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moonsaver · 2 days

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Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

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kinardscoffee · 2 days

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Can we just talk about the fact that Buck has always gone above and beyond for everyone in his life?

And how having someone else be there for him is a huge fucking deal?

Buck has such a deep-seated fear of abandonment, and the show has made it so REAL, given his childhood, and i pray the writers put our boy back in therapy to address it. Clearly, the Buckley parents hardly showed affection towards Buck as a child, even to the extreme of cutting off an emotional connection to ultimately help them bury their grief over Daniel. And Buck could feel this. A tiny child who just wants to be loved "anyway" and has lived his entire life in fear that any future physical and emotional relationships he finds will always abandon him because it's literally all he knows.

Buck has always craved a connection to something. Whether it's with his sister, at jobs, with friends, with romantic partners... he approaches everything and everyone in his life like they're this brand new amazing piece of his charred. scattered puzzle.

And, still, everyone has either left him, made him feel like the problem or a burden, or told him he's not good enough.

And we know he values his family (both blood and found) above everything else around him.

But like, who does it for him?

I'm not saying the 118, Maddie, or past LIs haven't been there for him, but, at one point in time, they've all made him feel some type of way during their relationship with him. Whether it was completely accidental or not.

Yes, even Eddie, who called him exhausting and shut Buck out of his life when it came to the underground fighting. Even after Eddie left the 118 and was struggling with his PTSD. And I'm not saying Eddie is a dick for all that. He was having a bad time. I'm just saying he can't really understand Buck in that way.

And that's okay.

Eddie, along with everyone else in Buck's life, is there for him in their own special way that helps make Buck learn from past mistakes and become a better person.

But then he meets Tommy.

Someone who went above and beyond, putting both his job and his life on the line by flying Hen, Chim, Eddie and Buck out to search for a cruise ship in the middle of a hurricane.

And that has to impress the shit out of Buck. Which is why there is an immediate attraction and need to get to know this man. Buck feels drawn to him because maybe, just maybe, the pieces broken inside himself could ultimately match up to those within Tommy.

Buck can't stop thinking about Tommy because no one else he's ever dated has treated Buck with this amount of attention or makes him feel secure in the fact that his feelings matter.

And yeah, Tommy ended their first date early, and I know some people didn't appreciate that, but you also have to understand that Tommy has feelings too. We don't canonically know Tommy's story, but I'm confident he's broken inside by the same insecurities that Buck has.

So, Buck realizing that his actions on the date weren't right and deciding to put everything on the line to Tommy?

We aren't dealing with the same Buck from S6 who thought Natalia saw him because he died.

No.

Buck sees Evan. He sees himself and the life he's ready to live.

And finally, he's making himself a priority.

He's not basing this relationship on Tommy or what anyone else thinks. He's pursuing this relationship for himself and for the first time... it's his time.

And Tommy just keeps showing up for it.

He doesn't ridicule Buck on wanting to throw Chim a bachelor party that wasn't wanted. He stays as long as he can before getting called into work. And I'm willing to bet that the man didn't even eat anything because Buck said they had to wait for Chim.

And those looks!

The kicked puppy look that Buck gives Tommy says so much. There's a sadness that he failed at throwing a successful bachelor party, I mean, Chim didn't even show up. There's a sudden concern that the guy he likes is going to a fire that most likely is highly dangerous and large considering they called him in for it.

Tommy gives him a look that shows he understands all of the feelings that Buck is struggling with in that moment. And then he goes on to promise that he will try his best to make it to the wedding.

And you can tell that Buck doesn't believe that. Why would Tommy even consider coming back for Buck? Hell, maybe there wasn't even a fire. Maybe Tommy just created an easy out for an awkward situation.

But I like to believe that Tommy checked in with Buck periodically, and then when he found out that Chim was missing, his texts came in more frequently as his job would allow.

And im sure at one point, Buck told him that he didn't need to come. That he was off the hook because the wedding was at the hospital. No free food or chance of that dance.

Only, Tommy assures him he'll still be there.

And, holy shit, for the first time in Buck's life, someone has kept their word above all else.

Tommy shows up, dirty, exhausted, still in his uniform, hitching a ride on the firetruck or one of those ambulances parked outside, looking both concerned and apologetic.

But all Buck sees is the guy he's crazy about showing up all because Buck wanted him to.

And I just think that's really fucking huge.

#apparently im a rambler #hope it makes sense #if not oh wellz i guess #911 spoilers #911 abc #evan buckley #911 fandom #bucktommy #tommy kinard #911 speculation #i don't know what this is actually

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bucksboobs · 2 days

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On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

#Henrietta Wilson #Evan Buckley #BuckTommy #little ficlet of the wlw/mlm solidarity that I couldn’t get out of my head #I tried Hen PoV let me know what you think!!!

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vinceaddams · 1 day

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Hello! I was wondering if you would kindly explain the merits of different thread materials for hand sewing (or point me to a good resource about the subject)?

A lot of the historical costumers on YouTube say they greatly prefer silk or linen, but don't explain why. The employee at Fabricland suggested polyester over cotton for hand sewing some cotton hankies, and had no answer for when cotton thread would ever even be used. You mentioned in a post somewhere that you use poly for machine sewing colours, but prefer cotton for whites (or maybe the other way around, I might be misremembering?). Please help, the lack of "why" is driving me nuts and google is Not helping!

Hello! The main reason I dislike polyester for hand sewing is that it's just so damn twisty and tangly. It's what I use at work for sewing buttons back onto the sleeves of jackets when I change the length, and I have to be careful not to let it get all snarled up. The polyester thread is made with the intent of being used in sewing machines, so it makes sense that they wouldn't take into account how the amount of twist and the way it un-twists when you pull it through material affects hand sewing.

Another thing is that wax doesn't really meld into it, it just kinda sits on the surface. Usually (but not always) you wax your thread before hand sewing with it, as it makes it stronger and helps stick the fibres together so they don't wear out as fast, and it makes it easier to work with. On silk and linen it sticks nicely, but on polyester it just kinda lays on the surface all crumbly like.

Linen is great for hand sewing because it's usually very strong, but waxing is essential because otherwise a lot of fibres will strip off of it just from the process of being drawn through the fabric a bunch of times. And modern linen thread is too uneven to work in machines, so I only have it for hand sewing.

Silk thread is also great for hand sewing because it's really smooth and soft and runs nicely, and waxing it makes it stronger, and I usually double it if it's the fine stuff. Silk thread can be used for machine sewing too, but I would only suggest it for very lightweight delicate things, because I've tried it on a shirt or two and it just doesn't hold up well to long term wear & washing. (The little bit of hand finishing I do with silk thread on the insides of the collar & wristbands on my everyday shirts is fine because it's not in one of the areas that wears out first, and as previously mentioned it's doubled and waxed, and therefore stronger than a plain unwaxed machine sewn silk thread seam.)

It sounds like you're thinking of this post? Yes, you are misremembering it slightly, I was only talking about thread for shirts there! The reason I usually use polyester for the machine seams on my coloured shirts is simply that it comes in a lot of colours and is therefore easier to match.

(I also use polyester for machine sewing things like pants, because I know it's stronger and will hold up to a lot more wear. Actually, I've also had to switch to heavy duty polyester for sewing the buttons on my pants, because the linen just keeps wearing through and they keep popping off. This problem is probably because I don't actually have heavy linen thread, and am instead using fine linen yarn, which is not meant for sewing. But anyways, it's still plenty strong in seams, just not for attaching buttons. I do have actual linen thread in finer weights.)

The cotton thread I mentioned liking for white shirts is Aurifil 50 weight, which I recently found at a quilt shop and it's soooooo nice! Quite fine and soft, so I still wouldn't want to use it on heavier fabrics, but it's absolutely ideal for lightweight linens or cottons.

Ideally it would be amazing to have it in more colours and use it on more shirts. The reason I only have it in white is because it's a 1300 metre spool that cost like 20 bucks, and if I recall correctly the quilt shop only had a very few colours anyways. I do at least want to go back and get another spool in black...

(There's also the matter of it matching the shade of white fabric better, as all my white polyester thread is either optic white or ivory.)

Regular cotton thread is fine I guess, but I find it to be awfully stiff. It works for shirts, I just don't much like it, and I haven't really tried hand sewing with it.

#ask #sewing #hand sewing #thread

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writeonwhiskey · 1 day

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the skz house: ch 16 (18+)

a/n: see, i didn't keep you waiting that long this time. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter fifteen here ]

Chapter Sixteen: Of Cuffs and Chan

A wave of embarrassment washes over you—drenches you. You had intentions of being drenched tonight, just not like this. You feel the heat in you rising to your face as your eyes begin to prickle. Chan has now walked out of a room twice to get away from your advances. You have never presumed to be some expert level seductress, but him thwarting your attempts and leaving you alone with your thoughts feels soul crushing.

This was a terrible idea.

How could you have been so incredibly mistaken to think this would work? You have to get up, get out of this room. You hope Chan has at least left the hallway. You don’t want to see him when you leave. You can’t face him again tonight.

You try to blink away the tears, but a few fall down your cheek anyway. You look to the nightstand where you left the key, previously having hoped if he saw fit to uncuff you at some point he could because you obviously can’t do it yourself. You should have read the back of the packaging. It mentioned something about a safety release button. You sit up on the bed, angling your head to inspect the cuffs through your water-blurred gaze. There are enough chain links connecting the cuffs that you have a bit of slack to bring it closer to you.

The sound of the door opening again draws your attention away from the handcuff debacle. You want to be stubborn, to keep your eyes focused on the handcuffs and not turn to see who it is. You wouldn’t put it past him to send Hyunjin to take you away at this point. You’d be mortified for him to see you like this, cuffed and crying.

The door closes and your curiosity gets the best of you. You turn your head slightly and see that it’s Chan. His face is hardened, unreadable. Your heartbeat immediately quickens, but you’re not put at ease by his return.

You sit up straight, back against the headboard, arms hanging above your head and knees still pressed firmly together. You suddenly become aware of the tears on your face and avert your eyes to your knees. You don’t want him to see you like this. Why had you opted for the handcuffs? Now you can’t even wipe the stupid tears from your face.

You sniffle as his footsteps approach, stopping next to you. His room isn’t small by any means, but it feels so tiny now. His presence fills up every square inch. You silently plead with him to say something, anything to drown out the deafening sound of your loudly thumping heart.

You take a deep breath, trying to find all the courage that was within you moments ago as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You could be wrong, but there is a slight softness to his gaze. Hardly noticeable to an untrained eye.

“If you uncuff me, I can leave,” you say quietly, jerking your head towards his nightstand where the key is. His eyes flit over to it, then back to you.

He remains silent as he takes a closer look at you, eyes roaming over your body. They linger on your exposed breasts before trailing down your lace covered torso and stop at your knees. He leans to the side, head tilted to peek at the gap between your legs. Without any underwear, your pussy is exposed. He lets out a puff of air at the sight.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks in a low voice.

From his reaction—coming back, staring at you like this, saying he doesn’t want you to leave…that must mean there’s still a chance. At this point, though, you don’t even know what you really want to use the chance for. To win the competition or just to let him have his way with you.

You rock your hips upwards once and his tongue snakes out, licking at the corner of his mouth. He stands up straight and takes a step forward so he’s standing right next to you.

He reaches out with his other hand, gently cupping your face and wiping away the tears on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head into his hand and close your eyes, submitting to his touch. You have the sudden urge to word vomit, to tell him how badly you want him, how much you’ve missed him, how you don’t care about the competition—he can fuck you and you won’t tell anyone. You’ll stay so, so quiet that no one will hear anything. You’ll tell everyone your plan failed just please, please don’t stop touching you.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, “and look what you do to me, y/n.” He grips his growing bulge through his jeans.

You feel the tiniest bit of relief dousing your worries.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks.

You nod eagerly in response.

He grabs the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand and makes quick work of releasing one of your hands. He takes your free wrist in his hand and guides it to the top of his jeans. You fumble with the button, all anxious, excited and nervous at the same time, but eventually slip it through the hole. As you tug down on his zipper, he takes off his hoodie and tosses it to the ground.

You cautiously slip your hand through the opening in his jeans and cup his dick in your hand. When you give a squeeze, his hand grabs your wrist again, stopping your movements. It was a short-lived freedom but you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

He raises your arm back above your head and slips your hand back into the cuff. He trails his fingers down your wrist, down your arm, down your neck, back and forth across your collarbone, then down some more. The trail he leaves behind makes you burn with desire—your nipples harden just from this light touch and you press your knees together even harder.

“This outfit? The handcuffs? Why?” He asks, stopping his hand just above your breast.

“To fully offer myself to you,” you say slowly. “To relinquish complete control.”

“Is that something you actually want to do?” He counters, hand still hovering above your breast. You want him to touch it so badly. “Or is it just to bring an end to the competition?”

“The first one,” you reply, squirming on the bed, yearning for his touch now that it’s so close to actually happening. “I want to do this with you, not for you or because of the challenge.”

And it’s the truth. In this moment you don’t give a damn about winning anything.

His hand skips over your breast. He brushes the back of his fingers along the lace covering your torso, up your thighs, over your knees, down your legs and you can’t keep still. He skirts around the off-limit areas, so you don’t know what he’s playing at.

His hand leaves you and goes to his pants. He pulls them down along with his boxers, kicking them both aside. At the sight of his cock springing out, you lick your lips in anticipation. It almost feels unreal. This is the closest you’ve been all month, and you want to touch it, taste it, clench around it while it’s inside of you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks as he grips his cock in his left hand.

It sounds like a loaded question. What is he gonna do with you in this current predicament? Or in general?

“Whatever you want,” you say, licking your lips again, watching him hold his cock. How can he make you feel jealous of him? You want to be the one doing that. You want to touch and please every part of him you’ve been deprived of for weeks.

“Hmm,” he hums, stroking himself while he reaches out to caress your exposed skin again with his right hand—still steering clear of the forbidden zones. “I never really cared much about the competition, you know.”

“Chan,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from his cock and hand at work, desperate to take on the burden for him.

“Not about winning, anyways,” he continues, fingertips grazing across your body, “It’s more about keeping a firm line between me and my assignee. To make it clear that I don’t need them…don’t need you.”

You look up at him, trying to focus on what he’s saying rather than the way your body is aching for him.

“When this ends…it ends. And normally it’s not an issue,” his tone remains calm, almost warm, as he speaks. “But look at you, y/n.”

His hand finally lands on your breast, gripping it firmly in his palm, squeezing as it slips through his fingers until he has hold of just your nipple. He pinches it, twisting slightly. You gasp softly, arching your back.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he declares.

You could squeal, you could cry, you could fucking die of happiness from his admission. You open your mouth to speak, to beg, but he lets go of your nipple and rests his hand on your knee. He releases his cock and shakes his head.

“Are you trying to ruin me?”

A look of confusion takes over your features at the question. Why would he think that? If anything, you should be asking him that.

“No,” you shake your head, pure innocence radiating from you at the accusation. “I would never.”

His lip twitches and a smirk appears for a split second before he regains his composure. He’s in his element now, enjoying teasing you. His hand on your knee slides down the inside of your thigh, eyes locked on yours. Your body responds immediately, hips jerking as he moves closer and closer to your center.

“You make me feel like I’m going to lose it—go insane,” he says as his hand reaches your pussy. “Do you feel it too?”

He uses his pointer and ring finger to spread your lips apart, stroking between your folds with his middle.

It’s impossible to concentrate on what he’s saying when you finally have him touching you again. You certainly know what he’s done to make you feel like you’re losing it…but what have you done to him?

Before you have a chance to respond, he removes his hand. Without a word, he turns and walks to the bathroom. You watch him, wanting to scream for him to come back to you, to keep touching you.

He walks straight to shower and turns it on. He doesn’t even wait for the water to warm up before stepping in.

He’s going to leave you like this?

Of course he is.

You could find the release button on the handcuffs and leave, but you won’t. This is what he wants from you, and this is what you want to give. Your obedience. So, you stay put, sliding your legs against each other to create some kind of friction between them in the meantime.

You’re not sure how long passes before the water turns off. It doesn’t seem like he wanted to intentionally drag out his time in the shower. Your eyes are on him as soon as he steps out. You watch as he grabs a towel and dries off. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to put on clothes and just sleep with you here next to him like this. Now that you would not be in to. Or would you?

He starts walking towards you, naked, toned, fucking chiseled as he dries his hair. His cock is still hard, and you can only imagine what kind of scenarios were playing out in his head as he showered to keep it that way. He stops at your side once again, his fresh and clean aroma filling your senses.

He hooks a finger under your chin, tilts your head up, then leans down to kiss you. Just a quick peck. His hand slides around to the back of your neck, lightly stroking the nape before pulling you forward. He grips his cock with his other hand and you part your lips, eager to take him in your mouth.

“Is this what you want?” he asks as he stops pulling you forward, gently wagging his cock in front of you. Like he’s teasing his pet with a treat.

“Yes. Please,” you reply, damn near salivating.

“Please what?”

He pushes his hips forward to close the distance, rubbing the tip of his dick from one side of your chin to the other, stopping just beneath the middle of your bottom lip.

“Please fuck my face, Chan.” You say, looking up at him.

He pats your cheek and nods. To your surprise he then steps up onto the bed and stands directly over you, feet on either side of you. Now this is a fucking view.

“Open.”

You drop your jaw. Your range of motion is severely limited, being cuffed to the bed and all, so he takes it from there. You swirl your tongue around the tip as he slowly slides it in while groaning, then side to side along the bottom as he goes in further. You’ve missed the taste of him is all you can think.

He stops about two-thirds of the way in and you use the opportunity to take a deep breath, exhaling through your nose. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, gazing down at you as if he’s trying to save the image of your mouth stuffed with his cock to memory.

He pushes forward a little more then withdraws, moving faster each time he repeats the process. You bob your head forward, as much as you can, to meet his thrusts. You focus on keeping your jaw and throat relaxed, meanwhile you’re unable to control the sounds coming from your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, gripping your hair with one hand as he furiously fucks your face.

You don’t want to imagine how you look—deepthroating Chan, all the saliva that’s built up and spilling out of your mouth and around his dick. It doesn’t sound like a pretty sight, but he seems to enjoy it.

He starts grunting and groaning as he thrusts and suddenly pulls away from you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He releases your hair and steps back before getting on his knees, essentially straddling you, dick hovering just above your stomach. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. He must have just narrowly stopped himself from coming, is your guess.

“Chan,” you say his name softly.

He turns to look at you, raising a hand to wipe the dribble around your mouth.

“Hmmm?”

“Please touch me,” you try your best to sound like you’re not whining as you rub your legs together.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Here?” he asks, wrapping his hand around your neck, squeezing it.

You moan in response.

He leans forward to capture your lips, kissing you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth, greedily lapping up the taste of himself on you. You kiss him back, your head slowly following his lead, tilting from left to right as he does the same.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging on it as he pulls away from you. His eyes lock with your for a moment, feeling like less of a mystery than ever before, but you could just be delusional at this point.

He slides back on your legs and rearranges himself until he’s lying flat on his stomach. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and gets comfortable.

“Incredible,” he says while looking at your pussy.

“Yeah?” You ask, uncertain.

“Fuck yes,” he replies with a curt nod.

He moves his face directly between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He nuzzles your pussy with his nose, circling the outside of your lips. You tug on the restraints around your wrists, cursing yourself once more for choosing this particular set up. You want to run your fingers through his damp curls, over his broad shoulders, down his back. But you can’t do any of that.

All you can do is watch. In fucking awe at his uninhibited actions.

He slides his nose up your slit, making it glisten with your slick. You can’t help but shake your legs and thrust your hips forward. He lowers his head again, as if to repeat the same move, but this time his tongue slips out and follows his nose. He laps at you playfully, eliciting moans and silent pleas from you.

When he finally takes you in his mouth completely you gasp. He wastes no time then, licking, sucking, slurping your most sensitive parts. He readjusts himself to slide three fingers inside of you, eyes locked on yours as he does.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes.

You rest your head against the headboard and resist the urge to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t look away.

“You like my fingers inside of you, y/n?”

“I do,” you nod.

“Filling you up,” he continues, curling his fingers against your walls each time he withdraws. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Chan,” you say his name as a warning as your arch your back.

He stops talking and puts his mouth back to work. He keeps fucking you with his fingers while he sucks on your clit.

“I’m. Gonna. Come,” you manage to get out between panting.

He doesn’t acknowledge your statement; doesn’t make you ask for permission and you take that as a sign to let go. You rock your hips against his fingers and face as you come, biting your bottom lip to keep from being too loud but it doesn’t work. You don’t know what time it is or if anyone can hear.

Chan keeps at it until you start squirming your hips away from his touch.

He chuckles as he resurfaces, nose and mouth glistening. He takes his fingers out of you, spreading them apart and watching as your juices stretch between them. He reaches forward, offering them to you. You open your mouth to accept, circling your tongue around them clockwise, greedily cleaning each digit.

When he takes his fingers out, he sits up, positioning himself so the back of your thighs rest on the front of his, legs hanging on either side of him. His eyes dance across your body again, hands moving up to grip your breasts. He kneads them, pinching the nipple each time he gets to the top.

“Can I keep you here like this?” He asks teasingly, a playful glint in his eyes.

You don’t trust yourself to respond. You’d say yes, and you don’t know if he’s serious or not, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He says again to your silence.

“Fuck me,” you suggest.

He lets out a breath, trailing one hand down your torso, scratching at the fabric of your lingerie with his nails. His hands start moving you, turning you onto your side then once more until you’re on your stomach. The chain between the handcuffs become twisted, restricting your hand movements even further. He grips your hips and pulls you up until you’re on your knees. He holds you in this position, pressing himself against you and rocking his hips forward.

He leans down over you, his chest against your back and it’s so fucking warm. You close your eyes at the feeling of him covering you. His right hand releases your waist to prop a pillow up in front of you to lean against. It’s these little details that remind you and allow you to see how thoughtful he can be. Granted, it’s while he’s having his way with you, but on some level he’s still concerned with your comfort.

He kisses along your shoulder blades, to your neck and stops at your ear.

“Bite the pillow,” is his whispered command.

You shiver and hold onto the headboard for dear life. His right hand grips your shoulder while the other remains at your hip. You feel him shift around behind you until his dick is positioned right against your opening. He grips your shoulder as he enters you and a long, slow moan escapes your lips.

His hand on your shoulder moves to your neck, forcing you down towards the pillow.

“Bite,” he repeats.

You open your mouth and clamp your teeth around the pillow in front of you as Chan starts to relentlessly plow into you from behind.

The pillow serves its purpose, suppressing the loud sounds you’re making as he fucks you. He slams into you quick and fast at first, resting inside for a moment before pulling out and slamming right back in. Then he picks up the pace, thrusting in and out at his own rhythm, releasing your hip to slap your ass every so often before gripping it again to force you back against him.

Your face is contorted against the pillow, and you don’t even care that you’re drooling all over it with your mouth clamped around it.

“Can you come for me again?” He asks, reaching around with his hand to rub your clit between your legs.

The way Chan is making you feel is insurmountable. Pussy dripping, walls stretched with him inside of you. And it’s been so long. Too long. You give a nod and he pulls out all stops, the sound of your thighs smacking against each other echo throughout the room accompanied by your muffled moans.

Your pussy clenches around him as you come. You bend down even lower, arching your back and bouncing your hips against his as you do.

“Fuck yeah. Take it,” he groans. “Make it yours.”

Encouraged by his words you thrust back against him even harder, gripping onto the headboard for leverage. You lift your head and release the pillow from your mouth, tossing your hair back over your shoulder. Chan seizes the opportunity to grip your hair in his hands, forcing your head upwards as you keep fucking him.

He starts meeting your thrusts, one hand on your hip pulling you back against him with all his might. You feel him tense up behind you and he quickly withdraws. In an instant you feel his warm release coating your back. He groans with each spurt that pours out of him.

He smacks your ass once more for good measure before allowing you to collapse onto the bed—as much as you can with your hands still cuffed. He takes a foot off the bed and leans over to grab something before you feel him wiping his come off your back. He then grabs the key to the cuffs and unlocks each wrist. You twirl them around and stretch each finger once they’re free.

You didn’t know before how much you needed that. Needed him. You wonder, for a brief moment, if the closeness you shared will go away now. Will he stop talking to you and sharing things about his life now that he can just fuck you and call it a day again?

He splays out on the bed, laying on his back as he catches his breath.

“I lost,” he announces.

“Are you upset?” You ask, turning on your side to face him.

“Upset?” He repeats. “No…concerned? Maybe.”

You feel like you could ask him to explain that more and he would. But you don’t, you’re afraid of the answer. A part of you wants to remain in this delusion. Though the Fall semester is coming to an end, you still have the Spring semester to get through. You don’t want to acknowledge or even think about what the end of the school year will mean for the bonds you’ve built with Chan, Hyunjin, and the others.

Not right now.

You scooch over closer to him.

“Is this okay?” You ask—meaning, should I go back to my own bed?

He’s silent for a few seconds, but then his arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer.

“Do you want to take that off?” He asks, pulling at the strap of your lingerie.

“Are you tired of looking at it?”

“Nah,” he says. “You could wear that every fucking day and I wouldn’t get tired of seeing you in it. You look amazing.”

You’ve never heard so many compliments from him in one sitting. You snuggle up closer to him, hooking one leg over his. You stifle a yawn as your adrenaline levels return to normal, reminding you of the long weekend and even longer day you’ve had.

“Chan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles loudly at that. The sound enters your ear against his chest and fills you with a foreign warmth. As much as you worry that his guard will go back up, you’re growing even more terrified of him bringing it down and letting you in.

On the 1st of December, Lee Know is crowned champion. He abstained—much to Allie’s chagrin. She swears she’ll never offer anal sex to him again since he wanted to be so stubborn.

The other members congratulate you with literal pats on the back and head as if you’ve accomplished something major. Chan seems to take it all in stride. He doesn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed that he lost in the slightest. He woke up the next morning and wrote his name on the board before you both headed to class together.

You, Charlotte, and Rhiannon have won your trips. Wherever you want to go. As you mull it over the next couple days, you decide to use it for winter break, knowing your parents won’t be home.

Lee Know also just so happens to be in charge of getting everything coordinated for you.

“You get to take one member,” he advises you, sitting next to you on the sofa as he absentmindedly scrolls through the TV channels.

“That I’m assigned to?”

“Any, really but…I guess it would be awkward if you took someone else.” He says with a smirk. “Is this your way of asking me to come with you?”

You arch an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. Though you’ve gotten even, you still haven’t forgiven him for teasing you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then.” He shrugs. “Your loss. But I need to know the name of who you’re taking to book flights.”

“Hyunjin,” you say without missing a beat.

The thought of spending winter break on a warm, sunny beach sounds amazing. Did you just have an unforgettable night with Chan? Yes. But you want to enjoy your time on vacation and not be fraught with worry or second guessing everything you do. You know Hyunjin will put you at ease in every way possible.

“You might want to run that by him,” he replies. “I think he’s planning to go back to Seoul.”

You rack your brain for any conversation you’ve had with him recently where it was mentioned but can’t come up with any. The boy hates making plans so much he can’t even remember when he actually has them. He’s lucky he’s so fucking adorable.

“What if they both are? Can I go alone?”

“This trip is funded by our allowances,” he explains, “You have to go with one of us. Maybe choose different dates?”

You scrunch up your face at the thought. You had your heart set on this impromptu Christmas vacation.

“Talk to Hyunjin and Chan, then let me know.”

You nod and stand from the couch.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you as you start to walk away. You turn back around to face him. “Tread lightly.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Chan has never lost this competition before and I don’t know what’s going on between you two but…there’s only one way for this to end.”

“And how is that?”

“With you on your own,” he shrugs. “Chan, Hyunjin—none of us can have any contact with you after the school year is over. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. Especially Chan.”

You’re puzzled at his frankness. Lee Know cares? About anything? But also, you don’t think Chan is capable of hurting. He can be wounded, sure, and lash out. But hurt? Like, actually feel feelings? And because of you? No way.

But as you think back to the night you got him to break…maybe his façade is failing him. Maybe his walls are coming down. Well, fuck. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now you’re not sure if it’s such a good idea or not. You have no doubt he’ll do what he’s supposed to when this is all over—leave you. But what will you do? Can you move on from both him and Hyunjin without ever looking back?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tell him before turning back around and walking towards the stairs.

Yes, you will keep it in mind. In the furthest, deepest corner of your mind. Right now, you want to focus on enjoying the time you have left with both of them.

a/n: a lot to unpack there. hope you enjoyed! like, comment & reblog to show your support. i am working on the next chapter already, however next week i'm having all the carpet in my house replaced with wood flooring and am not sure how much time i'll have to write with all that chaos going on.

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @bangtancultsposts / @jenniferlr / @hynxnelly / @kpop-kink / @okkkcausewhet /

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 3 days

Text

my heart over yours; part four | j.fleming x reader

prompt: you try to push jessie away while trying to figure out how you feel, but jessie is not going for that.

author notes: this is basically just angst until the literal last minute and all i can say is blame that chelsea loss against liverpool. i swear the cliffhanger will make all the angst worth it 🙏🏾 thanks for all the love on part three 💕 even tho i hated that part. anyways enjoy it guys! p.s. this is the last part before the final

contains: ucla!jessie x reader, childhood bestie!jessie, jealous!jessie at the last minute, a fuck ton of angst / small comfort, the actual shortest part, some protective!jessie if you squint

masterlist with all the previous parts

playing are we still friends? by tyler the creator 🎵

"i don't have to answer anything! who do you think you are?" you shout at her, fighting away all the thoughts that rush to your mind after her question. it's making you actually sit back and think about the role jessie plays in your life, but just because it's making you feel a certain type of way, doesn't mean you were going to give sasha an answer. at this point she doesn't deserve that because who is she really to question you?

you say one more thing before turning to leave, "you aren't my girlfriend. stop acting like it. we went on a date or two and now you want to act all possessive? get a fucking grip." then you leave out of her dorm. not even allowing her to get a word in. you already know someone is going to talk about this and it will spread in some circle of the campus, but you don't really care. you're sure that anyone who's friends with sasha aren't friends with you, so it doesn't matter.

when you find your way out of sasha's dorm building, you don't rush to your dorm immediately. it's around six and you already know jessie will be there. she always is and soccer players didn't have practice today, so you already knew she was probably in your bed, lazing around, watching some animal documentary; most likely an lion one. she's been really interested in those lately. anyways, regardless, you couldn't go back to your dorm. your feelings are pounding in your head like an headache and usually talking to jessie would help you to clear all that out, but this time around you just feel like you can't.

sasha may be right; you may be in love with your bestfriend and you don't know how to handle that. there have been many times over the course of jessie and yours friendship that someone questioned it to be something more. every single time you just denied and went about your day. you were used to it, so there's no need to have a big reaction. you never thought about it deeper. people would say that in elementary and secondary school, nobody knows anything during those years anyways so you didn't care but now you're in college, it's different, so if sasha thinks that then could it be true?

instead of going back to your dorm, you decide to go get something sweet. you shuffle yourself onto the bus and let it take you along the route until it reaches that street you knew had at least one bakery. getting off of the bus, you walk straight into the bakery. you order quickly, getting your favorite desserts, and leaving out of the place as quickly as you arrived once you received your order. it felt like too much to be in there at the moment. jessie and you always somehow convinced one pair of your parents to let you two get cake at random times for "celebrating." usually this celebrating wasn't even for nothing extraordinary. if jessie got an a good grade on a test? you would beg your mom to let you and her to go get some cake. you didn't trip over your feet today? looks like jessie is going to go ask her parents to take you and her to go get some cookies. sharing sweets have been one way of bonding for you two. it was sweet, literally and figuratively.

you make your way to the nearby park, sitting on the first bench you find. trying to find peace and quiet in la is hard, so this is the best you can do but it works. you sit there on that bench and try to think about jessie and yours friendship. could you really call it that with how you're feeling right now? things have always felt platonic between you two or so you want to convince yourself to believe. there were .. moments. times where the line between friendship and romance would blur. actually you think the line has always been blurred. it was just so normal to you two that you never thought about it.

as you take a bite out of your dessert, the sweetness of it matches the thoughts floating around in your mind. those thoughts may be the reason you're having a slight crisis right now, but still, they're sweet.

you think back on the time jessie and you went to the first school dance held in elementary. it was seventh grade. all the other girls in your class were planning on going with boys in your grade or just going together as friends. jessie and you were obviously going to go together as friends too, but the way she asked didn't feel as friendly as you remember it.

it was after a cross-country meet. you're sitting beside jessie on the empty bleachers, waiting for her mother to arrive so you two could go home. you have bought along a small board that jessie called embarrassing; it said jessie fleming is my usain bolt. the canadian almost fell over when she spotted that in the crowd.

"i nearly died because of you," jessie laughs, pushing your shoulder with hers. you roll your eyes. quick to say, "a true athlete doesn't get distracted from anything."

jessie scoffs. replying back just as quickly to say how every athlete has their weakness and perhaps you were hers. when she said that back then, your heart fluttered for a moment. you pushed that feeling away. thinking that you're just happy she considered you that important to be her weakness. after the conversation, jessie had gotten up.

"stay right here. i have to grab something near the stairs, i forgot my chapstick there," she says. walking away quickly towards the stairs connected to the bleachers. you watch her from behind stop at the end of the stairs, leaning over to grab something off the ground. you aren't sure what it is until she comes back up the stairs with yellow flowers in her hand.

"did you just pick dandelions out of the ground?" you ask, smiling as jessie hands the flowers to you.

"yeah and be grateful. i had to not pull them out too harshly, they're all weak since it's fall and all," jessie sits down beside you. all her attention on you as she tries to see your reaction. you're smiling down at the flowers before smiling at jessie again. "thanks freckles. they're cute."

jessie smiles, "don't thank me. i only got you these flowers so you would say yes." the serious undertone underneath the playful one in her voice makes you look at her.

"say yes to what? are you about to ask me to commit murder with you?"

"what..? no, can you be serious for once in your life?"

"okay, go ahead. sorry." you say. setting the flowers aside before grabbing jessie's hands. she lets out a sigh, "will you go to the dance with me?"

you blink at her blankly, laughing loudly after a moment. jessie lets out a nervous chuckle. confused on if you were laughing at her. she soon gets her answer when you say, "duh, i'll go with you. didn't even have to ask but thanks."

jessie pushes you, gasping at your dramatics. "don't pull something like that again. i thought you were going to reject me."

"god, sorry. it was just funny."

"shut up before i take my invite back."

"you wouldn't dare."

jessie and you aren't able to finish your bickering as her mother pulls up. you two run off to the car, racing. the freckled girl obviously won the race. blame her athleticism. that was one of the only days jessie was glad her mother was late to picking you two up since it gave her time to ask you to the dance.

you two went together to the dance and wore matching outfits that your mother still has a photo of hanging in your childhood home.

you are snapped out of your reminiscing of the past when your phone rings. looking down to see jessie's contact on your phone. a mix of anxiety and happiness fills your heart. you don't want to answer really, but it's jessie. your jessie. ignoring her feels wrong. instead of answering her call, you text her.

you

can't answer

on the bus

the excuse doesn't land that well, but that's all you can come up with. you can tell jessie is skeptical, but doesn't question you.

freckles 💗

thought you were with blondie

what bus?

are you on your way back to the dorm?

you

don't bring her up

i'll tell you in a few minutes

just wait

freckles 💗

you're being weird??

stay safe

come back before it's night

love you

usually seeing jessie says she loves you makes you smile and it still does because, well, it's jessie but it also fuels your anxiety. was it more behind those words? did you want it to be more? two questions you aren't able to answer yet and that drives you up a wall. still you text back; jessie could never be ignored by you.

you

love you too 💞

i'm coming soon

wait for me

jessie is sitting in your bed, having finished her documentary a while ago. your texts felt different and she couldn't put her finger on why. she will worry about that later. instead focusing on how you said not to bring up ms blondie and the fact you weren't in y'all's dorm, in bed, beside her. two sides of a coin; she feels a mix of happiness and anxiety. just like you. too bad you two aren't together at the moment. maybe y'all could have figured out these emotions together.

meanwhile, you're finishing up your dessert. having taken jessie off of the list of people who can bypass the do not disturb on your phone. taking her off nearly broke your heart, but at the moment it's for the best. you need some time to just think without interacting with her.

it takes you a while to finish the dessert. the actual time it takes you to finish eating isn't that long, but you stayed in the park for at least an hour longer than you needed. thinking to yourself about jessie and you and what she means to you and what you mean to her.

just questions swirling around in the mess of an ocean your mind is right now. just like the depth of the ocean, nothing is clear to you.

you wish you had more time to just sit and think, but you don't. being in a park late at night in la is not a good combination, so you pull yourself off of the bench. throwing away the empty container that your sweet treat came in. you make your way to the bus and get on, not realizing that jessie was texting you.

the worry in jessie's heart is now way bigger than before. you are out somewhere, late, and aren't responding to her texts. even though it pains her to think about, jessie would feel somewhat better if you were with sasha. at least she would know where you were and at least you would be with someone. you not replying to her texts is the last straw and she's almost ready to just go out and find you. thirty minutes. she'll give you thirty minutes to come back before she goes out on some wild goose chase to find you.

and that's all you need. right when jessie opens the door of y'all's dorm to leave, you're standing. right there infront of the door. you have actually came back to campus around ten minutes before she was about to leave out. still feeling anxious, you walked around campus for a bit. passing by the dorm building twice before finally going inside. deciding that was enough walking around and avoiding for one day.

jessie nearly drops her phone as she pulls you into a hug. you want to pull away, you want to just turn around and leave because you really can't handle this right now. sasha's words are ringing in your ears. are you already taken by jessie? what could this mean for you two's friendship? you want to think and pick these questions a part, but at the moment you really can't. instead you collapse into jessie's arms. you can't help yourself. she's like your pillar of strength. every time, any time you felt hurt, jessie's there.

there to hold you, comfort you, and make sure you're alright. so can you be blamed if you fall back into her the moment you see her? you can't turn away from jessie, you just can't.

"i don't want to seem controlling, but please don't do that ever again," jessie says softly. pulling you into the room with her before pushing the door closed with her foot. "i almost called your mom, my mom, your dad, my dad.. just anyone who i thought could reach you. my heart can't handle something like this again," jessie continues to speak. needing to spill out all the worry that was inside of her. it takes her a moment that you're silent. just resting your face against her chest, your arms holding on tightly to her waist.

"what's wrong..? what happened?" the soccer player asks. not pulling away since she doesn't think that's what you need at the moment.

finally you speak, "women are horrible and i don't understand why i like them." jessie wants to laugh at your words like she usually does when you say something this blunt and dramatic, but she can't. not when your voice is shaky. her mind thinks about sasha; did that blonde chick hurt you? the thought of sasha hurting you puts a pit in her stomach.

"did blondie dump you?" she asks. you almost laugh at the fact that jessie can't even say her name. maybe sasha was right about how jessie talks about her behind her back. not to give sasha any credit or anything. you would laugh if you didn't feel a mountain of built up emotions inside of you. "no, i dumped her. she was.. too much."

jessie waits for you to expand and explain what happened, but a minute passes. then another. then another and nothing comes, so she moves now. you two will talk about it eventually. instead she focuses on comforting you.

pulling you towards her bed, letting you go just to grab some of her pajamas for you to wear, and holding you for a long while, making sure your body feels some type of calm, before letting you change.

you're slow to change, but right after you're finished she pulls you down onto her bed. like always you two's bodies tangle with eachother. her arms wrapped around you. yours wrapped around hers. your face is pressed against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. it's calming, so familiar. unlike the thoughts that plague you; there is no need to think about them right now though.

"just know.. she wasn't worth it anyways. whatever she did, i don't know, you tell me later. just know it has nothing to do with you," jessie whispers, playing with your hair. the words are comforting like a warm blanket, comforting just like jessie's warm body. the soccer player doesn't know what's wrong, but it's like an instinct to comfort you. she wants to be happy that sasha is out of the way but at the same time if sasha being out of the way means you're hurt then maybe it wasn't for the best. yes, she was being passive aggressive with sasha and treating her pretty unfairly but jessie would have came around. eventually. if it would have made you happy then yeah she would have gave it up.

if only jessie knew that your emotions didn't have nothing to do with sasha at all. they all have to do with her. only her.

you don't respond to her words, but you let her know that you appreciate them. giving her lower back a few rubs. hoping that she gets the message and she does. she always does.

jessie slowly falls asleep first. having to worry over you have tired her out. it doesn't take long for you to follow after. one thought in your mind:

you might, most likely, definitely are in love with your bestfriend (how you didn't realize it before? no one knows) but you need some time. more time than this to figure out what to do about this feeling.

you don't go about needing this time in the healthiest way. the next morning, you're ready to tell jessie what happened. you tell her the truth.. mostly. not willing to tell her about the question sasha asked. instead opting to tell her that basically sasha didn't like the closeness between you two and that she knew that jessie didn't like her.

"she seemed like the type to be all pissy over something like that," jessie says after spitting out the toothpaste in her mouth. she's standing in the bathroom, getting ready for the morning class she had to schedule to finish her class requirements on time. "i would say i'm sorry for ruining that .. situation? between you two but it seems like she wasn't in it for the long haul anyways," she continues. happy that she can get the opportunity to make fun of sasha.

you roll your eyes, smiling. you are feeling better but still you feel the need to distance yourself from jessie, so you can think clearly. not blinded by that freckled face with that cute smile. instead of walking into the bathroom to bicker with her, you stay near the doorframe. looking at her as you say, "yeah. she was whatever. enough of her, how is the class going?"

"like shit. i don't get how you wake up at eight am everyday and actually go out and be productive. i need my rest firstly," jessie doesn't say anything about how you cut the conversation short. it's not that she doesn't notice, but she doesn't really care for sasha at all. whether to dunk on her or not, sasha holds no space in her mind now that you and the blonde are over. as long as you're okay, she's okay.

you let jessie rant about how getting up early in the morning for a class is ridiculous and should probably be illegal and how you're insane for actually being a morning person. you smile the entire time, enjoying seeing jessie being so animated. a trait of hers that comes out the most when she's annoyed.

"maybe you should get some coffee on the way, hm?" you tease after jessie is ready to leave. she smacks your shoulder, smiling once you say ow.

"see you later if i don't die on the way from sleep deprivation," jessie says as she leaves out of the door. you roll your eyes at her unusual dramatics. "i'll play the sound of whales talking at your funeral. don't worry," you say.

"god, you really do love me," she checks her phone after saying that. giving you a quick wave before running off, noticing that she's already late to the class. you peek out of the dorm room. giggling at jessie's fleeing figure.

now you can think. bless your professor for cancelling your morning class today. you close the door before going to sit on jessie's bed. it's comforting. being surrounded by her presence makes you feel calm. you'll figure this all out. you have to.

why you couldn't just talk to jessie about this like how you talk to her about everything else? you're afraid that things will change between you two. it's easy to fall into the usual routine of being close, not even thinking about what it could mean for the both of you but if you mention your feelings, will things change? what if sasha is wrong and jessie actually doesn't like you? will you lose your bestfriend?

will you still be friends?

you lean back onto her pillows, pulling up her blanket to cover your entire body. drowning yourself in just jessie makes the questions quieter than before. you don't want to lose jessie, but not saying anything feels like you're keeping a secret from her. curse sasha for making you question everything. she doesn't even have the right to question what jessie and you have. now you're stuck with the feelings left over.

all this stress on your mind makes you sleepy. and you let yourself sleep. your mind is busy while your surroundings are calmer than ever. all due to jessie. the way she can makes you feel complicating emotions is crazy, but makes sense. she is jessie after all. your jessie.

you're out in minutes.

it's three hours later when jessie comes back to the dorm, exhausted and ready to sleep away the rest of the day until you came back to the dorm. she doesn't notice the lump of your body under her blanket as she drops her bag down near the dresser, grabbing some clothes before going into the bathroom to shower. twenty minutes later she's out, hair still slightly wet, as she wears her boxers and t-shirt. she doesn't you until she goes to sit on her bed and feels something under her.

"what..?" jessie sits up, turning to look at her blanket. she pulls it up to see your sleeping face. a laugh of disbelief leaves her lips then quickly her expression changes to confusion. why were you here? you have classes around this time and never miss them since they're essential to your major. now she is really worried. were you sleeping away your small heartbreak from blondie or something?

she doesn't wake up as she slips in bed beside you. pressing her body against yours, her hands resting against your stomach. she nuzzles her face in the small space between the pillow and your neck. taking in your scent before pulling the blanket back over you two. she'll ask you about this later.

and that later comes when you two wake up around the same time. around ten pm, you wake up first. a small panic makes you want to sit up, confused on why you didn't wake up for all your other classes but you can't. a strong arm is over your waist, keeping you down.

"i love you but please everytime you move i wake up a little bit more and i would like to stay asleep, thank you," jessie murmurs. pulling you closer and you let her like always. "thought you were a deep sleeper?" you mumble back.

jessie lets out a tired chuckle. moving her hand to play with the waistband of your pajama pants. she does that often, but this time around you notice the flutter in your heart. was that always there? it probably was, you were just oblivious and wrote it off as just enjoying the movement. "i think i became a light sleeper after you kept waking me because of your morning classes."

"so it's my fault? sorry for ruining your sleep schedule then, freckles," you turn so that you two are facing face to face. her nose tickles yours. "apology accepted. uh, now speaking of classes. why didn't you go to yours?" jessie whispers. she could tell you were feeling sensitive especially from how you acted yesterday. she always knows what to say, what to do, how to act. how could you not realize you're in love with her before?

you stay silent for a moment to think over your answer. should you just tell her about your dilemma or keep it a secret for longer? you go with the latter.

"i don't know.. just tired. i guess my body needed a rest from that studying and running around from class to class," you say. jessie narrows her eyes at you like she doesn't think you're telling the truth and she doesn't. as your bestfriend she can tell when you're lying, easily. you start to talk all slow and soft like that will lighten the weight of your lie. your words aren't entirely a lie though.. just half.

"okay. just always know i'm here for you. if you really need a break we can go somewhere," her hand that's playing with your waistband slips slightly underneath. her holding onto your hip underneath your clothes wasn't weird. she likes the warmth and you like the feeling of something there. usually you would just enjoy it, but now it feels different. why are your emotions being this way? again, curse sasha.

"it's okay. i just want to stay here. i just need some time to decompress? i don't know.."

"if you need anything i'm here.." jessie's words are broken up by a yawn, "in the morning. i'm about to fall asleep again." you giggle, pushing away some of her hair that fell over her face. "okay, sleep. i'll be here in the morning freckles."

"where else would you be?" the canadian mumbles, slightly confused but just taking it as a joke. she drifts off to sleep easily after that. meanwhile you? it took a while to sleep. you just lay there, holding onto jessie as she holds onto you. thinking and thinking.

about the future, about jessie, about what to do.

what will you do?

distance. that's the decision you make for the time being when it comes to jessie and you. it's only temporary, you would never want to lose jessie forever. you just need a moment. a few moments.

it starts off slow with you deciding to not wear her clothes as much. usually you walk out of your dorm in at least one piece of her clothing. jessie doesn't really notice the change since you two's clothes are so mixed together at this point you guys share a closet. she can't tell the difference between her clothes or yours unless it's one of your croptops or short skirts you occasionally wear.

the weird feeling of not having something of hers on your body as you move around campus from class to class is jarring, but you need this. just to see if you are always thinking about jessie because you are really in love with her or because you have an attachment to something of hers that's physically with you.

you experiment with this little method of yours for a good week before you decide that's enough. you were missing the feeling of jessie being with you even if she wasn't physically and ultimately you realize that, yes, you're still thinking about jessie all the time. not because of some item but because it's jessie.

"finally you have my name on your back. thought you got ashamed of me or something," jessie jokes as she sits on her bed. watching you about to leave out of the dorm door. you're wearing one of her canadian jerseys with your outfit.

"as if. always proud of you, freckles. now i have to run or i'll be late like you." then you're gone out of the door. leaving jessie to her own devices.

your next method of checking if your feelings are in fact love is by replying to jessie's texts later and later. when you were out, your phone was on do not disturb and you didn't let jessie be one of the people to bypass that. wanting to see if not replying to her right away did something to you.

it definitely did and it did something to jessie too. the moment you stepped back into the dorm, she was ready to question you.

"you can't ignore me. what if i needed help with something or wanted you to buy a snack from the store?" jessie pouts, taking your purse away from you so that she can grab your phone out of it. "i wasn't ignoring you. i was busy, jess."

"yeah, okay. i believe you.." her attention is obviously not focused on you as she unlocks your phone. going straight to your do not disturb settings to see what's going on. she holds the phone up to your face and points to it, "why am i not on here?"

you are quick to make up some excuse. distracting jessie as you tell her that you will buy her some more non-fiction books if she forgives and easily just like that she does. still she's starting to get skeptical and more worried.

your little tests continue. you try to sleep in your own bed and convince jessie that it was too hot to cuddle which wasn't an entire lie. la is hot nearly all year around so it makes sense, but jessie can only take not having your cuddles for so long. after three days she basically collapsed on top of you, saying, "don't tell me to move away. i don't care, i'm sleepy and you haven't held me in forever. we always sleep together please.."

you give in right that moment. letting her sleep in your bed again.

while you're trying to figure everything out, jessie is figuring out her own feelings. why were you being distant? you may think she doesn't notice but she does. jessie nuzzles her face into your neck, searching for your usual comforting scent. you said you said you wouldn't push her away. that you wouldn't let her go. if acting like this isn't pushing away then she doesn't know what is.

after sasha did something wrong, are you avoiding affection? just avoiding people? jessie wishes she could peek into your mind. she's good at getting the gist of your emotions; that's from years of being by your side, but that doesn't mean communication isn't needed. that doesn't mean you didn't use to come straight to her with any problem and talk about it. instead of it being sasha's fault, was it jessie's fault? have the canadian done something to you and you didn't tell her?

that can't be right. you aren't like her who would rather be silent then express what's going on in her head. you were blunt and spoke your mind easily especially with jessie.

the soccer player doesn't like questioning herself or you, she just doesn't. she's secure in you two's friendship but it feels like you aren't at moment. just one push will lead jessie to just outright asking you. she can't take it anymore. she refuses to be tossed aside.

all those tests did nothing for your situation except confirming something you already knew: you're in love with jessie. your best friend who you have known since you were seven. the main reason why you chose to come to college in america and apply to ucla. the person you couldn't imagine being without. there is still one problem when it comes to all of this.

how does jessie feel? you don't want to ask, you don't want to know but at the same time you do. it's just frightening and unfamiliar to address at the moment so you don't.

instead you want to get away from everything. from jessie, your thoughts, all the baggage that comes with them. you just need an escape and you find it in gabriela. the spanish exchange student is happy to bring you along to one of the many parties she attends. you haven't gone to a single party this entire school year, too focused on your major and jessie. now with you pushing jessie aside for the moment you have the time. it's the weekend, you can let go for this once.

jessie's is away at the gym when you start to get ready to leave out. it's around nine, usually jessie would be in the dorm by this time but she's been slacking on staying in shape due to how many classes she had to take lately so now she's been taking time out to go to the gym at night. this was the perfect opportunity to get away without her noticing. knowing that she would question you and probably ask to come along if you said you were going to a party; with her always wanting to be you when you go somewhere unfamiliar.

you look in the mirror of the bathroom. the tight black dress on your body looks good and makes you feel good. your makeup is done, your hair is done, and you decide against wearing heels. feeling a bunch of pain in your feet won't help at all with you trying to forget everything.

as you walk out of the bathroom and go straight to your dorm door, shutting it behind you after you step out. the only thing you have is your purse that holds your phone and wallet. just because you were running away from your thoughts doesn't mean you were going to put yourself in a bad situation.

you

going to some party

i'll be back. don't worry 🩷

you text to jessie as you walk down the stairs. she doesn't reply and you don't expect her to. knowing she always puts her phone on do not disturb while at the gym, even for you (especially for you) because she's been getting distracted easily lately. good. she won't be on your mind for at least an hour or two if she doesn't text; that's what you tell yourself but it's not true. you're going to think about her entire the night but it's nice to think the opposite at the moment.

gabriela is waiting outside of your dorm building. she's wearing a dress similar to yours, but in pink. she grabs your hand once you come out, pulling you towards one of the ways out of campus.

"c'mon. these other girls are going to give us a ride," she smiles at you as she pulls you along. you laugh at how quickly she moves. obviously trying to get to the party right away.

"didn't know it was off campus," you say as you two reach the car. "everytime there are parties on campus they get noise complaints, so we just change spots," gabriela explains. a tall girl with braids sits in the passenger seat and you can see a short redhead in the driver's seat as you two approach a white car. both are wearing dresses as well. gabriela lets go of your hand to open the door for you, so you slip into the car and she follows after.

"hey girls! this is my friend, y/n. she's haven't been out like the entire time she been at ucla and i think she needs a good party," gabriela with her naturally friendly nature starts a conversation with the two women as the redhead pulls off. it's take a moment but you fall into the conversation too. your outgoing personality was showing itself.

by the time you all get to the party you get to know that the redhead is amber and the girl with braids is celeste. they're both quite friendly and you swear celeste is a little drunk already, but you don't mind really.

some pop song blasts throughout the house gabriela drags you into. there are so many people inside that you feel like you're in some elevator. despite all the people, gabriela pushes past them all to take you to the kitchen. letting go of your hand to start to make you a drink.

"i think you need to get a little drunk, yeah? just let it all go girl," she smiles as she hands you the mix of alcohol. it's some type of liquor, you don't know what but it doesn't taste bad going down your throat as you drink some.

"it's alright!" you shout over the music. the spainard nods her head in approval. you two stand in the kitchen for a little while, talking and drinking. some people would come in and out of the kitchen but most are out in the living room or even down in the basement. you feel yourself loosing up more as you drink more. your mind is only focused on one thing; dancing.

you grab onto gabriela's wrist, pulling her out of the kitchen. "come dance with me or you're no fun," you whisper against her ear when you two stop for a moment then you pull her all the way to where most people are dancing. gabriela presses her body against yours when you two start dancing. smiling when you let out a drunken giggle.

"it is fun, isn't it?" she whispers to you, right against your ear. you don't reply. just pulling her closer as the song changes.

it's nearly eleven when jessie checks her phone. now fully showered and changed after using the gym showers. she almost screamed because she swear she saw a mouse, but still she's clean now. she's walking out of the gym, scrolling through her messages. "what the hell..?" jessie mumbles, seeing your text. going to some party. i'll be back. don't worry 🩷

yeah, that's totally going to make her not worry. you never told her about going out earlier today or the day before. why wouldn't you tell her like you always do? this distant situation going on with you was not something she was about and this was the final straw.

when the canadian reaches you two's dorm, she tries to call you and it goes straight to voicemail. okay, worrying, but not too crazy. you were out at a party. you probably didn't hear the call, so she sends you back a text.

freckles 💗

it's getting late

are you coming back?

hurry please you said you watch the cheetah documentary with me

stay safe please ❤️

she waits almost forty minutes to see if you reply back or even read the text, but nope. nothing and no call back either. jessie doesn't want to seem like some obsessed friend, but with you not only being distant but not even telling her that you were going to go somewhere like you always do, she has a right to be worried.

who were you with? and where exactly were you? two questions that were about to be answered if jessie plays her cards right. she was going to come and find you because frankly she has had enough. the canadian texts the first person she knows that seem to always be out and about at different parties; hallie.

ms. canadian

hallie

help me out please 🙏🏻

blonde #1

anything for my fave syrup sippier

what is it?

ms. canadian

don't call me that again

anyways

do you know any parties that are going on right now?

blonde #1

none on campus. people kept sending noise complaints 😐

there is one i got invited to by some redhead. forgot her name

she's in my pottery class

never ended up going because .. i have an exam tomorrow so

ms. canadian

can you take me there?

i'll explain later

blonde #1

weird coming from you but okay

gimme five minutes and i'll be outside your dorm

jessie doesn't reply. putting her phone down so she can slip back on her shoes. it takes less then five minutes for hallie to knock on the dorm door. she was only down the hall anyways.

"so why are you, the most i don't like parties person ever, asking me to take you to a party?" hallie asks as jessie comes out of the room. locking it behind herself before the two start to walk out of the dorm building.

"because.. y/n might be there and she asked me to come get her so," jessie half lies. you haven't even replied to her text, but hallie didn't need to know that. the blonde takes the excuse easily. paying more attention to how she hates that her exams are stopping her from living her best college life. jessie listens to her rants on the way to party. all of the brunette's attention on you and what's going to happen once she finds you.

you have drunk at least four drinks in the past almost two hours. being a light weight is no fun as you're now sitting on the back patio which is surprisingly empty. gabriela is somewhere inside. probably off making out with some girl. earlier when you were drinking, you didn't think about anything but now that you slowed down and is out of that party environment, all you can think about is jessie.

why are things this way? why are you this way? why can't you just talk to jessie and just ask her. are you in love with me? why you can't just tell her. i'm in love with you.

nothing makes sense and you're out here on this patio alone and you want another drink but too tired to go back into that music filled building and all those thoughts you been pushing away are suddenly and you swear tears are about to swell up in your eyes and you hear jessie?

"why is up with you and running off?" you turn to see jessie on the back patio as well. while you were overthinking in your drunken state, hallie and jessie had made it to the party. with jessie somehow finding gabriela on the couch kissing some girl that jessie didn't have the time or care to give a glance to. after being told where you were, she immediately came outside.

"well, are you going to answer?" she says, coming closer to where you are on the patio steps. this is really what you don't need right now or is it actually what you been needing all along? with the mix of your buildup of thoughts and the alcohol, you stand, ready to say something.

"i was trying to get away from you.." the words come out in a mumble, loud enough just for jessie to hear. a hurt expression is on the brunette's face, but she doesn't step away from you. instead pulling you close. "why? what did i do? what did i say?" she whispers to you as she leans in close so you two's faces are close enough to hear eachother. "i been trying to get why you're distant and i just can't. you said you wouldn't push me away, that you wouldn't let me go, so why are you now? what could i have possibly done?"

the self doubt in her tone makes you frown. your hands move to hold onto her waist; a comfort.

"nothing. it's me, it's my fault," you whisper back. jessie looks confused but she wasn't going to let this conversation end here.

"just tell me what's going on and we'll figure it out. we always do," she leans in closer. her nose touching yours.

you might as well say it right? jessie's so close, she's right here in front of you. she wants to know.

"i think i'm in love with you," you say. closely watching jessie's expression go blank. she blinks, once, twice then she smiles, "i think i'm in love with you too."

and then she kisses you. it isn't the most romantic scene ever. on the back patio of some college party, but still the kiss feels so warm. so comforting. so right.

author notes: that was a lot 🙇🏽‍♀️ probably the most mentally exhausting part to write so far, but i love this actually even tho it feels a bit rushed. finally we're getting somewhere. hope y'all liked it!

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #woso x reader #woso fanfics

183 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 2 days

Note

Hello! I love your writing and just saw that your requests are open! I was wondering if you would be willing to write for norlestappen x reader something with a mix of fluff and spice maybe someone hits on the reader and they go into protective mode but another driver on the Grid is the readers brother and thinks that they're being TOO protective?

Thank you for all your writing and I hope you can do something with this mess if not I totally understand 😁

okay so they are a throuple throughout this, russell reader bc that's been on my mind

warnings: they get called toxic at one point

1. That time in the club - Charles

She wasn't even there with them, not technically anyway. They just also happened to be there, watching as she danced with her friends.

Lando looked all parts frat boy in the club: shirt open to reveal a bit of his chest and the necklaces he wore (one for his sister, one for his loves), and backwards snapback. Max was in his skinny years (you can take the boy out of the Netherlands, but not the Netherlands out of the boy). Charles had those stupid star jeans that he loved so much (and she loved them, too).

They weren't there to interrupt her night with her friends, but they were aware of just how pretty she was. It was kind of toxic, wasn't it? That they didn't want her in the club without them there to keep an eye on her.

But then that fucking guy came up to her.

Her friends had turned away for two seconds, walked up to the bar to get them all some drinks, and that guy took his chance.

Charles saw it first. He was laughing at something Max was saying when he saw the guy walk up to her and whisper something in her ear.

In an instant he'd shoved his drink into Lando's hand and strode over. His face was set in anger that wasn't usually seen outside of the race track as he pushed the guys hand away from her and pulled her in. "Can I help you?" He asked.

But, as soon as he said it, he turned away from the guy, small smile gracing his lips as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Is he bothering you?" He asked, but the guy couldn't hear him over the music.

"He's okay," she said and tipped his face towards her so that she could properly kiss him, so that the guy stood in front of them could she who she belonged to.

(As soon as she had kissed one of her boyfriends, she turned towards the other two. But she couldn't beckon them over and kiss them in front of this guy, not without him getting the wrong idea).

The guy backed away. "Crikey," she mumbled as soon as he had walked off. "I thought he'd never leave

2. That time in her Instagram DMs - Lando

When you have a super hot girlfriend, it shouldn't come as a surprise when people are sliding into her DMs.

It had happened a couple of times, and Lando, Max and Charles were always there to delete the messages from her inbox (she didn't have a PR team to look after her like her boyfriends and her brother did).

And, although she never ever answered, although she was very public with her relation ship with not one, not two, but three formula one drivers, people still tried.

Most of the time, people slipped through the cracks. It was easy to ignore the accounts constantly messaging her because, well, she just didn't care to answer.

But then she saw the accounts that popped up again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

She didn't mean to click on his DMs. Actually, Lando had sent a meme to the groupchat and she'd meant to click on that instead. But then his notification was at the top, where she was about to click. And she fucking clicked it.

It wasn't his messages that she saw first. No, it was a penis. A dick pic, that had been sitting in her DMs for... how long? As soon as it was on her screen she threw her phone and covered her mouth.

Taking a minute to recover she stood and walked to find Lando at his PlayStation. If this had been a few years ago, he would have been streaming. Thank God he wasn't.

"Lan," she said and sat on his lap. "This was your fault, you fix it."

He looked at her phone, and almost threw up. "How the fuck was this my fault?"

"If you hadn't sent that meme to the groupchat, I wouldn't have accidentally clicked this!"

But Lando still furrowed his brows at her. So, she explained it all to him (that this guy was one of those freaks that constantly messaged her).

Lando fixed it. He took a picture of himself, hood up, curls visible out the front of his hood, and middle finger up. The expression on his face was clearly unimpressed as he stared at the camera.

This is her boyf, fuck off

It was cringe and cliché, and she loved it. The guy in her DMs opened the picture instantly, and Lando blocked him.

He passed her phone back and she climbed onto his lap. "Thank youuuuuuu," she said and hissed his neck a couple of times.

Lando's hands settled on her hip. "No more opening dick pics unless they're from me, yeah?"

She agreed to that.

3. That time with George - Max

There was nothing worse than seeing her brothers car collide with one of her boyfriends. But, if it had to be one of them, why did it have to be Max?

Max, who got out of the car, fuming. Max, who couldn't be stopped by Lando or Charles as he marched over to George.

They got into a fight, one that was clearly about more than the crash. Nobody knew what either man had said. Lando rushed over, while Charles ran to her and pulled him against her, hiding her in his chest.

"She's my fucking sister!" George shouted as Lando got between them. "She's my sister and you treat her like you own her!" His eyes moved to Lando, and then to Charles. "All of you do."

She didn't know George had this kind of problem with her relationship. Of course, it didn't change anything. She loved them, she knew what there relationship was all about, and she was happy.

But her brother was still fighting with her boyfriend. She pulled away from Charles and strode over. "George!" She shouted, and her brother turned towards her. "What the fuck!"

"It's racing stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I heard everything, you idiot."

"Oh," he said and stood up straight. "Well, I'm right, aren't I? Max wouldn't be trying to kick the shit out of me."

She frowned. "Is your problem that I'm dating them, or that they're protective?"

"Possessive."

"Protective."

"Possessive."

This went on for a little while. Max, Lando and Charles stood behind her, watching as the siblings went back and forth. When Charles laid his hand on her shoulder, she snapped back into it. "Right, yeah," she said and shook her head. "They're not possessive. Lando saved me from a guy with dick pic the other day, George! Or do you want me getting sent dick picks every five minutes."

George rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said. "But-"

"Then shut the fuck up and stop trying to kill my boyfriend on track."

a/n: this one got away from me and i'm not proud of the ending lmao

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hazbinhotelie · 2 days

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Could you do something where Alastor finds a reader who is so innocent and free of sin he has no idea how they ended up in Hell.

Extra points if the reader is so innocent they sell him their soul with no idea what they've done.

(Please make it Soft Alastor though)

TW: mention of suicide. It’s only brief. Everything else is fine!

“There we go! Now the deal is sealed and done,” Alastor said with a grin, rolling up the contract. “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear.”

“Same to you, Al,” I said with a smile.

We stood in his house- apparently he owned a hotel or something, it was just busy at the moment. He said his place would be safer, anyway. Away from other sinners who could hurt me. It made sense to me. I looked around at the old wallpaper, the portraits and decorations. It was nice. Cozy, even.

“Hm,” he said. I turned my attention back to him. He seemed to be thinking about something- about me, judging by the way he was looking at me. “Tell me, why did you sell me your soul?”

“You said you’d protect me,” I said lightly, nonchalant. “I gave you my soul, so now I’m safe from any other demon. You’ve given me a place to stay, food to eat, and clothes to wear. I’m new here and incredibly weak, I’d have died within moments without you. It only makes sense.”

“Yes, but…” he paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should even continue. He had my soul, he’d gotten what he wanted, there was no need to press for information. Still, he found himself curious. “But now I own you. You have to do what I say. You don’t even know me. Were in hell and you followed me to my house willingly and sold your soul to me. Doesn’t that seem like a bad idea?”

“Eh,” I said, giving him a small shrug. I smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were the only sinner that spared me a second glance, the only one that was nice to me. That doesn’t make you a good person, but… well…” I sighed. “I figure it makes you better than the others. At least, better to be around. Better to sell my soul to you than some random demon pointing a gun to my head.”

“So… what you’re saying is, you sold your soul to me because I’ve been cordial and not outright mean or rude,” he said. He seemed surprised, as if it were unexpected.

“I mean… it shows that you have standards, at least,” I said sheepishly. “If you’re typically nice and composed, it means I’m safer with you. If I made a deal with a demon that’s always angry and lashing out at others, I could easily be hurt or killed by them.”

“But…” he seemed dumbfounded. He shook his head in disbelief, then turned around and started pacing the room. “This makes no sense,” he muttered. “Say, what is it that got you into hell? You seem awfully nice and… well, naive, to be a sinner at all.”

I shrugged and looked away. “I dunno.”

He stopped and turned to me. “What? What do you mean you don’t know? There has to be something.” He looked me up and down, as if searching for something. “You have no hints on your body as to how you died. How did that happen? Surely it must have something to do with why you’re down here.”

“Suicide,” I replied quietly. I really didn’t want to talk about it, I was desperately wishing he’d just drop the topic. I couldn’t lie or stay silent, he owned my soul. If he wanted information he was going to get it either way, regardless of how it made me feel.

“I… what?” His expression softened, but he still seemed confused. He thought it over in his head. He had lived during the Great Depression, the first time in American history that suicide became an almost common thing- due to everyone being in debt and homeless, many felt hopeless, as if there was no way out. He hadn’t experienced that so he couldn’t relate- and he had no idea of that even applied to me at all. Times had changed, so it could very well be another reason. He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped short. He saw my expression and shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to ask. It couldnt be that important anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“It’s okay,” I said, looking at the ground. I was fidgeting a little, nervous. My stomach growled.

Alastors ears perked up at the sound. “You seem hungry, my dear,” he said, jumping on the chance to change the sensitive subject. “How about I show you to the kitchen? It’s been a moment since I’ve last used it, but I’m told I’m quite a good cook.”

“I think I’d like that,” I said, with a small smile. I followed him in and he got to work.

“Now, you can watch but don’t touch anything. I have this place organized in a very particular way and I’d rather it not be messed up- it’d be rude of me to make a guest cook, anyway,” he said, matter of fact.

I smiled and nodded, then sat down and watched him work. He pulled out a cookbook and started making jambalaya- apparently it was a family recipe. He shifted the topic to himself, and told me about his mother and what New Orleans was like when he was alive. I listened, content. I liked listening to him talk. Hell wasn’t a good place by any means, but with him I was comfortable. I could almost forget I was in hell at all.

#alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader

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bratzforchris · 2 days

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Inked Daisies (Chapter 4)

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Read Chapter 3 here

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is more of a fluffy filler chapter, but I still love it because soft and grumpy Matt <33 Enjoy!!

“Get away from me,” Matt growled, swatting Nick’s attempt to wipe the dried blood off his nose with a wet cloth. “‘M fine.”

The vibe inside your small apartment was less than comfortable. Matt was leaning against the kitchen countertop, holding an ice pack to his bruising cheek while his older brother tried (and failed) to doctor him up. You wanted to help the boys, you really did, but you were still a bit shaken up from the events of the evening. You felt awful that Chris had had to stay at work while the three of you headed home. You curled yourself into your blanket burrito further, watching with wide eyes.

“Fine. If you wanna be a bitch, deal with it yourself. It’s your fault, anyway.” Nick hissed, stalking off to another room.

Matt sighed, looking like he wanted to say something to Nick, but he didn’t. He simply watched his brother go, still holding the ice pack to his cheek. Before you knew, the brunette was sitting beside you, scrolling through his phone. In the light of the dim lamp that you had turned on, you examined Matt closely, looking at the tattoos that littered his bare arms and the small, silver ring that glinted in his nose. Despite his bruising cheek, black eye, and bloody noses, you felt a small twinge of butterflies in your stomach at his shirtlessness.

“Are you okay?” You whispered softly, trying to keep all your emotions from coming out in your voice.

Matt sighed, placing the ice pack on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch cushions, hands tangled in his hair. “I’m fucking tired.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know…” You murmured, scooting closer and unfolding the blanket across your friend’s lap as well.

“He fucking touched you without your permission.” Matt growled, blue eyes darkening as he turned his head to look at you.

“I know…and I appreciate you protecting me. But I don’t want you to get seriously injured over some asshole.”

“He touched you without your permission.” Matt grumbled unwaveringly, folding his arms over his chest.

In a leap of faith, you moved all the way next to Matt leaning your head against his shoulder. The boy wasn’t exactly the affectionate, cuddly type like his brothers, but he didn’t move when you did so. He simply flinched softly before relaxing, making no noise besides the soft rise and fall of his breathing. You relaxed into the soft warmth of Matt’s body heat for a moment, letting the room air out before you spoke again.

“You’re special.” You hummed.

Matt raised his eyebrow, looking at you resting on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“No one has ever done that for me…” Now that the adrenaline in your body had relaxed, you found yourself smiling at Matt’s actions. You didn’t like that he had been hurt, of course, but the fact that he would go to those lengths to protect you lit a fire in your heart. “So thank you.”

“You deserve that. Anyone does,” Matt mumbled. “No one should be touched without their permission.”

You simply made a small noise of acknowledgement, before returning to your quiet state for a bit. It wasn’t until you heard the brunette let out a muffled groan that you looked up, brows furrowing with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“C’mon Matt, don’t lie,” You poked his stomach gently, not missing how his cheeks reddened. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Something.” You huffed in a way that was unintentionally adorable.

“You’re annoying.” he grumbled, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You haven't made a move to get me off your shoulder, though.” You pointed out.

Matt rolled his eyes, finally speaking softly. “Jus’ have a headache.”

“From the fight or…?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Your friend admitted quietly.

Matt’s insomnia was no secret to you. In fact, you were the exact same way. There had been many nights where you two would both be awake long after Nick and Chris. You were never loud, or did much, but you were empathetic to each other’s pain. Physically not being able to sleep over a long stretch of time was awful, especially when you had particularly bad episodes. That was probably the reason you and Matt even had anything more than acquaintanceship. Your ‘problems’ that the other two triplets didn’t have brought you together, like the nights in high school that you both spent poring over his sketchbook.

“I know this question fucking sucks, but is there anything I can do?” You asked softly, still laying on his shoulder.

“Could um,” Matt swallowed down the lump in his throat; he fucking hated depending on people or asking for help. “Could I have some Ibuprofen? Please?”

Your face dropped into a frown at Matt’s simple, yet pleading request. You stood up off the couch, covering Matt with the rest of the blanket you’d been occupying. “I’ll be right back.” You said with a smile.

You made your way into the ensuite bathroom connected to your bedroom, noticing Nick had made himself at home, watching Rupaul’s on your television. “Hey.”

The oldest triplet paused the show, turning to look at you. “Is he letting you play doctor?” Nick asked, observing how you were rifling through your medicine cabinet.

“Kind of,” You shrugged, grabbing the bottle of pain reliever, as well as the small bottle of melatonin that you kept for the awful nights, in vain hope the supplement would work. “I think tonight was more of an emotional thing than anything.”

Nick knew exactly what you were referencing. “Oh?”

“He said he hasn’t been sleeping well,” You shook the small bottle of pills. “I get that way. When you’re so sleep deprived, you aren’t exactly rational.”

Your friend knew about your own struggles with sleep, which made him more understanding as to why Matt was opening up more to you. “I figured. He’s just never been violent like that. It was kinda shocking is all.”

“He’s not violent, Nick,” You scolded. “He was worried and thought that was the appropriate thing to do. He was defending me.” You found yourself blushing at the way you were defending the middle triplet, hoping it wasn’t overly visible.

“You got a crush on Matt?” Nick asked with a chuckle, never out of tune with people’s body language.

“Don’t be stupid.” You rolled your eyes, making your way towards the door.

“Okay, lovergirl.”

You ignored that little comment, opting instead to stop in the kitchen and get Matt a snack before you brought him the medicine. Despite being a florist, you found yourself drawn to nursing and healthcare. There was no way in hell you would let anyone take Ibuprofen on an empty stomach. You found a lone granola bar laying on your countertop, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge as well.

“I come bearing gifts!” You smiled cheerfully, coming around the couch and plopping everything in Matt’s lap.

The brunette hadn’t moved since you’d been gone. All he had done was shrug the blanket closer around his shoulder, leaning his head back against the couch cushions, eyes closed softly. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought Matt was asleep, but the dark bags under his eyes and the soft twitching of his eyelids told you otherwise. He blinked his eyes open softly, the standard bright blue that was Sturniolo eyes significantly dulled.

“Thank you. My head is fucking killing me.” he groaned.

You shook out three Ibuprofen into your palm, along with one melatonin and passed them to Matt. “Take these and then eat and then you sir will be watching your favorite movie and relaxing.”

Despite feeling like shit, Matt rolled his eyes. “It’s like my mother is here right now and she’s in Boston.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Matt said nothing more for a moment until he shot up. “Shit. Not like…like that,” he blabbed. “As a friend, I mean. God, I’m sorry. That was weird.”

You had never heard Matt speak so many words in one sentence, nor were you expecting him to say he loved you. “I…” You chuckled and burst out laughing, desperately fighting the warm feeling spreading through your insides. “How much did you drink, Matt?”

“None.” he said pointedly, hating the way his cheeks were flushing.

You noticed the way Matt was fidgeting softly, most likely feeling embarrassed. “You know, I’ve known you for seven years and I still don’t know what your favorite movie is,” You grabbed the remote for your TV off the coffee table in an effort to not shove Matt back into his shell after he’d just opened up to you. “What is your favorite movie?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.” Matt said plainly, starting to eat the snack you had brought him.

“Tell me,” You pouted. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

“Nope.”

“Tell me or I’ll tickle you.” You said with an evil grin.

“You promise you won’t laugh?” the annoyance in Matt’s tone had been replaced by the same soft Matt that had made his appearance earlier.

You couldn’t lie. As few and far-between as your one-on-one hangouts with Matt were, you liked this side of him. It was different, in the best way possible. Gone was the rough exterior that the rest of the world got to experience. This Matt felt more human, almost making you wish that he could be more than just your best friend’s brother.

“I promise I won’t laugh.” You acknowledged with a gentle, genuine smile, cuddling up to his side again.

Matt swallowed down the pills you had supplied him with, taking a swig of water afterwards. “...it’s Tangled.”

“Really?” You felt like your heart could burst in your chest at the moment. Rapunzel had been your favorite princess for as long as the movie had been out. You hadn’t been expecting that answer from a ‘tough guy’ tattoo artist, but when you really thought about it, the movie suited Matt perfectly. “That’s mine too!”

Matt looked down at you, resting on his shoulder, an emotion he couldn’t explain overtaking him. “You’re just like Rapunzel. Chatty and naive…but very kind.”

“Thanks? I think?” You chuckled, migrating over to Disney+ and flicking on the movie. “Now relax. Chris will kill me if he comes home and realizes we ditched him for no reason.”

The brunette hummed a soft agreement, keeping his eyes fixated on the screen as the movie began to play. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, like the fact that he didn’t think you were truly chatty or naive, or that he appreciated you truly caring for him more than he could ever speak, or that the reason for the early departure from the club wasn’t for no reason; someone had hurt someone he loved, and when that happened, he had a problem with it. Instead, he said nothing else, choosing to refuse to acknowledge his brain screaming at him that he had just said and thought that he loved you. You were Chris’ best friend, and by extension, his as well.

You two fell into an easy rhythm, watching the movie with sleepy eyes. The next thing you knew, Matt had shifted so that he was able to lay down more, resting his head on your chest. You practically froze with shock, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your heart began to beat wildly. This was new territory between the two of you. Whenever you shared platonic cuddles with Nick and Chris, you always initiated. Matt always declined your invitation to join, until now. You relaxed back into the couch cushions, listening to his breathing even out as he shrugged the blanket more over the two of you. At that moment, you realized that you could've stayed this way forever. You hoped that whatever possessed Matt to open up tonight stuck around, because this felt like true progress in your friendship.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked up as the door to your apartment opened quietly, the clock reading 3:37 AM. You had given all three of the triplets keys to your place, knowing that you trusted them quite literally more than anyone else you knew. Chris stepped into the entryway, looking drained as he set down his backpack and slid off his Vans.

“Hey,” You whispered softly so as not to disturb Matt and his movie. “Did everything else go okay?”

Chris nodded, not yet noticing the position you and Matt were in. “I mean, fights are pretty common. People moved on quickly,” he shrugged. It was then that the boy noticed how Matt was laying, his brows perking curiously. “Is he…asleep?”

You had noticed that Matt’s breathing had become more even, but you hadn’t thought that he had actually fallen asleep. You had assumed that the movie would’ve held his attention, but then again, the events of the night, combined with being dead tired and melatonin, was a match for Matt. You looked down at the sleepy boy on your chest, hiding your fond smile. “Yeah.”

“Hmmm.” Chris hummed in acknowledgement, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“I think that’s why what happened tonight…happened,” You said softly. “He hasn’t been sleeping, Chris.”

“He never does,” Chris’ tone suddenly became cynical as he stood up off the couch, padding back into the kitchen. “Kid never learns.”

“Is everything…okay?”

“Just tired,” Chris smiled at you as he poured himself a glass of water, trying to ease your mind. It wasn’t your fault that Matt couldn’t sleep. “Is it cool if I stay over?”

“You know it is,” You teased, thankful that whatever fog had laid between you two for a moment had lifted. “What was it you told me last month? That’s like asking about your own house?”

“God, you have the memory of an elephant when you want to.” he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I know,” You smirked smugly. “G’night Chris.”

“Night, Y/N.” he said fondly, placing a soft, friendly kiss to the back of your head as he made his way into your guest room.

You switched off the television, placing the remote on the coffee table once more and covering yourself and Matt fully with the blanket. You laid a pillow behind your back, making yourself more comfortable to sleep. As much as you loved your bed, you hated the idea of disturbing Matt, especially knowing that he had been struggling to sleep lately. If letting him rest meant you were sleeping on the couch, you would do it.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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weareinastormoffuck · 2 days

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i do want to say i do think they made some interesting choices this episode. I mean they chose to have tommy on call so he couldnt stay for the drunken time buck and eddie had. They also chose to have it be such a big call he also couldn't be there to help look for chim. They chose to not have tommy dress up and for buck to point it out. If they wanted to tommy could have been there the whole time. We could have seen buck and tommy get closer and have a silly goofy drunk time together. We could have seen tommy be there for buck while they looked for chim. We could have seen tommy hold bucks hand while bringing food to maddie at dispatch. There were so many options for how this episode could have been but instead we got 3 seconds of tommy and the rest, where buck was involved anyways, was buck and eddie together. Eddie was there through it all, from the party to the search to the wedding to even bringing food to maddie, he's the one they decided to show not leaving bucks side. No hate, just interesting choices here.

#911 #911 abc #911 fox #buddie

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sardonic-the-writer · 3 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific scent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to lean. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town is only big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

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cuubism · 1 day

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HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."

#hob said 'dream identifies as a man and you better respect it. as for me? i identify as a PROBLEM'#i think he should get to be super annoying as a treat #dreamling #my writing #ask #meadowziplines #hob's like ask me not about my dreams of being a knight in shining armor ok. don't even ask #cw homophobia

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