#but I got to play with bones today and that was wonderful
Note
Heya!!
So I'm a little obsessed with the secret relationship trope... i was wondering if you could do an Astarion x reader secret relationship but maybe during a fight, reader dies and has to be revivified? And Astarion freaks out, like he goes semiferal and histerical?
Maybe it could be during the fight with his siblings at camp so now Cazador knows he has someone he holds dear (even if Astarion doesn't want to admit it yet) which is what they were trying to avoid?
Thank you so much!!!!
🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ All I Want ❛ ✧
Featuring: Astarion x Reader
Not proofread!
# Notes: I'm not too good with drabbles but I rly like this idea so I decided to try! also no use of "y/n" because I'll be honest I'm not a fan of it lmao
It was his idea to keep the relationship a secret.
He knew how that sounded — like he was ashamed of his partner, like he didn't want anyone to know for the sake of his reputation. That wasn't true, and he assured them of it. It was simply a precaution, something to protect them both. Now that they arrived at Baldur's Gate and are closer to Cazador than ever, he couldn't take any chances. Not when it came to them, at least.
He wasn't used to this — caring about someone other than himself. It was always about his survival, but now he had someone else to worry about. Someone whose life was worth a lot more than his own. Someone he couldn't afford to lose.
So, he kept it a secret. It wasn't exactly easy to go about their day pretending to be nothing more than companions, friends at most. Ever since they got together, he realized just how starved he was for any kind of attention, any kind of affection. Having to refrain from touching them too much or being his usual, flirty self hasn't been a simple feat. But he knew how important it was that they kept things under wraps.
His feet were killing him after a long day of adventuring, from Wyrm's Crossing all the way to the Lower City. At least they managed to avoid some confrontation for today, so he had one less thing to complain about. They got settled in an inn and he managed to sneak out for a few seconds with his partner to at least get a good night's kiss. He wanted more, but knew that would have to suffice.
The others had already fallen asleep, but he remained tossing and turning. Something felt off. He wasn't sure what, but his nerves were on end, like his fight or flight response had picked up on something he himself hadn't yet. Perhaps that was for the best, as it allowed him to notice the sound of footsteps early enough to stand up and grab a dagger. His hand shook slightly, wrapped around the handle of the weapon as two familiar faces walked in. He felt sick. He knew what they were here to do.
"Get the hells away from me!" It wasn't quite a yell, but definitely loud enough to wake the others. He instinctively took a few steps back, trying to maintain a distance far enough to deceive his brain into believing that he was somewhat safe. "Peace, brother. We're here to take you home." Aurelia uttered somewhat gently, but it almost made him puke. Brother. Home. Just the notion of it made him dizzy with disgust. The Szarr Palace wasn't his home, and these goons were not his family — he was tired of playing along with this fucked up game of pretend.
It didn't take long for a fight to break out, despite his attempts at deception. He should've known Cazador wouldn't let him off easy. Karlach was the first to react, letting out a guttural scream of rage as she charged at Violet. The axe cut through flesh before the spawn could realize what was happening, getting stuck where it met bone. She screamed, but was soon silenced by another blow. While it was supposed to be lethal, she simply vanished into a cloud of black smoke instead of dropping dead on the ground.
Leon was next, aiming for the person who was closest to where he stood which, to Astarion's despair, happened to be his darling. The spawn's claws slashed their skin open, blood splattering on the floor as they yelped in pain. Astarion didn't think — he simply acted, pouncing on Leon only to drive his dagger through his heart one, two, three times, until he too vanished into thin air. He snapped his head back in their direction just in time to see Yousen sneaking up, grabbing them from behind and sinking his teeth into their neck. The scream, the way their eyes squeezed shut in agony and their hands clawed against the spawn holding them still was enough to make Astarion see red.
He hardly remembered moving. But he did remember the screams. Not from his darling, but from his brother, as he drove the dagger into the side of his neck and twisted it. He looked back at his lover again, but the dark cloud from Yousen obscured his vision. He didn't hear screaming anymore. Only his ears ringing slightly and the sound of laboured breathing from his companions.
When he could finally see again, he almost wished he couldn't. That'd be better than the sight of his beloved's body sprawled out on the floor atop a pool of blood, their empty, cold eyes gazing into his soul. He rushed to their side despite his shaking legs, stumbling on his way there until he fell to his knees beside them. He raised their head by the back of their neck, resting it on top of his thigh. He hardly realized he was hyperventilating, hands shaking violently as he cradled one of their cheeks in his palm. "No, no... You can't die. Wake up, damn it!" He choked out, his voice rising from a whisper full of disbelief to a screech of the utmost despair.
Karlach too rushed to their side, fumbling with her bag with quivering hands. "H-Hold on, soldier, I think..." She stuttered out nervously before cutting herself off as she pulled a scroll of revivify from the bag. She knelt next to the two and placed the parchment atop the corpse's chest. It glowed a bright white light, seemingly seeping into their skin. There was a deafening silence for a few seconds when suddenly, they woke up with a loud gasp, eyes widening as life was brought back into their being.
The pale elf didn't waste a second before pulling them into a hug, not minding the blood staining his clothes. He hid his face in the crook of their neck, only a small sob and whisper being heard from him. "Oh, thank the gods... Please, please never do that again..." He choked out before pulling away from the embrace, cupping their cheek and pressing his lips against theirs. He never felt that before. That immense sense of hopelessness, agony and grief. Not to this level, not of this kind — and he'd make sure he never felt it again.
However, as he pulled away from the kiss, he saw something in the distance. Aurelia, bleeding out on the ground, watching them seconds before she too vanished into the darkness. If he still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat out of sheer terror alone. Cazador knew. He knew about his spawn's newfound love. And Astarion would have to be a fool not to expect his master to take advantage of that fact.
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
If my wife thinks I am not going to hold up every bone in my practice skeleton and explain to them every feature on it prior to my osteology tests, they really do not know the person they married. ENJOY YOUR SECONDHAND BONE KNOWLEDGE, YOU HAVE NO CHOICE IN THE MATTER.
#personal post#anthropology#...tbh it'll probably be more than once per bone#at least once drunk#bc the temptation to infodump overcomes me#[special interest intensifies]#the world is exhausting and I feel like I need eight hours just to recover every time I get home#so finding room for homework is... ugh#but I got to play with bones today and that was wonderful
301 notes
·
View notes
Text
strange perfections
in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!
fluff!
warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz
a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses
The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.
Stupid scarf, you think.
Stupid door.
Stupid wind.
Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.
You look at the stack of papers and sigh.
Stupid Lord Byron.
Stupid cafe.
Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.
One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.
Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.
Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.
Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.
Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.
As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.
It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.
Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.
“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.
“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”
The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.
“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”
You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.
Think of something normal to say!
“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”
You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.
“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”
You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?
“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”
He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.
“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”
Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?
But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.
“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”
He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.
All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.
Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.
“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.
“How did you do that?”
His cheeks turn slightly pink.
“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”
“How did you read that fast?”
“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”
You scoff, taking another look through the stack.
“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”
The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.
“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”
Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.
“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”
“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.
“Does that make it better?”
“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”
You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.
“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.
“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”
“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”
He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.
He was totally in love with me.
And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.
All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.
The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.
I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.
What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi!”
Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.
He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.
Spencer. Spencer.
It feels important.
“I see you’ve upgraded.”
“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”
“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.
Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.
Spence.
Reality sets in.
“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”
It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.
“I am a creature of habit.”
Another wave as he walks away.
The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.
“Who was that?”
“Uh… I don’t actually know.”
Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.
Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.
Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.
Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.
But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.
He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.
This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.
“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”
Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.
Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.
“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”
You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?
While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.
“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.
“Uh… hi?”
“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”
“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”
That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.
“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”
“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”
“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”
What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—
“Garcia!”
Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.
Adorable? Get a grip.
“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”
“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.
You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?
“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.
“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”
“Yeah! Um, definitely!”
“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”
“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”
“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.
Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.
So that’s cool.
You’re cool with that.
Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.
“Hotch?”
“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.
“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.
Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.
You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.
Nah. Boys are dumb.
You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.
It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?
But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.
He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.
Weird.
You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?
“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”
It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.
He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.
“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”
“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”
“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”
“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”
He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.
“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”
It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.
“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”
“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”
Your brow furrows and you laugh.
“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”
“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”
You say it before you can think too hard.
“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”
And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.
After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.
One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.
It ceases. And then it starts again.
Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.
“Do you think you should…”
His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.
“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”
You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.
But his job is important.
“What if you have a case?”
“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”
Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.
“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”
As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.
“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”
Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.
You balk.
“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”
“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”
“Where would this hanging out take place?”
Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.
“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”
He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.
“Restaurants.”
There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.
“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”
You look down. God, your face feels warm.
“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”
Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.
“I would.”
More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.
Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.
“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”
“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”
Spencer chuckles.
“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”
Not, what?
Not, you’ve never been on a date before?
Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?
With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.
He says none of that.
“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.
“Sounds like a good first step.”
Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.
“I’d love to.”
He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.
“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”
His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.
“I should—”
“You definitely need to go.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”
You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.
“I don’t—”
“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”
He’s so weird.
A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Neon Sticky Notes
prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.
pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader
pairing: Carmy x Peach
fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear
word count: 2.4k+
note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...
warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!
You knew he was struggling.
Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.
It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.
By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.
However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.
So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.
Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.
You had an idea.
When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"
"Yeah, all good."
"Sure? Sound outta breath."
"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."
He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."
"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."
"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."
"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.
You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.
The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!
Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!
Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.
Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!
You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.
Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.
When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.
This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.
Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.
Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!
Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.
Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!
Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!
Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!
Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!
Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky!
You even tried to draw a little duck.
Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!
Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!
Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!
And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change!
A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass!
A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully
Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.
The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..
Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!
And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!
Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.
The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.
You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.
"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.
"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.
"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.
He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"
"What'd you get?"
"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.
"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.
"Like it?"
"Are these... My hearts?"
He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."
"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"
He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."
"You'd still be Carmy."
"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."
"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."
"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."
You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.
Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.
You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.
Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."
Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.
Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.
requesting rules and masterlist
The Bear masterlist
#carmy berzatto#carmy#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#carmen carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x female!reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#hulu the bear#fx the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear x you#the bear x y/n#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x f!reader#the bear carmy
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello!
I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.
Do you think you could write that?
summary: Pedro is a bad flirt
A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole
"please introduce me to her"
"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"
"because I can't"
"why?"
"please"
"fine"
__ __ __
It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.
Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.
“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.
Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.
Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.
Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.
“Y/n, did you know that?”
right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.
“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.
“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.
Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.
Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.
What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.
A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.
He fell into the friend-of-friends category.
He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?
"hi there, how's it going?" V asked
"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"
There it was, mystery solved.
V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.
Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.
"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.
A strange smile pulled at V's lips
"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"
You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"
"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too"
" Pedro's here to film a movie"
"are you?" you asked, interested
"yes, I- Uhm- I am"
He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.
"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.
"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"
"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"
"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed
"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"
"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"
You shot Vanessa a glance.
"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.
"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"
His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.
"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.
You couldn't hide your confusion
"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing
"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.
"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"
"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"
"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.
"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.
Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.
Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.
However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.
"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.
"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.
"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.
Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.
"Don't say anything"
"I'm not"
"good"
there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.
She busted out laughing
"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke
"Shut up"
"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"
He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"
"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"
#did I write “you mimicked something with your hands”?#I indeed did#here to bring lazy writing to a whole new level#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x actress!reader#pedro pascal x fem reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#the mandalorian#javier peña#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal smut#fluff#daddy pascal#pedro pascal blurb#pedro pascal imagine#pedrohub#Pedro Pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedrito
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Ask and you shall receive 💕
———————————————————————
My Queen (Pt. 2) 🔪
Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
Warning: Yandere, 18+, delusions, Stockholm Syndrome?, Soft Sex, drinking
(Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt 4)
———————————————————————
Another two weeks has passed. Your shoulder was finally healing but still sore. A weak point, if you may. You felt that the longer you were here, the more Hyunjin’s mind slipped into this delusion. And while you were technically his prisoner, it wasn’t all that bad…
Hyunjin was able to gather more of your items from your house as the days went by. He would also bring you new things as gifts. You wondered if any friends or family had realized you were missing. Were they even looking?
Whatever was happening in the outside world, it didn’t matter to Hyunjin. He was too busy with you. Loving you. Serving you. Spoiling you.
He would barely let you walk, opting to carry you bridal style anywhere he went. He dressed you everyday and would fix your hair. If you didn’t comply, he’d be angry but try and control himself to not hurt you. It was hard sometimes. He was very unpredictable and some days were like walking on eggshells.
A cheesy rom com played as you sat on the couch. A blanket rested on your lap as you waited for the man to finish cooking. You weren’t paying much attention to the movie and fiddled your thumbs on your lap.
Hyunjin soon came out of the kitchen, setting some dishes on the dining table.
“Dinner is ready, my love.” He said with a smile while taking your hand.
At the table you see a tasty steak dinner. You didn’t know he could make something like that. But maybe he looked it up online.
Hyunjin pulled your hair behind your shoulders before sitting next to you.
The steak was cut up in small pieces and vegetables nicely aligned with the rice. A glass of wine was there as well, nearly halfway full. Seemed like a lot.
You were about to take the fork to begin before Hyunjin stopped you.
“How about I feed you today.” He said while taking the fork. “A queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”
“I… I can feed myself…”
“My love, I insist.” He took your hand and looked at you with desperation.
He hasn’t been so serious about feeding you before so this was unsettling. But the least you could do was feed yourself.
“No… Hyunjin… I don’t—”
Hyunjin suddenly squeezed your hand tight. And it was very tight. The grip had you whimpering as your finger bones were squeezed together. Needless to say that it hurt a lot.
“I’ll feed you tonight.” He said sternly, suddenly getting very serious.
“H-hurts… you’re hurting me…” you whimpered and he quickly let go. Almost as soon as he went serious, he was back to himself.
“I’m sorry, darling!” He pleaded while kissing your hand. “I must’ve hurt your frail bones!”
You sighed as he began to feed you. The food was actually delicious and you ate the whole thing.
Hyunjin took a sip of the wine before holding it to your lips.
You were about to grab it when he slapped your hand away and tilted the glass for you to drink. You weren’t exactly fond of red wine but if you didn’t drink, it would just get everywhere.
The bitter drink went down your throat fairly quick and he was already preparing another glass.
“One is okay…” you said as you felt your cheeks getting warm. It must be a strong wine as you were already feeling buzzed.
“Nonsense.” He said before putting it to your lips again.
Drinking it again definitely left you buzzed and your mind was getting a little fuzzy. Nothing too crazy but you definitely weren’t sober.
“Was it good?” He asked. “I only buy the best for you.”
You nodded and he smiled with joy as he helped you to your feet.
“Um… Jinnie?” You had an idea, not sure how it would go.
“Yes, darling?” He replied quickly.
“I… I was wanting to um…” you looked down, feigning shyness. “N-never mind…”
He instantly got on his knees before you and held your hand. “No what is it, my love? Anything! I’ll do it!”
“I just… I wanted…” you paused for a moment, hoping that if you use his lingo, perhaps it’ll entice him more. “I want to… take a stroll… around the castle…”
“Why of course!” Hyunjin said before standing up and holding your cheek. “My queen needs her activities, right.”
You nodded as he took your hand and led you to the bedroom.
He got you a coat and held your hand as he started walking you from the room to the kitchen.
“Um… how about outside?”
“Outside?” He paused. “But we are strolling your castle.”
“But… but I wish to see the garden!” You said quickly. “Surely there is a lovely garden. All castles have one. You know?”
“Of course!” He blinked as if coming out of a thought. “I will take you there immediately!”
After putting on your shoes, he took you out to the backyard.
Now his backyard wasn’t anything special; in fact, it was quite small. There wasn’t really much of a garden either.
There was a small tree to a side and on rose bush. Trees from the neighbor’s yard carried over into his, leaving some apples hanging on the side. Other than that, the grass was almost dead.
“Wow.” You said awkwardly while looking around.
“I’m glad you like it, my love.” He said while kissing your cheek. “I was sure to fill it with the most beautiful flowers just for you.”
He motioned in a direction that had nothing, only dirt where a flowerbed could be.
“Hyunjin… there’s nothing there…”
“Nothing there?! Of course there is!” He chuckled and went to the area, reaching out as if he plucked a real flower. “I was sure to plant the prettiest flowers. The castle garden must be as gorgeous as you.”
You laughed nervously as he put the nonexistent flower in your hair and admired you.
“I-it’s… a lovely pink…”
“Pink?! My dear, that is purple.” He laughed. “The wine must be messing with your head.”
Hyunjin continued to walk you around, avoiding some spots as if plants were actually there. It worried you a bit.
“Jinnie… may I see the garden up front?”
“No.” He said bluntly.
“Why not?”
“Because someone will try and steal you away!” He said frantically.
You stepped back for a moment as he calmed himself.
“It’s getting dark.” He said while looking up to the sky. “Let’s go in.”
After settling down, you were in a nightgown. You waited for him to come back from turning out the lights in the kitchen and living room. He then came in with another two glasses of wine. Both half full.
You were still a bit buzzed from the last two glasses and looked at him confused as he raised it to your lips.
“Jinnie… haven’t I had enough?”
“Tonight is special.” He smiled while tilting it, making you gulp it down pretty fast.
With that, you were definitely past buzzed. Tipsy is more like it. Your mind was a little fuzzy and vision delayed. You only looked at him with drooping eyelids.
He gave you a kiss on the lips before pushing you on your back. For a moment, you snapped back into reality and saw him looking down at you. And yet… you had no ambition to move.
“Let me please you tonight.” He said while holding your cheek. “I promise to be gentle.”
You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Let me worship your body as a queen deserves.” He added while rubbing your side and delivering another kiss to your lips. But this one was deep and filled with more passion.
As he kissed you, you found yourself doing the unthinkable. Kissing him back. Surely it must be the alcohol that was clouding your judgement!
Hyunjin loved when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss and making soft moans.
His hands were under your nightgown, lightly groping you as he pushed his tongue through. And you? Well you didn’t fight it.
“Please, my love.” He whispered against your lips. “Let me love you…”
His hand was already at the waistband of your panties and you could feel yourself getting aroused by his touch.
“Okay…”
“Hm?” Hyunjin paused, holding your cheeks while looking into your eyes.
“You can….”
“I can show you my love?”
“Yes….”
You couldn’t believe what you were saying. Your mouth must have a mind of its own! No way! Surely you weren’t in the right mind! Right?
“Thank you my love!” He said before continuing to make out with you.
“My dear queen…” he gasped between kisses to your neck. “No one is as fair as you… nor as beautiful…”
You blushed. His complements always felt good. Hyunjin kissed your breasts and nipples over the nightgown and slowly lowered your underwear.
They were already wet. Very wet actually. He quickly stripped of his pants and boxers, already noticeably hard.
He teased your hole with his cock making you gasp softly before he slowly entered.
A fairly tight fit, but felt so good.
“My queen…” he grunted as he started to thrust. “So tight…”
You moaned at even the slightest of moment and it got more and more breathy as he continued.
He held your wrists above your head with one hand while holding you cheek with the other. He passionately kissed you, swallowing your noises as he made love to you.
The feeling was amazing. So warm and comforting. For a moment you forgot about everything in the world and the situation at hand. What situation? He was loving you. Taking care of you and giving constant praise,
It all accumulated to when you had your euphoric orgasm. One that you hadn’t had in a long time.
After coming himself, Hyunjin pulled out and gave a few more sloppy kisses before resting next to you.
You only stared up at the ceiling. Where are you? What is happening?
“I need to use the restroom, darling.” He said while walking out. “Ill be right back.”
When hearing the bathroom door close, you stumbled to your feet and made your way to the front room.
Your mind was still clouded but it was clear enough to see that the front door was unlocked. Perfect.
You went to it. Excited for the taste of freedom but then you paused.
Your hand laid on the doorknob but you did nothing.
Open it! The voice of reason pleaded. But you didn’t.
He’ll be devastated if you leave! Right? Or is it that… you wanted to stay…?
No way! That’s crazy talk! Why would you want to stay with the man who kidnapped you?? The man that took you from your life! … Your boring and mundane life… A life where no one cherishes you like he does…
You shake your head at the absurd internal arguments and twist the knob. Before you do anything, you hear Hyunjin call out to you.
“My love?! Where are you?!”
Your heart was pounding. It’s now or never.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” Hyunjin chuckled as he entered the kitchen.
And there you were. Leaning against the stove, away from the now locked front door.
“I just… wanted a snack…”
#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#fanfic#kpop smut#stray kids#skz x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids x poc reader#stray kids yandere#yandere kpop#yandere stray kids#yandere hyunjin#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x poc reader#hyunjin smut#skz hyunjin#yandere skz#skz smut
890 notes
·
View notes
Text
₊˚✧ phone lights up my nightstand in the black
bestfriend!leon kennedy x fem!reader smut
warnings: 1.6k words, use of y/n, curse words, iphone user (sorry android users), COP LEON!!, phone/facetime sex, masturbation (f + m), kinda cnc idrk, itsy bitsy tiny sadism (m),
masterlists , based on this pic (i wanna eat his collar bones), part 2
The sound of Leon's phone ringing unpleasantly woke him up. The default iPhone ringtone makes him groan. He hesitantly lifted his head from his pillow, scanning the nightstand for his ringing phone. Once his eyes saw the phone and the contact name, Leon accepted the Facetime, only slightly annoyed now.
"Y/N, it is one in the morning and I have work in a few hours. This better be good." He sighed. He took note of your camera being off even though you explicitly chose to Facetime him. "I can't sleep." Your voice was breathy and a little hoarse. "Can you talk to me until I fall asleep?"
Leon would be lying if it didn't make his heart flutter at the fact that you called him of all people to help you. He sighed before setting his phone on the nightstand, leaning it against a half-empty bottle of beer, his body turning to lay on his side rather than his previous position on his back.
"What do you want me to talk about?" He left his camera on, too lazy to make an effort to turn it off. His broad chest and arms on display, the blanket falling comfortably on his torso. "Anything." Your voice was even breathier than before, it concerned him a little, wondering if you were crying before you had called him, your camera being off not helping your case.
"I can tell you about what I did at work today." You thought it was cute how he would sacrifice his very deeply important sleep to help you even when he had to be at work in just a few hours. "Okay." He could hear the smile you had on your face even though he couldn't see you. "Well, I woke up and then I had to go straight to work because I overslept. I had to drink the shitty RPD coffee." He laughed softly as you hummed along.
"I don't know what they put in it to make it taste like it came from the depths of hell." He laughed again and was relieved when he heard your laugh emit from his phone. "It was pretty slow today, just had to look over some paperwork with Chris." You hummed again, letting him know you were still listening. "Like I said, pretty slow today. I don't wanna bore you."
"Keep going, you're not boring me." Leon looked at the phone, staring a pink letter where your pretty face should be. "Keep going? Well, if you insist." He jokes but you don't find it very humorous, desperate for him to keep talking. "I thought about calling you 'cause I was so bored. I was just sitting at my desk all day." He admitted, a little shy to share this with you. "Why didn't you?" Your voice coming out whinier than you would have liked.
Leon raised an eyebrow slightly. "I figured you were busy. Next time I will." He smiled, glancing at the clock that read 1:27. When he got no response from you he assumed you had fallen asleep. He wondered if he should hang up or if he should just leave the call going while he slept in case you needed him again. Neither choice mattered though once he heard the noise that came through the phone that you accidentally let slip.
"Did you just... Did you just moan?" He stared at his phone in disbelief, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him, but it all started to make sense. The turned-off camera, the breathy and hoarse voice, the small whine that came with your words only moments before. He could hear your heavy breaths as silence overtook the both of you. "Y/N?" The way he says your name almost makes you moan again. "M'sorry."
Leon stared at the pink letter, shock written on his face. "Sorry for what?" He asks hesitantly, wanting clarity on what you were apologizing for even though he had a pretty good idea of exactly what you're apologizing for. You stay silent again, unsure of what to say. "Y/N?" He says again and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something you'll regret. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?" He asks, feeling a bit bold.
"What do you think I'm doing?" He could hear the dismay in your voice and he couldn't help but laugh. "I think.. you're touching yourself." He spoke slowly, afraid of what you would think if he had gotten it wrong. You go quiet again from embarrassment, and god, getting caught is really turning you on. "Sorry." You mumble, hoping he won't hang up and never speak to you again.
"Why don't you, uh.. show me?" You can see the nervousness on his face when he asks the question and you would be lying if he didn't look cute. You don't say anything as you hesitantly turn your camera on, his eyes instantly being blessed with the slight of your hand shoved down your pretty panties.
He remembers when you bought them, texting him a picture and asking what he thought. Getting a boner in the middle of work and he couldn't even think of what to say to you without sounding desperate, opting for a simple "they're nice" with a thumbs up emoji. And once again, he doesn't know what to say while looking at the same pair of underwear.
"Oh, fuck." He glances at the clock again, 1:31 AM. He could feel himself getting harder under the meticulously placed blanket. He could see the outline of your fingers through your underwear as you rubbed slow circles on your clit. He looked at the screen intently, neither one of you saying anything. "Do you want me to take them off?" Leon's breath hitched in his throat and he could've sworn he just saw the gates of heaven for a second.
"Yeah, please do." You complied quickly, setting the phone down for a moment, letting a black screen overtake your camera before picking the phone back up, giving Leon a much better view than before. He can feel his cock twitch as he looks at the way your legs are spread, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy. "You're killing me, Y/N." He sighs as he tries to readjust his pajama pants.
You continue to stay quiet as you brush your fingers over your puffy clit then dip them down your slit and tease your enterance. "Come on, pretty girl. Show me what you were doing while I was talking before." Your fingers pressed harshly into your clit as you bucked your hips at the nickname, making you moan at the sudden feeling. Leon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before returning his eyes to the screen, the tent in his pants getting harder and harder to ignore.
He watches as you begin to finger yourself and you no longer care about being quiet, moaning softly as you fuck yourself with your fingers. Leon never found interest in watching porn, thinking there was no real point to watching someone so intimately but that mindset quickly dissipates as he looks at you, giving him such a show.
He knows he shouldn't but he can't help but think what it would be like to pound his cock into your pretty pussy, the mere thought turning him on even more, if even possible. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, flipping onto his back as he shoved a hand down his pants. He winced as he brushed his hand against his hardened cock, quickly wrapping his hand around it and slowly pumping it.
"Are you touching yourself?" Your sweet voice echoed through the phone. "Yeah, I am." Leon sighed, his eyes still stuck on the screen. "Am I turning you on?" If it weren't for the slick noises that could be heard from the phone or the sight that you're graciously letting see or the sentence you had chosen to say, you sounded just like an angel to Leon. "Yeah," He laughed softly. "You are." He gently groans as he squeezes the tip of his dick, letting precum drip out for lube, some getting on the warm pajama pants.
"Can you show me?" His eyes widen in shock for a second before he places the phone on the bed, camera positioned at the ceiling as he shuffles his pants to his ankles. He quickly picks the phone back up, now angling the camera so you could see his twitching cock. "Woah." It was barely above a whisper but Leon still heard it, pride swelling in his chest.
"Wish you were here right now. Want you to fuck me so bad." You whine. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, your words shooting straight to his sensitive cock. "Me too, baby." You both continue to touch yourselves, watching the other as you do. Moans transfering through the phones’ microphones.
"I'm really close." He admits a little embarrassed he couldn't last long, but the sight of you was just too pleasurable for him. "Me too, Leon." Hearing you say his name makes his cock twitch in his hand, pushing him over the edge, and painting his abdomen with cum. Your orgasm shortly following Leon's.
"Holy fuck." He curses under his breath as he watches you fuck yourself through your orgasm, your legs trembling and fighting to stay open. "Look at you." He says softly as you pull your fingers away from your cunt, letting him have a complete view. "Need more, come over." He can feel himself getting hard again and he glances at the clock once again, 1:44. "Be there in twenty." "Make it fifteen." He was going to be so tired at work later.
┊ㅤㅤ 🌾 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊
#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re .#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil#resident evil 4 remake#resident evil 4 x reader#resident evil 4 smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do James potter with a Slytherin reader smut? 💗💗
tysm, i’m glad!! this one ended with them as quidditch rivals and james being SUPER subby, so if that wasn’t what you had in mind feel free to send another, more specific request! hope you enjoy💞💞
warnings: sub/dom, pegging, rough sex, degradation, mommy kink, use of “slut”, “whore”, “baby”, “good boy”, and “fuck-toy”, crying
masterlist
you thrust into james’ ass, forcing his head into the pillow. it muffles his scream as you spread open his hole with your strap-on. the sheets are wet, soaked with a mix of tears, sweat, and cum, and his dorm room stinks of sex.
you’ve been punishing him for hours now, making him come and then playing with him soft until he got hard again.
he deserved it, teasing you after the game. he was head of the gryffindor quidditch team, while you were head of the slytherins. his team had beat you earlier today, and he had the audacity to mock you.
his cock rubs against the mattress as you thrust into him again, forcing a whimper past his lips. “does it hurt, slut?” you’re the one mocking now, lips against his ear.
“hurts so much, mommy,” he stutters.
“you deserve it. fucking whore.”
he cries as you split him open, pubic bone smacking against his ass cheeks.
you reach one hand down to grab his cock. it’s soft and sensitive in your hand, all the cum spilled out and soaked into the sheets beneath you.
you squeeze it until he cries out from the pain. you feel him harden in your grip as he sobs into the pillow. he bucks into your hand, his own hand grabbing a fistful of the sheets.
“you gonna come again, whore?”
he whines, nodding his head dumbly.
“you’re all fucked out aren’t you, baby? dumb little fuck-toy, can’t even answer his mommy properly.”
“g-gonna come, mommy.”
you lower your voice. “do it, baby. be a good boy and come for mommy.”
he chokes on another sob as he finishes, painting the sheets with another layer of his cum.
you flip him over as he thrashes and cries, hand still playing with his now-soft dick.
“again.”
#james potter#james potter smut#sub!james potter#sub!james potter smut#james potter has a mommy kink#marauders#marauders era#marauders smut#marauders era smut#harry potter smut#smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
OMG I LOVED UR STAN AND KYLE BSF HEADCANNONS!! Can i req one with the main four, like what its like to be in a group w/ them?? have an amazing day <33
BEING IN A FRIEND GROUP WITH SOUTH PARKS MAIN 4
pairings; stan, kyle, kenny, cartman x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)
summary; chaotic friend group hc's!
warnings; cussing
a/n; hi and ty hope you have an amazing day too!!
key colors; blue= stan green= kyle orange= kenny red= cartman pink= reader
late night skate boarding with them. it's always cartman who texts you guys to go. in reality he only wants to go to just to start shit. in my opinion kenny is the best skater out of y'all. but cartman is the worst💀. "you guys you guys look im gonna go down the ramp!!" "cartman that isn't a good idea your not ready-" "WAAAAAHHHHH" laughter is coming out from you, stan, and kenny. kyle wants to laugh but he ain't risking it😭. "GAWDAMMIT KYLE IM BEAT YOUR J-" cartman stops himself because he knows damn well not to rip on kyle in front of you. so he switches up real fast 🙄. "you guys i seriously think i broke a bone" "whatever cartman you just switched up cause you know y/n would kick your ass" 5 minutes kenny is teaching you, stan, and kyle a trick. "ok so next you gotta-" "get a room lovebirds i mean come on🙄" "CARTMAN STFU!!" "yeah dude stay mad because your not psychically able to do any of this🥱" this all happens in less than 15 minutes, like why can't y'all just be a nice friend group😭. moments later stan was about to go off a ramp. UNTIL HIS WHEELS BROKE OFF THE SKATEBOARD. i wonder who unscrewed them..... "AAAUAGHHHHHH" "DON'T WORRY STAN I GOTCHU!!" and there he was, stanly marsh in your arms. "W rizz stan or nah😏" stan could feel his face heating up fr. "damn dude that should've been me not stan😔" "kenny shut the hell up💀" "wait a minute where's cartman he literally almost killed stan tf????" cartman isn't trying to get his ass kicked in front of people so he ditched and went home. classic cartman.
karaoke night. you guys are definitely singing 2000's songs. but it always seems like you guys get interrupted no matter what. karaoke night was started by cartman, which is so surprising?? "I WANNA HOLD'EM LIKE THEY DO IN TEXAS, PLEASE" "FOLD'EM LET'EM HIT ME RAISE IT BABY STAY WITH M-" stan and kyle always hating cause you and cartman sound a little too good. "BOOO GET OFF THE STAGE" "YA MY EARS ARE BLEEDING" "OH FUCK OFF GUYS LET US SING" "you guys have been singing this same song for 2 hours bruh😭" "2 minutes kenny get it right" they just hating cause they can't handle real talent. sometimes when the karaoke gets intense you guys act like judges for americas got talent💀. "is this kenny mccormick from south park colorado?" "yes" "and what will you be doing today?" "YOUR MOM AHAHA" "disqualified poor people can't seem to have talent" "CARTMAN WTF" "NEXT" "no wait i'll sing with him" "oh god" if kyle and stan think you and cartman sound a little too good. JUST WAIT UNTIL THEY HERE YOU AND KENNY. "THIS ONE IS FOR THE BOYS WITH THE BOOMIN SYSTEM" "TOP DOWN AC WITH THE COOLER SYSTEM" super bass by nicki minaj is y'alls go to song. every time you guys finish that song your out of breath and laugh so much😭. "AND THE CROWD GUYS MILD🔥" "NEXT" "cartman we are done playing americas got talent" "dude let me and kyle sing next we haven't sung at all🥹" "fine" "ah hell nah it better not be anything emo💀" *30 seconds later every one starts singing* "BUT IM A CREEP" "IM A WERIDO" "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOIN' HERE" "I DON'T BELONG HERE" suddenly the tv, microphones, and speaker goes out?? "LISTEN UP BITCHES IM NOT HAVING AN ALCOHOLIC, A JEW, A FATHERLESS DAUGHTER, AND A HOMELESS POOR BOY SING RADIOHEAD AT MY HOUSE‼️‼️" guess who got jumped that night🤔???
#south park#south park x reader#south park x y/n#south park x you#stan marsh#kyle broflovski#kenny mccormick#eric cartman#stan marsh x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#eric cartman x reader#stan marsh x y/n#kyle broflovski x y/n#kenny mccormick x y/n#eric cartman x y/n
803 notes
·
View notes
Note
More soft Jason ideas since you deserve it and your wonderful and supper cool
Girldad!Jason
BRRROOOOOOO Oh my goddddddd ok like-
- Jason is the kind of dad who always has music playing in the house, he mindlessly sways and hums along as he makes morning (or night-time) pancakes for you and his little girl. She'll come running up to him, her thick black hair tangled over her face, and pull on his pant leg. He'll sweep her up into his arms, her small head fitting perfectly against his chest as she watches him make breakfast, still somewhat asleep and aloof. He'll start bopping along to the music with her little hands around his neck, filling up the kitchen with shrieks of laughter and he peppers her soft cheeks with kisses.
- I feel like you and him would like in a beach house, somewhere away from the city and his old job as Red Hood. Your daughter would bring home buckets of pretty rocks and sea glass that Jason keeps in jars along the living room windowsills. He has to dump some back onto the shore every time he sees her washing the new rocks and shells on the front porch.
- After long summer days of playing and wrestling in the waves, you would all curl up for a post-beach nap. Smelling like salt with the prick of the sun settling into your tired bones. Your daughter would fit perfectly between you two. Jasons hand behind his head with his other wrapped firmly around you and his little girl.
- Get's his daughter obsessed with reading just as much as he is. Would build her book-shelf after book-self as her collection of story-books and middle grade fairy books expands.
- Helps his daughter roast marsh mellows during the beach bonfires you guys have when Roy and his daughter visit. Your daughter and Lian are best friends- playdates once a week kind of thing.
- When she's little, he'll always have his daughter on his knee during big family dinners. He let's her eat anything off of his plate, keeping his arm around her as he talks with Dick.
- Overall, just- every-time he falls asleep next to you he feels like crying into your shoulder, unable to thank you enough for bringing such a precious perfect bundle of laughter into his life. Huge 'my wife showed me how to love and my daughter showed me how to forgive energy lmao.
I want night time pancakes with Jason and my little baby girl wtf!!! Also, thank you so much for sending this in. I love it and I literally fail to understand how you pull up with the most amazing scenarios every time, I’m actually in love with your writing!! You’re amazing!
Anyways lol!! I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to have biological children but for Jason… I’d do it, no hesitation. He’d be the most amazing girl dad, I love him so so so much.
I’m not sure if people have already said this before but can you imagine him learning how to do your daughter’s hair!! He has a YouTube hair tutorial playing on the TV as your daughter sits in between his legs. He’s got bobby pins in between his teeth and hair ties around his wrist. He’s using a small comb to gently brush through her little curls.
He’s learning how to braid her hair and he’s having some difficulty, but he’s a persistent man, and like he always tells his little girl, practice makes perfect! He will sit there for days, hours upon hours, trying to make the most flawless set of Dutch braids. Once he’s succeeded at his craft, he’ll admire his work and will tell his daughter to go show you his skills. And oh my goodness, how adorable does she look showing off her father’s braiding skills!!
I also saw a quote on Instagram earlier today and it said that “tenderness is in the hands” and I immediately thought of Jason. There is no one with gentler hands than Jason. His fingers may be rough and his knuckles might be permanently bruised from his past, but when he interlocks his hands with his baby girl, they are the most delicate and warmest hands she has ever felt.
He will run his fingers through her hair, as she lays her tiny head against his chest and he’ll read her favourite stories. She’ll take his hands out of her hair and just play with his fingers. Trace little shapes on his palm, measure her small hand against his big, calloused ones. It’ll melt Jason’s heart and he’ll feel like crying. There will be days where he needs to stop reading and take a minute to appreciate the tenderness of the moment, without completely crumbling.
Also, I kind of hate to say it, but it’s so true. Jason would totally try to heal his daddy issues by being the best possible parent.
He’d treat his daughter like an actual princess and not just in terms of materialistic things. He’d be there for her in every circumstance; he’d be the best moral support and the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.
If your daughter plays any sports or plays an instrument, any thing really, he’d always be there to encourage her and comfort her when it started to become tough. He’d attended every game, every practice, every performance. Like I said, the best cheerleader.
Basically long story short, I’d die for soft, girl dad Jason.
#fem!reader#jason todd#red hood#jason todd imagine#red hood imagine#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd headcanon#red hood headcanon#batfam
250 notes
·
View notes
Text
(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)
When Billy Falls in Love
--
Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.
Max stays angry red.
She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--
“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag.
Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.
Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.
Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”
“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.
Doesn’t.
Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”
“--All of a--”
“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.
They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.
There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.
The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--
“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”
About him?
About his bones and blood.
Max shrugs. “Why should I?”
And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.
“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”
“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.
“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”
Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.
“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”
Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”
Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.
Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”
“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”
“--I--”
“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”
Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.
“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.
--
“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”
Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.
“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”
“I can’t believe she said that.”
“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”
“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”
“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”
“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”
“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”
“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”
“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”
Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”
“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”
“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.
Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.
Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.
They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black.
Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.
Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.
Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”
“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”
“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”
Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”
“That was an hour ago.”
“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”
Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”
“Do you wanna die today, freak?”
“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”
Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.
Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.
“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”
“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”
Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,
“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.
“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?
“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”
“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”
“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”
Eddie bangs his head against the window.
Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”
“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.
Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.
Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.
Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”
“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”
“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”
And.
Munson says it like it’s a shock.
Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong.
Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.
Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.
Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.
It makes him crazy.
Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.
Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.
So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies.
If it kills him.
He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--
“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.
“You’re not helping.”
“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”
“And I’m just pointing out--”
“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.
Steve wants to check the flowers.
Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”
“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington? What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”
Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.
“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”
Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away.
Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.
The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”
Eddie blinks.
Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.
And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.
About Billy.
He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.
That Steve would survive losing this.
He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.
“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”
Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.
“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”
--
Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.
It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.
What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.
He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door.
Eddie doesn’t move.
“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up.
Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.
“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.
Eddie smiles at him.
It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.
“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”
Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.
Max’s scrunchie.
Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.
Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.
“So?” You fucking him now?”
“No, I--”
“What are you doing here, Harrington?”
Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.
The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.
Out of breath.
Weak.
“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?”
“Flowers,” Steve tells him.
“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.
He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.
As Steve crashes and burns.
Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.
He smells like peaches.
He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.
It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.
“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.
His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--
“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”
“--Right--”
“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”
Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image.
“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.
“I--”
“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.
Feels that way about Billy.
“I,” Steve tries again,
“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.
“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.
Billy stops. Waits.
Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.
“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.
It hurts.
It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”
And.
Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”
“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”
He does.
He really does.
Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now.
So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”
“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”
“I know.”
“Well, then, why’d you say it?”
“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”
“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”
“Neither do you, asshole,”
“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”
Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.
“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.
And then.
Steve gets an idea.
He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.
“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”
“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.
Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”
“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”
Billy blinks, confused.
“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”
Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.
Steve’s feet are on fire.
He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.
Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”
And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.
Steve watches Billy.
The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”
Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”
“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.
It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.
“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here are some loser!Ellie hc's, my imagination about how Ellie "coming out to Joel" and just her in general.
Warnings: swearing, drug usage (weed) Ellie is in high school (but in her final year so she's 18), no use of y/n, suggestive themes (kissing and cuddling AHHH 🤭🤭🤭), Ellie bottoms! 😨😨
♡ Loser!Ellie who met you during band practice at school, she was tuning her guitar and you came up to her and Dina .
"hey, is anyone using this drum kit?" Your tone was so sweet and my god did Ellie fold, she was just stuck, she couldn't say anything and Dina laughed at her. "No one's using it hon, you can use it" and when you played, my fucking god was Ellie shocked- she never thought someone so innocent looking would play so fucking good.
♡ Loser!Ellie who DEFINITELY offered to give you guitar lessons just so she could get closer to you and to give you lessons-
"hey, so I was just wondering if you wanted to come to mine sometime?" You ask Ellie and she freezes, she can't believe you've just asked her that and she agrees and that's how you guys started dating
♡ Loser!Ellie who definitely NEVER tells Joel about you two dating but he's not dumb
♡ Loser!Ellie who whenever she gets back from school and Joel would ask about her day, she would go ON AND ON about you, like will NOT shut up about you. "That's nice kiddo, do you maybe wanna tell me what you did today?"
♡ Loser!Ellie 100% denies being gay, it's so obvious tho, like. She's got her Calvin Klein boxers all over her room, the way she talks about you, the way she gets all nervous whenever you come over for a "sleepover" (it was really a sleepover date) she CANNOT stop blushing when you're around her-
♡ Loser!Ellie who taught you how to rip a fat cone from a bong . "Yeah so like you kinda just" she put the bong to her mouth, using the lighter she blows in and breathes in for a decent 20 seconds before blowing out, let's just say you both hot boxed the room. Thank fuck Joel wasn't home.
♡ Loser!Ellie who 100% got you stoned for the first time (at Joel's house) and you called her "Els" for the first time and got SUPER tense and nervous, blushing like a little tomato <33
♡ Loser!Ellie who definitely gets stoned with you and plays games like Minecraft, TWD (the game), horizon zero dawn.
♡ Loser!Ellie who refused to get up and pee when you were falling asleep on her shoulder, like this bitch was BUSTING but nope, can't move because you were falling asleep.
♡ Loser!Ellie who went downstairs shit faced stoned (eyes red, puffy eyes, very noticeable) because you were hungry and wanted a snack, who was "creeping" down the stairs and went to the pantry only for Joel to scare the shit out of her
"Ellie what are you doing?" She fucking screamed, dropping the chips "Joel?! What the fuck?"
"Go to bed kiddo it's late"
♡ Loser!Elliewho's a bottom, sorry I don't care about what y'all say, she's a bottom- your on her chest, she's hugging you closer to her and your planting little kisses on her collar bone. Once you both are asleep, Joel just knocks at the door and slightly opens it to make sure you guys are ok and he smiles when he sees you guys cuddling.
♡ Loser!Ellie who's 100% the little spoon, she wants to be all big and tough but as soon as you offer her "tough guy personality" immediately dies "do you want me to spoon you?" You offer and she frantically nods "yes, yes yes pleaseeeeeee"
♡ Loser!Ellie who falls asleep on your chest watching a super serious romance, comedy movie
♡ Loser!Ellie definitely listens to Rage against the machine, absolutely loves that fucking band, but she also likes chase Atlantic.
♡ Loser!Ellie who is at a party with you and decides she can handle 5 shots (she can barely handle 2) so you have to drag her into the house with Joel laughing his ass off and she's just drunk and mumbling stupid shit "No! I'm not wasted you are!" Pointing at you and giggling like a little kid.
♡ Loser!Ellie who definitely walks out of her room with the small hickey's you gave her (didn't want Joel to see) but he saw and brought it up making her blush because you were next to her-
♡ Loser!Ellie who's doing the dishes and you get home from work and run over to her and hug her from behind, kissing her gently on her shoulder and her giggling like a mad man- slightly pushing you off "babeeee, I'm doing the dishes!"
♡ Loser!Ellie who doesn't let you pay for food, ANY FOOD! If you guys are high and watching something and you do "babe? Can we get some uber eats?" She grabs her phone, you get what you want and go "here's my card" and she shushes you and pays with her card.
♡ Loser!Ellie definitely gets mad when you don't offer her to shower with you, you get home from work all sweaty and disgusting and she rushes over to you and hugs you-
"ewww, ellieeee!" You shriek "I'm all yucky get off" and she simply goes "missed you sm"
"okay well I gotta go shower so" and she lets go and gives you puppy dog eyes "without me?" Her voice is soft and sad, you giggle. Ofc not, go get the towels.
♡ Loser!Ellie who is at dinner with Joel and Joel doesn't know how to bring it up but he just goes for it.
"Soo... She's a good friend of yours?" He says, putting down his fork. She looks up at him and nods "yeah" he coughs, looking at her with a stronger gaze than before "is she uh- is she your girlfriend?" Ellie looks at him and says "no"
"I wasn't born last night kiddo" he chuckles at how defensive she's gotten and then she finally admits it-
PART 2??
A/n: HIYAAA POOKIES <33 I know I've done absolutely fuck all the past few months BUT HEREEEEE (please don't come after my soul) haven't been too motivated to write again but I got motivated to write this and YES I am still WORKING on I never existed but yet again, it's not the type of writing I do because Ellie is a little cutie patooti , so I might change it slightlyyyyy so it's not AS TOXIC) love you all x
#ellie x fem reader#the last of us#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#ellie imagine#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie smut#ellie tlou#sapphic#wlw nsft#wlw post#lesbianism#lesbians#lesbian yearning#wlw love#ellie the last of us#ellie x you#tlou 2#the last of us part ii#tlou ellie#no y/n#modern au
337 notes
·
View notes
Text
"It's just the beginning darling"
Paring: Sukuna the king of curses! x fem!reader; Sukuna in Yujis Body
Tags: Sukuna!imagines; Sukuna!being obsessive; slight!NSFW; slight!gore; mostly it's obsession enjoy~
Sukuna is cold, ruthless, and unpredictable, everything depends on his pleasure and displeasure. For such a man to exist, it's a miracle not more people are dead. Being the King of Curses, the strongest, being above the mere humans that totter about their day.
Just a breath of his, hell just his shadow is enough to make even Satan crawl on fours back to hell with hands sweating, legs weak, fearing for his life. That is who he is one above all beings, worshipped as a god. And to think he, such a great man, would fall for a mere ordinary girl? he does not consider himself to be a man who thinks much about the love business, he thinks more about the non-love business such as who will he toy with today? whose body will cause heart-wrenching sensational screams to echo?
It was all until you entered his vision, sitting in Yuji's body as usual, annoyed, bored, and sleepy. His eyes looking at whatever was going on, that's when he met you. Your bright smile as you hurried towards Yuji, made him wonder, "Who is she?" that's when his bored eyes sharpened, alert, a predator looking at his next prey.
"Hey Yuji! Long time no see!", your voice, so bright, so sweet
"Hey Y/n, yeah, long time no see!", Yuji smiled
"Ever since you shifted schools, it has not been the same, I miss you a lot, why did you change schools?", arms crossed, eyebrows frowned, and eyes full of questions as you stared at him, he cannot escape this
Your conversation continued as Yuji made all kinds of reasons why he left, it amused Sukuna, a bit entertaining seeing the brat struggle and get cornered, hell, he thought it was good, why so? well you will be a good blackmail seeing how Yuji is close to you
The look on Yuji's face, seeing your throat strangled, body ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed ruthlessly―
"Ah, how fun"
The smirk on his face, chilling to the bone, and you were completely unaware that you had swords swaying near your neck, how would it be chopped off not even in your control. You laughed carelessly as you sipped juice, sitting all pretty, so pretty, it made him want to ruin you so much more.
The pleasure of seeing the fear, terror, horrid look in your eyes, your screams of terror, would truly satisfy him it would be better than anything.
Finally he found his next prey and the hunt begun
As time passed, the interactions between you and Yuji grew, you even met his friends, Nobara and Megumi even his teacher Gojo, the more he observed you, the more he thought you were a very vulnerable person, quite fragile, and also an idiot, you cried easily― the one time you cried when your ice-cream fell, how easily you got hurt, stumbling― hitting your foot as curses escaped from those pretty lips.
How sometimes you walked carelessly― bumping into others, the way others looked at you, sometimes, he wanted to rip them to shreds and gauge out their eyes, after all, how dare they look at you with those eyes?, such feelings? why? doesn't matter, if it annoyed him it does not deserve to exist.
"What an idiot", his lips curled up into a smile as a light chuckle escaped his lips.
Once he even took over Yuji's body when Yuji was with you, he played along, sometimes he slipped up which caused you to look at him a bit confused and concerned but it only made him want to cackle and pin you against the wall and-oh the things he'd do― may you never know.
You walked with him so carelessly, in his mind he had already killed you so many times he lost count. The way you held his hand, soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him as you ran and laughed, addicting, it turns into an obsession. An unhealthy one, he thought more frequently about you, when you were with Yuji all his senses were on high alert, taking in each and every movement, your outfit for the day, everything.
"Without them you would look better" his eyes trailed the way your clothes wrapped around you, concealing your body, like a present waiting for him to rip open and ravish you.
You won't be able to escape once he starts, pinning you, kissing you, tasting you as his lips kiss your neck, your breasts ruthlessly squeezed, fondled with- sucked by his tongue as if there's no tomorrow―
Your pretty cunt stuffed with his dick, dripping, crying for help, looking pathetic as your body shakes. Your eyes hazy as he ruthlessly slams into you, non-stop, your cries mean nothing, begging means nothing
He will rail you brutally, so much, so much till you collapse and cannot moan anymore, pushed to your limit, no beyond it
Oh what can your sorry cunt do? Just hold on until it's over, after all
it's just the beginning
With Yuji losing more control over him each passing time he takes over, how long would you be safe from his clutches, your clothes, your skin all so pristine, may god have mercy on you dear y/n
Oh I forgot―
He is the God
Worship him, pray to him, offer him what he desires
Maybe you will live, dear Y/n, after all?
Who dares to raise their eyes to look at you in his presence?
Footnote:
Check out masterlist for all chapters!
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen anime#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jjk sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#fanfic#jjk imagines#jjk drabbles#jujustsu kaisen x reader#sukuna ryomen#jjk ryomen#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen#sukuna ryomen smut
186 notes
·
View notes
Note
The villain breaks into the hero facility to plan their next attack, they watch as the hero is dragged kicking and screaming into a room with superhero. Superhero starts torturing hero because hero failed their last mission and they need to be better. Villain watches their hero get tortured by superhero from the vents in hatred in disgust, their plan slowly turning into a rescue mission.
The hero lay in their own blood. They could feel it everywhere. On their face, in their mouth, under their fingernails. They had given up on trying to take in deep breaths.
They already knew the result would be painful.
From the hero’s experience alone, they could tell that not only their leg was broken, but also some ribs. Their arm didn’t feel really healthy either but they supposed, they could count themselves lucky. All of this had happened in the matter of mere minutes. With the superhero’s bare hands.
“Did you really think your little…adventures would go by unnoticed?” the superhero asked. They kicked the hero’s shoulder to turn them around on their back. Hot pain overwhelmed the hero anew but screaming or moaning wouldn’t change anything. “They will never come to save you.”
Ah, but the hero didn’t expect that, did they?
They stared up at the white lights of the little office room. The hard tiles were cold against their back and they wondered how many minutes they had left without immediate medical assistance.
20? Maybe an hour even? The hero dared to dream.
“You could disappear today and they would never know. No one would tell them. And if I made it public that you, hm, I don’t know, have to work somewhere else and left the country—” they leaned down, staring at the hero “— do you think your little friend would be sad?”
The hero didn’t know what to answer. Maybe? Maybe not? They didn’t know the villain well enough. But the answer was probably no anyway.
“It’s a shame, though. You’re quite talented.” The superhero’s boot found the hero’s arm, kicked it a little as if a dog was playing with a dead animal. “But you’ve become a little annoying thorn. You and your friend.”
Suddenly, the superhero stopped kicking their arm. The hero could only shake their head weakly, a last plea, when they felt the boot shift. The hero wasn’t ready for the pain that followed. For the bone breaking underneath the superhero’s shoe when they put their entire weight onto one small point.
The hero’s arm cracked and immeasurable pain exploded in their entire body. A weak moan was all they managed. That and a lot of tears.
In moments like these, they often thought about the villain. They asked themselves if they had ever endured something like this. They asked themselves how it felt to have the villain’s hand on their shoulder and their calm voice talking to them.
But the hero wasn’t a fool. The villain’s kindness was rare.
“Internal bleeding, broken ribs, probably poking your poor lungs…I think you’re ready to meet your fate now, hm?” The superhero laughed. “Good luck with that. I’ll send someone to clean this up.”
They turned around and walked out of the room without a second glance. The hero could hear the door lock.
Finally, the hero could rest their eyes and get some sleep — or so they thought. They heard a bang and a grunt and the next thing they saw was the villain, on their knees beside them.
At first the hero assumed it was some kind of illusion, some weird dream or fantasy.
“Shit.” That was all the villain said at first. They touched the hero softly — their arm, stomach, their face. They pulled out bandages and worked quietly.
The hero wasn’t sure what to say and they didn’t even know if they could say anything.
“Swallow this,” the villain said. They opened the hero’s mouth and put some pill on their tongue. The hero did as they were told, swallowing blood and pill. “I should’ve come sooner, fuck.”
The hero tried to stretch out their arm to touch the villain but the pain was too overwhelming. Blood got stuck in their throat again and they coughed, spreading even more pain all over their chest.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the villain said quickly. They took the hero’s hand. “I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.”
They were stressed, were panicking. Although the hero had known them for a while, they had never seen the villain like this.
“But it will hurt. A lot. Just…try to stay awake, alright? Promise me.”
The hero nodded but they couldn’t keep that promise.
#hero whump I repeat HERO WHUMP#writing snippet#heroxvillain prompt#heroxvillain snippet#heroes and villains#hero#villain#hero x villain#heroxvillain#an answer for an ask#request#whump
293 notes
·
View notes
Note
Uuuh uuuh uuuuh I got a request!
Remember that drabble you did about Mc from the new obey me game keeping a painful distance from the brothers cuz they are not the same brothers as the one form the og game?
What about a reversed perspective for this one?
How does the brothers feel about an mc who's clearly into them and clearly keeping distance?
obn!brothers reacting to a distant mc
includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .7k | rated t | m.list
a/n: oooh this was so fun! and i really think that they'd just think mc was a freak lololol. thanks for requesting and i hope you enjoy!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback, so come stop by!
please please please reblog
➳ lucifer just doesn’t understand. sure, it’s not like he wants this random demon to be all buddy-buddy with him and his brothers, but sometimes you act in the oddest of ways. sometimes you seem to be able to practically read his mind, leaving him with a strange sense of familiarity, but other times you won’t even look him in the eyes. he knows he can be harsh, but surely it wasn’t to that extent, right? it’s not like he wants you to be buddy-buddy with them, but he has to admit he wants to see that sadness leave your eyes when you look at them.
➳ mammon scratches his head. that was the second time today you’d done that. the two of you were just having a nice conversation and then you’d suddenly shut down, eyes going a million miles away. you’re a strange one, that’s for sure. and the way you kept your distance from them was just plain hurtful. mammon was once a great angel and you won’t even talk to him half of the time! even despite all of his gracious attempts to try to get to know you better. all for your benefit, of course, no other reason.
➳ levi hesitates to approach you sometimes. not because he doesn’t like you, but because you don’t seem to like him very much. you jump when he talks to you, as if you’ve seen a ghost, and when you think no one’s looking, extend that to all of them as if you can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. at first, he’d kind of thought it was angel/demon prejudice, but as time goes on, it really doesn’t seem like that’s the case. and whenever someone tries to ask, you play dumb, an act that convinces no one, except for maybe diavolo. but he’s always been an odd guy too.
➳ satan can’t figure you out at all. you’re hardly scared by his outbursts, or at least hide it well, and you sometimes talk to him as if you guys speak comfortably all of the time. you also have his tastes figured out, recommending him books that are weirdly suited to him, but at the same time, you seem cautious towards him. like you’re trying not to get too close. but again, it doesn’t seem like it’s due to his anger. you’re often nicer to him then compared to when he’s more levelheaded, and it’s kind of nice but also confusing at the same time.
➳ asmo watches you move around them, suspicion rising in his bones. you’re just so attuned to him and his brithers–acting before they speak, sensing what they need before they do. it’s like you can predict their movements, and he’s not excluded from the treatment. you know his favorite brands even though he can’t remember telling you them, cook his eggs just to his liking, and even understand his complex closet organizational system without him having to explain it. yet you pretend you don’t, asking questions he’s sure you already know the answer to, and it just rubs him the wrong way, there’s something off about you.
➳ beel thinks you’re pretty nice. you understand the pull of their sins without passing judgment, help them out when needed, but you maintain a coolness, a distance he can’t quite bridge despite his efforts. and sometimes, you’ve got this look of grief in your eyes that makes him wonder if you’ve lost someone too, but you never open up about it, dancing around your past with the help of solomon. he wants to get to know you better, connect with you, but sometimes, that seems like the last thing you want.
➳ belphie wants to hate you, he really does. how is he supposed to accept this random demon in their house, all up in their business, just because stupid diavolo commanded it? ridiculous. but you grow on him over time and he finds himself wanting to get to know you better despite his best efforts, something you don’t seem to want, except for every now and again when you’re strangely soft with him. he doesn’t get it and definitely doesn’t get you; what kind of demon is so nice anyway?
leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
#obey me#obey me game#obey me shall we date#lucifer obey me#mammon obey me#levi obey me#asmo obey me#satan obey me#beel obey me#belphie obey me#lucifer x you#mammon x you#levi x you#asmo x you#satan x you#beel x you#belphie x you#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#levi x reader#belphie x reader#answered asks#komikudikentalendo#leviswriting#leviswriting-obeyme
486 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii if you are actually serious about taking requests then I was wondering if you could do something fluffy based on hozier’s song ‘to someone from a warmer climate’ because as someone from somewhere very alike to Ireland in climate it did something my heart heart the first time I heard it lol. I love how you write Andrew and just how you write tbh if you do end up writing it thanks in advance 💛💛💛
It came easy, darling
This is actually perfect for me right now because it is actually colder where I live than it is in Antarctica right now. Im being so dead ass.
Rating: PG-13 (this is the tamest fic I have ever written)
Warnings: Hozier x gn!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, COLD weather, not even attempting at using irish slang cause I’ll fuck it up.
Coming home from work today was an utter nightmare. You could’ve sworn that rain while it was so cold was arguably so much worse than snow or ice.
You had lived here your whole life and yet it never got any easier to live somewhere where it got this cold on a regular basis.
Today though, there was something different about this cold. Usually it was manageable, but today, you had trouble even with your numerous layers, staying warm in the brief periods of time that you were outside. It was the kind of cold that chilled you to the bone.
And what made it worse was the fact that the heater in your car had all but decided to completely shit the bed this morning. By the time you had gotten home, you could have sworn that you were at risk of losing a few toes.
Walking through the door, you were almost immediately greeted with the sound of Andrew upstairs playing with the band. You smiled. His idea to convert one of the extra bedrooms in the house you lived in together into a music room had been a fantastic one. He could work and record from home whenever he wanted. He loved being able to let an idea take him whenever the inspiration struck and having everything he needed in one room in the house made that so much easier for him.
You began peeling off your (now soaked) outer layers to hang them on the coat hooks next to the door. You quickly realized that even though you had been wearing several coats, the rain had soaked through to your shirt. Wonderful.
Still shivering, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom and quickly replaced your wet clothes with dry ones. Sweats and a shirt you had gotten from Andrews side of the closet, which was almost comically large on you.
You were still quite cold, so you grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around your shoulders before making your way toward where the band was practicing.
You loved watching them play. Specifically, you loved watching Andrew play. It was like his music transformed him, he was passionate and powerful and confident when he was playing. You entered the room quietly and curled up on the small couch Andrew had put in the room, specifically so that you could sit there and watch him if you wanted to.
They were running through a moment silence (common tongue), a song which he had written in one night while sitting next to you after and encounter which at the time he had said was “some of our best work”
You always wondered how he could get up on stage and sing about such things, especially considering that just listening to the things he had written about some of the nights you’d spent together made you incredibly flustered.
You found the whole thing sweet of course. The idea of this man being so entirely enthralled with you that you had inspired a rather large portion of his music over the years was flattering to say the absolute least. You were his muse and he made sure you were all too well aware of his music being about you, even if he was incredibly private about details when it came to his following.
“Love, you’re shivering.” Andrews voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You were so far in thought that you hadn’t even realized how cold you really were.
“Oh, yeah it’s a bit cold out there. I got a little bit wet with the rain, Im okay though.” You shrug a bit.
“No you’re not. Go to bed, turn on a movie, I’ll be there in a a few minutes.” He stands from his stool at the front of the room and sets his guitar down on the stand by the wall.
“It’s fine, I don’t want to interrupt.” You shake your head and move the blanket farther over your shoulders. “I’m okay, really.”
“We were just about done anyways, you’re not interrupting anything, darling.” He chuckles quietly and walks over to take your hands, pulling you to stand in front of him.
He places a soft kiss you your forehead, causing a happy sigh to escape your lips. “Go to bed, I’ll bring you some tea.” You nodded and leaned into his touch. You were still cold, so it didn’t take much for you to give up and do what he asked.
When you got to your bedroom and laid down under the blankets, it was the first time that you fully recognized just how cold you really were. You were violently shivering, teeth chattering, and desperately rubbing your legs together under the covers to try and generate heat.
You moved to pick up the remote from the nightstand next to Andrews side of the bed, turning the tv on. You scroll through Netflix, looking for something to watch for a bit before Andrew came in with two coffee mugs and handed you yours before making his way to the other side of the bed.
He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer to him so that your head rested against his chest, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Why don’t we watch that documentary you started the other day?”
You gave him a funny look. “I thought you said you didn’t like watching murder documentaries with me?” You both laughed a little bit as you went back and clicked on the title.
“Yes, I think you’re weird for spending so much time learning about how people get away with murder, your bad list is not a place I would want to end up, however, you’re cold, so I’ll humor you.” He squeezed you a bit tighter for a second, and you started to feel yourself warm up just a bit.
He was always so warm. It was like just radiated heat from his every inch. You always found yourself nuzzling into his heat, but especially at times like this, being so close to him was one of the best feelings. Even when you weren’t saying anything to each other, moments like this were your favorite.
The intimacy between the two of you in moments like this was something that you always craved. The way he absentmindedly drew his fingers through your hair and held you so close to him was something you ached for when he wasn’t around, a privilege that you could never imagine taking for granted.
You found yourself paying more attention to the even sound of his breathing and the fluttering of his heartbeat than what was happening on the screen. You closed your eyes, sighing in content as you listened.
Every part of him was made of music, it seemed. His heartbeat was steady, creating a steady rhythm for the air in his lungs to sing along with. He was magnificent. Everything about him was nothing short of awe inspiring. He was beautiful, perfect even.
I could hear him start to hum a melody that was unfamiliar to me. It was beautiful. It was a soft, soaring melody line that was a little bit higher than his usual range. Nevertheless it was beautiful.
Looking up at his face, he looked completely lost in thought and he hummed the melody. “If you need to go write, its okay. I’m nice and warm now, it’s fine.” You smile up at him lovingly. You simply adored the way his mind worked. The way he could make music out of the simplest of thoughts.
“No, I wanna stay.” He pulled you even tighter to his chest, you were almost impossibly close, but it was in no way uncomfortable. “You help me think.” His face held nothing but pure love and adoration looking back at yours. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this much love for one person, and yet there he was holding your whole heart in the palm of his hands, the same way you held his.
His voice was soft, loving, so incredibly soothing as he sang the words while they passed through is head.
‘The feel of coldness only water brings
There are some things that no one teaches you, love
That come natural as a dream, you didn't know that you were in
And darlin', all my dreamin'
Is only put to shame
And darlin', all my dreamin'
Has only been given a name
it came easy, darlin'
As natural as another leg around you in the bed frame’
You could feel your heart melting at every word. Every time you thought that there was no possible way your love for him could grow, he did something that made you fall endlessly more in love with him. He truly was the only person you could ever see yourself being with.
Loving him was the easiest thing you had ever done, and hearing that he felt the same made your entire being melt into a puddle at his feet. You were putty in his hands. “I love you endlessly, Andrew.” You said it softly, but with so much power. Like if there was one thing in the whole world you could be sure of, it was your love for him, and to an extent that was true.
You loved him recklessly. In a way that was so intense it engulfed your entire being, swallowed you whole.
“I love you, more than anyone has ever loved anyone.”
:) I hipe this was okay, thank you for the request love you <3
#andrew hozier byrne#hozier#the hoziest#unreal unearth#eat your young#writeblr#writer things#writers and poets#writerscommunity#fanfiction#hozier x reader#hozier fanfiction#hozier fic#omg i love hozier#andrew hozier#writerblr#fanfiction writer#im gonna write it#ao3 writer#writerscreed#writers on tumblr#writer problems#female writers
163 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
