d done it all because you thought it would punish him, but all you’ve truly done is punish yourself.
~~~~~~~~
Rehearsing the ceremony, and going to the dinner that followed was non-negotiable as Maid of Honor. Obviously. This is the part you’d been dreading, because as Best Man, Taehyung was practically your escort for the duration of the wedding.
So far you’ve managed to remain civil, if being completely silent is civility. Thankfully Taehyung has read the vibe and hasn’t tried starting up any type of conversation with you. Eventually the minister pulls Namjoon and Fi off and you and Taehyung are left completely alone.
“Think we’re done?” he asks.
You’ve rehearsed the ceremony no less than seven times, and aside from the bumpy first take, the rest went off without a hitch. The music is on point, you and Taehyung know your cues, Fi’s youngest cousin had a blast tossing her pretend flowers. Everything went according to plan.
“Probably,” you offer him three syllables and no more.
“Good. I’m starving,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees. He starts playing with the sand beneath him, and you watch him. Like this, with his attention elsewhere, you can observe. His hair is much longer, his frame a little thinner and you wonder if that’s got something to do with an emotional issue or if he’s been dieting or something. It bothers you, that he might not be eating properly, and you get angry with yourself. Then Namjoons words echo, “an imaginary game that no one is playing.” Being concerned about a man that you spent loving for so long won’t make you lose anything.
“You’ve lost weight,” you tell him, attempting to keep any emotion from your voice. You pull your arms around you.
“I guess,” he shrugs, looking at himself as if he’s never seen his own body.
“You should eat more, you look thin,” you say, then before you can add anything else, you stand up and walk away toward the banquet room. That’s where the rehearsal dinner will be, and that’s where they can find you if they need you. You can feel Taehyung staring at you as you go.
Everyone is so enamored with the bride and groom that you scrape by without being noticed much. You fill a plate that you poke with your fork, and smile when it’s appropriate. You look happy whenever Fi starts talking to you about anything, and you smile and participate in pictures.
You’re sat next to Taehyung for most of the dinner, but thanks to the chaos of the event with so many conversations going and attention on Fi and Joon, you don’t have to interact with him much.
“These noodles are fucking good,” he says as he slurps some into his mouth.
“Here, take mine, I’m full,” you use the back of your hand to scoot the bowl over to his area.
“Thank you,” he says politely, though you can feel his eyes boring into you as if to ask ‘why are you being nice to me?’
“You’re welcome.”
“Wine sir?” a waiter asks Taehyung and gestures to his empty glass that’s remained as such the entire time you’ve been eating.
“No, some more water would be nice though, thanks,” he says and the waiter nods and trots off.
“It’s good, not too sweet,” you tell him, picking up your own glass and taking a sip. This is your attempt at a conversation, the sweetness of wine.
“I don’t drink anymore,” he says in a way that makes you feel like you shouldn’t ask why. Something in your stomach twists and you think you can probably guess.
He was probably drunk, when it happened, when he decided to bed somebody else. It puts a sour taste in your mouth as you swish the wine around. You force it down your throat and set the glass back down on the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin and standing up.
“I’m going to go lay down, not feeling good,” you tell Fi, and you can see in the way that she looks at you she knows you’re lying. You don’t care. The rehearsal went fine. No one cried. No one yelled. You’re still on her fucking team, but dinners over, and you don’t have to do this anymore, at least until tomorrow afternoon.
As you’re heading out you notice the table where they’re keeping the bottles of wine and champagne being served. With a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching you pluck a bottle off the table, they can consider it your fee for having to make a speech in front of a crowd tomorrow. Small price to pay for gushing about love and happily ever afters when you’d rather eat dirt.
~~~~~~~~
The hotel pool closes at 10PM, and it’s well after midnight as you sit on the edge, skirt bunched up around your thighs, legs dangling in the water.
Fi had come to check on you, and you’d continued the charade of a headache, explaining that you’d taken something and you’d see her in the morning to help her get ready for her big day. She was apprehensive, but left you alone.
Too overwhelmed by the silence of your room, you decided to take your stolen booze and sit by the empty pool. The sound of the nearby ocean should be enough to drown out your thoughts.
Except it wasn’t.
You were still thinking about everything Namjoon had said. You were still thinking about what you wanted to say to Tae. And each time you took a sip of wine, you were thinking about him hovering over his coworker, the scent of alcohol on his breath, as he pushed into her and made her feel good the way he did with you. You felt like vomiting, but kept drinking anyway, call it self-flagellation. A punishment for being a bitter hag who can’t let anything go.
When the pool gate creaks open, you turn, expecting to explain to a staff member that you were just about to leave. It’s not an employee though. It’s Taehyung.
Your gut reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but you stop yourself. He seems to expect it, in the cautious way he approaches, he looks as if you’re about to send him away any second. Instead you turn back to the water, watching the reflection of hotel windows ripple on the waters surface as he rolls his pants up and sits next to you.
“It’s warm,” he says after several moments, when it’s clear you’re not going to snap him in half.
Silence. You sit next to one another for what feels like forever, though only about ten minutes probably pass. You take languid sips from the bottle occasionally, but you don’t look at him or offer any words. You’re just procrastinating, sitting stagnant as you’ve been doing for two years.
“Go ahead,” you finally say.
“What?” he croaks, seemingly shocked that you’ve spoken at all.
“I want to know,” you take a big gulp from the bottle, “I want to know why you did it.”
He takes a long time to answer and you wonder why. After two years, after all the five thousand word essays he tried to send you, shouldn’t he have all this outlined already?
“The entire PR department was at that conference,” he starts. You remember. He’d gone to a week-long conference with the other people in his department, which you’d not really given much thought to, but that’s where it happened. While he was away.
“The group had never been out together, in all the years we’d worked with each other, so on the last night we decided to go out drinking at some bar. It was all just good fun, until it wasn’t,” he says darkly and you waiver, but let him continue.
“We got so drunk, God I was wasted,” he says with a shake of his head, “the kind of drunk where anything sounds like a good idea. Someone could suggest jumping off a bridge and you’d be like ‘fuck yeah, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard’ because you’re just so out of your mind. Eventually we all had to go back to the hotel we were staying at, but I honestly can’t remember if it was because one of us suggested it, or because the bar staff wanted us out, but somehow I ended up in an Uber with Lia.”
Lia. You’d met her several times at his office Christmas parties, and you knew she was the one he’d fucked without ever having to say her name. You choke down the whimper that wants to escape and wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.
“She randomly admitted to me that I was her work crush, but I could barely comprehend what she was saying. The car was spinning. I kept looking out the window, but then she’d start talking again. She was telling me that her marriage was ending and she was depressed. She felt alone and hopeless - it was all so heavy - and then she started touching my leg, and scooting closer-,”
“Okay stop, stop,” you suck in a ragged breath.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought maybe being transparent was best, but the whole truth - without the gory details - is that there was no reason ___. I was drunk. She was drunk. I think I felt bad for her, but I don’t remember feeling anything. I don’t remember what we said, I don’t remember how it felt,” he drags a hand down his face, “I threw it away for nothing. I ruined us, everything we built, everything I loved, everything I wanted for absolutely fucking nothing.”
You look away from him and hide your face so you can sob quietly. He places his hand on top of yours, and you stiffen, but don’t pull it away.
“Please say something,” he urges.
“I don’t know how to feel,” you sniff, “I don’t know if I should feel better because it was nothing or feel worse because you threw me away for nothing.”
“I’m so sorry,” he repeats and you’re not sure how many times you’ve heard the words, a thousand - millions? Suddenly though, it doesn’t disgust you when he says he’s sorry.
“I hated you,” you say.
“I know,” he cries, “I deserve it.”
“I hated you because it was your fault, you’re the one who ruined everything, you’re the one who should’ve suffered but instead I spent six months balled up in my apartment sobbing, screaming for you, screaming at you, I was a fucking mess Tae,” you sob.
“I know, God I know that I hurt you so bad, and I know you may not want to hear it, and I know it was a different kind of pain but I swear to you I have been in agony for the past two years,” he sniffs.
“I will never be the same,” you admit, to him and to yourself, “I will always feel like I’m not good enough, I will never be able to trust like I used to, and I will always wonder when someone is going to choose someone else over me and it’s all your fault!”
“I’m so sorry ___,” he says. He scoots over close and starts to wrap his arm around you. God damn it you want him to. You want him to comfort you, you want to cry into his shoulder. You want it so bad.
So you shove him into the pool, naturally.
You watch him flail for a few seconds before he realizes the water is only waist deep, then he stands up, flinging his wet mop of hair from his face and sputtering water.
“Are you kidding?” he squeaks, he looks like a drowned mouse.
The look of utter shock on his face has you biting down hard on your lips trying to hold it together, but it comes out anyway.
You laugh. You laugh so hard you can’t breathe, so hard that you snort, so hard that you feel like your chest is going to burst but you can’t stop.
“Sorry, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts,” you tell him between gasps of air.
“Intrusive…fuck,” he mutters, trying poorly to pull himself back onto the edge of the pool. You use your foot to shove him back in.
“___!” he scream-laughs.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shrug, still giggling.
“Yeah?” he gives you a look as he pushes his wet hair out of his face.
“No…” you warn, but before you can even get the whole word out he drags you in by your arms.
“Bastard!” you squeal, wiping the water from your eyes.
“Sorry, I gave into my intrusive thoughts,” he parrots and then splashes you for good measure.
You shove him backward and he disappears under the waters surface, until you feel him grab you by the ankles. He pulls hard and you lose your footing, joining him under the water. You fight the sting of chlorine as you open your eyes, finding your target, and you reach out and pinch one of his nipples beneath his ruined sweater before pushing off the bottom to get air.
“Oh that does it!” he jeers, dramatically rubbing his chest and leaping over to where you try to scramble out of the pool. He grabs you by the waist and drags you back down, pinning your arms with one of his and using his other hand to tickle you.
“Stop! Please stop!” you plead between fits of laughter.
You manage to loosen his grip and twist yourself until your chest is pressed against his. Suddenly playtime is over, and it’s just you looking up at him, his arms still around you, unrelenting.
“What are we doing right now?” he whispers, pushing a wet piece of your hair off your cheek.
“I think I’m forgiving you,” you say, and you rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you tighter. It feels so good that you continue to stand there, despite the absurdity of standing in a pool fully clothed.
“This pool is closed, and those clothes are not appropriate swim attire to be wearing in the facilities,” a stern voice intrudes and you both spin around to see a very annoyed looking employee drumming her fingers on the top of the fence.
“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping towards the pool stairs.
“We were just going, we’re very sorry,” Taehyung echoes as he follows suit.
“Yes, well, the pool rules are posted right here,” she taps a sign hanging on the fence aggressively, “for future reference. Have a good evening,” she grumbles, though she looks like she hopes the two of you have anything but.
Taehyung grabs a few towels off a nearby caddy and you pour out the wine, then toss the bottle into a waste basket.
Only a few people stare as the two of you walk towards the elevators, clothes drenched, but then again, there’s only a few people around at this hour anyway. You both grin like cheshire cats as the doors shut in front of you.
Without giving it much thought, you reach over and lace your fingers into his, and when the elevator opens on the floor that’s been rented for the wedding, you lead him out and down the hallway to your room.
“Wait,” he stops short, though he doesn’t let go of your hand as you slide the card into the door lock.
“What?”
“Are you sure you want me in there? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and have you regret all of this,” he says, holding your hand to his chest.
“I’m not going to, at least that’s not my plan,” you assure him as you cross the threshold - though if you’re being completely honest, you have no plan. You have no idea what you’re doing, or if it’s a good idea or a bad idea.
“Then… what?” he wonders, looking like if he breathes the wrong way or says one wrong word you’ll smite him.
“Take your wet clothes off and just lay down with me,” you shrug.
“You want me to get naked, then get in your bed?” to say he looks stunned is an understatement.
“Yes, if it will make you less uncomfortable I’ll sleep naked too,” you tell him with a shrug, pulling your skirt off.
His eyes darken just a bit, “Is this some kind of torture? You want me to press my body against yours and try not to touch you?” he laughs, but his mouth sounds dry as a desert.
“It’s not meant to be a punishment, but yes, that’s what I want. I want to lay here with you, in a very vulnerable state, because I want to know what it feels like. I want to know if it makes my skin crawl or if it makes me want you to fuck me and hold me against you the rest of the night. I’m testing the water, so to speak,” you say. You continue peeling wet layers of clothes off until you’re completely nude, then you pull down the sheets and get in.
Taehyung stands there for about three seconds before he starts fighting his wet clothes off. You watch the lean muscles of his stomach ripple as he tugs the, very expensive looking, ruined cashmere off, and you lock eyes with him as he pushes his jeans and boxers off in one go.
He’s hard, which isn’t very surprising, not that you’re just so incredibly irresistible that he can’t help it, but you understand what he’s going through because you are too. You’re wet, you can feel the slickness with every movement of your lower body. It’s been two years. You weren’t completely chaste in that time, though it was never anything that lasted more than a weekend, and the number of encounters were very few. You also aren’t sure if he was being honest about his two year celibacy streak, you’re not ready to accept that or not, but if it is true he’ll probably combust. You only take a tiny bit of inappropriate satisfaction from that.
When he crawls in as well the two of you just lay on your backs, a whole other person could fit in the space between you, and you stay like that for a little while.
“Skin crawling yet?” he asks timidly.
“Not yet,” you sigh, and turn the lamp off, then roll over next to him, draping your bare thighs across his. You’re a little embarrassed that your slick slides against his leg.
“Jesus christ,” he groans in a whisper as your hand slides up to find purchase on his chest, his arm coming around to pull you in close.
“What about now?” he asks in a strain.
“Nope. Not yet.”
You’re being honest. It doesn’t make you sick, or angry, and it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve lost. There is no imaginary game. No imaginary score. Not anymore, and you breathe the first easy breath you’ve taken in two years.
You take his hand that rests on top of yours and pull it down your torso, his fingertips brush over one of your nipples and your lips part against his shoulder.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you continue pulling his hand lower and lower until his fingers rest above your cunt.
“What do you want?” he asks, twisting over so you’re more under him than beside him. His fingers play idly in your soft tuft of hair, but he doesn’t try dipping them any lower.
You take a deep breath, your pussy aching, “I think you owe me one, wouldn’t you say?”
He nods, licking his lips, “I’d say I owe you a lot more than one, tell me, I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me,” he urges you, his lips ghosting the side of your face.
“I want you to touch me, and then I want you to go down on me like your fucking life depends on it,” you take his mouth with yours, sliding your fingers into his still damp hair to anchor him.
You both let out involuntary moans when his fingers come in contact with your slit. He drags the wetness up from your entrance to your clit, circling around in a way that has you pushing back, spreading your thighs further for him.
He toys with you as you kiss him, tongues teasing, teeth bumping, but his fingers persist. Then he pushes one in, followed by another and you groan.
“Tae,” your voice is soft and pleading, and he delivers, thrusting his fingers into you hard and deep, the way you love. The way he knows you love. He pauses every so often to work your clit, and each time you have to hold yourself back, have to control your body so you don’t cum so soon, so you can enjoy it longer.
“Does it feel good?” his voice is deep and scratchy in your ear and you nod, eyes closed, hips moving in time with his fingers, “Are you close?”
You can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes, “Yes. So fucking close, fuck,” you curse as his fingers go back to your clit, this might be it, but he slows down.
“Do you want me to finish you like this, or do you want me to eat you out? Because I really, really want to eat you out,” he smiles, taking your ear between his teeth gently.
“Tongue,” you manage, “Definitely tongue but please keep using your fingers for the love of God.”
“Absolutely,” he kisses you deeply once more before disappearing under the sheets.
“Oh my god.”
When his tongue drags up your slit, your back arches so far off the bed you’re pretty sure you’ll feel it tomorrow. Your mouth drops open as he fights your hips back down on the bed, tongue snaking and sliding over every centimeter of you. When you finally manage to settle down, he pushes his fingers back into you, lips wrapped around your sensitive bud in a gentle suck.
Your eyes water at the sensation as you gasp and shake, then he switches to soft, wide licks and it finishes you.
“Ohfuckohfuck,” your hands land on the sides of his head and you hold him in position as you cum, contracting rhythmically around his fingers, still buried inside you.
When he resurfaces you immediately drag his wet mouth onto yours and wrap your arms around his neck.
“More,” you tell him, reaching between your bodies to guide his cock to you.
“I won’t last long enough for you to go again,” he warns.
You shake your head, “I don’t care, just keep going, please,” you beg and it sounds so desperate but you don’t care anymore.
“I missed you,” he whispers, and he pushes into your still throbbing cunt. “Oh fuck.”
It feels like forever before he starts moving, thrusting in and pulling out agonizingly slow. You meet him with every push, grinding into him, connecting yourselves.
“I can’t,” he whines, “I can’t hold it.”
“Then don’t,” you tell him, dragging your nails down his back.
“Shit,” he freezes on a particularly deep thrust and you feel him twitch, spilling himself inside.
He collapses beside you, damp from sweat and breathless. He’s beautiful.
You scoot over and wrap yourself around him, like before, and he pulls you in, kissing the side of your head.
“I missed you too,” you whisper, then close your eyes and let yourself rest against his chest.
~~~~~~~~
You wake up to frantic knocking on your hotel door.
“___! Hi, it’s me, Fi, I’m getting married today, in case you forgot - just mentioning it because you and I have an 8:30 appointment for massages and it is now,” a brief pause, “8:27 and I’ve not heard from you!”
“Shit!” you scramble out of bed, grabbing the blanket as you go to wrap it around you.
“Ahh!” Taehyung whines, “Cold!”
You open the door and greet her.
“Oh my God,” she says, looking at your naked, disheveled state wrapped up in a hotel duvet.
“Uhhhh…”
“I’m cold!” Taehyung shouts from the darkness of the hotel room and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her reaction.
“Oh my GOD,” she screams.
“I’ll meet you at the spa, I swear, just…go…just…I’m so happy and this is your special day…but go,” you stumble over the words.
“I…” she points to the hall, “I’ll go. Meet me down there,” she says then jerks you close, “and be prepared to tell me fucking everything.”
You pad back into the room, flipping on the light switch. Taehyung sits up and rubs his eyes.
“Hi.”
You slide into your bra and grab a shirt, “Hi,” you say back. “You have to go.”
“Do I have to go because you’ve got somewhere to be? Or do I have to go because I make you nauseous and you don’t want to look at me anymore?”
You press your lips together trying not to laugh, “You have to go because my best friend and your brother are getting married today, and we both have places we need to be - with them. After everything is over, we can figure all this out,” you say pointing between the two of you.
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
He nods, then gets up grabbing his discarded clothes from the night before.
“This is still wet,” he frowns, showing you his sweater.
“Sorry about your fancy sweater,” you laugh.
You’re not entirely sure what to say or do, so you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek.
“I’ll see you later,” you tell him.
He nods, “Later.”
~~~~~~~~
When you check in at the spas front desk they send you to the waiting area, where Fi awaits you, looking very smug.
“Don’t,” you tell her, taking the seat next to her.
“Don’t what?” she says innocently, “Don’t bring up the fact that I just caught you red handed from spending the night with my brother-in-law?”
“Technically he won’t be your brother-in-law until after 1 o’clock,” you point out.
“Deflecting. Interesting. What does that mean I wonder?” she raises a brow.
“Weren’t you and Namjoon both hounding me, telling me I needed to talk to him?” you ask.
“Talk?” she snorts, “Boy, when you have a talk you sure go all out.”
“We did talk!” you defend, “Before - we had a conversation at the pool.”
“How did that go?”
You think about it for a second and sigh, “Well, it definitely made me sad. It reminded me of everything I felt in those months after everything. I ugly cried clutching a bottle of wine,” you say with a half laugh.
“I can tell, your eyes are grotesque - no offense - we’ll have to fix that for the photography later, but go on,” she compels.
“So yeah, I cried, I told him how much I’d hated him and how miserable I’d been, he apologized for like the trillionth time and I don’t know, I felt different all of a sudden, I actually believed him. So I pushed him in the pool and ruined his cashmere,” you explain.
“The cable knit Celine?” she gasps.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, walking over to the coffee bar, praying it’s strong.
“Sorry,” she says, “but that shit is easily more than two G’s. But yes, we’re talking about you, sorry. What made it feel different? And why did you push a grown man in cashmere into a pool?”
“Something Namjoon said, the first night Taehyung was here after the bathroom incident, he kind of put things in perspective for me,” you tell her.
She smiles dreamily, “Yeah, he kind of has a way of doing that huh? What was it he said?”
“Imaginary games,” you say.
“I don’t follow?”
“Would you say I’m a forgiving person? That I handle offenses well?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Fi says resolutely.
“Agreed. I get in my head and keep score. If they hurt me, I have to hurt them worse and if I can’t, then I act like letting it go is losing, so I hang on to it and stay angry because in my sick little toxic mind, that means I’m still winning,” you sit back down and slurp the coffee.
“Tired of winning now?” she says softly, taking your hand in hers with a squeeze.
“Yes,” you sigh, lay your head on her shoulder, “I’m tired of winning now.”
“Good.”
~~~~~~~~~
Fi was stunning. No, more than that - she was traffic stopping, literally. In her custom wedding gown, guests and even strangers literally stopped in their tracks to stare at her. You cried all day at how beautiful and happy she looked. She glowed. You only looked away from her once really, to see Namjoons reaction when she cornered the aisle and came into view - worth it.
At the reception Fi leans over to you, “I think someone has been itching to get you alone all day,” she whispers, nodding over to Taehyung who’s in the middle of a conversation with a cousin, but you see him side eyeing you every couple of seconds.
“I’m your maid of honor Fi, it’s my job to be in your ass all day in case you need me,” you tell her, resisting the urge to run to him.
“Okay. I appreciate that and everything, but I’m letting you go. Your job is complete, you married me off. Now go,” she nudges you out of your seat.
You walk over to him as the cousin disappears back into the throng of people and he turns to you.
“Dance with me?” he asks, and you nod as he takes your waist on the floor.
You sway back and forth to some romantic jazzy number, resting your head on his shoulder, drinking in his scent and his warmth. You smile.
“So what happens now?” he whispers, “What happens when we leave this paradise and have to go back to the dreary, gray city?”
You look up at him, and he kisses you gently on the lips.
“I think…”
“Yes?”
You tilt your head and smile, “I think we should start meal planning.”
“Meal planning…” he looks perplexed, but then recognition reaches his eyes and his face softens. “Meal planning.”
“Yes. It’s more cost effective, and it’ll be easier to eat healthy if we only buy what we plan for.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” he grins, then pulls your head back onto his shoulder and the two of you continue dancing, even when the music changes to a more upbeat song, you just sway back and forth, pressed together tightly to make up for the distance you held for too long.
#bts fanfiction#taehyung fanfiction#Kim Taehyung#romance#oneshot#BTS smut#Taehyung smut#18+ only#V fanfiction#bangtan#taehyung x reader#Taehyung girlfriend
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Hey peru travel advice if u got any?
please have fun there in the greatest country of south america a very beloved nation 😭💕💕💕💕💕💕
try the anticuchos they're amazing. try the lucuma ice cream from the street vendors!!!!! try a pisco sour, try choclo with queso fresco, try lomo saltado, chicha morada, emoliente, ceviche, picarones, papa la huancaiya, tacu tacu, chachangas, etc etc just eat lots of everything nothing is bad. go to a fruit market and try cherimoya. there's also a lot of chinese and japanese and italian food there that has been peruvianified, it's great. the food in peru is fucking amazing, try everything.
when i went i had the massive advantage of staying with and being shown around by my mother's friend who was born and raised in lima, and i was just a teenager so she basically planned everything and i just did whatever she told me to do haha. so im not gonna lie i never really had to do research or worry and idk exactly like .. i can't give the most amazing tips. she took us mainly to educational places like museums, historical sites, churches, at one point she took us to a dairy farm outside lima where they made queso fresco. we also visited a trout farm. like any place you'd expect a class of eighth graders to take a field trip, that's where we went haha. it rocked.
i can say definitely visit the smaller museums and smaller archeological sites. there is a national museum in lima that documents the civil war of the early 90s that i highly recommend. idk if you'll be in lima or huancayo or nazca or macchu pichu or what but wherever you are there are incredible archeological sites to visit nearby. it's not just macchu pichu.
i can also say, we took buses to travel everywhere, including long distances to other cities. we went to small local bus depots and i was usually the only person on them that wasn't from peru. i found that traveling this way was very cheap, and i saw extraordinary scenery, and there were sometimes good food vendors on the bus, or on very long distance drives, the driver would sometimes stop at a good restaurant that was very cheap. i loved it. one time going back from huancayo to lima, the bus did break down a bunch of times delaying our trip by several hours, but even that was one to the most extraordinary experiences of my life. driving through those mountains and forests, down into the vast desert and towards the coast, during the most beautiful sunrise ive ever seen in my life, made the inconvenience and discomfort more than worth it. these long distance buses are usually pretty nice, too, they're very similar to an american greyhound. so i would really recommend that especially if you know someone there or are balling on a budget.
on the practical side of things, do not drink or brush your teeth with unboiled tap water. you'll get sick. my friend didn't drink any but brushed her teeth with it, and she got sick as a dog and couldn't come to nazca with us.
also, peru has very strict wildlife exportation laws, so be cautious about bringing home any souvenirs made out of wild animals or wild animal products, bc they will probably be confiscated from you when you get back home. alpacas are domesticated so you're good there.
also i think you should buy a huge bottle of vanilla from a local market bc the vanilla there is delicious
it's been my observation that peruvian culture is very kind and polite. ppl don't make a lot of eye contact but everyone is really cool. idk if you're fluent in spanish or anything but don't be nervous about trying to speak it if you're not that good, and try to be very kind to ppl, bc there's a really generous and welcoming spirit, ppl will be kind to you.
if you need a doctor, just go, bc it's super cheap, like twenty bucks for an appointment.
don't worry about the elevation. just drink a lot of water and bring some excedrin. don't be a weenie it's a once in a lifetime experience!
i love peru so much it's very close to my heart. im so glad you're going, please tell me how things go!!!!!!!
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Drabble List #10
75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.
"Thank you, I really hate it."
"Can't figure out the right answer."
"Sit down and shut up."
"I'm definitely open to that."
"Why don't you answer your phone?"
"It's not a witchhunt."
"Is it suddenly getting colder?"
"That child is staring at you."
"Let's talk about some options."
"And then you just lost it?"
"Have you heard about this story?"
"It's going to be a great day today."
"Don't say another word."
"This is absolutely not my fault."
"What would happen if I'd kiss you right now?"
"It's always a risk, but think about the reward."
"There is a fine line between stupid and genius."
"I never really left."
"Answer me. Quickly."
"You hold no power here."
"We learn from our mistakes."
"Have you seen that the sun is coming out?"
"This sounds like an interogation."
"Should I call my lawyer?"
"I have always admired you."
"Who's at your house right now?"
"Call the number. Now."
"When are you getting paid?"
"It miraculously stopped working."
"I have absolutely no answers to your questions."
"You took us on a wild ride there."
"What did she look like?"
"That's a scam, ma'am."
"Let's see each other again in ten years."
"I will be waiting for you."
"Please, don't pick me."
"Not my friends, not my problem."
"It's not paranoia if they are really out to get you."
"You are such a hypocrite."
"Nobody asked me, but I will answer."
"How did you get your degree?"
"I'm not going to discuss this with you."
"Great, who cares?"
"You just can't handle the truth."
"I'm curious about your motive."
"Respect is not given freely."
"Your pride will be your downfall."
"Just let it go, okay?"
"Why do you insist on it?"
"Seeing you like this, I fell even more in love with you."
"I don't want to hear another word coming out of your mouth!"
"I just know that everything will go well."
"This is very important for me."
"Wow, the weather is really... doing its thing."
"Don't even try to talk to me."
"I can and I will sue."
"Maybe this was a mistake."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"You never had the best ideas."
"Don't wait for me."
"Who would you call?"
"That's too wild for me."
"You can't even say it with a straight face."
"I told you not to touch that."
"Do I really have to answer that?"
"Takes one to know one.
"Let me make this right."
"When did you become an expert in this?"
"Nothing is as serious as it seems."
"How could this accidently happen?"
"It's not my birthday."
"Sounds like wishful thinking."
"Welcome to my personal hell."
"Do you even know who I am?"
"The devil knows I tried."
Drabble Masterlist
Have fun creating and writing!
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰
#drabbles#drabble prompts#writing ideas#writeblr#writing prompts#writers on tumblr#writing#prompt list
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so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?
I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.
Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König
Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.
A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3
Soap
I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.
He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.
Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.
Unless they want to.
For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.
The slightest thing can set him off.
Someone brushing past him ? Hard.
Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.
He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.
He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.
Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.
And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.
Gaz
Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.
The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.
He doesn't.
Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).
But he doesn't need to know that.
Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.
Albeit, that line is a thin one.
If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.
The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.
He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.
Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.
Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.
Ghost
The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.
Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.
He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.
That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.
More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.
During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.
Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.
And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).
Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.
König
Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.
Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.
Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.
Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.
He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.
He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.
König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.
Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.
That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.
Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.
Price
You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.
Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.
Who hasn't ?
But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.
Until he comes home to you, of course.
Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.
Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.
There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.
When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.
But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
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#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut#john price x reader#john price smut#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#cod#cod konig#konig x reader#konig smut#konig x you
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Don't Blame Me
Fandom: Bridgerton
Summary: Daphne Bridgerton is your closest childhood friend, her eldest brother, Anthony, is the love of your life. After avoiding each other for years, you both finally lose control.
Length: 3.2k
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
Content Warnings: Unprotected sex, sex in public, penetrative vaginal sex, orgasm, 'caught in the act' vibes, best friends brother.
Bridgerton master list
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Like many other close family friends of the Bridgerton’s, their home was always a beacon of safety and comfort, especially for you. You were Daphne Bridgerton’s first friend, and you had remained close well into adulthood, she wrote to you still from her new life with the Duke. Unfortunately, Daphne would not be able to meet you in Mayfair this season, the Bridgerton’s playing host while your mother and father were out of the country. It was your third year out; you had a few hopeful matches in mind, not realizing how difficult the season might be with unobtainable love staring you in the face.
“We are so glad to have you this year, y/n. It has been so long since we have seen you around the Ton” Violet Bridgerton was as much your mother as your own.
“Father’s responsibilities have been consuming these past few years. Mother and I hardly made it to the season last year. I am glad to be here, spending some time in familiar places” You smiled, linking arms with her as she escorted you to the ballroom. Your parents had entrusted your match to you, however, had requested the viscountess to keep a watchful eye.
Waltzing into the drawing room, just like old times, Benedict and Colin, discarding their playing cards, exclaimed with joy, rushing to greet you as if a long-lost sibling had returned. There was nothing as lonely as being an only child, deep in the countryside.
Eloise was fretting in the corner, fingers agitated, tapping the outside of a book. This was to be her coming out year.
Anthony entered from the far side door, his feet skidding to a halt at the sight of you.
“You arrived” Anthony said flatly, turning on the ball of his foot, and exiting as quickly as he had come in. Embarrassed, you frowned, smiling chastely praying no one would notice his strange behaviour. It had been a year since you had last seen each other.
“I apologise, he is so bizarre in the mornings lately” Violet squeezed your shoulders, leading you over to a table laden with treats. Sitting on the settee with Hyacinth and Eloise, eating small cakes and discussing the books being read amongst you were some of the precious things you missed about living in the city.
In an unsuspicious amount of time, you excused yourself from company to find the washroom. Anthony stood outside the drawing room, leaning against the wall, unblinking and mind drifting elsewhere. You ignored each other walking past, which felt a lot like tiny shards of glass embedding into your heart. Locking yourself in the washroom, trying desperately to keep tears at bay, you looked into the mirror and told yourself it did not matter. You were going to find love this year, somewhere else.
When you opened the door, Anthony had moved, he was nearly pressed against the door, waiting for you to come out. He stuffed himself into the washroom with you, closing the door as silently as he could.
“Why are you here?” He asked. He looked different from a year ago, he had changed quite a lot more than you were expecting. He had shortened his hair and filled out into his body. His hands looked the same, the same ring on that damned finger, flexing in distress and awkward guilt.
“It is the beginning of the social season. I am here to find a husband.” You stated plainly.
“A husband?” He scoffed, charming disdain painted across his face.
“Yes, it is what young ladies do in polite society. Was that unclear?” You asked. Your lack of facial expression and tone seemed to startle him, he had no idea what you were thinking.
“Why are you acting this way?” Anthony stuttered forward, getting uncomfortably close.
With the melancholic drop of your shoulders, and a heavy exhale, you pushed past Anthony and made your way back to the drawing room. It was so like him to put the narrative back on you. Anthony should have asked himself why he was acting this way – after all, it was he who decided not to court you. It was he who decided to kiss you beside the carriage that night. It was he who decided the two of you should not speak any longer. It was he who broke your heart.
The remainder of the evening was free of Anthony, filled with laughter at the dining room table over a delectable dinner. The Bridgerton’s sense of family was everything to you – even if Gregory and Hyacinth were bickering for most of the meal, it still felt as it was meant to. Violet showed you to the guest room, it had not changed much over the years, it smelled the very same.
“I am sorry Anthony could not join us for dinner” Violet’s voice echoed with somber searching. Perhaps she had heard the two of you in the washroom?
“Do not be,” You said quickly, “His time is his own, he does not owe me anything” Violet bowed her head, words fighting against her lips. She instead pursed them into a smile and closed the door behind her. Those shards of glass moved again, every second in this house, nausea held you hostage, terrified of running into him in the halls.
Daphne was the only other person alive who knew what had happened between Anthony and yourself. She had been disappointed in him, angry with the way he had handled everything. While she promised there would never be a change to your friendship, it had never really been the same. You tossed and turned far longer than normal; your mind flooded with images of the past. Thrusting yourself out of bed, it was clear you were not going to be sleeping tonight, you decided that a distraction may be best. In your nightgown, candle in hand, you remembered your way to the study.
The study was clear of any inhabitants, it was tidy, and the few cases of books loomed high over you, reaching the ceiling. Nothing in the Bridgerton house seemed to change, except Anthony, and it was perpetually for the worse in your opinion. You selected a book randomly from the nearest shelf and perched yourself on the seat closest to the window, looking out over the square. Lounging sleepily, you read in the low candlelight, only disturbed by the creaking of the door, an unexpected sound, making you jolt.
“I knew you’d be in here” Anthony said softly, entering the room with caution as your emotionless face watched him. “You were always in here when we were children. No one could ever find you” His smile was humorless.
“You did” You waited before responding, wondering why he was here, speaking with you, “Why are you here, right now, Anthony?” You demanded.
Anthony moved to the seat across from yours, sitting gingerly, holding eye contact in the hopes you would not tell him to leave. You allowed him to sit, his hands folded in front of him.
“I don’t know” Anthony rubbed desperately at his forehead, “I just got up, and felt myself pulled here, some unknown force, dragging me to you” Anthony admitted. You had always been attracted to each other, always gravitating towards one another.
“I did not choose to come here; my mother asked a favor of yours. I would never have chosen to be this close to you. You destroyed me, Anthony” Tears welled to your eyes, “We cannot be near each other – you made that it very clear, you took what you wanted of me, and cast me aside” Hands pressed down on your knees, you pushed off, making for the closest exit. Anthony dashed around in front of you, placing his body between you and the door for the second time today.
“Goodnight, Viscount Bridgerton” You curtsied formally, hoping the rules of social engagement were enough for this man to understand the dangerous position he was putting both of you in, yet again.
Anthony’s hand trembled, reaching out, taking yours into his. His fingers tangled between yours, his grip strengthening when he realized you were not pulling away. His thumb affectionately circling the skin on wrist, the sound of his swallowing resounding across the empty room, his anxious tongue flicking over his lips. If anything was clear, it was the internal battle that seemed to be always happening inside Anthony’s mind.
His touch, the supreme legacy of your existence. His unsteady breath, captivating your common sense. The thrilling space between you slowly closing, heads bobbing forward as if intoxicated and unable to control oneself, meeting together in the middle in an exhilarating kiss, just like you had remembered it.
His lips were shamelessly enthusiastic, as if made for this very purpose, just for you. His forceful hands weaved into your loose hair, pulling you deeper into every kiss. You were overcome, that old bold, need for him to find its way out of the labyrinth you had designed for it. Anthony’s fingers pressed to your hips, his teeth nipped eagerly at the skin on your neck, softs sighs of delight followed.
It was when his hand moved sensually to your breast that you broke free of the enchanting dance you had found yourself in so many times before with him. Your body did not reflect the same pleasures, you took his hands from your body and laid them at his sides, and stood tall and stepped back.
“I am here to secure a husband, for my future” Tears found their way back to you.
“Y/n…” Anthony shook his head, stepping forward, trying to hold onto you again.
“If you cannot give me what I seek, please, stop hunting me down. I want a life with you, Anthony. I will love you until my dying breath… But you, you will never grow up” You said finitely, again, pushing your way past him and fleeing back to your room.
~
Most of the next day was spent in tired indifference, you remained in your room, preparing for the first ball of the season. Tears had stained your pillow the remainder of the night, each knock at the door struck a chord of hope in your heart, wishing for Anthony.
Eloise and Violet helped you into your gown, the ladies’ maids fixing your hair and face. Violet ran a motherly thumb under your puffy eye, her compassionate heart shining through her eyes and tender smile. You gave a little nod, knowing there was never anything you could hide from her – she knew everyone in the Bridgerton house better than she let on.
The Viscounts escorted Eloise into Lady Danbury’s estate, greeting the Queen and Lady Danbury ahead of you. Violet linked arms with you in solidarity, following Anthonys actions and proceeding into the ball.
“Who will you be accepting dances from this evening?” The Viscountess asked quietly.
“I am not restricting myself to names, I will dance with any eligible man who asks” You answered politely.
Violet gave your forearm a squeeze, “That is very sensible” She nodded, releasing you, sending you off into the lion’s den. You met up with Eloise, taking a short turn about the room to appear social, greeting the other young ladies who you’d met years previous. There were several older men who seemed to take an interest in you as you moved about the room with your friend. No one really stood out to you, no true love at first sight, much to your dismay.
Retiring to the wall with a glass of lemonade in hand, you watched the gorgeous young women excited to dance with suitors and recalled how that was never an experience you had.
Soon enough, one of the suitors who had shown interest in a season previous approached, positioning himself next to you. Lord Harlan Grahame was intelligent, considerate, and not entirely horrible to look at.
“Lord Grahame” You curtsied, a familiar smile finding its way back onto your face.
“Miss y/n, I do hope your mother and father are quite well” He remarked, having known them for many years now, he had noticed their absence.
“They are in abroad, my father has business to conduct in Greece and my mother only saw fit to tend to him during this time” You explained, “I am being hosted by the Bridgerton family. How is your family?” You asked in politeness.
“Fantastic, Mother has moved herself to the country and hopes to get yet another dog soon” He laughed, clearly happy to be free of her in his home. Laughing along with him, you spied Anthony, discreetly looking on from across the ballroom. The conversation between yourself and Lord Grahame was easy and hardly uncomfortable. He was charismatic enough that you could see yourself becoming quite fond of each other in no time at all. He made small jokes at no one’s expense, he offered refreshments frequently and complimented you in kindness. You could see and accept a perfectly happy future with the Lord.
Across the ballroom, sheer asperity brewed live in Anthonys eyes for all to see. He was known to have a temper amongst society. With a final twitch of his left eye, Anthony’s feet picked up under him, carrying him in your direction. Violet watched on, fear and embarrassment ready and willing in her chest.
“I apologise” You mumbled preemptively to Lord Grahame as Anthony arrived to interrupt your conversation.
“Miss y/n, may I have this dance?” Anthonys eyes were terrifying, filled with rage and jealousy. You paused, contemplating antagonizing him, forcing his hand, backing him into a corner. But relinquished, excusing yourself from Lord Grahames company, taking Anthony’s hand as he swept you off to the dancefloor.
You did not meet his eye, your nails dug into the skin on his hand in resentment. You said nothing to each other for the first several minutes of the dance.
“You cannot marry him” Anthony muttered in quiet, helpless indignation.
Giving him a great look of disbelief, “Who are you to tell me who I can marry? I do not answer to you, Viscount” You growled into his ear as he pulled you in tighter.
Anthony finished the dance, bowing to you, holding onto one of your hands with unbelievable force. He walked swiftly from the dance floor, conspicuously pulling you along behind him, and into a room down the hall.
“You cannot blame me for acting this way!” He yelled, “If I have to see you speak to another man this season, if I have to witness another man watch as you walk by – You have driven me to the brink of insanity” He heaved, frantic energy filling his body.
“What would you have me do? Spend my life in loneliness, a Spinster? Would that be convenient to you, Anthony?” You parried.
His hands ran through his hair stressfully, at a loss for words, unable to express himself in the way he wanted. His intention had not been to yell when he sequestered you away to this side room.
“I was fine! You left Mayfair, and I was well. Now, here you are – and God help me, I am intoxicated every second we are in the same room. Your presence is the most decadent drug, forcibly hypnotizing me. I am powerless to you” Anthonys words were like honey, carried on the end of a bee sting.
“You made your choice!” You yelled back at him, hoping the music was loud enough outside.
“I was young, y/n! I made the wrong choice!” He retorted, his words shaking, and unfiltered for the first time in a long time.
There was a second of unblinking silence between you before magnetic energy pulled you into each other, deranged nipping at each other’s lips ensued. Hands grabbed and grasped at skin and hair, trying to force your beings into one person. There was a white-hot craze that seemed to come over the both of you, and you had felt it before, a few times.
Anthony sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, biting and kissing in a spontaneous fire.
“Someone will hear” You moaned into his ear, as his teeth moved their way down your neck. Anthony did not seem to care, his mouth on your chest, fondling and sucking on your breasts, still sitting pertly in your dress. He was simply uncontrollable, his behaviour now inherently superior compared to when he had been speaking.
Anthony maneuvered your body across the room, hands comfortably held in places of control, his left on your lower back, his right splayed across your throat like the prettiest necklace. You reached the door, his hands twisting your hips to face it. Your palms met the wood, bracing as Anthony bent you slightly, kicking your feet apart with his. Anthony hiked up your gown, undoing his pants in the same instant and buried himself inside of you.
You mouth gaped silently, aghast at the entire situation, but thanking God above for the opportunity.
“Oh my god,” Anthony gnarled into your ear from behind, “Just like I remember it” He moaned, sinking deeper and deeper it felt like. Every thrust led with intense and vicious primality, his hands wrapped around each of your upper arms, for leverage. He was right, it was just how you remembered – overwhelming, devastating, unforgettable. You had thought about your secret affair with Anthony every day since you had moved away. The pleasure Anthony elicited from you sent you into a familiar haze, deep and indefensible. Every movement, every sound from him made you feel greedy, always wanting just a little more.
The way he pounded into your smaller frame rattled the wooden door you were leaning on.
“Anthony! They are going to hear!” You squealed in a whisper back to him.
“Let them” He panted, “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m fucking my future wife” Anthony’s hand found its way into your hair, pulling your back sharply for a profound, wet kiss. Anthonys fingers sunk into the flesh of your hip, painfully pleasant as his nails clambered for an anchor. Your body arched back involuntarily, Anthony powering through fast, harsh thrusts as he found his inevitable end, placing sloppy kisses on your shoulder as he slowly finished moving inside of you.
You both leaned on the door in exhaustion, bodies heaving in unison.
Anthony placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stepping backwards and rebuttoning his breeches, fixing your dress behind you. You turned to face him slowly, knowing he could very well go back on every word he had said not moments before.
The softest smile enriched his face, his eyes lit in such a way that you had never seen them. His arm dashed out, pulling you into a grinning embrace, smooching dear kisses upon your lips.
“Loving you causes me delirium, y/n” He nipped at your nose, your foreheads planted together, eyes closed in tranquility.
As you stood, the doorknob gently turned and Violet Bridgerton slid her head through the gap, assumingly checking on the both of you; you had been in here for a little while longer than societally acceptable for two young single people.
Her hand flew over her heart, “Oh thank God!” She exclaimed, smiling ear to ear, a sense of pride glistened in her eyes.
“I cannot wait to write Daphne” The viscountess cheered quietly, finding it hard to contain her excitement. “I knew that you would find each other” She chuffed, slipping out, closing the door. Your foreheads knocked together again, never having a minutes peace in such a large family – you stood there a moment longer, relishing such a long awaited and monumental confession of your love.
-------------------------------
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#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton oneshot#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x fem!reader#x reader#x fem!reader#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton smut#bridgerton netflix#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton smut#fanficiton
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I JUST SAW THESE POSTS OF DANNY BEING RAS AL GHUL CHILD LIKE THE FIRST THAT IS LIKE 25-30 YEARS OLDER THAN TALIA AND MAKE MY BRAIN WORKS FUCKING WIGGLE!?!?!??
anyway
Danny established the status quo and the disappeared for 20-60 years and the is summoned by Ra where he’s like “Dad you could’ve have called my personal phone you know that right?” And Ra’s like “YOU WENT OFF THE GRID FOR YEARS AND NEVER TOOD ME-!!??!? Now do you look different? Are you eating? What’s with comingoutthesummoningcirclefortheghostking? HMMM???”
“Ah- I knew I forgot something! Let me tell you all about it! I see you brought the whole fam and in laws let’s have dinner and discuss it- AWWWW THATS BABIES!!!”
*Damian, Jason, Tim, and Dick being referred to as “babies”*
“Excuse me.”
Danny then fucking tackles them in hugs and loves while dodging and/or holding their punches and kicks
"My maternal uncle is coming for a visit and likely evaluate my living arrangements.. We must be at our absolute best when he is here. " Damian announces one evening right as the family is finishing preparing for a night of crime fighting.
Everyone freezes from their respective stations, twisting around to stare at the young Robin in confusion. He doesn't notice; he is too busy making sure his katana is sharpened to perfection and balancing it on his fingertips.
"Baby Bat?" Dick calls, "What do you mean by that?"
Damian pauses in his prep work, approaching the eldest with a pretty impressive scowl. " Mother sent a messenger a few days ago about Uncle's plan audit. Should we fail it, I shall be removed into a different household."
"An audit? Removed?" Steph repeats, confused, but Damian has no idea why. He thought it was pretty apparent that Uncle Daniel would be scoring them, which would determine if Damian would be allowed to continue living within them. He has done so to all of Ra Al Ghul's offspring, and nothing his Grandfather has done has been able to stop him.
How could they think they would have more power than his grandfather?
"When shall Dusan be here?" Father asks, quickly switching on the home security. "What kind of attack should we expect?"
Damian scoffs, "Not the White Ghost. Uncle Dusan is on the other side of the world on a mission for Grandfather. No, Uncle Daniel will be the one conducting the suit. He is the eldest, after all."
Father's eyes narrow behind the white lenses of his masks. "I was unaware your mother had more siblings."
Damian considers the words, wondering how he could politely- at least he shames Alfred- remind his father that his grandfather has been around for hundreds of years. Staying at his peak through the usage of the Lazarus Pit, he has never been short of lovers.
And sometimes those lovers have given him children, many who aged and died naturally, as none has deemed worthy of the Lazarus. All except for one, the First Son, who has never needed the Pits but remained youthful and powerful on his own.
The perfect heir.
It's too bad he had abdicated long before Damian was even a thought.
"Grandfather has had many children, but Uncle Daniel is different. Special. He is the First Son."
"Capital letters," Todd cuts in, shaking his head. "It's never good when the League of Assiasans assigns capital letters. How strong is he?"
"He could easily best Grandfather and all under Grandfather's command," Damian replies, watching as the rest of the vigilantes grew uneasy by the information. It's good that they are wear of Uncle Daniel's power but they have nothing to fear of his wrath. "Uncle Daniel is a pacifist. He carries a protective core."
"A Al Ghul that a pacifist? I'll believe it when I see it." Drake droned as he was clipping on his utility belt. At once, Damian felt his body grew hot with rage. No matter what, it seemed Drake would always curse his family.
The way he says the family name drips with disrespect as if the other teen was saying a swear.
"My Uncle Daniel is a great man!" He shouts, gripping his sword so har his knuckles ache. Drake's face twists as if though he smelled something foul and the rage burning in Damian's chest spreads to his whole body.
He is just about to reach for his throwing knives when a familiar cold hand settles into his hair. "Aw thank you Little One. I love you too."
"Uncle Daniel!" Damian shouts excitably, forgetting the fool he was about to run his blades through. His uncle stands before him, the same darl night hair, warm blue eyes, and a crooked smile that had secretly comforted him in his youth.
"Where in the world did he come from!?" Damian hears one of Father's adopted brutes gasp but does not care to see who as his uncle quickly reels him in for a hug.
Hugging Uncle Daniel was like being wrapped in warm blankets in winter. He always ran rather cold, but it was lovely to be wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his protection.
It felt like nothing in the world could harm him from here.
"You seem well, Little One. Are you happy?" His uncle says. The delict of their native tongue is another comfort Damian can sink into.
"I am." He allows, snuggling his face against his stomach, as childish as it is. If only he could grow taller like his father.
"Wonderful. I'm so glad." His uncle then switches to English, ignoring all the weapons drawn and pointing at him from the Bats. Damian steps back to admire the man he wishes to grow into. "I'm terribly sorry for arriving so late, nephew. You must be tired. When is your bed time?"
"I do not have a bedtime." Damian scoffs. Uncle Daniel frowns, reaching into his chest to pull out a clipboard and a pen- he'll never get used to his uncle storing things within himself no matter how often he sees it. Damian is pretty sure he heard someone gag.
A soft click is heard as his uncle opens the pen and quickly scribbles something down. He is not tall enough to see what is written, but he can see clearly as day that his uncle selected the red ink of the muli-color pen he is using.
He only uses red when he is doing bad things. Damian breaks into a sweat. "What was that? Uncle what did you just write?"
"No bedtime. Tsk tsk." Uncle Daniel mutters, looking around the cave with disapproval. "No proper heating living space."
"Oh no! I do not live down here. This is merely the training grounds. We live upstairs" Damian quickly says, waving his hands frantically in the air as his uncle's unimpressed look. Curses, the auduit just began and already he got bad markings.
"Would you care for a tour? I shall not be going on patrol-"
"He forces you to fight crime? At your age?" Uncle barks, throwing a look of utter disgust at Father. It's the same one he gives Grandfather whenever the older man tries to raise child soldiers.
Even Damian had not been sent on any missions. His childhood had been intense training but nothing that was life-threatening.
"I volunteered to go!" He tries to defend Father, but his uncle only clicks his pen and scrambles more red ink on his paper.
Drat and Damian were actually enjoying living at the manor. He will likely have to say goodbye to it all and be moved to some house Uncle deemed more child-friendly.
"What is your diet here? Have you been taken to the doctor? Any form of therapy?" His uncle fires each question quickly, walking through Todd and Cain when they try to apprehend him without a glance.
His uncle is, and not to sound like the fools of his school, so cool.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#The Audit#Damian's cool uncle Danny#In which Danny was reborn as Daniel Al Ghul four hundred and ten years ago as Ra's first born son#Then went all Ghost King on him#and now travels the world making sure kid's safety laws are followed#Sorry I know it's not what you were picturing but it's all I could think of.
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The Songbird
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader
Summary - Lucy Gray Baird was the talk of this year's Hunger Games. She had the beauty and the voice to charm her way through the games, but what happens when rumors spark up around the Capitol that her mentor and your boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow, have shared a kiss?
Warnings - Mild angst, Speculations of cheating, Smut (Coriolanus Snow eats you out), Bad communication, it gets sort of better at the ends so just trust me, Very mild Lucy Grey slander (Rachel Zegler they could never make me hate you.), let’s pretend that Snow has the capacity to love, Not beta read.
Being a Plinth meant two things: people hated you because you paid your way to the top, and people loved you because you had enough money to do it. Getting used to life in the capital was hard, but it got easier when you had a boyfriend who cared for you. Your brother, Sejanus, disapproved of his best friend dating his twin sister, but the two of you could care less.
You met Coriolanus at the Academy. You were charmed by his white hair and the way he carried himself. He also wasn’t as stuck up and snobby as your other classmates. He was easy to talk to and even easier on the eyes. He must have noticed the way you were entranced by him when he asked you out. After many dates and your father's approval, he asked you to be his girlfriend.
Now, you were sitting in the lunch room, picking at the sandwich that was in front of you. It was no secret that Coriolanus’s tribute was the favorite of the capitol. She was beautiful and swept everyone off of their feet with that sweet voice of hers. Your tribute on the other hand was nothing more than a throwaway tribute from District Nine. To be frank, he was short and skinny. There was nothing much you could do for him. Maybe he could be good at hiding, but he wouldn’t last long in the arena.
“Are you going to eat?” Coriolanus asked as he eyed your sandwich. “You need to eat, dove.”
“I’m not hungry,” you grumbled as you took a sip of your water.
“Can I have it then?”
You nod your head and hand him the sandwich. You watched as he put it in a napkin and placed it in his coat pocket.
You tilted your head in confusion. Was he saving that for later? “Coryo, if you, Grandma'am, and Tigris need something to eat, you can come over. You know my home is always open to you and your family.”
He smirked and shook his head. “No, I’m saving it for Lucy Gray.”
“Oh.” That was all you could say. Of course, he was saving that for his Lucy Gray. Him feeding his tribute would fuel the rumors that Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray Baird were developing a budding relationship. People were already invested in them after his stunt at the Capitol Zoo.
You grabbed your tray from the table and left without saying another word. You couldn’t find it in you to confront him about what people were saying. Maybe you were being a bad girlfriend, but your jealousy got the best of you.
As the sun set and the moon rose, you lie in your room, hoping that Lucy Gray wouldn’t accept the sandwich. You wanted her to throw it back at him, scaring him so much that he would never visit her again. But this isn’t about what you want. This is about Coriolanus and his mission to get his tribute to win.
The next morning, you couldn’t eat. You were physically and mentally sick with jealousy. You were meant to meet with your tribute to discuss a game strategy. In your peripheral, you could see Coriolanus with Lucy Gray. He was so alert when he talked with her. He once talked to you like that, but after the first time he saw Lucy Gray on the screen, he’s become distant. He was always talking about her, visiting her, thinking about her. Part of you wanted her to die in the arena, but your wishes fell upon deaf ears.
For the first time, you were faced to face with your tribute. He was even skinnier in person. Your heart burned for him. You were so lucky that your parents got you out of the District when they could or else that could have been you on the other side of the table.
“Okay, Finn, I’m going to be honest, you aren’t the person people root for, but I can make sure that you live as long as possible.” What you said was harsh, but true. You could get your father and his friends to sponsor him. With enough sponsors, he could get food, water, and medicine. That’s as good as it’s going to get.
“We all know that Lucy Grey’s going to win. Her mentor has been visiting her every night. He brought her half of a sandwich last night. I saw them by the gates. I could see them talking. They were close, real close. I could have sworn I saw them kiss, but-” The rest of Finn’s sentence was drowned out by the sound of static ringing through your ears.
— — — —
Your knuckles rapped against the door of the Snow residence. It was later in the day, your tribute was thankful that you somewhat believed in him, but both of you knew that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. If anyone killed the Capitols songbird they would surely live a life of shame.
Tigris opened the door and smiled when she saw you standing there, but her smile faded as she saw the tears streaming down your face. She opened her arms and trapped you in them, letting your tears stain her dress. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her voice was soft and almost whisper quiet. She was a gentle soul and you trusted her with your darkest secrets.
“My tribute said that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray kissed,” you said through tears.
Tigris gasped and looked at you in the eyes, searching for something to say. “I’m-I don’t know what to say. That doesn’t sound like Coryo. He loves you too much to do that.”
“Really? Lately Lucy Grey is all he can talk about. It’s like she’s his girlfriend and not me.”
“Because he wants to win the prize money. We need to pay rent and we don’t have enough.” Tigris said as she wiped away your tears.
“It doesn’t help that the capitol likes them together. He might as well date her instead of me. I mean, she’s pretty and she can sing like none other. I just-” You were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. In less than twenty seconds Coriolanus was at your side.
His hands find their place on your shoulders as he pulls you away from Tigris’s grasp. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong, dove? Did someone hurt you?”
You wipe your nose with your sleeve. Your mother would kill you if she found out you did something so unclassy in front of a man, but right now you could care less about class. Your eyes looked around everywhere, trying not to make eye contact with his. You knew that you would cry again if you looked into his eyes. The eyes that got you hooked on him in the first place. The eyes that Lucy Grey saw flutter close before they kissed.
Your shoulders wiggled out of his grasp. His hands fell to his sides and you could have sworn you saw his hands ball up in fists, stopping themselves from coming in contact with your soft skin.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “My tribute, Finn. He said that you and Lucy Gray kissed last night at the zoo.” It came out more as a whisper. You hated how pathetic you sounded right at that moment.
You could see Coriolanus search for the memories of what happened last night. He then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t kiss,” he began, “but I can see why the other tributes would think that. We were close, but it was only because I wanted to tell her more game strategies and I didn’t want the other tributes to hear.”
You felt stupid. You felt really stupid to assume that your boyfriend of two years would cheat on you. “But I-I heard people in the shop the other day say that they wanted you and Lucy Gray to get together. They said that the two of you had so much chemistry.”
“First of all, that’s illegal, and second of all, I love you. And only you.” His hand tilted your chin up and wiped the tears that were still falling on your face. Tigris had retired to her room a long time ago.
Coriolanus leads you to his room. The window that overlooked the Capitol was open, letting in the cold. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your lips.
“Yes,” was the only thing you managed to say before he kissed you. The kiss started off soft and slow, but as his hands found their home on your waist, the kiss got harder. Your lips found a good rhythm as they got familiar with one another. His tongue skittered across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter. Your tongues danced with one another before Coriolanus broke the kiss.
His lips pressed light kisses along your neck. He nipped at your skin causing you to jump a bit. He smiled into your skin and laid you down on his bed. His hand slid down to the bottom of your dress. You had changed after you got home from the visit with your tribute. You wanted to get that stupid uniform off before it suffocated you.
“Do you want this?” he asked as his fingers inched the bottom of your dress up inch by inch until the only thing that was left covering your bottom half was your underwear. They were already soaked through. He began placing soft kisses on the skin of your things, but he wouldn’t go any further until he got your permission. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. After all, this was supposed to be about you.
You nodded your head and Snow nipped your inner thigh. “Words, dove.”
“Yes, Coryo.”
“Good girl.” He breathed before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear. He slowly took them off of you, dragging this on as long as he could before you went mad. Your chest rose and fell as you focused on the man in between your legs.
Right now, the games were the least of your worries. The people who started the rumors of Coriolanus and Lucy Grey could go to hell for all you cared. You finally had the truth. Coriolanus loved you, and no District Twelve songbird could change that.
Coriolanus nuzzles his nose against your clit as his tongue prods against your entrance. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your moans. You would just die if Grandma'am or Tigris heard what their beloved Coriolanus was doing to you.
Seconds later, his mouth hungrily sucked on your clit. Your eyes went wide and you let out a silent moan. Overwhelmed with pleasure, your thighs clamp around his head, but instead of pushing them back, he keeps them there. He looks up at you and his beautiful blue eyes flutter close, enjoying the way you taste.
His fingers trace along your wet hole, gathering your slick. First, he inserts his index finger and then his middle one. His fingers are long and skinny, but they feel oh so fucking good. His fingers fuck in and out of you, stroking along your G-spot.
You can’t hold on much longer. He can tell by the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. He hungrily laps at your clit, drawing small and tight circles with his tongue. Coriolanus loves this part. The part when your back arches off his bed, when your pussy spasms around him, and when your thighs shake as you let out the prettiest moan. Chills run down your body as you shiver with pleasure. You come off your high as he takes his fingers out of you. They’re soaked with your release and he grins down at them. He licks his fingers clean of your slick and kisses the skin right above your hips.
“That better?” he asked, lying next to you on the bed.
You nod your head. You weren’t able to form words right at the moment.
“I’m sorry for making you believe that I would ever cheat on you. I really do love you, my dove.”
Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. You let oxygen fill your lungs before you exhale and turn it into carbon dioxide. “Coryo, I’m sorry for being jealous. I know how much this annual Hunger Games means to you. You know that my father would be more than happy to pay your rent. He knows how much you mean to me.”
Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s not what this is about. Dove, I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you for your father.”
You got up and straddled his lap, your bare pussy was just inches away from his hard cock. Coriolanus gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your hands wipe away some hair from his face. “Then what is this about? Please, let me know. I want to help.”
He hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want to show the Dean that I can win. I want to show him that Snow lands on top,” Coriolanus mumbles against your skin.
“Figuratively and literally,” you whisper.
Coriolanus spent the rest of the night showing you exactly what he meant by ‘Snow lands on top.’
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow smut#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fic#coriolanus snow x you#the hunger games
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Not ridiculous at all | James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Summary: You are part of the marauders, always having felt special when they called you part of the gang, but also consequently too embarrassed to admit to wanting to be more feminine, afraid that they would no longer deem you cool enough to hang out with you. You are hurt by James' comments and James might realise something when you're avoiding him.
Notes: Best friend!James, he's a bit stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, arguments, so maybe a little angsty, but not really, classic cliche tropes like friends to lovers, misunderstandings, pining (I literally just dreamt this so it's a bit patchy) and I know it's very stereotypical but that's why it's just fanfiction :)
(PS) I haven't written before, just wanted to get this out of my system. English is my third language, and this fic is not proofread because I'm way too lazy for that! Enjoy!
Part two Masterlist
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You've grown up with James Potter and have been part of the marauders since the very beginning. You always took 'being one of the guys' or 'part of the gang' as a compliment, it left you feeling giddy as if you were included in some secret group that only you had the privilege of belonging to.
But sometimes you would sit in the girls dormitory and despite your friends laughing and chatting about, you would feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. They often did activities together and by now, 6th year at Hogwarts, they've managed to stop asking you to join them as you've always dutifully replied that it 'wasn't your thing'.
I mean, what would the guys think of you? It would be too embarrassing to admit to them, or anyone for that matter, that you would love to be dolled up for once. To go shopping with your friends, be included in movie nights, asked by Alice if she could test some makeup on you, or read and gossip about the new romance novels that were the new hype.
Especially now when you sat on your bed, part of the circle in which they were discussing plans to go dress shopping.
"You should absolutely join us!" Alice squealed in delight. You were shaken out of your train of thoughts with a huh and realized the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and now included you too. Marlene and Lily nodded fervently in agreement but you bashfully shook your head.
"Nah, can you imagine me in a dress?" You joked, but Dorcas caught the curious and somewhat longing look in your eyes at the mention of getting ready for the Yule ball.
"I think you would look great actually. And besides, you can treat yourself too sometime you know. You're not obligated to stick with the marauders all the time." The girls in the dorm once again all agreed and you smiled at their kindness.
"Since when are you interested in things like the Yule ball?"
You snapped your head up at James to see his questioning eyes and then quickly averted your own in a flustered manner as if one of your greatest secrets had just been uncovered. "I just think it seems nice, that's all, I'm not even going or anything", you defended. You felt slightly embarrassed by James' face which wore a weirded out expression.
"Well you're not really the type to go to such an event anyway right?", James remarked. You did your best to hide your frown at his immediate agreement. Was it that bad that you'd hoped he would say something along the lines of 'what are you talking about, go enjoy yourself at the party' or something like that?
"Besides I can't imagine you in a dress, all made up, it'd just look so ridiculous." James continued. Remus, ever the sweet and attentive boy glanced at you and noticed your slightly sacked shoulders in disappointment at his words.
"I mean you're just not that type of person, you know? Like completely opposite of Lily."
And with that your face felt like it burned from embarrassment. As if you didn't already know. That didn't mean you didn't want to be more like her sometimes.
Peter's eyes flicked with concern from James to you and back.
You felt hurt and forced yourself to stop tears welling up at his words, mustering up a grin, ready to agree with him but were interrupted by Sirius who had now also caught your change in mood.
"Prongs, you really have no tact at all, how are you expecting to even win Evans over with that?" He said in a playful manner as to not offend their whipped friend, but not fully succeeding.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" James looked slightly offended and Remus jumped in the conversation.
"That's just not a nice thing to say. It's different if you call me an ugly toad, but not Y/N! If she wants to go to the Yule Ball all dolled up, she definitely should." He shot you a supportive smile which you returned.
Peter nodded in agreement. "I don't think you'd look ridiculous at all," he told you sincerely. You subtly scooted a little closer to him and Remus.
"But it's Y/N, it'd just look weird, cause she's just not a proper girl like that, no offense." James shot back and gave you a smile at the last two words.
You saw Remus opening his mouth to retort but quickly intervened. "He's right." You told them. You just wanted this conversation to be over with already. It was awkward and painful for you as it was.
James didn't seem to get the memo, however, and kept on going, drilling your confidence further into the ground.
"See, she agrees." He turned to you. "It's not like you're ugly or anything but it'd be ridiculous. Like I said, you're not the type to be all beautiful and dressed up, hair done and all. I mean you're cool, but not pretty like that." He was clearly not done yet and started talking about Lily and her beauty at which point you abruptly got up and left.
"What's gotten into her?" James remarked with a frown.
Sirius and Remus didn't even bother to answer and just stared at him in disbelief.
The girls comforted you as you cried. Marlene barged in with ice cream, stolen from the kitchen in one hand and 5 spoons in the other. "What a jerk." She commented and thrust a spoon in your hand before plopping down in front of you with the rest of your friends.
Lily sighed frustratedly. "See this is why I don't like him at all. He's so rude and arrogant, and he-"
"- is right." You answered dejectedly. "I'm your friend, but not the type to join you guys and belong to your circle."
"Well that's only because you hang around the boys all the time," Alice argued. She nudged you. "But you know what, now that James is being a git, you can hang out with us!"
Dorcas gasped dramatically. "We could do a girls night! Treat ourselves a little", she jumped up. "I'll get the face masks and nail polish!"
Lily let go of you too and told you to sit up. "Come on, let me do your hair," she smiled.
With Marlene feeding you ice cream, your nails being polished by Alice, hair done by Lily and Dorcas reading the latest romance novel out loud while you were all wearing a facemask, you couldn't help but feel all warm inside.
"I love you guys."
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
You laughed and pushed Marlene teasingly off the bed.
"Hey, watch it! I just finished your right hand." Alice complained.
James was a moron. He was kind hearted (to most), popular, captain of the Quidditch team, good looking but a moron nonetheless. So he was absolutely clueless to find you missing from the common room yesterday evening and even more clueless when you were missing from your usual spot next to him at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, because he could not for the life of him think of a reason why you would sit with Alice and Frank instead.
He frowned and felt uneasy at the fact that you hadn't even looked at him, let alone come for a hug with your smile and said 'good morning' like usual. He shook the thoughts away. You were obviously allowed to have your own friends as well and not obligated to spend all your time with him.
The door of the great hall behind him opened and Lily Evans walked in, which was why instead of walking up to you to say something, he habitually turned to Lily instead.
"You look beautiful this morning as usual. I could put in the effort to match you when we go out together?" He shot her a wink and a coy smile but faltered slightly when his attempts at flirting got even less of a reaction out of her than usual.
James turned to Sirius with a questioning look, as if to ask 'you noticed that too right?' but Sirius simply shrugged. When James looked back at Frank and Alice, you were gone, having left the moment you felt his stare.
James started to ponder. 'Were you avoiding him? Surely you wouldn't, right? You two were friends after all, childhood friends. Childhood best friends even, for Merlin's sake! If you were upset with him, you'd definitely let him know.'
A week passed with you, sitting on the opposite sides of the classroom, seemingly having picked partners long before class because how else would you team up with random students before James could even blink?
He had now fully accepted that you were avoiding him. And with that, he meant 'accepting the possibility of that occurrence'. He was by no means going to accept your strange new behavior without doing anything.
The last drop though, was when he heard the news from Peter that you'd already left for Hogsmeade with the girls.
He frowned. 'You were kind', he reasoned. If you were upset with him, then he'd have to apologize. Quickly. Because it's been far too long without his best friend and he realized he missed you. Especially seeing you hang out with others.
"What did I do?" He finally asked his remaining friends.
"Really Prongs?" Remus couldn't help but ask. His friend just gave him a look that said 'well go on then, what is it'.
"How about you think about what you said last week, you know, those rude comments about the Yule ball."
"Yeah, but I already apologized yesterday and told her that I didn't mean to offend her!" James flailed his arms around when he exclaimed it.
"But she's still only hanging out with anyone but me," he whined. "Peter studied with her, Pads got a 'good morning' this morning and you're still talking to eachother.
Remus gave him an unimpressed look at his whining but James was not done complaining yet.
"She keeps spending all her time with the girls while she doesn't even seem to be fully enjoying herself"
This was true. You dearly missed James, so despite your newfound hobbies, a look of sadness sometimes fell over your face, which hadn't escaped James' attention.
"And I just don't understand why she would-" He started but never finished, something dawning on him. "Oh of course! Merlin, I'm so stupid!" He shouted out in epiphany.
"Your words not mine," Sirius quickly took the opportunity.
"Oh bugger off Pads", James laughed and pushed Sirius' arm. And with that, he took off to find you.
Sirius and Remus watched him leave and sighed at the same time. "Do you really think he got it?"
"I bloody hope so, Moony."
"But it's James."
"Yeah, but I mean it's not my fight but even I realize that she's sad that James made fun of the idea of her being more girly when she secretly wants to be. Now she's trying out what she likes, without having to stay within the role of 'one of the guys'. I mean, it's pretty straightforward. I guess a genuine apology and show of support is the solution."
"But it's James."
"Yep, you're right."
Though he hadn't been able to find you, he'd waited patiently for your return in the common room. Staring at the ceiling from his laid back position on the couch.
"Oh there you are, Y/N," He rushed to sit up to face you when you entered the room. If you were surprised by his presence, you didn't show it.
"We need to talk, I wanted to apologize." He breathed out, relieved at himself for having figured it out. "Also, I've missed you so much."
You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You didn't want to be upset with him and felt incredibly relieved to hear him say that.
"I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean for you to get offended or anything," James began.
"Yeah, you already said that." You frowned. "And I remember I told you that that was not a proper apology."
"I know, I know. It was shitty of me so I wanted to apologize. Properly you know? I'm really really sorry. I was a terrible friend and shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me?" He proceeded to give you Bambi eyes in an attempt to convince you. It unsurprisingly worked.
You softly smiled up at him. "Okay". You barely got the word out before he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.
"Great," he said, cutting through the comfortable silence that you two had been hugging in.
"Now you don't have to avoid me anymore, and you can stop sitting with the girls to prove your point, and join us again instead." He triumphantly continued.
What now?
You blanked. "I'm sorry?" You managed to ask.
"I get that I hurt you by saying your weren't a proper girl, but you don't have to pretend to prove your point by trying to be one." James stated, proud of himself that he figured it out.
"Because I can see that you don't like it, like your face gets all gloomy which is understandable because it isn't really your circle of people."
You stared at him, an incredulous look on your face.
"Fuck you James." You said, your voice coming out softer than you'd hoped. Tears were welling up again, but you couldn't help yourself.
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do want that to be my circle of people? That I don't just want to be one of the guys all the time? Is it that crazy to think that I'm still a girl with feelings? That I want to feel pretty too? That I don't like being told by my supposed best friend that I'm basically ugly? That I hate to be compared to other girls like that?"
You were ranting and James had taken a step back, surprised by your outburst.
"No, that's not what I-", James tried to salvage the situation but you weren't having it.
"You've told me that stuff for as long as I can remember and I never told you otherwise because I was scared that you'd no longer want to hang out with me for not being a 'chill friend'. But you know what, I no longer want you to."
At this point, you angrily wiped your eyes to get rid of tears that were threatening to spill. "So fuck you". With that, you brushed past him, escaping upstairs to your room.
James Fleamont Potter felt absolutely miserable.
If anyone told James that you'd ever be more on his mind than Lily, he would call them ridiculous. But here he was, another week had passed and he was staring at your back as you were leaving with your friends for Hogsmeade again.
You weren't wearing your school uniform and robes anymore and James was surprised to see you wearing one of what he knew to be Lily's dresses.
'It suited you more than it suited Lily.' The unwarranted thought flashed through his mind and he shook his head with a scoff to himself. What was going on?
James also noticed that your hair was brushed and shining with a butterfly clip holding your hair in a bun. He wondered when you decided to change your hairstyle because he found that it framed your face perfectly.
'Not ridiculous at all,' he understood.
You looked absolutely perfect.
You turned your face a little and James could feel his head reeling. Have you always been this glowing? Was he just simply missing you? He didn't even realize that he hadn't spared Lily a glance- until Sirius mentioned her while they were having a drink - and a strange feeling washed over him at the thought.
You were running from Filch.
'Fuck I shouldn't have studied after hours, curfew was probably hours ago," you cursed to yourself and took a sharp right turn. You were trying to reach the secret passage right behind the big statue on the fourth floor when you saw the hallway light up because of Filches torch.
Forcing your legs to move faster, you were suddenly grabbed by the wrist. A hand was clasped over your mouth and you felt a heavy cloth fall over you.
You recognised the person pressed to your back immediately and tried not to melt in his embrace as Filch walked straight past the two of you, covered in the invisibility cloak.
You could feel his breath against your temple. His hand had dropped from your mouth, instead draping across your stomach now to rest on your side. The other held out in front of you to create space under the cloak. You shifted a little and finally turned your head and lifted it to look at him and thank him but you were unable to say anything for a moment.
You simply admired him.
The proximity of the two of you in that intimate embrace had something fluttering in your stomach and you harshly jerked away in denial when your feelings hit you.
Oh no.
Now, all suddenly? What changed? Does it really take one random moment to flip your world upside down?
You rushed to push the invisibility cloak out of your way and then left without sparing James another glance.
James couldn't force his legs to move to run after you, still reeling from about the exact same epiphany that you'd just run away from. Your gaze, his fast beating heart and the urge he had felt to lean down for a kiss had confirmed his conflicted feelings of the past few days since he'd seen you leave for Hogsmeade.
The following morning, you'd had the chance to properly process the happenings of last night.
Your conclusion was that you felt guilty that you hadn't even expressed your gratitude. It was rude, you figured. Even if you were overwhelmed by the sudden wave of realization that came crashing down on you, it was rude.
So you pushed your confused feelings aside and marched up to him when you found him in the great hall.
"Thanks, I owe you." You awkwardly said, stopping at his spot at the Gryffindor table. All while absolutely not having forgotten about the fact that the last time you had said something to him, you'd flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself.
James was absolutely beaming. "Yeah you do, but no worries, I'll cash it in right away." This was his chance. He would make up for his behavior and act on his feelings right now.
"How about a date?"
There was a long silence. Your heart plummeted to the ground. Right. James. Lily. Lily and James.
"What am I a magician?" You finally managed to sarcastically retort. "I'm a convincing person but not a miracle worker." You pulled your hand through your hair as you looked around the great hall to see if you could spot Lily.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do." You forced a smile.
James, who had been mostly confused at your words, disregarded it completely in delight at your acceptance to go out with him, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant. Not that it would matter because he was going to prove what an amazing boyfriend he could be. If you'd accept him, of course.
He was grinning from ear to ear, which you mistook as excitement at the prospect of a potential date with Lily. So when you abruptly turned on your heels and marched over to Lily, James watched you confusedly.
And when he heard you try to talk Lily into going out with him, he wanted to crawl in a ditch and die. He stood there, frozen and recounting how you could've interpreted that wrongly.
You returned to him after a while with an apologetic smile. "Yeah sorry Prongs, she-"
"You", he blurted out.
You raised your eyebrows. "Me?" You repeated back.
"The date, I meant you. A-and me of course. Us, like you and me on a date. Together. I thought maybe Hogsmeade?" He managed to force the words out nervously.
There was a long silence and James' shoulders slumped a little. Even more when you finally answered.
"Uh, no?" You said in a questioning manner. James officially wanted to die now.
"You're sweet James, and I don't think you do it on purpose but you're not interested in me like that." You began, trying to convince not only James, but yourself as well.
James opened his mouth to argue but you quickly interrupted him before he could properly do so.
"James, you really don't. And you asking me out on a date when you've quite literally been drooling over Lily just last week as you have been doing for the past 5 years, that's not very nice to me." You frowned.
"Oh." He whispered. He was once again at a lack of words for a moment. Terrible new habit, he thought. This was not how he thought it would go.
"I'd still gladly go with you to Hogsmeade though?" You offered. "Just you know, not as an easy second choice date while you are obviously head over heels with her."
'I'm not', he wanted to tell you, but it was obvious that you wouldn't believe him. "Yeah okay," he weakly smiled. "Just the two of us though."
You nodded and stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, returning the hug.
With his face pressed in your hair, eyes closed, he decided that this situation wasn't too bad. He's fought for Lily's affection for years. He'd fight harder for yours.
Part two
#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#marauders era#marauders#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter fluff#james potter angst#james potter fic
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UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)
ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!
authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)
[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]
YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.
Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.
Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”
That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.
It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.
It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.
Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.
Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.
Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.
Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.
He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—
You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.
You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”
This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.
“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?
Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.
The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.
It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.
Thanks, Simon. That’s all??
“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?
Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“
“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.
He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.
You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”
You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”
You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.
Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.
tag: @zzzennin
#call of duty#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#cod#mw2022#mw2 2022#modern warfare ii#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x gn!reader#ghost x gn reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley#simon ‘ghost’ riley#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#mw2 ghost#ghost angst#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#cod ghost#ghost cod
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I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!
You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.
"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."
"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."
"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."
You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.
"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"
"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."
You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.
"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"
"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"
"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.
She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.
"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"
"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."
Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.
You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"
"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."
Your stomach drops.
"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"
"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"
"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.
"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"
"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"
"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.
"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."
"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.
"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"
"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."
"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"
"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.
"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"
"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."
He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."
"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"
"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'
"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"
"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"
She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.
"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."
#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman fanfiction#hangman imagine#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin imagine#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x y/n#top gun x reader#top gun maverick x reader
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Loyalty (I)
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader
summary: the king decides it's time for his brother to produce more targaryen heirs. who better than another hightower daughter to carry them?
warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, dubcon smut in later chapters, arranged marriage, abortion allusion (moon tea), coercion, terrible parenting
word count: 2.3k
dividers
“I won’t allow it.”
“You won’t allow it?” Viserys asks with an air of frigid humor. “Who are you to deny your king what he has commanded?”
Otto seethes, decades of practiced court manners faltering under the demand. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but she is my daughter. I will not have her married off to a man whose love of violence and debauchery trails him like a shadow. She is a pious child. To marry her to Daemon is—“
“A blessing. She will marry a prince and a valiant knight.”
The other men at the table are silent. They'd expected talks of reinforcing the kingdom's claim on the Stepstones or of quelling rumors that had cropped up of Daemon corrupting his young niece in a brothel a year prior. The king commanding a marriage between Otto Hightower's youngest daughter—his only child from a tragically short second marriage—is an unpleasant surprise.
"He is already married."
Viserys gives a taut smile. "Daemon's marriage to Lady Royce has been annulled. By royal decree and with the blessing of the High Septon. It is in the best interest of Westeros that the Targaryen line remains vast and strong and it has been decided your daughter will do what Lady Royce did not."
Otto's face falls in disbelief. He's heard nothing of it. This had been set up to corner him. "She is a child."
"She is nearly four years older than Alicent was when we wed. The queen has proven your daughters are strong vessels for Targaryen children."
"It is different. She is different. She is not as strong as Alicent."
The king shakes his head. "I will hear no more discussion of this. She will wed Daemon and this feud between the two of you shall end once and for all.”
Alicent’s touch is feather-light as she takes hold of your hands. Her eyes wander across your form, taking in the exquisite ivory gown. Its crimson embroidered dragon along the skirt a special request from your soon-to-be husband. “You look beautiful, sister.”
You can say nothing to your half-sister, barely able to retain the tears brimming in silence. A fortnight was all you’d been given to prepare to wed the vilest creature in Westeros. Daemon Targaryen was all you could have ever hoped against in a husband.
Your father stands tall behind Alicent, head held high. "The image of the Maiden herself."
A choked sob escapes you at his words. This marriage was punishment by the Seven for every sin you'd ever committed. For the impure thoughts you'd had of knights. The white lies you'd spoken to save yourself the wrath of Septa Agerrea. The gambling you'd participated in when you’d bet your favorite embroidery needle in a game of cards with Lysa Tyrell. Had you only followed the Faith more faithfully, this torture would not be yours to endure.
“I believe it is time to take your place with the king, Your Grace,” your father says.
Alicent hesitates with glossy eyes. She draws you into a tight hug and whispers an apology and how much she loves you. You have the faintest memory of her wedding to the king a few years before. The happy sister who’d spent hours braiding your hair when the handmaidens failed to do it properly disappeared into a hardened queen round with child seemingly overnight. The smiles and giggles you’d shared daily turned to fond, distant memories. She withdraws a moment later, wiping at her face.
When the door shuts your father moves behind you. You watch in the ornate mirror as he drapes the green maidencloak of House Hightower across your shoulders. The new burden's weight feels uncomfortable.
He returns to stand before you, his expression sorrowful. "I am sorry, my sweet child, for this atrocity. You deserve far better.”
“I could have saved myself this fate had I been less worldly and become a Septa.” Your palm wipes at the tear that had fallen.
He cups your cheek. “Perhaps. But we cannot lament on what we could have done. Indeed we must focus instead on your duty to the realm.”
“To be a good wife,” you state. It was what he had raised you to be.
“No, sweet child,” he says softly, “I fear that I must ask something far more difficult of you. For your duty to the realm must supplant your duty in marriage.”
The wedding takes place in a haze. You tremble, stumble over words, and can not meet the eyes of your now husband nor the Septon. Soon you would betray them both.
For the good of the realm.
You do not eat or drink through the feast. You barely speak. You think you might have danced, though all you remember of it is a blurring background and an embroidered dragon that matches your own. It had stared at you accusingly.
“Shall I call for the bedding ceremony to begin, brother?” the king slurs loudly. If there had been anything in your stomach, it surely would have come out now. It was one vile thought to have him touch you. But to have other men undress you as well?
Your hand is pulled from your lap, enclosed in another twice its size, callous and rough against your skin. For the first time that day you look at your husband. You’d never seen him this close. The lavender gaze cannot have been of this world. It’s too vibrant, too knowing. “Too many of the men here have wandering hands. I’d hate to spill blood on such a blessed day.” His lips brush against your hand. “My sweet wife should not have to endure such tragedy.”
The king responds dismissively. Something of disappointing guests, but to do as he pleases. Daemon takes it as a dismissal and pulls you from your seat. The last thing you hear is the call from many about bloody sheets.
Perhaps the Mother has decided to take mercy on you. For you cannot breathe as the doors to the prince’s chambers close behind you. Death can take you before he can.
He stands in front of the fire, pouring some drink into a goblet. The flickering orange light suits him. Like he was born for flames. “You must relax. There is nothing for you to fear from me.” A lie. There was much to fear from him.
A booming knock echoes through the room.
“Enter.”
Two servants carrying trays of bread and fruit enter. Then they are gone just as swiftly. The door closes once more.
“You must eat,” he says, taking your hand once more and leading you to a small table. You sit and a piece of bread is offered. You take it and, after an expectant nod, take a bite. It’s still warm and soft. You take another bite. And another.
It’s gone quickly. Too quickly for a lady. A bowl of berries clatters softly in front of you. You pick at it slower, though not as slowly as you’d like. They are sweet. Perfectly ripe.
“Would you like some wine?”
Despite the juice of berries coating your tongue, your mouth is dry as you speak for the first time since you’d said your vows. “Yes, please.”
“So well mannered.” A smug smile spreads across his face as he raises his goblet and sips. He reaches over and sets it down beside the half-empty bowl. “I forgot to have them retrieve another cup.”
The crimson red liquid ripples. A challenge.
“You are very gracious, my Prince. Thank you.” You lift it by the stem and drink. It was stronger than you’ve ever had before. The taste takes you aback, coughing as it soaks your tongue. Hastily you set the cup back down.
"I take it you don't often indulge in Dornish Reds."
"No, never."
His head cocks to the side appraisingly. "I suppose such a thing has never been offered to you before. Not within the confines of your father's authority. He has given you a rather sheltered life."
A prickly heat seeps up your neck. "My father did not confine or shelter me. He has only ever guided me to live as virtuously as the Seven wished for all their children to live.”
“How very kind of him to not let you endure the same vices as himself.”
You blink, his words sinking in. The implication that your father is a drunkard stings. He isn't, but you don’t fight his accusation. Selfishly, you do not wish to defend your father. Instead, you pluck a berry from the bowl, hoping to end the conversation entirely.
"Are the berries quite good?"
You nod, not wanting to speak again.
"Might I have one?" When you go to pick up the bowl, he stops you. "Pick me out the best one."
The best one? The bowl is still half full. Which berry was the best? Would he be disappointed if you picked one he did not like? Or one that was not ripe enough? Not sweet enough? What would he do to you if he disliked the one you chose?
It was the largest blackberry that you finally settle on, prepared to hear how terrible the choice had been as you hold it out to him. He doesn't simply take it. He leans over the table, taking the berry and your fingers into his mouth.
The act is heinously intimate. It leaves you frozen and breathless as he pulls away, his eyes alight in devious amusement. "I'm not sure which taste I prefer. The berry's or your's."
Fire spreads across your cheeks. You flinch away, embarrassed. In the escape effort your arm knocks against the goblet. To your horror, it clatters against the table. The liquid sloshes across your front, staining the white gown.
The crimson seems to seep from your womb, condemning you for something you had yet to do. You paw at the stain as the chair clatters on the ground from the force with which you'd stood.
Tears brim in your eyes as it continues to spread.
“There's no need to fret. It is only wine.”
“I have desecrated it.” The tears have not stopped falling and your hands have not stopped scrubbing at it with your fingers. “The stain will never come out.”
“It is only a dress.” He cups your face, encouraging you to meet his gaze. It searches for some understanding.
He would never understand.
“I am so sorry, my Prince.”
He shushes you softly and places a kiss against your forehead. This was the monster? The vile, unholy beast whose every action was an affront to the Seven? This man who had shown you nothing but kindness?
You cry harder.
He is not the monster.
You are.
You aren’t sure how long you cry. But he holds you through it all. He speaks little more than a few consoling phrases, but it is more than you deserve. His presence, arms around you, kisses on your hair. All of it more than you deserve.
You’re finally calm, only left with sniffles, when he says, “We should get the dress to the washwomen before the stain sets.” What good would it do? The stain can never be removed from your soul. Still you agree and turn for him.
His fingers are swift as they loosen the strings of your bodice. Practiced. He is practiced. Behind closed doors you assume, but there were numerous tales of his public debauchery. It has been gossiped that he prefers the thrill of open affairs and touches of multiple women.
“Why did you refuse the bedding ceremony?”
He pauses. “Did you wish to have one?”
“No,” you say quickly. “But given your…tendencies I…I thought…” A quiet hum has your words trailing off.
His work continues, though slower. “You are not a whore in a brothel.”
“Neither is your niece and yet...”
Air blows across your neck as he chuckles. “Has my pious little wife been gossiping about the chastity of the Crowned Princess?”
Your lungs seize at the realization of what you’d just said. It’s treason. Questioning her virtue is treason.
“Relax, jaesa.” His hands slip between the shoulders of your shift and the loose gown, pushing the sleeves down your arms. “I took you under my protection today. You may speak freely to me.”
“I,” you hesitate, freeing your hands of the garment, “I had heard that a year ago you snuck the princess from the castle and—“
He bunches the fabric at your waist and tugs. “Had my way with her in some brothel?”
“Yes.”
The gown struggles for a moment, snagging on the curve of your behind. Another tug and it is a pile around your feet. “My niece wished to see King’s Landing. I showed her and returned her to the castle, still a fair maiden like yourself.”
“Of course.”
“You doubt me?”
“No, my Prince.”
"It would do a great disservice to our union to begin it with lies." He prompts you to turn and hesitantly you do. He is shorter than your father, yet his presence is as commanding. More so. It makes you aware of how thin the fabrics of your shifts were when his gaze drifts down. "My niece's heart belongs elsewhere. As do my desires."
His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, but the feeling's it stirred are rough and uncertain. Bordering on traitorous.
“Shall I call a servant to fetch the dress?” The words waver. You wonder if they’re comprehensible at all.
They are, it seems as he rejects the offer and slips out the door himself with the dress. The reprieve from his watchful, astute eye is welcome. You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed and recite the prayer your father had taught you minutes before you’d been led down the aisle.
Warrior, give me strength for what I must do. It is for the good of the realm.
Mother, forgive me for what I must do. It is for the good of your faithful servants.
Stranger, lead my children to peace. It is for the good of their innocent souls.
a/n: all your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated 🌺
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ੈ‧₊˚ i’m marrying mommy
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris sturniolo x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part 2 to "when are you gonna marry mommy?". chris finally gets to propose to you, but not without help from his favourite buddy.
(part 1 here)
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: fluff, cursing, kissing, nothing really!
───────── 🐇
since you and chris’s son, connor, had sleepily talked to chris about proposing to you, chris’s mind had been stirring with thoughts. he was constantly thinking about when, how and where he would do it, propose, to you.
he knew connor was right - you do love chris more than anything, but at the same time proposing is not an everyday activity.
In secret, chris had been looking around online, as well as in-store to find the perfect ring for you. If he was going to propose, it had to be perfect.
and of course, chris had invited connor with him. the small trips to the ice cream shop were in fact trips to the jeweler. and it went unnoticed by you, because after going to the jeweller, chris took connor to get ice cream, so every few days you were met with your favorite boys with ice cream cones in their hands.
“how do you like that one, buddy?” chris leaned down to be at the same height as your five-year-old, pressing a finger to the glass with the prettiest and sparkliest rings. It was like watching a diamond mine, but up close.
“hm. I don't think mommy likes the shape. all her rings are round, not square.” connor speculates. chris thought it was the cutest thing ever - he was chris’s biggest supporter in this.
“yeah, you’re right,” chris smiled at connor, eyeing the cashier who was chuckling silently. It wasn’t every day you saw a five-year-old being so passionate about engagement rings.
───────── 🐇
after months of looking at rings and lots of trips to different jewellers, connor and chris had decided on a beautiful, silver round engagement ring. It was perfect. chris and connor had seen it at the same time, immediately agreeing it was the one.
the following days the two boys were trying to plan where to propose. sure, it doesn't sound too fun to do that with a child, but connor and chris were best friends, plus, everyone knows chris is a little childish from time to time.
“where have you two been?” you ask with a smile, raising an eyebrow at chris and connor as you cross your arms. they were hand in hand, looking like deers in headlights.
Unannounced, they had been out to buy the ring they had been looking at for the past few days. you had come home to an empty house and no message from chris.
“we-” chris started but was cut off by connor running up to you.
“mommy! I missed you,” he giggled, wrapping his arms around your waist. “me and daddy went to get ice cream again.” connor smiled, looking back at his dad with a wide grin.
“you heard him,” chris chuckled, pointing at connor as he walked up to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“hm, I don’t see any cones. are you two sneaking around?” you giggled, returning the kiss chris gave you.
“no, because daddy said I could only get one scoop!” Connor huffed, looking at chris with squinted eyes and a sly smile.
chris faked a gasp, his hands immediately flying to his chest to act hurt.
“stop exposing me! don’t snitch,” chris faked an offended expression, connor immediately started giggling.
you and chris had discussed getting married before, but it was when connor was just a tiny boy. you ended up agreeing to do it at some point when connor was old enough to remember it.
───────── 🐇
a few weeks later, it finally hit chris.
“hey, man. I’ve got an idea,” chris smiles, sitting down beside connor on the couch.
You were out buying groceries, so the boys had the house to themselves.
“what?” connor giggles, putting his crayons down.
“so, I thought about where to propose to mommy. when mommy and I were teenagers, we went to the park just down the street, and I kissed mommy there for the first time, ever.” chris explains to connor, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks, reliving the nostalgic memory.
“chris, you’re getting ice cream on me! stop!” you giggled, pushing chris’s hand with the spoonful of ice cream away.
chris had invited you out on a date, taking you to the park to get ice cream
“it’s on your nose!” chris laughed loudly, withdrawing his hand from your face.
carefully, he leaned in with a napkin, wiping the ice cream off your nose.
“fuck you,” you chuckled, keeping eye contact with him as he got it all off.
there was silence for a bit, and you suddenly felt very close on the tiny bench. you were both almost in a trance, gazing into each other's eyes.
“ca... can I kiss you?” chris whispered, being careful not to do anything wrong to make you uncomfortable.
“yeah,” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips. he chuckled softly, cupping your face with both of his hands, as gently as possibly kissing your chapped lips.
“ew, kissing..” connor did a disgusted expression, making chris laugh.
“no, buddy, I’m saying I propose to mommy in that park. what do you think?” chris smiles, tickling connors sides.
“daddy, stop! yes! It- it’s a good idea!” connor giggled, the childish laughter warming chris's heart.
───────── 🐇
and finally the time came around. chris had tried his best to dress connor nicely, but not too nicely. he told you that he was inviting you and connor on a picnic in the park, and you instantly agreed.
it was the perfect day as well, the sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot. you guys had found a spot underneath a big tree, leaving a nice shadow.
“connor, stop! your drink is gonna spill,” you smiled, taking connor’s glass out of his tiny hand.
after a second, chris eyed connor to signal it was time for the real deal.
chris stood up, getting off the blanket to avoid getting it dirty. you looked up at him, a little confused as you were just getting started on the picnic.
“so,” chris cleared his throat. “y/n,” he said, slowly getting down on one knee, fumbling in his pocket for the box.
at this point you were in utter shock, unable to do anything but just stare at chris in absolute disbelief.
“we’ve been together for a while now. 9 fantastic years, maybe even the best years of my life. we have an amazing kid, thanks for the help buddy. and I couldn’t imagine my 26-year-old self being anywhere besides here. with you. and connor-” he winked at him, immediately adverting his gaze back to yours.
“so uh- I.. will- will you marry me?” chris asked, chuckling a bit as he struggled to open the velvet box with the ring in it.
you were beyond surprised. nothing could’ve prepared you for this.
“oh my fuc- good god. yes, a thousand times yes!” you whisper-yelled, a single tear rolling down your cheek. you got up to hug chris with the biggest smile on both your faces, chris even shedding a small tear.
“god, i love you so so much,” chris sniffled, holding you tightly before gently pulling back.
“now, look at that,” he beamed, holding out your hand, now with a ring on it.
you looked up at him, your eyes filled with pure love, looking down at connor who was standing next to you.
“yay, finally! i love you mommy, and daddy!” connor laughed, hugging you both by your hips.
“oh connor, i love you a million times more,” you wiped a tear, picking conor up by your hip, giving him a fat kiss to his cheek.
“me and daddy didn’t get ice cream at all, we were looking for the diamond rings at the jeweller,” he smiled smugly at chris who was already laughing.
“oh yeah. he’ll definitely be one of the bridesmen. thanks for the help, buddy.” chris kissed the top of his head, looking back at you to kiss you - now engaged.
“ew, stop!”
───────── 🐇
a/n: i hope this lived up to ur expectations! im so sorry ive been practically gone i havent been motived at all :( ily all so much!🤍
taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lillies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn @sturniolololover @domaniquessidehoe @sturniolossss @orangelala-deactivated20240420 @sturnioloslvtt @gwenloremain @k-l-a-w-s @pearlzier @pjmpcyy @mbsbaby @christhopersturniolo @mattspolitank
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one of your girls. — coriolanus snow.
we dont gotta be in love, no. i don’t gotta be the one, no. i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.
part two published, read here.
cw: dom!coryo, p in v, Bondage, vulgar language, pain during sex, daddy kink, slight sadism(?), 18+, slight non-con, etc
words: 3048 [good, GOD], MAY be grammar errors.
tags: @euphemiaamillais my lovely lady.
“Hey, Snow.”
The blonde boy snapped his head at you, a stern look plastered to his face. You watched his eyes travel up and down your figure, his expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. He turned his body to face you and sighed.
You and Coriolanus’s relationship was unique, to say the least. You’ve known each other your entire life but dedicated your every day to one-upping each other. Your decade-long academic rivalry with him was something you found deeply annoying, and you knew if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, you would’ve killed him by now. Coriolanus found the rivalry thrilling. Watching you stress and work out to get the best grade was entertaining for him. On the days he was lucky, you would be in the library at the same time as him, searching for textbooks to grab before the other could. The number of times he caught himself peering down at your small figure, bent over, frantically digging through piles of chemistry books was criminal.
The new school year had just begun, and you were instantly bombarded with strange rumours. Rumours about Coriolanus, more specifically, his dick. He’d allegedly slept with half of the grade’s female population, including your own friends. You rebuffed them initially, that was until you overheard the said ‘girls’ discussing it, confirming it all. You were annoyed, absolutely livid at the thought of Coriolanus sleeping with them. Why did he leave you out? Was this something else he was showing you that you could never get? Whatever he was doing was working. Fucking your entire friend group but purposely dodging you was a smart move on his behalf. But you were never a loser, never second place.
So here it brought you. Standing in front of your arch nemesis with your arms crossed.
“Could I help you, gorgeous?” he purred, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re a slut, Snow. Fucking all my friends is pretty corny, don’t you think?” you remarked, running a finger down the locker beside him.
He looked at you, guilt written across his face. “I’m not a slut, little girl. And who told you that?”
“Everyone. Everyone is talking about you and your dick, Coriolanus.”
“I got busy over the holidays. Who knew Academy girls could be so desperate for my dick?” he sneered, smiling to himself.
“So why did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.
“Fuck everyone but me? Were you trying to tick me off? If so, it worked, Snow.”
He let out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Are you high? What are you trying to get at?”
“Did I stutter? You fucked every girl in my friend group but me, even though I should’ve been the first. Now, because you decided to fucking skip me, I have to hear about how freaky you are, or how big your dick is all day!” you blurted, your frustration getting by the absolute best of you as his nonchalant demeanor sent you over the edge.
“So, let me get this straight; you’re angry at me because I didn’t fuck you?” he questioned, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth.
You stuttered for a second. “Yes, yes I am.”
“We played sandbox together and here you are now, in this empty hallway, begging me to fuck you,” he said as he fixed his uniform.
“Oh, so you don’t wanna fuck me?” you purred, your arms crossed, looking up at him.
“Just to piss you off, no I don’t. Doesn’t matter how hot I think you are, or how long I’ve wanted to for this to happen. I like seeing you mad.” he smiled, knowing he had ticked you off. “I’ll see you in bio, little girl.”
He spoke as he walked away. Your eyes twitched in anger; Snow could not win. Not today.
“Fine, I’ll just ask Plinth!” your words stopped him right in his tracks.
He turned and stalked towards you, stopping only a few inches in front of you. He glared down into your eyes. “If you fuck Sejanus, I’ll kill you both and make it look like an accident.”
You scoffed. “Would you, actually? I don’t know. All I know is that I want you at my house by eleven thirty. If you’re as good as one of the girls was vouching you were, then prove it. Or I’ll get one of your friends to, just to make it even.”
“You win, I’ll see you there, doll.”
It was eleven-twenty on the dot and there was still no sign of Coriolanus. You’d pondered about the interaction from today for hours, worried you came off too demanding. You thought to yourself for a while that he was going you stand you up and purposely not come, that would’ve sent you over the edge. You sat on your bed, every negative thought running through your head. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic knocking.
You rushed downstairs and stood in front of the door. “Who is it?”
“Is that a joke?” Coriolanus spoke from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’m freezing.”
You flung the door open, Coriolanus stood there, a smile plastered to his face. He sported a worn-out shirt that was fitted, hugging his chest. He paired it with pajama pants with a red pattern and slides that looked like they should’ve never left his house. He walked right past you into your home. “You look like you’re about to go to sleep, couldn’t dress sexier?”
“I mean it’s gonna come right off, isn’t it?”
“Whatever, my room is upstairs and the first to your right.”
“Perfect.”
You watched the boy jog up the stairs and disappear behind the wall, following him shortly after.
You entered the room to him sitting on the bed, using his arms to sit up behind him. You closed the door behind you without breaking eye contact. You could physically feel the tension in the room, his entire demeanor shifting from minutes ago. You felt almost chilled.
He lifted himself from the edge of your bed and walked towards you, stopping himself only when his face was inches from yours. “Did one of the girls ever tell you what I did to them?”
You shook your head. “No, I don’t think.”
“I’ll have to show you, won't I?” he purred, his hand traveling up from your side to your chin.
“Yeah, I guess.”
His hand landed on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You gasped as his hand returned to your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stupid girl. You wanted me to treat you like your friends, right? They didn’t talk, so why should you?”
You should’ve walked away; you should’ve told him to get out. The boy who defined your entire academy life just slapped you in the face and degraded you, yet your entire body yearned for his touch. You stared into his eyes, they were glistening, wild with power and lust. His blonde hair dimly lit by the streetlight peering through your window into your dark, cold room. You needed to get even; you needed him to fuck you to get even. You needed him inside of you and in that moment, you didn’t care if it was the last thing you did that night.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.
You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Coryo.”
He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the Capitol knows how much of a dumb, little slut you are for me. Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me because I’m a slut... for you.” you proclaimed, your voice projected as he breathed against your cheek, his grip on your chin still tight.
“Pathetic, but good enough,” he replied, he released your chin and moved himself away from you slightly. “Get on the bed and strip for me, now.”
You nodded dumbly, crawling onto the bed. You lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it on the ground beside you, removing your pants and underwear right after. You sat there idly, completely bare, whilst a clothed Coriolanus stood in front of you, fucking you with his gaze. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, admiring you.
He raised a hand and began to caress your cheek; you instinctively nuzzled your face into his palm causing him to softly laugh. “The smartest and prettiest girl in the academy, sitting naked waiting for me to fuck her like a good girl.”
He looked down on you, you were naked and nuzzling your face into his palm, inaudibly begging him to fuck you. You were desperate and it turned him on so much. The most stubborn girl he fawned over for years now naked and begging him to fuck her. He could feel his dick trying to break free from his pants just from the sight of you.
He walked away and disappeared into your open closet, leaving you clueless. He walked out with a ribbon in his hand.
“That’s my grandma's, Coryo. That’s the ribbon she gifted me. What do you need it for?” you questioned, puzzled.
“Put your back against your bed frame and stop asking me stupid questions. Sluts with dirty mouths like you, my dear, don’t get to talk.”
You followed his command and shuffled up until your bare back was against the headboard, waiting patiently for his next command. You were the smartest girl at your academy yet there you were, brainlessly waiting for Snow to tell you what to do.
He climbed onto the bed and motioned for your hand. “Give me your hands, doll.”
You timidly raised your hand towards him. He grabbed your wrist and began to firmly tie the piece of ribbon around them, causing you to wince slightly. The thin material pressed against your skin as you looked at him, hopeless. There he had you. Your wrists tied, naked. Your knees spread exposing you.
He took his time once again, admiring your small, fragile frame. “You look so gorgeous, let daddy see what’s between your legs better, okay?”
You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to the boy. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. He used his hands to turn you over on your knees, your hands still restrained, using your elbows for support.
“How many times did you speak to that bitch this week?” he inquired from behind you.
“Who? Sejanus? … Maybe three or four times, I’m not too sure–”
“Too many times. Way too many fucking times.”
You felt a hard hand land against your cheek, your back curled in pain as you threw your head between your hands. It was followed by another, causing you to cry out in pain. He slapped your ass again, and then once more. Painful groans escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain.
“Four slaps for four conversations. Turn over and spread your legs a bit more for me, okay?”
You dumbly followed, still wincing in pain. You turned yourself onto your back and spread your legs as far as you could, quivering and vulnerable. Coriolanus watched, entranced by your naked body. You looked at the boy, gawking at you. His hand grabbed your tied wrists and lifted them above your head. The boy then moved his head between your knees, planting a kiss on your knee, then on your inner thigh. He peered up at you, your pussy throbbing and yearning for his touch.
“Please, I can’t take it. Touch me,” you begged, your voice timid, scared of the boy between your thighs.
“Say please.”
“Please, please?”
“Good girl.” he purred, lowering his head further, you felt his nose graze your pubic bone.
His lips planted a kiss, then moved down to your folds. A moan instantly escaped your lips, your body churning at the feeling of his lips on your moist folds. Your back arched. You felt his lips move against your core, lapping at your folds. He used his tongue to press against your clit, making you cry out and heave. His arm traveled up to your breast, massaging it as his tongue lapped at your pussy. His nose pressing against you. You squirmed as he used his mouth to suck your clit, sending your eyes to the back of your head. The sensations overstimulate you, leaving you hopeless. You didn’t dare bring your arms down, knowing he wouldn’t react well.
He lifted his head from your heat for a second and peered up at you. “You taste so good, let me show you.”
He raised himself and lowered his lips onto yours. Forcing your mouth open with his, his tongue invading your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, completely dumbfounded by the boy.
“Now, open your mouth,” he said, gripping onto your chin.
You dumbly followed, letting him spit into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation.
“Good, you did one thing right,” he remarked, unbuttoning his pants, holding eye contact with you from above.
He swiftly removed his pants, followed by his shirt. His body was leaner than you’d expected, his muscular frame surprising you. He hauled himself off the bed and lowered his brief, freeing his throbbing penis. You let out a small gasp. He motioned for you to come towards him, you crawled, wrists still tied, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. His penis right across from your face. He stared down at you.
“Look what you did to me, fix it up. Now,” he demanded.
You nodded your head as you leaned to lick his penis. You use your lips to latch onto his tip, sucking on it as you let your tongue massage it. He groaned from above you, eyes closed. Your head moving slowly to and from, his dick still in your mouth. Your tongue glided back and forth as you pleasured the boy. He threw his head back as you did everything you could to his dick with your mouth alone, you spat on it frantically as you took his cock deeper into your throat. Gagging on his dick and pushing yourself past your limit.
“Go fucking deeper, you dumb fucking slut. Treat it like you would treat some other guys. Whore.” he demanded, his hand latching onto a chunk of your hair.
He pushed himself further down your throat, tears rolling down your eyes in return. He pumped your throat like it was your pussy, you gagged on his cock uncontrollably. Your wrists were tied in front of you, helpless as he fucked your throat. He pulled your head back with the chunk of hair. You gasped for a breath of air frantically, tears rolling down your eyes. His open palm landed against your cheek again, causing you to gasp in pain.
“When I tell you to go deeper, I mean it, slut. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” he scoffed, looking down at your frail frame. “You spent years trying to get under my fucking skin, now I’m on yours, and you don’t know how to act? Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.” you whimpered, sniffling as he shot you a smile.
“There you go, pretty girl. Turn over for me now.”
You nodded dumbly, turning around on the edge of the bed. You used your elbows for support as you perked your backside up. The boy stared at you hungrily. You felt a slap land on your cheek again, causing you to flinch in pain.
“You wanna feel me?”
He watched your head bop and down in response. Within no time he prepped himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You groaned into the mattress, feeling his large cock stretch your pussy.
“Little Miss Capitol is tight, isn’t she?” he sneered.
He slowly pushed himself in, then out. You groaned as his pace picked up excruciatingly slow, every thrust filling you up. His dick stretched your walls, every bit of your pussy was filled with his cock. He gripped your hip and leaned forward, using his free hand to push your wrists further from you.
His pace quickened. His cock slung in and out of you, moaning as he slapped your ass. You didn’t flinch, distracted by the feeling of his cock. Your moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, hitting a spot within you that hadn’t known of until now. Your body quivered as you felt the boy fuck you with all his strength.
You felt his arm wrap around your throat, pulling you up and restraining your breathing. You gasped, his pace not slowing. You felt his chest against your back as he thrusts into you mercilessly. His free hand slithers to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You felt your muscles wear as he continued to push into you, overstimulated beyond comprehension.
Your stomach tightened as you came, and you shrieked. Your entire body loses its balance, flailing forward on your chest. Coriolanus didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you, your body limp in front of him. You moaned into the mattress as he fucked you whilst his hand circulated your clit.
“I came, Coriolanus, I came!”
“I know, shut up.”
He ignored your words. Your body tightened again, this time your juices threatened to squirt out. You fought every bone in your body to not let it out. His finger still rubbing your clit as he pushed into you.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. I can’t, it hurts!”
“Yes, you can, you can.” He breathed from behind you.
You cried out, shamefully squirting on your bedsheets. The boy pulled his cock out and frantically massaged it until his semen shot on your back. He heaved from behind you.
“Now, you are just like the rest of the girls. I’ll see you on Monday, doll.”
—
pt2 published…. read here.
#coriolanus snow#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#ballads of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#smut#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow smut#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth#tbosas#snow#coriolanus x you#peeta x reader#coriolanus x oc#coriolanus fanfiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#Lucy gray#coriolanus x sejanus
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Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍
Yes! Thank you for reading <3
part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6
roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words
“Honey, I’m home!”
A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—
“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”
You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”
He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”
“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”
James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”
“How would it be your fault?”
“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”
You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”
“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”
“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”
“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”
You blink. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”
“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”
“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”
You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.
You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”
His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”
“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.
A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.
“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”
You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.
Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.
But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.
“I might,” you say.
“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.
#roommate!james potter#shy!reader#roommate!james potter x shy!reader#james potter au#james potter#james potter x shy!reader#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter one shot#james potter oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders x reader#marauders au
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from my pov | ln
lando norris x fem!reader
word count: ~1.0k
warnings: heavily implied body dysmorphia, disordered eating, insecurities, COMFORT
note: based on this request. despite of the previous warnings and this being more of a comfort blurb, i feel the need to clarify that i am NOT encouraging these behaviors and, as some sensitive topics are discussed, please DO NOT READ if this could be triggering for you or have any kind of negative impact on your mental health. i am also writing this from my own experience with these topics; everyone’s experience is different, so please be respectful.
and last, but obviously not least, if you’re going through something like this (or through anything, really) PLEASE REACH OUT! and if you’re not ready to do so, for whatever reason it might be, reminder that my messages are always open for anyone who needs a little rant or anything i could potentially help with.
and lastly, i don’t know how i feel about this one (yes i’m insecure about everything i post, leave me alone) so please share your thoughts with me as always <3
it had started only a few weeks ago. summer was around the corner, and inevitably, your social media was filled with girls in tiny crop tops or “summer body” posts.
normally, you wouldn’t pay too much attention to them; you liked your body the way it was.
but this year it was different. the stress of the past few weeks had a bigger impact on you that you ever expected.
the first time you noticed you were trying your summer clothes on. the skirt you loved being a little tighter than the last time you had used it.
it was only a few pounds, no one could really notice. but you could.
you shouldn’t have give it a second thought, but insecurities got the best of you and that very same moment you had decided that you needed to do something about it.
you would just stop snacking in between meals. you had it all under control, and in to time you would feel good about yourself again.
that’s what you told yourself.
but your rule of no snacking soon turned into skipping breakfast quite often and trying to make your meals as light as possible.
but you found yourself checking your body in the mirror more often than not whenever you were left alone.
“i’m back!” you heard your boyfriend announce, followed by the sound of the front door closing.
you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought of lando finding you like that, so you tried to put on your clothes as quickly as possible and wiped your tears from your cheeks before walking out of the bathroom.
you slowly paced to the kitchen where you knew he was, one of his hoodies over your body and your eyes inevitably red and puffy.
when you entered the kitchen, you didn’t even need to say anything for him to knew you where there, even with his back turned to you.
“got us dinner,” he said, taking the food out of a white plastic bag. “your favorite.”
you could feel his smile even when he still hadn’t turned to look at you yet, and it broke your heart a little that you weren’t in the mood for some junk food.
when your eyes met his, his face softened at the sight of you. he knew you were feeling down, but he also knew better than to ask. you would tell him, eventually.
“go choose a movie,” he uttered, voice tender. “i’ll be there in a second.”
you nodded and walked to the living room, sitting on the couch and trying to find a movie that could lift your mood up. just a little bit, at least.
it worked, for the last half of the movie; it eased off your worries for some time, and you found yourself lying on top of your boyfriend, worries about your recent insecurities now gone for a while.
you heard him sigh, his fingers brushing your hair softly as you rested your head on his chest with your eyes closed.
“tell me what’s up,” he whispered. “you’ve barely touched your food.”
“i’m not hungry,” you answered, making him roll his eyes.
“don’t lie to me.”
despite his insistence, he wasn’t mad; his tone was still gentle, and one of his hands slipped under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your waist. the touch that normally would have made you feel instantly better, this time making you tense a little. and he noticed, so he squeezed your side, urging you to speak.
“i just haven’t been feeling good lately,” you mumbled after a few seconds, your voice muffled as you were hiding your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.
“hm?” he only hummed in response, kissing the top of your head and waiting for you to explain further, not really wanting to push you.
“i’ve put on a few pounds these past weeks,” your words were barely audible, voicing your insecurities was never an easy task.
lando heard you, though.
“that’s not a bad thing.”
“but it is,” you cut him off before he could add something else. his hand slowly rubbed your back as he took a deep breath. “you’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”
he chuckled, “don’t be silly.”
lando squeezed you in his arms and planted another soothing kiss to your temple, trying to find the correct words to say.
“i’m not saying that just because i’m your boyfriend,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. he held your chin and made you look at him. “you’re gorgeous, baby. everyone can see that.”
your lips formed a little pout as you heard your boyfriend’s words, which he was quick to kiss away.
“and nothing will change that, ever,” his eyes met your teary ones, the corners of his lips perking up at your vulnerable state.
“but i…”
“nuh huh,” he cut you off immediately with a slight shake of his head. “no ‘buts’, love. you look perfect to me.”
he softly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke, his eyes soft and his touch gentle when he then cupped your cheek.
“i wish you could see yourself with my eyes,” his whisper made you sigh as he nuzzled his nose softly against yours, comforting and sweet. “you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen, baby.”
“do you really mean it?” your eyes fluttered closed as you spoke, eyelashes resting on your cheeks.
“of course i do,” you could hear the small smile on his lips as he reassured you once again, the fingers that slowly creeped up the side of your body tickling your skin.
a sigh escaped your lips, your arms circling around your boyfriend’s neck as you pressed your lips against his in silent gratitude.
how lucky of a girl you were, you thought, for him to be just yours.
#lando norris#lando norris fluff#lando norris blurb#lando norris drabble#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 x reader#ln#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fluff
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