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sunsburns · 2 months

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kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Luke's arms crossed defensively. "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

taglist: @pleasingregulus , @weasleylovers , @telliette , @jarofshells , @jess-fae , @s0urw00lf , @srvbryn , @justanotherkpopstanlol , @coryoskywalker , @simplyjake , @girlyp-0-p , @aquangxl , @lovebug0 , @number-onekidqueen , @mxtokko , @patitotodd , @gloryekaterina , @simpforsunwoo , @ladyslytherin7 , @criesinlies , @mashiromochi , @quackitysdrugdealer , @jadahxx , @maraschinocherry3 , @trovailleangel , @daliscrim , @wicca-void , @girljakeperalta , @kurtcobaingirlie , @yourlocaldelusional , @elisa20beth , @lifeonawhim (lmk if you wanna be added <3 pls make sure ur tags on on! <3)

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brain-rot-central · 5 months

Text

Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face.

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter.

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs.

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?”

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.”

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #inspired by ruby #thank you ruby #your writing is always *chef's kiss*

1K notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 5 months

Text

Going Public (OB)

pairing: y/n sainz x ollie bearman, y/n sainz x platonic f1 grid

fc: ariana greenblatt (reader is 18)

summary: y/n is the beloved sister of carlos sainz, who’s instagram had been private for years. finally, she makes her account public and shares her life with people other than family, friends, and the grid. soon, her and ollie go public with their relationship.

note: this is my first ollie bearman fic! lmk ur thoughts!! also thank you so much for 600 followers!!

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 76,234 others

y/nsainz: opened my instagram for shits and giggles. enjoy, suckers

view comments…

carlossainz55: i thought you said you weren’t opening it?

↳ y/nsainz: that was before i realized how many ppl wanted to see my pics LOL

f1updates: y/n sainz content?? this was a need, ty for opening bestie

olliebearman: that haunted house was not fun.

↳ arthur_leclerc: you seemed like you were having fun

↳ y/nsainz: before or after he almost shit his pants?

↳ carla.brocker: i had fun!!

chili55edits: she is so gorgeous?! these family genes are amazing, i tell ya

lilymhe: oooo shes going public y’all 😛

↳ y/nsainz: yuhhh🥱

sainzupdatepage: gonna start posting her now, yuppp

ferrarifriends: she’s so pretty holy shit

user8: style goes so hard

lailahasanovic: miss you!! 💓

↳ y/nsainz: miss you too!💓

maxfewtrell: i’d love some pic credit for that last one

↳ y/nsainz: looks like you j did. yourself.

↳ maxfewtrell: the sas is out of this world

↳ landonorris: 💁‍♀️💅

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: lilymhe, charles_leclerc, and 91,348 others

y/nsainz: black tie events, icecream with ollie and then lily, sassy man apocalypse, and a pic kika took at a grid dinner😘

view comments…

francisca.cgomes: y/n is literally an upcoming influencer and i’m here for it

↳ y/nsainz: i’m not already? :/

↳ francisca.cgomes: GIRL😭

user4: the second pic?? stunningggg

olliebearman: who took the third pic?!?!

↳ y/nsainz: you fr need pic creds?

maxfewtrell: oh, i see. she gets the sas from carlos and hanging out with lando and charles

↳ carlossainz55: you aren’t a saint either max

↳ mawfewtrell: wtv🙄

y/nsfp55: YOU ATEEEEE (and ate the icecream!)

charleskachowfp: love these pics sm. i need them engraved in my brain

georgerusell63: first and second pic are giving dark side from star wars

↳ landonorris: it’s almost like that was the goal!

↳ alex_albon: 🫢

user6: favorite siblings in f1 are unlocked: y/n & carlos

↳ arthur_leclerc: what the fuck? what about me and charles?!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: olliebearman, francisca.cgomes, and 101,024 others

y/nsainz: i spend race days with ollie while he mansplans to make him feel better

view comments…

olliebearman: what.

↳ y/nsainz: huh

user3: spends time with ollie..don’t make me ship

ollieeesssfp: ollie and y/n content is too cuteee

carlossainz55: could have spent race day in the ferrari paddock.

↳ y/nsainz: don’t act like you wanted me there🙄

↳ charles_leclerc: i did! i missed our pre-race gossip

↳ y/nsainz: i missed that too :( i’ll be with you next race!

user3: y/n is a charles supporter fr

*liked by creator*

f1wags: kika looks so cute in the last pic!

olliesfp1: BRO? j tell us ur dating cuz he’s looking at her like he’s in love fr

francisca.cgomes: race day = chat day!

↳ y/n.sainz: fr!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updates • 3hr ago

Today we will be talking about Y/n Sainz and the dating rumors with Ollie Bearman!

Here’s what we know: Y/n met Ollie through Arthur Leclerc, in which the trio started hanging out a lot, sometimes including Carla, Arthur’s girlfriend. We know that Y/n spends time with Ollie in the Ferrari paddock when she goes to watch Carlos and Ollie will accompany her.

Seen, last night around 9:10pm, Y/n and Ollie were leaving a restaurant in Mexico. The Grand Prix is this Sunday, only five days away from Tuesday nights spotting! We are questioning if they are more than friends….since Ollie seemed fairly protective of her at the dinner..

↳ Sainz Sibling Page @sainzsibs • 3hr ago

Y/n and Ollie are my otp. They are so cute together!

↳ F2 Bloggerrr @f2blogg • 2hr ago

Idk, I think Y/n and Lando would be cute

↳ Papaya Fp @mclarenpap • 2hr ago

HUH😭 Y/n and Lando are besties, they will nott date. Just because she hangs out with the F1 guys does not mean they are dating….

↳ Dolly luvs cars @dollyf1chatt • 1hr ago

In my opinion, Y/n and Ollie are the cutest couple. The way she’s Carlos’ younger sister and she’s also so close with the Leclerc family and Ollie is close with Arthur? They have background and it’s so cute. Our pure babies 🤭 They are adorbs

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: olliebearman, landonorris, and 98,014 others

y/n.sainz: brazils legal drinking age is 18😁👍🇧🇷 maybe it shouldn’t be

view comments…

carlossainz55: what is going on in brazil?!

↳ y/n.sainz: nothing?

↳ carlossainz55: Y/N.

f1wags: LMAO not y/n being scolded by carlos 😭

olliebearman: 😊👍

↳ y/n.sainz: 😯✌️

user7: not the THONG?

↳ user2: girl has got some explaining to do LOLLL

formula2edits: brooo, that’s obv ollie in the first pic

lilymhe: cutiesssss

*liked by creator*

y/nsogfanpg: she slays even when she’s literally throwing up bc she’s drunk!

danielricciardo: i feel like ive committed a crime by seeing this post

↳ y/n.sainz: weewoo weewoo🚨

↳ danielricciardo: ha. ha.🙄

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.sainz, arthur_leclerc, and 52,014 others

olliebearman: 👍📸

view comments…

user3: SOFT LAUNCH🚨⚠️🚨⚠️

sainzpost55: ollie ain’t subtle wit it🫤

arthur_leclerc: lol, mate. just wait till carlos sees this one

↳ oscarpiastri: you can say that again….

fp1upsss: okay mr. hard launch!!!

y/n.sainz: oh great heavens

carlossainz55: 🧍‍♂️what.

↳ olliebearman: should i block him?? @y/n.sainz

↳ y/n.sainz: nah, he’ll just come to your house then

↳ olliebearman: HUH

user1: wait….. y/n and ollie CONFIRMED??

↳ f1wags: yes‼️ wag and a sister of a driver is a SLAY

liamlawson30: cute guys!! pr is gonna LOVE this one

↳ olliebearman: oh man

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 74,149 others

ollies instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 47,138 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: olliebearman, carlossainz55, and 89,130 others

y/n.sainz: 🧸❤️

view comments…

y/nfp7: anyone else see that she added the bear emoji and a red heart to her bio too?🥹🥹

carmenmmundt: you guys are tooo cuteeee

↳ y/n.sainz: carm 💓

olliebearman: ❤️❤️

*liked by creator*

formula1updates: i’m melting. they are so cuteeeee

carlossainz55: cute theme i guess

↳ olliebearman: i’m growing on you

↳ carlossainz55: yeah like a fungus

↳ olliebearman: oh….that’s good?

francisca.cgomes: so prettyyyy

↳ y/n.sainz: no you kika

bear8fp: omggg the bears??? TOO CUTE

user4: don’t mind me, just sobbing in the corner bc i’ll never have an f1 brother and an f2 bf🥲✌️

f1wags: this is too precious i’m gonna burst 🥹

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman smau #ob50 #f1 smau #smau #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman fanfic #ollie bearman fic

1K notes · View notes

allyendergirl · 5 months

Text

The person Jason has the hardest time warming up to when he’s in the process of assimilating into the family again, is Dick.

Dick hated him when Jason was a kid. And with all that hatred, Dick reminded Jason of Willis. Sure Dick never laid a hand on him like Willis did, but he sure looked like he wanted to.

The glares of hatred that Jason was on the receiving ends of sent Jason spiraling into a PTSD attack more than once. Dick’s glares we’re always filled with so much more vitriol than Willis’ were. The thing that terrified Jason most about Dick’s glares was that Dick did them when he was sober, unlike Willis.

Dick also sounded like Willis, with his heavy angry footsteps stomping all over the manor, just like Willis’ sounded around the apartment. Dick would throw things against walls, break doors and chairs, rip cabinet doors right off their hinges, something that Willis wasn’t even able to do. Willis would hit and throw things, but he never broke them, they were too poor for that, even Willis realized that.

And the shouting. Dick never got far when it came to shouting at Jason, Alfred or Bruce would always shut that shit down on site. Physically dragging Dick away from him so he wouldn’t say something triggering to Jason. But watching a nearly grown man, practically feral with anger, looking like he wants to kill you, be dragged away from you by your older family members wasn’t a calming sight either. And the sound of Bruce and Dick shouting from behind closed doors was a staple noise during Jason’s time in the manor, just like Willis’ yelling was in his time at the apartment.

Sure Dick’s anger was different than Willis’ anger. Dick’s anger was a righteous fury that was big and explosive like a munitions shed on fire. Willis’ anger was solid and dark, festering and painful like acid forced in your mouth. But that didn’t mean that Dick wasn’t scary. That all of Dick’s traits that he unknowingly shared with Willis didn’t unsettle and haunt Jason.

Dick was never kind to Jason while in the manor. So seeing Dick after Jason’s death, and seeing him filled with joy, looking so soft compared to what Jason knew him as. It was a shock. Of course Jason knew that people can change, just look at him pre and post death. But to see Dick smile at Tim, smile at Robin was like a cold water gut wrenching feeling in his stomach. It was weird. It was unlike the Dick he knew in every way. And yet there Dick was looking after Tim and Damian as a big brother should, when that was all Jason ever wanted from Dick when he was a child. To see Dick give that to Tim and Damian so freely when it was withheld so viciously from Jason, made Jason want to cry. Cry at how unfair it was. Scream to know what had made Dick have such a drastic change of heart? Did Jason really have to die for Dick to want a brother? Did Jason have to die for Dick to see that how he treated Jason was wrong? Did Jason have to die for Dick to realize that he should never treat a child that way? Did Jason have to die for him to be worthy of Dick’s love?

Did Jason have to be a martyr for his younger brothers?

Did Jason have to pretend that Dick’s torment over him just, never happened?

How do you go about mending such a Brocken relationship? A relationship that was barely even there to begin with.

Does Dick even feel sorry for what he did to Jason? Does Dick even realize what he did to Jason?

Will Dick and Jason ever be able to be brothers like this? After all this time, after all the violence?

Would Jason even be able to forgive Dick?

Would Jason be ready to confront that fact that he already has. Because if forgiving Dick, and all the yelling, and the threatening, all the screaming, all the breaking got Dick to smile at him like that, like a brother, like family. Then, it would be worth it.

Wouldn’t it?

#fanfiction #this is NOT based is any sort of canon in any type of way #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #willis todd #dicks anger issues #tim drake #damian wayne #if you fuckers use this as an excuse to hate on dick grayson loving older brother extraordinaire I will hurt you

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readychilledwine · 6 months

Text

Scream

Summary - You and Rhys have never hid a fetish from each other before, but you had one left the High Lord is more than happy to call you out for

Warnings - NSFW, slight predator/prey play dynamics, mask kink, may feel dubcon-ish to some people, dom/sub dynamics, brief penetration, oral, degradation, pre discussed consent is assumed, spit, overstimulation

A/N - surely if we've all decided Azriel uses his shadows for sexual purposes, Rhysand's tendrils of darkness could be used too, right?

Peep the Halloween 2023 Masterlist here

You sighed heavily. Coming home to a dark, cold, and empty house was never fun and never easy.

Normally loud shouts and laughter filled the halls, echoing every which way, but tonight it was as if all life had stopped existing in the Riverhouse.

You walked inside, body too tired to even bother with faelights and went straight to the room you shared with your mate.

Entering the room sent a chill up and down your spine causing goosebumps to linger.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

You reached inside of you, searching for the mating bond only to find it cold on Rhysand's end. You called for him mentally next. Receiving no whisper of a familiar claw in back.

Then you heard it.

Faint heavy footsteps echoing on the pristine flooring.

You knew the odds of someone being in your home were slim to none. Rhys had so heavily warded and shielded the Riverhouse after you two decided to make it your permanent residence that there were times your own friends had issues entering.

But the chance was still there.

The footsteps were closer now. You could not scent anything to indicate who it may have been, you couldn't place the steps. You couldn't reach your mate.

The footsteps stopped at your open door, and you did the one thing you knew to do in these situations.

You ran. Hard. You first ran to the dark halls, hoping to find somewhere to hide in Rhysands office, but each door you came to was locked shut. You stopped catching your breath and panicking slightly in the hallway. Large calloused hands grabbed your exposed upper arms. They were familiar as they then moved to your throat, not squeezing enough to hurt you, but causing that euphoric lightheadedness to want to set in.

Your body was singing, begging you to realize you were safe, but your mind refused. You slammed your foot down on theirs. You caught the person behind you off guard, body checking them into the door frame before running downstairs and out into Elain's garden. You could hear dark laughter following you, causing your body to plead again for you to relax.

Before you could decide your next move, those strong warm hands grabbed you, pulling you against a solid body and dragging you back inside. You were pushed against a wall, your hands held behind your back as one of theirs began to roam your curves. A familiar heavy scent hit you. The thick scent of mandarin oranges and the sea mixed with musk.

"What's wrong little darling," the deep purr of his voice had you shivering as heat instantly hit your core. "I thought you had always wanted a masked male to fuck you roughly?"

Rhysand took the moment you needed to process the shock of him knowing to knock your legs apart, spreading them wide enough to slot one of his thighs against your core. "Already so wet and I have even done anything."

Cool tendrils of darkness snaked your arms and wrists, pining them so you were defenseless. "Rhys-"

He put a hand over your mouth, "No, princess. Play along." You heard something behind you and froze slightly as the tip of something cold and sharp touched the base of your neck. “Do not move.”

You could not help but to whimper as the knife dragged down your spine, cutting through the expensive outfit you had worn to the meeting with Keir today. He put the knife back, ripping the shredded clothing off and then grabbing you by your hair. Such a pretty little thing, he purred softly into your mind. He kept his hold on your hair tight, forcing you into the family room.

You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, and instantly felt yourself melting into the role he wanted. He was already shirtless in tight black pants. He was wearing a black mask similar to the one you and the twins worn on missions for Azriel. You did not have much time to process the mask, to process the heat forming between your legs nor the excitement of everything as he quickly bent you over the arm of the couch releasing your hair but keeping your arms trapped.

Rhys normally took his time with you, worshiping you, praising you, prepping you. With speed that had you mind spinning, he had managed to get his pants down far enough to enter you at an almost brutal forcing ripping a scream from your throat. “That’s it princess, scream for me.”

He set a rough pace, pulling out almost completely and slamming back into you so hard and fast that your only response was loud moans and desperate cries. You were dripping for him despite the lack of foreplay, your inner walls already squeezing him. “Fuck, y/n, so fucking tight.” You could only whine in response as he changed the angle of his thrusts and your body, pulling you back up by your hair and forcing your back to arch for him. The new position had him hitting that sacred spot inside of you with every deep hard thrust of his hips. “This is what you want, huh? Some masked male to come into our house and fuck you like a little whore?” His free hand found your front, calloused fingers circling your clit.

You became a mess of pants and cries as he kept pace. "Please," you managed to choke out. "Please."

Rhysand's deep timbering voice came to your ear. "Is the little whore going to cum already?" You nodded the best you could with the rough grip in your hair. "Such an easy thing, aren't you?"

He gently pinched your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge with a loud scream. Your inner walls began milking him, almost begging him to finish inside of you and making him groan loudly. He stopped suddenly, pulling out of you and moving you again.

This you were used to. You were used to Rhys fucking your mouth while you were told not to touch. You knew the motions like the back of your hand, hollowing your cheeks and keeping your tongue in contact but relaxed as he began hitting the back of your throat more and more. You knew to keep your eyes on him, watching as his head tilted back in bliss, watching his throat bob, his breathing increase. You knew to listen, wetness dripping more and more from your core as he mocked you and teased you for gagging, for crying. What you were not used to was tendrils of darkness and their cool touches on your thighs, slithering around you like snakes prepared to strike.

He paused in front of the mirror, forcing you to look at yourself. “Look at my little whore, already such a mess for me.” And there was no fighting that you were. A faint flush was spread from your chest up to your neck and cheeks, your hair had been destroyed by his hands, your makeup was smeared from the tears of pleasure he had already pulled, a faint sheen of arousal shining between your legs.

“On your knees.” You couldn't help but obey instantly, falling to your knees at his command and looking up at him from slightly damp lashes. “Open.” Again you obeyed, opening your mouth and staring up at him as he pushed his cock between your parted lips. “Same rules apply, darling. I do not want to hurt you.”

A loud moan left you when they finally did, swirling your swollen sensitive clit as he finally buried his cock all the way back into your throat and held you there, pinching your nose to cut off what little air flow you had.

He held you there, unable to breathe until you mentally tapped twice for him, and he pulled all the way out, allowing you to take in air long enough for your vision to fully return. He rose a brow at you, a silent question of if you were okay to continue, and you nodded. Rhys removed the mask, smirking down at you, “Good girl,” and began again, fucking your throat but allowing you every single reaction now.

You watched as his eyes rolled back, as his lips parted with each breathy moan. You watched his brow knit together as you worked his length with your tongue more, hollowing your cheeks to swallow around you as you moaned with each flick and lick of his darkness pulling you apart.

Rhysand’s name became a chant on your lips, repeating over and over like he was your prayer, your salvation. “Cum,” he commanded one last time. The coil snapped and you felt your inner walls begin clenching over and over on his fingers. He allowed you to fall into him, releasing your arms and supporting you as you gripped at his upper biceps. “There we go, princess. Just like that baby.” He whispered to you as he helped you ride through your high, praising you as your moans shifted to soft whimpers of overstimulation.

It wasn't long until that coil began to tighten in your stomach, and Rhysand's thrusts into your mouth grew sloppy. He sent you the image of yourself on your knees for him, of the spit near your mouth, of your mascara stained cheeks. You felt yourself beginning to fall over the edge right as Rhysand did. He pushed deep into your throat again, groaning loudly as he spilled down your throat. "Don't fucking swallow yet."

He pulled out of your mouth, holding your jaw open. His smirk grew feral as he spit into your mouth, "Swallow." He allowed you to close your jaw, still watching as you swallowed every last drop before dropping to his knees and replacing the darkness between your thighs with his own hand.

He quickly forced two fingers inside of you and calmed the stretch by rubbing his palm against your clit. He used his freehand to fist the hair at the nap of your neck, pulling it again before forcing you to kiss him in a mesh of teeth and spit. It was sloppy, driven by sheer lust as passion as his fingers stroked your inner walls, massaging and hitting that spot only he ever found over and over. He pulled back from you, circling your clit with his thumb as his forehead rested against yours, eyes meeting yours and sparkling lust. “Cum for me, y/n,” he commanded. “Let go, darling.”

Rhys removed his fingers from your slick core and brought them to his mouth. He groaned as he licked the juices from them. He laid you back on the floor gently, climbing on top of you and kissing your neck. HIs kisses began to trail lower and lower, pausing at your breasts to pull you nipples into his mouth one at time and mark your breasts. Wet hot kisses then trailed down your stomach. Rhys stopped right above your core, looking at you again. “1 to 10, darling?

You whispered softly in reply. “4.”

Rhysand smiled, licking a long trail through your folds at the response. “Good. Because I’m not done with you.”

“We should do this again,” you said breathlessly, as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“No,” Rhys said plainly. “I do not know how you do it, but I cannot breathe in that damn thing. Azriel and I will be discussing those masks. You and the Twins need better." He paused, looking at your core like a man starved. "This, though?” Rhys licked up you again, sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it. Your eyes rolled back, body falling deeper into the floor as you moaned his name. This I can do all day.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar

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bythepen98 · 7 months

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Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

#doodles #tomarry #tomarry fanart #tom riddle x harry potter #tom riddle fanart #harry james potter #harry potter fanart #hpfanart #fanart #childhood friends au #growing up together au #actual soulmates #harry never realizes he got sent back in time #though he does find the resemblence to one James Potter just a tad bit surprising #and the green in Lily Evans eyes making Tom stumble the first time they meet #Tom NEVER stumbles #but seeing his beloved's eyes in someone else's face is jarring #overall though they dont pay much attention to it #just think it's another of life's coincidences #power couple in the making #implied hufflepuff Harry #bc his loyalty to tom trumps his morals #sane Tom #but still has psychopathic tendencies #dumbledore loves Harry but hates Tom #insert interesting worldbuilding here bc I cant write to save my life

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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Reporting for Duty | Pairing AirMarshal!Javier Peña & Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a flight attendant. You need to be fucked, and that much becomes all the more obvious when a hot, flirty Air Marshal named Javier shows up to fly your leg with you. That's it. That's the fic.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.2K Warnings: Airplanes, reference to a gun/badge/uniformed authority, pet names, unprotected p in v sex, pining/flirting, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), bathroom sex, airplane sex, size kink, creampie, references to the "bend and snap" from Legally Blonde lol, some fluff at the end. Also image above of the flight attendant is for graphic purposes only, there are no physical descriptions of reader apart from clothing. Authors Note: This is a purely self-indulgent fic that I wrote ON A PLANE. Literally, full brightness down on my screen, hoping to god people weren't reading this filth as they walked past me. And to the woman next to me catching glances at my screen, reading your little romance novel, this one is you. Also, the seat I assigned Javier was the seat I was in. As @sydneyinacoma put it ~ when life imitates art ~ ya know? Enjoy.x

Horny airplane sex below the cut.

There wasn’t always an Air Marshal on your flight, but when there was, you knew the routine like the back of your hand.

It was drilled into your head in training, to always know where the armed passengers are in the event of an emergency.

They would be brought down the gateway by a gate agent before the flight in order to show their badge to the crew and share their seat number.

They would introduce themselves, share the necessary information, and then get back off the plane to join the other passengers in the general boarding process.

After your last leg, while the plane is being cleaned, and there is still plenty of time before the next flight, you keep yourself busy in the front of the plane, waiting patiently to meet the Marshal you had heard from the pilot who would be joining on this leg.

You didn’t expect to lose your breath as the man stepped onto the plane.

He’s tall, tan, and well-built with dark brown hair dusting his forehead and a well-trimmed mustache. He dressed casually, unassuming like they were all supposed to be, but you nearly feel your knees buckle as you study his simple t-shirt, his tight jeans; and the black jacket that’s pulled taught over his shoulders.

He had to conceal his weapon, but God, you want to pull his jacket off to see where he’s stashed it. You suspect it might be in the waistband of his jeans on his back.

As your eyes travel down his form, your mouth goes dry and you stare – probably less than discreetly – at the front of his jeans.

Oh.

It was only when he walked past you that you realized you hadn’t blinked since he stepped onto the plane.

He went into the cockpit to meet with the pilots doing their pre-flight paperwork.

You shake your head slightly, taking yourself out of your daze. What was that?

You try to ignore the fluttery feelings in your stomach as you wait for him to come back out. Why are you so flustered, you think to yourself, hoping that you appear normal to the rest of the flight crew.

You spend the next few minutes anxious, chewing your lip, playing with your hair, attempting to look like you’re taking inventory of the soft drinks. But you’re not, you’re too busy internally chastising yourself for acting like an idiot, for not even greeting him, just eye fucking him.

You walk to the back of the plane, trying to conjure up more time to compose yourself before he comes out to make his additional rounds of introduction.

He finally comes out of the cockpit and starts to say hello to the rest of the crew, shaking hands and engaging in light conversation with your fellow attendants up ahead.

He walks down the aisle of the plane, his frame so broad he has to slightly angle his body to make himself fit. You feel your palms get sweaty as you watch him near closer.

You wipe your hand on your uniform as he extends his out to you.

“Javier Peña,” he says gruffly, giving you a firm handshake. His hands are so much bigger than yours and his dark eyes seem to bore right into you.

“I suspect this flight will be business as normal, but let me know if you see anything unusual.”

Besides a ridiculously hot Air Marshal?

You realize you’re still holding onto his hand, and you awkwardly drop it, cringing as you try to laugh it off.

“Oh! Of course! Yeah, sure – no problem! I will definitely let you know if someone catches my eye. Uh – something, I mean,” you say.

He looks at you curiously and you wonder if he can hear the sound of your rapid heartbeat.

“Right. Thank you,” he says, finishing the statement off with your name.

Hearing your name come out of his mouth nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Wait, how did you…?” you question, realizing you never gave him your name.

He raises a brow and glances down at your jacket before making eye contact. “It’s on your name tag.”

“Oh!” You flush as you look down at the small, golden rectangle pinned to her lapel that has your first name engraved clearly in black, uppercase lettering. Name tag. Obviously. “Right…”

He places both hands on his hips and looks at you with amusement. “Well, thanks again. I’ll be in 37D,” he says, giving you a little wink that you barely register before he’s turned around and heading back down the aisle.

You feel lightheaded as he moves on, the musky scent of his cologne lingers around you.

One of your co-workers walks up behind you and shakes her head with a big smile, obviously noticing your fluster from the interaction.

“Hey, don’t worry about him,” she says.

“What?” you respond, her voice snapping you out of your stupor.

“I’ve flown with this guy a few times – he can be a bit intense, but pretty fun once you get him to loosen up. No need to be nervous,” she says.

“Oh, um, I’m not…uh, thank you,” you say, not very convincingly.

You give her a weak smile and head up to the front of the plane to welcome the passengers beginning to file into their seats.

When you first started this job, the thought of anyone on board having a firearm did frighten you a bit, but you’ve been doing this job for a while now and it doesn’t bother you anymore.

X X X X

Everything moves like clockwork, but you feel antsy as the passengers board the plane. You put on your biggest smile and welcome them aboard like you normally do, but you’re waiting for Javier to board. You know it’s lame, but you really just want to see him again. Stupid considering you’ll have six hours in the air with him.

Of course, he would board when his section when called, just like everyone else, so he’ll be among the final few to file in.

You greet each passenger with the other flight attendants, a fake smile plastered on your face. Usually, you love your job and your smiles are normally genuine, except for when you have a difficult passenger, but you’re growing impatient.

It was rare to get eye candy like this on a flight.

Sometimes there was a guy who you and the other flight attendants would giggle about and argue about whose turn it was to go down the aisle, but never one like this.

Javier has such intense eyes and strong shoulders and you imagine he would so easily be able to lift you against a wall and –

“Hi!” you say a bit too eager as he finally comes on board. You feel your entire body go warm as you attempt to silence your intrusive thoughts.

“Enjoy your flight, sir,” you say.

You almost missed it.

The corner of his lips lifts up in a small smile before he turns his head with a quick “thanks” and walks down the aisle.

You didn’t realize, but you bit your lip as you watched him walk away. You could’ve watched that for hours, but instead, you go through your routine as the stragglers make their way onto the plane. You do your final crosschecks and close the plane doors.

You begin to run through the safety instructions. People never pay attention; whether it was their first flight or their hundredth, most people just glare at their devices as you and your colleagues walk them through the procedures, clicking the unattached seatbelt above their head or pretending to fake blow into the flotation vest.

People rarely ever pay attention, but you feel a pair of dark eyes trained on you as you continue your demonstrations.

He has flown hundreds, if not thousands, of times – that’s his job. He was probably just trying to blend in and make it look like he was paying attention.

You catch his gaze and he gives you another half-smile, and you nearly forget the last step of the safety demo.

X X X X

Time creeps by. By the time the plane takes off, reaches elevation, and the seatbelt lights are turned off, you feel like you want to jump out of your skin. God, what is wrong with you?

You hadn’t felt this level of frustration in a long time.

Maybe it was his eyes or the way he smiled at you.

Maybe it was the fact he stretched his arms above his head as you wrapped up the demonstration, revealing a little skin on his tummy, and you practically forgot your own name.

Maybe it was the fact that it was going to be a long flight, and you would have to go down the aisle multiple times.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t been properly fucked in well over six months, since your last, rather disappointing, hook-up on a layover.

It’s probably everything.

You look at the thin watch on your wrist, and it’s time to offer the first round of drinks to the passengers. You try to remain calm as you walk down the aisle, politely addressing everyone and handing them their requested drinks.

Almost to Javier’s seat, you catch his gaze and see him scanning the aircraft until they land on you.

Did his face just soften or are you just imagining things?

You feel your pulse quicken as you approach him.

You turn to the row across from him first, feeling his eyes on your backside as you hand them their sodas.

When you turn back to him, you freeze, forgetting how to form proper sentences.

“Hey,” he says, voice cool and nonchalant, like he didn’t just send off a chorus of butterflies inside you.

“Thirsty?”

What the fuck. That’s definitely not what you’re supposed to say, nor what you had intended to.

“I’m okay, thank you,” the older woman next to him in a pink sweater responds before she puts her earbuds back in and turns her attention to a game of Merge Mansion on her iPad.

You close her eyes in total humiliation before gathering the courage to look back down at him.

“And – and you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm.

His mouth quirks up in a smile. Fuck.

“Am I what, sweetheart?” he says, a flash darting across his eyes, not really questioning, just wanting to fluster you some more.

He knows. He must know. It was his literal job to be observant and you’re about as transparent as fucking cling wrap.

“Are you thirsty, sir?” you ask, again.

“Maybe. What do you recommend?” he asks.

You feel your heart pounding against your ribs.

“I like water,” you blurt.

Stupid, so fucking stupid. Who says water?

He tries to conceal a laugh and says, “Water would be great, thanks.” You curse yourself for what feels like the millionth time this flight as you pour him a blue plastic cup of lukewarm water. He watches you with an amused grin on his face.

You could hand him his drink and awkwardly walk away, or you could get even.

You choose the latter. After handing him the drink, you pull your hand back and accidentally knock over a cup on your drink cart.

“Oops, clumsy me,” you say, and he glances at the cup on the ground before bringing his gaze back up to your face.

You give him your best five-star customer service smile before turning around to pick it up. You hold onto the cart and lean over, slowly reaching toward the floor.

Your uniform was modest and consisted of the same top for each attendant, but women could choose to wear either pants or a skirt.

You’re glad you decided on the skirt.

As you grab for the cup, you look back, and the way Javier is openly staring at your ass makes you think he agrees with the skirt verdict.

His eyes flicker to yours, and he immediately looks away, a clear blush spreading across his face as he stares at his interlaced hands.

Oh, so he is embarrassed now? Good.

You rise with the cup in hand. You smile at him once more before moving on to the rows behind him.

He turns around. As you’re grabbing the next set of drinks off the cart, you glance out of the corner of your eye. There’s no doubt in your mind – Mr. Impossibly Hot Air Marshal is definitely checking you out.

You feel giddy; his job literally involves stealth, but he seems to forget that as you turn your head the slightest bit to meet his eye. He quickly faces forward as if he wasn’t just obviously caught.

You make your way back down the aisle, walking past his aisle seat, and you feel something brush against your calf.

You turn around to see Javier pulling his hand back to himself.

His eyes meet yours. You feel goosebumps erupt over your entire body.

You give him a shy smile, not your over-the-top flight attendant one, and he returns it in full.

A while later, as you bring the food cart through the aisle, you’re still nervous, but slightly less so knowing you’re messing with him too.

And fuck if it’s not exciting.

You keep your friendly demeanor up until you get to his row.

You look at the woman next to him, she’s switched from her iPad to some thick romance novel with a toned and chiseled man on the cover, and you smile before asking if she wants some pretzels or anything for purchase. The woman shakes her head and quickly buries her face back into her pages.

You then look at Javier and he glances up at you curiously.

“Hungry?” you ask, lowering your voice in a flirty tone, the question laced with suggestion. With the engines of the plane, you feel safe knowing that only he could hear you.

“Starving,” he says, dropping his hand so his fingertips brush your leg discreetly.

X X X X

You don’t have a ton of opportunities to make your way back to his seat, but you take every chance you get. You even found yourself disappointed when another attendant offered to go out to collect the trash.

You stand at the divider between first and economy class and grin as you see his face. He’s far away, but you can tell he’s disappointed too.

The hours pass and each time you go to the back of the plane, you both seem to get more daring.

You were suddenly clumsier than usual, dropping things by him. You make sure not to crouch as you pick them up, emulating your best “bend and snap” from Legally Blonde.

Javier’s hand reaches higher, even gently squeezing your thigh at one point.

He’d hit the call light, and ask for tiny things, another cup of water, a pen, headphones even, although he already has his own.

Anytime you handed him something, your fingers brushed.

You can’t take it anymore – you feel like you’re going to explode, the irony is not lost on you it’s a result of the Air Marshal.

You look out the window of the plane, and the sky is turning orange from the setting sun and full of fluffy clouds. Naughty thoughts plague your brain.

His hands are so big. When he squeezed your thigh, you wished his hands were under your skirt.

You think about how badly you just want to rip off his jacket and feel the muscles you know are hiding under the sleeves.

If it were just you two on the plane, you’re sure you would already have your skirt hiked up on your waist, grinding him for all he’s worth.

But you’re at work.

He’s at work.

And though you’re in public, the thought of him leaves you positively soaked.

Utterly annoyed and beyond sexually frustrated, you excuse yourself to the bathroom in the back of the plane, close to his seat.

You try to fix the problem yourself, making quick circles on your clit in a desperate attempt to cum, but you don’t make any progress. You quickly give up and sigh, leaning your head against the wall.

The tiny bathroom is not doing anything to help you get off, no matter how turned on you are.

Unless…

An idea floods your brain.

Fuck, you’d be so fired if you were caught. He’d be fired. If he was even interested, that is.

But it’s worth a shot.

You quickly clean yourself up, straighten yourself out in the mirror, and go back out.

X X X X

The flight only had another two hours or so left, and the overhead light would soon be turned off. You and your fellow attendants are set to bring out the last round of water.

You casually stroll down the aisle, smiling and nodding, thinking of nothing other than getting to Javier.

When you make it to his row, the woman next to him is asleep; the spine of her book is cracked open, the pages facing down in her lap, fully revealing the cover title Dangerous Connections.

Without asking, you pour him a cup of water. As you hand it to him, you tilt the cup a tiny bit, and a few drops of water land on his lap.

It was only a tiny spill, but you make sure to give your most convincing fake gasp.

“I am so sorry – here!” you say, handing him the cup before grabbing a few cocktail napkins, pressing them to his thigh, dangerously close to his cock.

Javier freezes.

“How clumsy of me,” you continue, pretending like you didn’t notice the way his breath hitched at your touch, how his stomach tightened.

“I hope I didn’t get you too wet,” you say, pulling back, fingers gently brushing against his now-growing bulge.

Water splashes on the floor as Javier clenches the flimsy plastic cup in his fist, his eyes dark as he gazes up to your face.

You grin and bend over to clean the bit of water on the floor, and when you look back at him, he has his eyes shut. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is undeniably shallow.

“I’m very sorry about that, sir,” you say, bending closer to him.

Javier opens his eyes and tries to say something, but he stays silent.

“If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask,” you say, the statement once again laced with suggestion.

He shifts in his seat, and you don’t miss the way he pulls on his jeans, trying to adjust the thick denim to accommodate for the growing lack of space.

You stand up and pour another glass, taking the moment to let out a shuddering breath. You weren’t sure where all of your boldness was coming from, but you’re proud of yourself.

You like making him sweat.

You lean down to him once more and hand him the cup, speaking into his ear,

“This airline strives to make sure that all of your needs are satisfied, sir.”

You hear him audibly gulp, and you stand back up, smiling as you walk away.

X X X X

The sky is now pitch-black, the overhead lights are off, and most of the passengers are asleep.

Now or never.

You psych yourself up to go back to him, but you’re dying.

You’re lightheaded as you bring out the last trash bag, you wonder if you might need an oxygen mask.

You look up as you make your way down and even in the dim light, you can see his face – his eyes are dark and hungry, and they follow your every movement.

No, you definitely just need him.

Since most people are asleep, you’re able to move through the aisle much quicker, and soon enough you are once again by Javier, smiling as you hold open the trash bag.

The screen of the sleeping woman was lit up with the map showing the plane’s progress across the country, and the colors light up Javier’s face as he throws out the napkins, one by one, prolonging your presence.

“I really am sorry about earlier,” you say, not actually sorry, and he damn well knows it.

He doesn’t throw out the last napkin, he simply sticks it in his pocket.

“You’ve been a really good passenger,” you say, suddenly nervous again, realizing what you’re about to offer.

“Have I now?” He looks unsure, but questioning, like he can’t tell what you’re about to say.

“I was wondering if…” you trail off.

He was looking at you in that way and you feel your stomach flip.

“Never mind, I’m sorry, you’re probably busy, so I’ll just – ”

You close the bag and turn to leave, but Javier grabs your wrist, his grab on you gentle but firm.

He whispers your name. It’s the first time he’d said it since the flight started, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse quicken under his grip.

He doesn’t say anything else, just raises a single brow in a signal to go on.

You sigh and he lets go of your wrist.

You bite your lip and play with the bag in your hands. “Since I got – um – accidentally spilled water on you earlier and just because you’ve been a wonderful passenger this evening…”, you look at him and give him a smile. “I was wondering if you would let me personally introduce you to the mile-high club.”

His smile grows throughout your confession and before you let nerves get the better of you and decide to ditch the whole idea, you lean down and whisper, “Bathroom; three minutes.”

Without letting him respond, you turn on your heels and walk back to the front of the plane. You excuse yourself to the bathroom again and take a deep breath, opening the curtain, and walking straight to the back of the plane.

The people in the rows behind Javier were luckily all asleep, and you keep your eyes on the bathroom door, not daring to look at him as you pass.

You quickly open the door and slip inside, leaning against the door as it shuts.

You have three minutes, if not less by now.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and adjust your hair. You pace around the small space, chewing your lip in anticipation.

What do you think you’re even doing? This is a bad idea, he’s probably not going to even come.

But before your mind can convince you to back out, the door slides open.

Javier steps inside the bathroom and closes the door quickly behind him.

The rush of the engines seems especially loud in this bathroom, but you’re glad for that. He seems even larger in the small confines of the room, and you realize you’re holding your breath as he engages the lock behind him.

You lean against the sink and he crosses the small space to you. His arms bracket your body, his hands gripping the counter on both sides behind you. You trail your hands up his chest, finally feeling the thickness of the muscle under his clothing.

Your knees buckle as he grabs your waist and pulls himself against you, your faces inches apart for seconds before he finally closes the distance as you revel in his solid form.

He tastes so good and almost immediately, you shove your tongue into his mouth – you’re needy and frustrated and very tired of waiting.

The kiss is sloppy and desperate, but so hot as you tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning as he bites your lip, his mustache tickling the delicate skin on your face.

You feel something hard bump into your thigh and grin.

“Is that a gun in your pants?” you ask, panting into his mouth, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Gun,” he torts.

“…oh, you say.

“But this,” Javier says as he positions his hips and pushes his quickly stiffening erection against your thigh, “is all you.”

You practically squeal in excitement and crash your lips back to his, sighing as his hands trail down your waist and he grabs your ass in a tight squeeze.

He kisses down your jaw and nips at her earlobe, all hot breath and lust, the sensation causes you to scratch your nails against his scalp, holding onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’ve been half-hard this entire fucking flight,” he grows into your ear, grinding his hips against yours.

You feel your entire body heat up as you shove him against the opposite wall and slide your hands under his jacket, pushing the garment off his shoulders.

It crumples to the floor and you grip his now free biceps, grinning before kissing him again, hot and heavy.

“Then let me take care of that for you,” you say against his lips and you hear him groan.

You give him one last kiss before pulling away and slowly dropping to your knees in the cramped space.

“Wait,” he says.

You pause, your brow furrowed, wondering if he was going to ask you to stop.

He reaches by his side, unholsters his gun, and sets on the little ledge next to the sink.

You didn’t want to admit it, but knowing he is the only person with any real authority on this plane turns you on.

“Sorry, go on sweetheart,” he asserts.

You go back to the job at hand, popping open the button on his jeans before dragging the zipper down, moving rather slowly, enjoying how fidgety Javier is.

You grab the waistband of his boxers and jeans, pulling them down all together in one movement.

You could tell he was big when you felt him pressed up against you, but holy fuck.

Your thighs clench in anticipation, your panties growing more soaked by the second. You can’t wait anymore. You take his length in your hand and slowly move your hands up and down.

Javier nearly slams his head back into the wall and you see him bite his lip, stifling a groan.

You bring one hand down to cup his balls and the other teases up the side of his shaft, thumb ghosting over the red and weeping head.

A bead of precum forms at the tip, and you dart your tongue out to lick it.

Even over the roaring engines, you hear his sighs, and a rough “fuck, baby.”

You trace your tongue under the underside of his cock, before giving the tip a kiss.

Javier’s fists intertwine with your hair, slightly tugging on it as he reflexively thrusts forward. You firmly grip his hips and hold them in place as you take him into your mouth. His hands remain fisted in your hair as you bob up and down on his cock, relaxing your jaw to take him as far as you could, bringing your hands back down to do the rest.

You suck and suck, and suck, working him through moans, until you decide to pull back with a satisfying pop. Seeing him rock-hard, and the taste of his skin has you soaking for him. You need him to fuck you.

You stand up and Javier cups the back of your head, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

“God, you’re incredible,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Do you have a thing for flight attendants, Marshal Peña?” You tease, already fighting with the material of your skirt so you can pull it up around your waist.

You know your job was a turn-on for a lot of guys, and the humor of an air marshal having a kink for it wasn’t lost on you.

“Do you have a thing for Air Marshals, Ms. “oops sorry about that,” he says, grabbing your skirt and hiking it up, before pushing you up against the sink and hiking your thigh up his side.

You angle your hips and feel his fingers curl around the cotton material of your underwear, and he drags them off in one swoop.

For a quick second, you wish you’d worn something sexier, but clearly, it doesn’t matter because they’re ruined anyway.

Javier’s mouth is at your throat, and his large fingers make their way to your core, where you need him the most before he drags them through the slick coating of your folds, one eventually slipping inside your wet and waiting hole.

You bite into his shoulder to muffle your moan and grind against his digits as he works to add a second finger, skillfully stroking and curling them inside you.

He pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss, but then he brings them to his mouth, sucking your slick from his fingers.

“I told you I was hungry,” he says, both hands now massaging your thighs. “Think you can help me with that?”

You whimper as you nod, the back of your head hitting the mirror as he kneels into position, trailing soft kisses up your inner thigh.

“Javier, fuck, please,” you beg.

He slides one hand up your body and you take a few of his fingers into your mouth, stifling your loud moans as he licks a trail up your center, his tongue darting in and out of you, lapping at you like you’re his final meal.

Your hands card through his hair as you suck on his fingers, pulling hard with your teeth as his tongue works against you, his nose ghosting your clit.

He removes his fingers from your mouth and returns the length of them back inside you, and moves his tongue up to your throbbing clit.

You’re so close, but before you can come, he pulls back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins up at you.

You grip his shoulders, trying to pull him up, but Javier stands up and suddenly tucks his hands under your thighs, picks you up, and pushes you back against the first wall.

You were right – he had no problem lifting you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, panting as you feel the tip of his hard cock teasing your slick entrance.

“Oh God – Javi-”

The rest of his name is cut off as he lowers you onto his length and you nearly cry out from the stretch of him, but you nuzzle into his neck to keep quiet.

Holy shit; he feels better than you imagined as you slide down fully on his wet thickness, taking him in fully, moaning as he nips at your throat.

“Javi – Javier,” you moan into his ear, begging him to move, to just take you.

He starts slowly as he positions you in his arms, then picks up his pace, grunting as he begins to pound into you.

“Gonna fucking wreck you,” he says through a moan, “ugh, so fucking tight, Cariño.”

The pet name causes your walls to clench harder around him.

You are both already so close to the edge, your crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a sprint as he fucks you against the wall.

You bite his neck, whimpering into his ear, and beg for him to fuck you harder; faster.

He obeys, your skirt and jacket riding up against the grainy surface of the wall as you try to find something to hold on to – his hair or shoulders – but all you can focus on is how hot he feels, how well he fills you, and how this is undoubtedly the best fuck you’ve ever had.

“fuck – sh-should I pull out?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“N-no – I’m on-” you gasp as he tilts his hips, continuing to thrust into you at a new, perfect angle. “The pill,” you finish, bringing a hand down to your center to touch yourself. You can tell Javier is nearly there, just holding back for you to come first.

“I’m-” He pants, bouncing you against him to let you finish first.

“Javier,” you moan, your head falling back against the wall as waves of pleasure course through you, your vision going white, hooking your ankles behind his back as you ride him out. Your orgasm builds in waves and continues to wash over you as Javier buries himself within you. His groans are soon to follow, and he lets hot ropes of cum fill you up, still with a bruising grip on your thighs.

You breathe together, your chests falling and rising rapidly as you look into each other’s relaxed, sedated eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Javier asks, that ridiculously attractive smile on his face.

You shrug lazily against the wall and grin down at him. “I don’t know – I guess I have a thing for air marshals,” you say, and wink at him.

Javier laughs as he gently pulls out and then places you back on the floor, your legs still shaking; he places a hand on your hip to steady you.

“You know, you make it impossible for a guy to do his job around here,” Javier says, grabbing his jacket off the floor and tucking himself back into his jeans. “You weren’t exactly making things easy for me, either,” you smile as you start to collect toilet paper in order to clean up the cum dripping down your thighs.

“What was I supposed to do? Not follow you? I’m pretty sure that would make me the biggest idiot on the planet,” he says. You can’t help but to kiss him again. It’s soft, and the warmth of it extends down to your feet.

You’re both silent as you finish cleaning yourselves up. Once you look like you hadn’t just fucked each other's brains out in the airplane bathroom.

“Okay,” you say, turning back around from adjusting yourself in the mirror. “I think I should go out first, then you wait a few minutes, then come out after me.”

“Good idea,” he confirms.

You’re about to unlock the door when he calls out to you.

“Wait...”

You turn around and his lips are on yours, giving you one last lingering kiss before you leave.

You smile as you slip out the door.

X X X X

The cabin looks just as you left it, and anyone who was awake was turned away from you.

You take a deep breath and make your way down the aisle, worried someone might be able to read your mind.

You feel better as you peek through the curtains and watch Javier sneak out of the bathroom.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your throat and you sighed as you stepped away from the curtain.

X X X X

Soon after, the pilot’s voice comes over the speaker to announce your descent. The overhead light comes back on as people wake up slowly and you and your fellow attendants walk down the aisles, instructing people to put on their seatbelts or push their tray tables up.

You avoid going to the back because you don’t know what to say. Now that it was over – would you talk again? Would you even see each other again? Not likely.

Would he just pass you on the way out without even saying goodbye?

No, that didn’t seem like something he would do.

Maybe it was only meant to be a one-time thing, but you don’t want it to be. As you and the other attendants buckle into your jump seats for landing, you chew on your lip and dread the next 20 minutes.

The plane lands and taxis to the assigned gate. The seatbelt sign clicks off with a chime, and eager passengers fill the aisle and grab their luggage, slowly beginning to make their way off the plane.

Like with boarding, you are distracted, spending most of your time trying to look over people’s heads to find Javier’s, but you can’t see anything.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the line began to thin and the last few people stepped off the plane.

Javier was last.

The other attendants make their way to the back of the plane to begin picking up a few things, but you stay behind, awkwardly looking around as Javier comes up to you.

“Uh…” he begins.

“Um...”

You both grin at each other, not sure what to say.

“I want to say goodbye,” Javier says.

“Goodbye,” you say quietly, realizing how sad you feel.

To your surprise, he leans over, gives you a kiss on the cheek, and slides something into your palm.

He steps off the plane, and you watch him turn down the jet bridge and disappear.

You look down at your hand and see a wrinkled, folded napkin.

You smile as you remember he saved one.

You open the napkin and see a phone number written in blocky letters.

Under the number was a message.

See you at the club next time, Cariño.

END

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beingsuneone · 6 months

Text

The One

SYNOPSIS: it would’ve been fun. If he would’ve been the one.

FANDOM: Harry Potter

PAIRING(S): Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Goyle, Crabbe, Draco, Theo, Pansy, Enzo, Blaise, Tom, Voldemort

GENRE/AU: Angst, Unhappy ending, Arranged Marriage Au!, reader is married to Goyle (not by choice),

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Angst

A/N: *cough* the 1 by Taylor Swift was my inspo. *cough* header and dividers made by me. I would also like to make a part two to this. Note: Voldemort/Toms son Tom Jr who looks exactly like him! (Pre-Voldemort)!AU hope this helps.

DEDICATIONS: the people who voted for him in the poll :)

CREDITS: N/A

The silver band on your finger glistens in the bright lights of the wedding hall, looking anything but enticing; instead of a symbol of love and comfort, it was like a shackle that tied you to a man you didn’t love forever.

Your eyes scan the crowd for the millionth time this evening, trying to seek out a pair of familiar brown eyes— your heart drops for the millionth time this evening, and you realize all over again that no matter how many times your eyes search for his, it will not make him appear.

He won’t come, you know that now as your new husband leans over to ‘kiss the bride’.

You try to wipe the disappointment off of your face, let go of his messy brown curls and smooth words, his rough hands and intoxicating scent.

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t yours to think about anymore; the man in front of you was.

Why your father thought a marriage alliance with Gregory Goyle would help your family, you’ll never know.

Worse, Goyle was, at one point, at least a decent friend of yours; You, Mattheo, Draco, Theo, Enzo, Blaise, Tom, Goyle, and Crabbe, used to strut around Hogwarts like you owned the place— let’s be honest, you damn near did. You and your protective group of Slytherins.

You allow your lips to touch Goyle’s for only a moment before you pull back and smile cordially; the two of you walk arm-in-arm down the aisle until you reach the doors at the end.

The moment you’re through, you push him away.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says sadly. “If I could have said no, I would have.”

You shake your head, not even listening. “He didn’t even come, Goyle. I thought he’d at least try.”

Goyle sighs. “It wasn’t up to any of us. Not even Mattheo.”

Your eyes sting so you force your face to go deadpan and stare at Goyle. “I will always love you as a friend, Goyle, but I will never love you as anything more.” You say, retreating towards your dressing room.

He says nothing in return. He doesn’t need to. The feeling is mutual.

You enter your dressing room and release a strained breath, resting your head against the door after you close it.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to daydream; to think what this day would be like if Mattheo was the one wearing a suit, the one saying his vows and sliding a ring onto your finger. You let yourself imagine all of the things you would’ve shared with him in this alternate reality, all the joy you might’ve felt. The future you might’ve been able to look forward to.

A tear slips silently down your cheek as your throat closes, suffocating you in the feelings you wish you were feeling.

Someone clears their throat and your eyes fly open, as your whole body snaps stick straight.

It’s your father, sitting eery and alone in a dark room. “You had to grow up one day, Y/n,” he says as his cold gaze sweeps over you. “Stop running around with that Riddle kid and risking your future.”

You shake your head. “The only real future I had was with him, Father.” You tug on the skirt on your wedding dress, and then your hair. “All this— this glamour and camaraderie is you, father, you playing puppeteer with real live people. I don’t know what status you think you’ll get from Goyle, of all people.”

Your father just sneers and pulls up his sleeve— an elaborate tattoo meant to symbolize his allegiance to Voldemort. The dark mark. He says, “You know exactly who that boy’s father is, and exactly where that puts me in relation.” He pauses. “This is what the Dark Lord wanted, Y/n.”

“…what?” Your mouth hangs open, and you wonder why the dark lord would want to torment you personally. “Why would he… I don’t understand.”

Your father just brushes past you and twists the door open. “If the Dark Lord doesn’t tell, you do not ask.”

……

“You’re going to marry him, right?” Pansy asks, smiling at you in the way that friends do when you have a crush on someone.

You shrug, playing it cool but despite your heart going a thousand miles a minute; excitement courses through your veins at the thought of Mattheo. “I think we’d have to become an actual thing first, Pansy.” You laugh.

She winks at you playfully. “I don’t think that’ll take too long, Y/n, He is whipped for you.”

You shake your head. “He is not.” Your heart still flutters.

“He is.” A new voice cuts in, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You turn to face Mattheo, who is now leaning in the doorframe.

What an entrance.

Pansy looks between the two of you and smirks mischievously. “I‘ll leave you two alone and go bug Blaise.” She slips past Mattheo.

You can’t meet his eyes as you grin stupidly at the floor, and the shirt in your hand.

“You talk about me often?” He says, settling on the floor next to you; he breaks you out of your stupor by gently tugging the shirt out of your hands.

You finally look at him. “No, only when Pansy brings you up. Which is always.” You bite your lip as you smile. “I don’t mind it though, you’re one of my favourite subjects.”

“That’s good,” he agrees, toying with a lock of your hair. “I think the guys are sick of hearing about you.”

“Of course they are,” you banter, “They already know everything about me.”

Mattheo leans in closer. “I don’t think they know everything.” His head dips down until his lips are just millimeters from yours. “They wouldn’t know what your lips feel like, would they?”

He bridges the gap and the two of you spent what is probably several minutes just kissing, and when he pulls away you’re breathless.

“No, I don’t think they know that.” Your voice comes out high-pitched, still trying to catch your breath both mentally and physically.

“I hope they never find out.” He says quietly.

You nod absent-mindedly. “Me too.”

….

You sigh deeply and set down the box in your new living room. Trying to put a positive spin on it, you think about how it won’t be terrible living with a friend instead of your parents, who were never there when they needed to be and always there when you needed them to leave.

Emotionally and physically.

You and Goyle are throwing a housewarming party, per his mothers request; so, technically this box really shouldn’t be in this room right now. It needs to be prepped for the party.

Goyle walks into the room. “Malfoy wants to know if he should invite Mattheo.”

You shrug. “Tell him to invite him, I don’t think he’ll show up either way.” Getting over Mattheo has not been easy, and when you think about him, his absence still sends several intense stabs through your heart.

You can still feel the ravines where the cracks in your heart formed. If he did show up, it would either put you on the path to healing or destroy you all over again and possibly forever.

You were fully prepared for the latter if it meant seeing him one last time.

But he won’t show, just like he wasn’t there when you really needed him just a few months ago, when some other man’s ring was being slipped onto your finger and you were near powerless to stop it.

Goyle stares at you for minutes, as if you’re fragile and need to be handled gently. “It is short notice.”

You pick the box back up and walk past him, just to stop at the foot of the stairs. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Then, you go upstairs and place the box in the guest bedroom. You have all this space in your new house and absolutely nothing to do with it.

Rooms filled with expectations and soured dreams.

….

Parties should be fun; this cake, considering it’s your favourite flavour, should taste good. You’re surrounded by the faces of your closest friends, all your family— though you aren’t fond of many of them— and all of Goyle’s family. Yet, all you feel is unfulfilled aching for Mattheo.

You feel so pathetic, always thinking about Mattheo, always relating everyone moment to your first love.

But you had wanted him to be your last. Your only. Your everything.

Draco is here, and he’s the one who asked about inviting Mattheo, so you’re pretty sure he’s not coming and you know you absolutely shouldn’t ask.

Instead, you stare at Draco as you eat the tasteless cake, wishing he’d somehow understand what you wanted to know.

Doesn’t help that he’s across the room.

“Y/n, come upstairs for a minute.” Pansy says, dragging you away from the party and into your bedroom. Or what will be your bedroom, anyways.

When the door has shut and she’s locked it, she turns back to you. “You can’t spend the whole party pining over the possibility of Mattheo showing up, Y/n; I know how much he means to you but you have to accept that you’re married and it’s over. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you keep obsessing over this.”

You reel back, though you’re thankful for how bluntly Pansy says it. “I know, Pansy, I know. I just— I don’t know if can ever get over him. I mean…” You trail off trying to find your words. “Goyle was probably the last person out of our group that I would’ve chosen if I couldn’t have Mattheo. Truly, I think I could live if it was Enzo, or Theo, or even Draco, but not Goyle.”

She sighs. “But it’s not them, and it is Goyle.”

“So, what now?” You huff. “I’m just supposed to… I don’t know, keep his house and have his kids?”

Pansy’s eyes soften but she doesn’t respond; its a rhetorical question and there really isn’t any proper answer for it.

Then, there is a knock at the door. Pansy unlocks and opens the door, just enough for her to see who it is.

When she does, she says nothing. You watch her slip out the door before you even see who is behind it.

And then he steps in.

Mattheo Riddle.

“Hello, Y/n.” He says, so plainly as though he hasn’t just affected you in more ways than you could ever possibly count.

You look away. “You actually came.”

He clears his throat. “I did.”

You can almost picture him a few years back, standing in your dorm room door, smiling at you in that teasing way that made you knees weak.

Except he’s not smiling, and there is absolutely nothing blissful about this moment.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Mattheo shuts the door behind him. “If it changes anything at all.”

…..

“There’s something I want to tell you, y/n.” Mattheo says one day, cryptically. “I’m just not sure if I should yet.”

You brush his hair out of his face. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, whenever you’re ready.”

He shakes his head, but he’s not disagreeing. “I’m worried you’ll see me differently.”

“There is nothing in the world that could make me see you differently, Mattheo.”

He seems sated by your words, and pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head. The two of you stay like that for a long while before he finally says, “I’ll tell you, but not today.”

You nod silently and focus on the feel of his arms around you, not wanting to take a single moment with him for granted.

…..

“What is it, Mattheo?” You say exhaustedly while you sit down on the mattress. “What could you say that would change anything?”

He takes a deep breath and sits beside you. “I know why this is happening, why Voldemort singled you out.”

You look up at him. “Mattheo…” trailing off, you stare at his sleeve in horror, dreading what you think he’s going to say. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

He furrows his eyebrows, following your gaze; when he realizes, his eyebrows shoot up again. “No! No, That’s not why I know.”

You visibly deflate with relief. He instinctively curls his arm around you but then quickly pulls it away. “Okay,”

He chuckles dryly. “My reason is actually much worse.” Mattheo pauses, blowing out a breath. “I’m his son.”

After a moment's hesitation, you shoot up from your spot, your eyes blown wide with disbelief. “Mattheo, you cannot be serious.”

He stands up, and sits you back down, trying to keep you calm. “It’s not like I want to advertise that my father is the most notorious dark wizard in history.” He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair out of your face, like you used to do to him so many times. “But he didn’t want you with me, Y/n, all of this is happening to you because of me.”

He sinks down to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“So,” You start. “I was personally targeted by the dark lord because you couldn’t bother to mention what’s probably a very important detail.”

His fingers tighten around yours. “I was so scared that you wouldn’t love me anymore if I told you, and then, by the time you were engaged, it was too late.”

You push his hands away. “Mattheo, I would have loved you no matter what you told me.” The hurt in your voice makes him back away from you and you can see the pain swirling in his eyes too.

“I told you. You know. Now, we can fix this.”

“No, Mattheo,” You stand up and push him towards the door. “It’s too late. You’re too late.”

He shakes his head rapidly. “No. No, it’s not.” Mattheo tries to stop you from opening the door but ultimately you push him over the threshold. “Please, Love, We can make it work— we could run away, do anything— please.”

You can’t look at him as you speak, while tears flow freely down your cheeks. “We were something, don’t you think so?”

His face falls, and you can see his heart shatter— you can feel your heart mirror his.

Perhaps, though, the most painful part is when he replies; “Yeah, we were.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

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macravishedbymactavish · 1 year

Text

First "I love you" (TF141 x GN!Reader Headcanons)

Since I literally can't focus on writing the series I have started, have some headcanons instead

TW: Swearing, typical COD violence and themes (mild spoilers in Price's bit), some clichè themes

Blog HQ

Ghost

Saying I love you...

You told him the first time he returned to your shared home following deployment

Sure the two of you had been together for a fair while before this, but its the first time you were alone in your shared space. It was the first time you really felt how empty home was without him.

You didn't want to distract him prior to leaving for the mission, so you whispered those 3 little words to him mid-kiss when he was home with you.

Heart full, and the breath you didn't realize you were holding all this time released. He was back in your arms. Your home was back with you.

Hearing I love you...

As with the other headcanons I write, I'm a firm believer that Simon isn't as emotionally unavailable or closed off due to past trauma as much as so much time in solitude. The last meaningful connection he had ended not the greatest, so he wasn't keen on seeking this out. It's been a while, our man is pretty uneducated in the modern romance department.

With his "lack of experience due to time alone" he is honestly a bit overwhelmed and terrified of this. He loves you, all of his heart. He loves you with the same amount of his heart as he loved them.

Sure, it's a different love altogether (familial vs romantic), but the feelings are overwhelming no less.

He clearly doesn't say it back right away (even though God he wants to). He wants to make sure he means it and portrays just how much he means it before diving right in. He wants it to be as close to perfect for you as possible.

Surprisingly, the perfect moment comes when you're falling asleep one night. You're snuggled into his chest, warm, content. Mumble a soft I love you, Simon.

His response comes naturally, a soft I love you too whispered into the darkness. Then everything just seemed to fall into place.

That night was the best sleep either of you ever had.

Gaz

Saying I love you...

I feel like with Kyle it would happen at the exact same time. Like....literally the same time. So imma just:

Saying I love you/Hearing I love you...

It would definitely come when the two of you are most comfortable around one another. Probably during a lazy night at home.

Cooking together perhaps? Little bit of teamwork, mixed with teasing comments and stolen kisses as you manuever around one another.

Or maybe playing video games (cozy couch co-op or fiercely competitive. No inbetween. Take your pick).

Flip side of the coin: you're getting wound down from a night out. Stripping out of the stupid fancy clothes you decided were a good idea to wear out. Spoiler: it wasn't a good idea. Next time let's do something more casual.

No matter what the situation is, you're doing it together and your hearts couldn't be fuller. Happily in the apartment you two share, just enjoying one another.

"I could live like this forever without complaint" you'd start, smiling over at him (even if he beat your ass at whatever game you were playing with no mercy)

"Didn't know I was dating an immortal" he'd tease back. "Share your secrets with me"

"No!"

"Why not????"

"I simply cannot share my secrets with a doof like you"

Your play argument ending in him trying to tickle you, or play wrestle you, or just anything that results in the two of you (INNOCENTLY) tangled up together. Like super clichè looking into the others eyes as you lay/sit there. Lost in the moment and realizing it's no longer "I like like you" but rather:

"I love you"

Said, by the two of you, at the exact same time.

Queue laughter, shared kisses and full hearts.

Soap

Saying I love you...

My mind automatically went to lost on a road trip trope. Like you two would plan out an entire day, wanting to visit the spot you two would hang out at all the time pre-relationship.

Except you're both too distracted by conversation and jamming to whatever playlist you had in the background to realize: your turn is well into the rear view.

By the time he realizes he's now driving on roads he doesn't recognize, it's too late. You're pretty far out of the way, and the clouds in the sky don't look super promising.

"T'hell with it! We have our lunch here" he'd propose, finding a small hill in the distance. "Our new spot™️"

So that'd exactly what you do. An improvised little lunch, in your new trademarked spot.

It was after lunch, when you both were full and ready for a food coma. You don't know what overtook you to say it. You didn't even realize you were saying it until his eyes dialted and a small smirk crossed his lips.

"You love me, aye?"

Hearing I love you...

He would have no hesitation saying it back, except for you playfully smacking him while yelling his name.

He'd be so in shock that someone as lovely as you would feel that way toward someone like him.

You!! Loving him!!

The next time he'd try to say it back, it would be interrupted by thunder in the distance, and the urgency to start packing up your things and getting home before too long.

It was when you make the journey from the vehicle to the house through the pouring rain when he decided now was the time. Watching you laugh, try and fail to keep yourself dry that it came out.

"I love you too"

"That's nice. But it's raining fucking hard so can we go inside and be cute after?"

You two were 100% cute inside after that. Lots of "I love yous" shared back and forth that night.

Price

Saying I love you...

Hear me out though, what if it were you captured with Kate (in that one mission, the one that solidified that Gaz shouldn't be in aircrafts anymore).

No matter how you feel in that moment (terrified, oddly calm, pissed to high hell) one thought would be in the front of your mind:

You've never said I love you.

Sure, you've told him the various things that you love about him. But never told him straight out that you love him in his entirety.

So as you sit, guns pointed at you. Ready to cause harm and death if needed. You find yourself reflecting on your relationship.

The ups, the downs, the victories and hardships. The way that you used to find his overbearing nature to be insufferable at times...you're now viewing it in a new light.

Maybe that's just because you're standing on death's doorstep wondering if he's going to answer today.

The crash, the chaos. You truly wonder if it's the end. Until you're pulled away from eternities grasp and brought back to reality. Face to face with your boyfriend who is clearly fighting back his own emotions. Still convincing himself that you're alive.

"I love you, John" comes out so naturally as you launch yourself at him. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his gear pressing into you. He was here, he had you.

Hearing I love you...

John would 110% be beside himself. Trying to figure out how he let this happen, concerned that he won't get to you in time, letting his mind run wild with worse case scenarios.

Whether you work in the military or not -- you were never supposed to be in this type of situation.

Getting the call that you were MIA and now a POW caused his heart to stop. To grow a shade colder as he reminded himself he needs to breathe.

Won't do you a whole lot of good if he's passed out.

While he wants to call the shots and lead the charge to get you back safe, he does step back and let his teammates take point. Considering it's a glaring conflict of interest for him to be there, captain or not.

The entire time they're fighting to get to you, all he can think of is how this is inadvertently his fault. Running through everything to figure out where he went wrong. Where did he slack off? What could he have done differently?

He also vowed in this moment to keep you safe for the rest of your lives. Even if you hated him, if you never wanted to see him again because of this. He would never, ever anything like this happen to you again.

When they finally reach the front of the convoy, he's ready to pass out or punch someone out if they don't move out of his way. Much like a mama bear and her cub, you don't get between John and his love in this moment.

His team makes quick work of the enemies, as he approaches one of the doors. Heart hammering inside his chest, hands shaking slightly as tears burn the back of his eyes. Pleading to anyone listening that you be alive.

When you barreled into him and whispered those words to him he could've fallen over. His legs almost not supporting him. You were alive, you love him. You were alive. You love him. He repeated this over in his head as he held you close.

Whispering the words back, cursing himself for how his voice broke halfway through.

You were alive. You love him.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish headcanons #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish fluff #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #captain john price headcanons #captain john price x reader #captain john price fluff #captain john price angst #kyle gaz garrick fluff #kyle gaz garrick headcanons #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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yunjin-lover · 1 year

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Help

G!p Huh Yunjin x Fem!Reader

Smut: blowjob

But then, life happened. Y/n had to move away to another city because of her family's job, and Yunjin stayed behind. They promised to keep in touch, but as time passed, their communication became less frequent, and eventually, they lost touch.

Months turned into years, and Y/n and Yunjin grew up, living their own lives and pursuing their own dreams. They both moved on, but deep down, they still missed each other.

One day, Y/n found herself back in her hometown for a family event. As she was driving around, she saw Yunjin walking on the sidewalk. At first, Y/n wasn't sure if it was really her, but as she got closer, she realized it was.

They locked eyes, and everything around them disappeared. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. They ran to each other and hugged, both of them feeling the same emotions they had felt years ago when they were still close.

They spent the entire day together, catching up on everything that had happened in their lives since they had last seen each other. They laughed, reminisced, and made plans to hang out again soon.

As the day turned into night, Y/n and Yunjin found themselves sitting on the couch in Yunjin's apartment. They were both feeling a bit nostalgic, and their conversation had turned to old times and their shared memories.

Yunjin was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants, and Y/n couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she looked. She had always been beautiful, but something about her had changed. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or the way she smiled, but Y/n felt like she was seeing Yunjin for the first time.

Without thinking, Y/n leaned in and kissed Yunjin. It was a soft, tender kiss, but it was enough to make Yunjin gasp. Y/n pulled back and looked at Yunjin, her heart racing.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have done that."

Yunjin shook her head, her eyes dark with desire. "No, it's okay," she said, leaning in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss was more passionate, more urgent. Y/n felt herself getting lost in the moment, and before she knew it, she was straddling Yunjin's lap, grinding against her.

Yunjin moaned, and Y/n felt a warm wetness seeping through Yunjin's pants. She pulled back, looking at Yunjin in surprise.

"Did you just cum?" Y/n asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Yunjin said, looking shyly away. Y/n giggled at Yunjin. Y/n looked down to see that Yunjin was still hard.

Y/n smiled and got on her knees, looking up at Yunjin. "Lemme help you with that, Yunjin," she said, her voice husky with desire.

Yunjin nodded, and Y/n leaned in, pulling down Yunjin's pants and revealing her hard cock.

As Y/n took Yunjin's cock in her mouth, she felt it throb and twitch with excitement. She ran her tongue along the length of it, flicking over the tip and tasting the pre-cum that had already started to leak out.

Yunjin moaned softly, her fingers threading through Y/n's hair as she watched Y/n give her pleasure. The feel of her mouth on her cock sending shivers of ecstasy through her body.

Y/n sucked Yunjin's cock eagerly, taking it deep into her mouth and massaging it with her tongue. She could feel Yunjin getting close, the head of her cock swelling in her mouth as she got closer and closer to orgasm.

Suddenly, Yunjin let out a cry, her body shaking with pleasure as she came hard in Y/n's mouth. Y/n swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of Yunjin's cum as she pulled away from her lover.

Yunjin moaned, her fingers tangling in Y/n's hair as she rode out her orgasm. Y/n swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of Yunjin's cum.

Yunjin slumped back against the couch, her breathing ragged as she tried to catch her breath. "Wow," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've missed you so much, Y/n."

#kpop #le sserafim #yunjin x reader #g!p #g!p yunjin #huh yunjin #le sserafim x reader #yunjin huh #kazuha #eunchae #sakura #chaewon #yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #smut

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hazashiovo · 30 days

Note

Oblivious, supportive fem Reader x Ayano Aisha, the reader really doesn't get that poor Ayano likes her. It would be nice if they are childhood friends and if Reader isn't a pushover or weak, just clueless as fuck when it comes to love.

After all, girls make shrines about each other all the time, right? And really, getting chocolate from your gal pal on valentines day is the best, good thing you got her home made chocolate too!

My first Yan sim request:D

Ayano Aishi x Female reader

Side note: this character is a yandere,wich means yandere themes might appear disturbing to some readers.

T/W: mentions of kidnaping,mentions of drugging, obsessive behavior,murder,blood, stalking, pshycothic behavior,mentions of self harm and suicide.

Ayano has known you ever since she started first grade. You being her only friend in school,and with time this friendship evolved.

Which made you and the dark haired girl grow closer.

Her behavior never made you uncomfortable around her, neither did her silence. Because in truth,you liked it better, the difference between you two matched perfectly.

Your out going and talkative personality tangling with Ayano's introverted and silent language.

Kids your age called her many names due to her lack of emotions,but every time you were there to send them on their way with a bruise or two, nobody talks to your best friend like that!

At first when she was little,the girl saw your behavior towards her unnecessary. Why were you trying to get close to her? She had nothing to offer back to you.

But as she grew, whenever you weren't around her there was this empty spot in her heart,and that dull feeling griping her soul.

Not long before starting highschool did she realize what this meant.

Her mother talked to Ayano about this,since she was a child.Of course you were her special person,the one who will fill her heart with joy and warmth.

You belong to her.

And nobody can convince her otherwise.

You noticed when she became more clingy to you during breaks,but what you didn't see was the way she was glaring down at any student who dared to look at you for more than one second.

You didn't ask questions when your things were 'Borrowed' and never given back,it's what friends do,right? They share things with each other.

There would be times when you felt followed,like a shadow was glooming over you, following your every move when she wasn't with you. Even if you turned around to ease your paranoia,not seeing anyone there made it worse for you.

People noticed how tight you were with Ayano,so they chose not to meet pats with you. After all the shorter girl was creepy,who would want to tangle in something so complicated, definitely not most of the students,that's for sure.

But some couldn't help but be curious, maybe the feeling of being with someone they shouldn't be excited them.

But it didn't matter to Ayano. How do I know? The student coincidentally died because of food poisoning.

Rat poison isn't a condiment,silly.

Nothing changed after the incident,you and Ayano were closer,yes, that's because she offered you more protection than before, promising something like this will never happen to you. Unless it has to

Oh and she was over the moon when you accepted her invitation for a sleepover over, barely waiting to see your beautiful sleeping face,maybe she could even steal a kiss.

It didn't strike you as weird when you accidentally found her little shrine.

Dedicated to you, you even found it cute.

It had some of the hair ties and pins Ayano 'borrowed' from you a long while ago, pictures with the two of you as little children,pre teens and one from the first day of school.

She even kept the doodles you drew for her couple of months ago. Awh,she really is a sentimentalist even if she doesn't show it.

When ayano saw you looking trough her prized possessions she swore she saw her life flash before her eyes.

Heart rate quickening and this panick taking place in her chest. What will you say now? You will definitely hate her and then you won't want to be her friend anymore. How will she see you if you won't be her friend? How will she confess her love to you?

Of course all those thoughts broke when she heard your chuckle. Mind suddenly clear from the anxious rambling in her head.

"Man, why didn't you tell me? If I knew you prized those moments so much I would have taken more photos!" Relief completely washes over her when she sees that grin on your sweet lips. Why was she over thinking in the first place? You never doubted her, you're her loyal friend.

Of course,if you ever were to be creeped out by her she would have to take you, she'd never allow you to leave. After all you two can have a wonderful life together, whether you like it or not.

But that's not the case now, fortunately she doesn't have to drug you and tie you to her bed. How fortunate !

She smiles, nodding and promising to ask you for more photos for her 'prized moments'.

More people started either going missing or end up dead. People who tried taking you away from her,can't they see? You belong with her, you belong to her.

Since people are so stupid,she has to make it obvious and spell it in their face.

Slowly, letters practically spawned in your shoe locker.

Love poems calling you the sweetest of names. You were intrigued who this anonymous fan was,you must say you even tried peeking to see who was leaving them,but failed each time.

Ayano on the other hand was overwhelmed by pride when she heard you rambling about your secret admirer, cutely giggling over one particular sentence or so.

But she also felt... jealous? It doesn't matter that she's the one who wrote them,but seeing you so enamored with this 'anonymous ' person annoyed her.

On occasions she started gifting you chocolate she knew you liked. Mostly doing it because she loved your happy little squeals and that hug that followed after. She loved the feeling of your chest pressed against hers so tightly. Often wondering how it would feel without the layers of clothes on top of it.

This was only a step further to her plan, this way it wouldn't be a shock when she confessed her undying love to you. You will realize she's the only one you deserve,and you'll accept her love,even return it!

By the end of the first school year you're ready for the final part of her plan.

Yeah the people in your class wonder how you two are not dating yet. Of course they can see how deep Ayano is in for you,but you simply can't.

Making you hers. After she worked so hard this whole year to please you and gain your affection (even if she already had it) she's finally ready to spill her feelings to you.

So here she is,hidden behind the Sakura flower tree, waiting for you to join her.

Your secret admirer called you here to tell you something important,right in the last day of school,in case something goes wrong.

She will leave with you in any case scenario, preferably hand in hand ,rather than taking you home in a box,oh well.

If all goes well,by this time next year you will be her beloved girlfriend,but if not, then you'll be in her basement accompanied by her. Easy.

"Ayano?" Your sweet voice calls out once you get a whiff of the dark ponytail behind the thick tree. It's now or never.

And there she goes, spilling her feelings to you hoping you will return them. Telling you how she wrote those letters meaning every single word that was written on the paper. How she spent her afternoons making the chocolate gifted to you.

This of course came off as a surprise to you, never really thinking Ayano would be able to fall for somebody , especially you. Her best friend since first grade. We're you just so obvious you never noticed the signs?

One look at her flushed face and hopeful eyes and you knew that you also liked her all along,you just chose to push those feelings aside due to your fear of them never being returned by the brunette.

Of course you accepted her confession,and returned it of course.

But if you truly knew the things she had to do to have you,never In a million years would you choose to be hers.

Bonus, slightly suggestive

Ayano didn't usually dream,but when she did ,you were the star of the dream.

Most of her dreams would end up with you on display for her. The next morning she would check you out and pout, thinking that it's a long way before she actually gets to see you and touch your naked body.

But a girl can dream,right?

#ayano #ayano aishi #ayano aishi x reader #ayano x reader #yandere #yandere simulator #yandere x reader #yandere character #yan sim #aishi #aishi x reader #reader #fem reader #character x reader #x reader

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yuecrown · 7 months

Text

[ 5:42 AM ] — nakahara chuuya

chuuya x gn!reader. fluff. warnings: swearing. 0.5k wc.

it isn’t until you hear chuuya come up behind you that you realize it’s already morning. you’re nursing a cup of now-cold coffee in your hands, and you’re amazed that you haven’t dropped it even though you’ve been zoned out for the past hour.

“you okay?” chuuya’s voice is thick with sleep as he wraps his arms around you.

you nod. “i just woke up a little early.”

chuuya lets out a quiet hum, and rests his chin on your shoulder, before shivering. “it’s fucking freezing out here.”

the sun hasn’t risen yet, so the balcony is still cold, but you were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t feel the chill. chuuya goes back inside before returning with two hoodies. he pulls one on and chucks the other at you.

it’s one of his, an old, faded grey thing that you’ve ‘borrowed’ from him more times than you can count. he pretends to get mad about it, but he’s not. not really. that’s just how chuuya is, grumpy and sharp-tongued, but kind nevertheless. attentive even though you don’t ask him to be.

the two of you sit in silence for a while— not that it’s ever really quiet when you live in the middle of yokohama. even pre-sunrise, the air is filled with sounds of traffic and the howls of stray dogs. you don’t mind though. you’ve grown to like the sounds of the waking city.

eventually, you turn to go back into your shared apartment, calling out, “want some coffee?” as an afterthought, because you know chuuya hates the way it tastes. as expected, he shakes his head, so you simply make yourself a cup, and return outside.

chuuya’s sitting quietly, gazing out at the city as sunlight starts to hit the buildings, coloring the previously dark sky shades of blue and yellow.

“how’s the hangover?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. he glares at you, before massaging his temple and muttering, “what hangover?”

you hold back a laugh and drape yourself over his lap, setting your cup down on the table carefully.

“good morning,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his neck. the faint emerging sunlight tinges his hair gold as he sleepily kisses you back, still smelling faintly of alcohol and last night’s cologne.

you thread your fingers through his hair, gently playing with the soft locks as he lets out a content hum and relaxes his body.

his fingers still bear last night’s rings, and his many piercings reflect the light whenever he tilts his head, but he’s wearing fluffy pompompurin slippers. that’s just like chuuya, you think to yourself with a little smile. mean and scary and so, so cute.

he spots your smile and grumbles, “makin’ fun of me in your head, aren’t you.”

“maybe,” you say, taking hold of his hand in yours and linking your fingers together.

he huffs, but his face is relaxed. chuuya doesn’t always smile when he’s happy, but you’ve learned to pay attention to the other things— the way the crease between his brows disappears, the ways his eyes crinkle up ever so slightly, the way his ears get tinged pink when he’s flustered.

“brat,” he says, tightening his arms around you, making you smile and lean into his touch.

you used to wake up alone, but now, mornings are synonymous with chuuya.

notes: constantly thinking about domestic life with chuuya 😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i’m a firm believer that chuuya loves sanrio & u cant convince me otherwise

#chuuya x gn reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x gn reader #chuuya x male reader #bsd fluff #chuuya fluff #bsd imagines #chuuya imagines #chuuya drabbles #bsd drabbles #bsd chuuya #nakahara chuuya #chuuya scenarios #my fics. ☆

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joshusten · 8 months

Text

bitter melon (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Honey got stood up on a date and Guy tried to save their night.

(pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, jealousy (hohohoho), slight misunderstanding, conflict between characters, making up, fluff) 4.6k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: insecurities, self-depreciating thoughts and a lil breakdown im sorry honey has some issues over here (projecting moment?), NOT PROOFREAD as always LMAOO

ALSO sadly guy isnt as silly (maybe really ooc) as he is most of the fic because he has Internal Conflict + i tried to make honey’s outfit and appearance as ambiguous as possible but i’m not sure how well i did with that ;---; so just keep that in mind! Idk how to feel about this fic ! i love it and i hate it LMAO]

"Oooh, what's got you all dressed up, roomie?"

It was the weekend—Kayla had just been picked up by her boyfriend, which had Guy realizing he and his favorite roommate had the place all to themselves for a few hours. As far as he recalled, he was off from work, and they hadn’t mentioned any errands to him for today. Perfect!

Guy had a bounce in his step as he arrived by the entrance to the room at the leftmost side of their shared apartment. He rapidly knocked at the door with a giddy “Hello?”, eagerly waiting for the response that he knew would always come.

Hm, which game should they play this time? Smash was always an option but he wouldn’t mind trying something new with them. They could even watch some random YouTube documentary again like they did last time. Or maybe he can finally muster up the courage to ask them if they want to hang out somewhere outside the apartment that isn’t for laundry or groceries.

He smiled to himself. Yeah, I’d like that. They can go to that new arcade that opened up nearby!

Before Guy can daydream more of sharing smiles in photo booths and frustratingly rigged crane games, the door opens to reveal the subject of his reverie, clad in clothing and accessories flashier than what they would typically wear. He got a whiff of a pleasant fragrance too and he realized that they must have put on a perfume of some kind.

Woah.

They looked…amazing. They've always looked amazing. He had thought that about his grumpy companion even before the pair got close. But, seeing them in anything other than their usual casualwear or pajamas was definitely a surprise.

The teasing amount of skin they had exposed didn’t go unnoticed by him, as well.

His roommate, by all means, was no prude. They even had their fair share of comebacks more vulgar than his flirts when they banter (Those particular interactions definitely do not keep him up at night, blushing and wide-eyed while he stares at the ceiling. Nope. Never.) This side of them, however, was something he’d never seen before until now. This side of how they present themselves with such boldness was new and he didn’t mind it at all.

The outfit looked good on them. Too good. A seductive dark top that very much complemented the tone of their skin, unbuttoned dangerously low enough to reveal the expanse of their collarbone that was adorned by a simple necklace.

Their shoes gave them more height too, slightly towering over Guy more than they already did before and forcing him to tilt his head up a little for their eyes to meet. The dizzying scent of their cologne paired with those pants that hugged their figure just right had his mind reeling. It was mortifying—how they had him in such a daze so easily.

Fuck.

Guy gulped nervously.

“You going out tonight with friends o–or something?” he frantically adds, suddenly aware of how much he was probably staring amidst his very appropriate train of thought about the person before him. Admittedly, the man was a little bummed that his plans to take them out first (Platonically, of course. How else would it be?) were off the table, though his interest had been piqued by what they were up to being dressed like that.

"Oh, uhm, no. I mean, yeah? Kinda? I'm…" They looked hesitant and a little…embarrassed? Well if it's something they don't want to share then he didn’t mind. Despite how much of a menace he is (with his roommate never failing to lovingly remind him of this), Guy wouldn’t want to force anything out of them, especially if it got them so uncharacteristically timid. He tends to forget such social cues, but he actively tries to improve and avoid being so pushy.

As he was about to reassure them that it was okay to not respond, they replied with a bashfulness that was unlikely of them, “I’m…going on a date.”

A date? With someone else? Romantically? He felt his grip on the door frame tighten, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, silencing his buzzing mind for a split second before managing to fake a curious smile.

“Oh? Who are they? Do I know them?” He liked to think he inquired them out of politeness, like a nosey friend pestering someone about their crush, but the thought of his roommate being alone with someone for the night leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He had the need to asses this person, and determine if they really were worthy of their time—of them—for reasons he isn’t really sure of, it just felt like instinct.

Guy internally cringed. What the fuck does that mean? Why the hell is he thinking like this? Protective! He’s being protective, of course. Any friend would want to protect their friend with things like these! A love life is a huge factor in someone’s happiness after all, right? So he, as a friend, can definitely be wary if someone could be a potential risk of heartbreak for their friend.

Okay, if he thinks of the word ‘friend’ one more time he might actually lose it.

He needed a cold shower. Yeah! He just needs a nice cold shower to shock his brain and stop the weirdest fucking thoughts from ever forming, especially thoughts concerning his roommate that’s currently driving him crazy in every way possible.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. He’s from my class.” They shrugged, looking to the side awkwardly. “I dont know, he just asked me out yesterday and I figured, ‘Why not?’”

Guy hands began to twitch involuntarily as his roommate smiled at themself, oblivious to the spiral that he was having. "My friends kept on saying I should try letting loose and going out more so I guess it’s about time.”

“Oh, uh, hope you enjoy, then.” God, he feels light-headed.

“Well, isn’t this a first. What, no witty remark? No innuendo about me finally ‘getting some’?” Guy fought the urge to grimace. Somehow those jokes would do nothing but sour his mood even more instead.

“Hey,” The man started, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Can’t I wish a friend good luck on their date?” Friend. The word felt worse and worse the more it festered in his mind. Yeah, that’s what they were. What they’ll ever be. Nothing more.

“Pfft, whatever, man.” The smirk grew wider on their lips. They seem really excited and he shamefully thinks it might make him vomit at how eager they are for this date. He should support them, right? Guy can see how his roommate tends to keep to themself most of the time, especially when Kayla’s with them. So seeing them go out of their comfort zone should have been a relief. He should be happy for them.

Whenever Guy was with them, being happy was easy. So why was he having such a hard time now?

Their grin dropped when they glanced at their watch with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I think I need to go.”

They opened their bedroom door and lifted up their arms from the side in a way to reveal more of what they were wearing. “How do I look?”

Yup, feeling dizzy again. Remember to breathe, Guy.

“Uh, yeah, y–you look great! Really.” Guy put on a strained smile. “Have fun, just don’t miss me too much, though. Might be unbecoming for your date.” He prays to god they don’t notice how his voice wavered at the end.

They rolled their eyes with a familiar chuckle that usually follows whenever he makes a joke, “Pfft, whatever.”

Waving him goodbye as they rush to the exit. “Don’t wait for me when you’re gonna eat dinner, by the way. I might be home late!” One last look on their watch had them walking faster. “Okaygottacatchthebusnowbye–!”

He heard the gentle click of the door shutting and the apartment felt lonelier than what he’s used to.

—

Tap, tap, tap.

“In old legends, tales long forgotten, the sea is often said to be unkind.

The sea’s temper is short, and his rage is felt through the angry swells of the water that eat sailors alive. His strength is tremendous, taking down the tallest of mountains and sinking whole countries with his surging claws. But most of all, his cruel waves do not discriminate, drowning both the wicked and the innocent altogether. He cares not for the last breath he takes from their lungs to fill with salt and water and death.

Despite his hostility, the sea yearns for the moon.

Whenever the moon came down to greet him like an old, treasured friend, the waters still. All is tranquil when the sky and the sea meet. The sea breeze is calm as the children play by the shore. The people were grateful, for the sea had fallen for the beauty in the sky.

But all good things never last.

The sea became selfish. He loathes the time when the moon eventually ascends to the abode of angels, their home. He loathes the loneliness that becomes of him when he can no longer feel the warmth of their glow. His loathing turns into wallowing in sorrow until he decides that he has had enough.

His calm waves suddenly grow with the intent to seize, to take, to keep the jewel of the night for himself. His desire for them to stay overflowed into his foolish actions that had done nothing but have the moon be victim to the harshness he had reserved for men.

The moon wept, and the sea received their tears. He had hurt them. He had hurt them in his act of love. They returned to the skies, burdened to carry the melancholy of a broken heart and the sea remains, afraid to cause more harm.

The moon never came down again.

His attempts to reconnect bear no fruit. A different kind of madness consumed him, wrapping around his very soul like how guilt wraps around the sinners. It’s God’s punishment, he deems, for his covetous ways. To chase for the sky but never touch the clouds, to stretch up to the heavens but never high enough.

He had realized that they could not be attained.

They will not come back for him.

Yet he continues to reach high above, hoping for the blessing of a god birthed by pity. To push his tides to the limit for a chance to be in the moon’s presence once more until the end of time.

It is all but a myth, ancient words that the people of the present cannot truly decipher, but all its messages share the same sentiment;

The sea is…”

“Hm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is mysterious?”

“No, no, no…”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is prideful?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound right either.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is spiteful?

Vitriolic?

Rancorous?”

The living room which was once filled with the constant stream of clicking laptop keys came to an abrupt halt. I give up. This whole ‘running away from your issues’ thing really isn’t working.

That same irritating pain still persisted. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a discomfort, aching to the point that Guy started to rub his chest a few times in an attempt to soothe it. What is up with me today? Even after the cold shower that he was sure would solve his current predicament, the feeling of unease still lingered.

He figured he might as well do the writing exercises that his professor had assigned a few days ago to distract himself yet it was of no help at all. In fact, it was just fueling the fire of these messy emotions that he had been feeling. His tired eyes closed, fingers circling his throbbing temples, as he racked his mind for something that would best fit the final line. I swear to god it’s at the tip of my tongue!

His mind snapped out of focus after hearing the noise of the door suddenly opening. He managed to haphazardly type a word to try out before it could escape his mind so that he could finally finish this troubling assignment that had opened more problems he had meant to solve.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and they burned, knowing full well who had just barged in. Speak of the devil. His roommate finally returned along with the sinking feeling in his ribs. They had gotten back from their date. Guy made sure to put on his most convincing smile.

“Hey, roomie! Back already? How was it?”

“Uh, yeah, hi.” They didn’t bother to look at him, ignoring his eager questions while they hastily set down the small bag they brought. Guy sees them navigate through the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and hungrily gulp it down. “I-is Kayla here?”

He frowned, shifting his body to face where they were in the kitchen. “Uh, no. She texted me that she was staying over with her boyfriend. Why?”

“Thank god.”

“Yeah, I know right? So, uh, how’s the date?”

No response came again, His roommate was seemingly distracted by whatever they were scrolling through on their phone but it was clear that they were purposely ignoring him.

“He-ey! I asked how the date was. Did something happen?” They were as timid as they were before. And like before, the unease in his gut grew.

“U-uhm, it was fine.” The man heard them murmur. Why were they so secretive? They seemed frazzled and they were doing that thing where they touched their cheeks to cover their face whenever they got warm because they were…flustered. Are they–? On that date, did they–? Did something happen like that between them and their date?

Unnoticed by his roommate, Guy’s eyes widened. The pain in his chest returned tenfold. This should’ve been a good thing. That means they had a great time. Why is he mad? Why does he get that sinking feeling? Why does he feel so spiteful about it?

“What, no juicy details? Oh, I get it. You’re keeping secrets from me! Not a kiss-and-tell typa person now, are we?”

Maybe it was stupid of him to prod, especially about the one thing that set this rollercoaster of confusing emotions in the first place. But he needs to know. What did they do? How was it? Did they like it— being with him instead of Guy?

They continued to ignore his lighthearted interrogations and Guy knew that he should’ve just dropped it at this point but something in him snapped all of a sudden. He isn’t sure if the agitation that built up had got to him but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out his next words—harsher than intended.

“Hey, I'm not the selfish one over here who left me all alone inside at a weekend while they got to actually enjoy the night in some fancy restaurant or something. C’mon, spill!”

The lightness in his tone never left. In fact, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like his usual playful nagging Both of them, however, noticed the shift in the direction of their conversation. (Since when was he one to provoke someone?) He’ll blame it on being in the heat of the moment for now. They understand he was just curious like that, right? All he was sure of was that he needed to know what happened. Why is he mad? Stop being mad. They didn’t do anything wrong.

He noticed their flinch far too late.

“I got stood up, Guy. Was that what you wanted to hear? Because, god forbid, I get to actually go out and do shit for myself!” The acidity of the way they said his name sent chills up to his spine. Their voice was eerily still, its coldness made Guy’s blood freeze. “Because I’m such a selfish asshole to enjoy things for once, right?”

“Oh.”

Oh fuck. He fucked up.

“Yeah, oh,” A dry chuckle left their quivering lips. “Can’t believe I fucking thought he would actually show up. Thought somebody wasn’t fucking around with me for once and I–” They abruptly stood up. The harsh scrape of the chair puts the whole room into an uncomfortable silence.

They weren’t flustered from the date, they were embarrassed. Humiliated. They had probably been waiting for that douchebag to show up only to receive false hope and pitying glances. And he just had to add insult to injury by being when he clearly should’ve just listened, should’ve stopped, should’ve comforted them. He can finally see the tears that began to stream down their face.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

“Fuck, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he–”

But they had already slammed their bedroom door with a force that shook the place. Guy stayed sitting on the couch, all alone once more. Great, you just had to be a dick because of your stupid fucking…feelings about the thought of them spending their time with someone else!

He’s pathetic.

Here he was brooding over his roommate going out on a date only for whoever that moron was to throw away the fucking chance to spend time with them. But maybe he’s the bigger moron in this case. The guilt seeped into his bones and he felt them ache. What is going on with him? He was supposed to be there for them. To be a decent friend. But now, he just ruined their already shitty night more.

Truly pathetic.

His eyes darted to the last line he had typed on his laptop and he held his breath.

"The sea is a jealous being."

The lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He needs to make it up to them.

—

This is stupid. This is fucking stupid.

They should have never gone with it. They should have never accepted that asshole’s offer in the first place.

The faint sounds of an old TV series played from their phone, which had long been abandoned within patterned sheets, accompanied the figure that was currently trembling under the blankets. Stuttering, hiccuped gasps filled the room with a suffocating gloom. They think their hoarse throat couldn’t handle another broken sob to let out, having already cried every single last drop of their wallow out hours ago, their hot cheeks sticky from its tears.

It wasn’t like this was the first time something involving relationships didn’t work out with them. They were used to it. They should be used to it—being left out, avoided, and unwanted. (It’s just a stupid date, it wasn’t even meant to be serious. Why are you making it a big deal? Why are you so affected?)

Why are they so affected by this? What made them think they were all-so-suddenly desirable to someone? Why did they even think they had a shot at all this lovey-dovey shit in the first place?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’re shit with expressing their emotions and even shittier with dealing with them. Their outburst a while ago was a testament to that, shouting at Guy when he didn’t know any better. Maybe everything tonight was doomed from the start, then. They should’ve expected the hurt. Heartbreak was far from being a stranger to them at this point.

A tired groan came out of them again.

Tired. They’re so tired.

Hungry rumbles erupted from their stomach. Damn it. Thanks to their ‘date’, they weren’t able to eat. Fuck it. Waiting out until Guy’s in bed and sneaking out of their room to eat would probably be the best option. For now, they stay bundled in their bed—thoughts spiraling, head pounding, eyes swollen, and a heavy heart waiting for its pieces to be picked up again.

Then they’ll sleep it off like always. And then they��ll confront him about it, play it off like it’s another bad day so he’ll stop worrying because they know he will. Everything’s back to normal— they’ll apologize for the overreaction, he’ll joke about it and everybody goes on with their lives again.

Yeah. That could work.

Knock, knock!

“Hello?”

What the–? Ugh. For the love of–

“Hello? Roomie? You there?”

When they wanted to confront the roommate that they snapped at, they didn’t mean right now!

“What do you want, Guy?”

“Can you come out, please? It’s…important.”

They finally stood up from their blanket cocoon, hastily wiping the tears from their eyes to try and ‘shoo’ their roommate away. The door swung open, ready to put on their whole grumpy facade again. “Guy, I’m not really in the mood for–”

“Good evening, prestige customer! Your dinner awaits.”

What.

“Wha-- How did– When did you–?” Not giving any mind to Guy’s abominable impersonation of a British accent nor the messy scrawls of black ink on paper that vaguely resembles a mustache taped to his mouth, their eyes wander around the living room, confused and curious.

The atmosphere was completely different from the bleak apartment they had been enduring for months. Multicolored lights that they usually use for the holidays hung around the area, providing the dim room with enough light to give a dreamy ambiance. The small foldable table set they had for eating was moved to the middle, covered in what they remembered to be Guy’s freshly cleaned checkered blanket that they had just picked up from the laundry when they were doing errands.

On the table were some scented candles in mismatched glass containers, and two servings of a dish they couldn’t recognize. They even noticed faint jazzy music playing in the background to imitate the mood of a pretentiously lavish restaurant.

Overall, the decor clashed together horribly, yet despite that, they’d never seen the apartment so charming. The improvised set-up looks endearingly…cozy.

“Come, let me guide you to your table,” Guy, err, the waiter, dressed in a white longsleeved button-up and apron, led them to the center, pulling out a chair and tucking the napkin he had around the collar of their shirt. The man directed their attention to the ceramics containing what seemed to be their dinner this evening.

“Our main course that the chef has prepared for tonight is a creative twist of a classic European dish composed of a rich tomato-based sauce paired with a unique and innovative pasta shell shape, garnished with traditional Italian herbs and spices.” “Guy, that’s a bowl of SpagetthiOs with some dried basil sprinkled on top,”

“Shush! Don’t ruin the immersion. And I am not Guy! I’m a waiter! Ahem!” The totally legitimate server who is not their roommate coughed very un-fakely, before composing himself in a more very real professional stance (then again, that might actually be real, seeing that he also serves the tables at Max’s when he’s not out delivering).

“I believe your date has returned. A very dashing fellow if I do say so myself, consider yourself lucky!” Guy suddenly ducked down out of view (though they could very much see him all the same) removing the mustache and button-up to reveal a shirt with a tacky tuxedo print on it.

He stood up, fixed a few strands of his hair that stuck up from his sudden movement, and looked at the person in front of him with a beaming expression.

“Hey, honey! Just got back from the restroom. Wow! The food looks amazing!”

All ‘Honey’ could do was stare dumbfoundedly before covering their smiling mouth with a trembling hand. A small chuckle became a bemused giggle until eventually they were full-on belly-laughing.

“H-Honey? Really? Where did you even get that from? And what the hell are you w-wearing?” Their voice shook, unable to contain any semblance of composure. This whole situation felt like it was pulled straight from a rom-com.

Guy laughed with them as he sat down to his side of the table. “Oh, so you like it? The nickname…came to me naturally. Feel like it suits you a lot, seeing how sweet you are to me, right?”

Honey, huh? They wouldn’t mind him calling them that.

“Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I think I look the most classy I’ll ever be!”

“Well, I’m underdressed then.” Their laughter had died down, slowly processing everything going on, well, it made them want to cry. All of this, for them? It’s too much trouble to go through.

“Nah, you’re fine! And besides, you look pretty all the time—which by the way, is absolutely not fair! I’m supposed to be the hot roommate here!” He declared with a mock offended tone as he sassily put his hands on his hips. Honey hoped he wouldn’t notice how their cheeks burned at how casually he called them ‘pretty’, like it was second nature.

“Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you underdress some more, ehh–”

It was his comfortingly familiar lewd quips, something they didn’t realize they missed hearing, yet why did their eyes water instead? The sobs that they weren’t aware they had been keeping in broke their dam again. Their cheeks must’ve grown tired from their crying all night, but this time, these weren’t tears for some dickhead that ditched them.

The abrupt stop of laughter and panicked sputtering from Guy after hearing their croaky sniveling would have had Honey laughing if they weren’t already struggling to breathe from their convulsive crying. “Oh, fuck! Uh, okay, sorry! I’m sorry! Bad timing! I shouldn’t have joked–”

“No, no, Guy, I’m sorry I–” They let out a shaky breath. “Wh–why did you go through all the trouble for me? I-I snapped at you and I don’t–,” hands wildly gestured around their surroundings. “–deserve all of this! I don’t– I’m so sorry I–”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You deserve this, okay? If someone like Kayla gets to share a night with her boyfriend then you, out of all people, deserve to spend your weekend having a great time and I won’t let some jerk ruin that for you,” He looked at Honey in the eyes with a sincerity that involuntarily made them shiver.

It’s not often that Guy was this serious with them. It was only reserved for moments when it was late at night and their teasing and gossip turned into deeper talks about anything and everything. They forgot how intense the look in his pretty eyes could get, how it felt like he saw through them, through their very being.

“I’m…one of those jerks, too. I really shouldn’t have said those words to you. You’re not selfish or an asshole. Your date was the asshole for not showing up and that’s a reflection on him rather than yourself. I just sprouted out those stupid things because I was just…bitter that you had your own plans when I really didn’t have the right to be.” Among other things. He decided not to bring up the other messy emotional stuff in his head. It’s not what they need to hear right now. “I’m really sorry for pushing you. I…really hope that you can forgive me but I would understand if you won’t.”

“I forgive you, Guy. Thank you for… for all of this. It really means a lot.”

They shared a tender smile as they continued their chatting with their dinner. By the time they cleaned the dishes and put everything back in its original place, the pair plopped down on the soft cushions of their sofa. Guy shifted himself into a better position to face Honey.

“I’m surprisingly still not sleepy. What else do you wanna do for tonight?”

“Hm…Smash?”

“Honey! How scandalous! Take me out to dinner first! Oh, well technically, I already did, so I guess your wish is my command after all—Ow!”

“I meant the game, you freak!” --- THIS FIC TOOK SOOOOO LONG i was so close to giving it up BUT WE'RE HERE EYYYY also this was suppose to have a bonus scene but ehhhh idk where i was going with it rlly rlly hope you enjoyed ;--; i'm still not rlly happy with how i wrote this but there are some parts that i rlly like so i decided to post it HAHAHAHA feel free to give me feedback :DD and have a nc day/night!!

#redacted audio #redacted guy #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #sten writes!#FINALLYYYYY #LIKE THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT FUNNYYY #literally ruined my sleep sched BUT EYYY #i like the guy writing assignment part nyeheheh #haha get the title...bitter melon bc guy's bitter and green (with jealousy) hahahahha #thinking up the title took so long also i just thought that the word melon looks cute

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galactic-magick · 10 months

Text

You’re Not Scary, Johnny: The Spot x Reader

Summary: What if Spot’s family didn’t leave him after the accident? In other words, Jonathan had a spouse and baby daughter and goes to see them for the first time since becoming The Spot.

Words: 1.8k+

Warnings: Some swearing and vague mentions of suicidal thoughts

Author’s Notes: The baby daughter is not specified to be biological or adopted bc I wanted to keep the reader gender-neutral! Also thanks to Julia from The Spot discord server I’m in for suggesting the name Dottie! (haha get it like spot and dot)

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

After all, he was one of the top scientists working on Alchemax’s toughest project, full of initial failures and screw-ups. He had numerous opportunities to quit during his lengthy years of schooling and career, but he never did. He was always incredibly self-driven, and having a family in edition to that motivated him to succeed even more. He married you—the most wonderful person in the universe to him, and had a beautiful daughter named Dottie he couldn’t wait to raise with you.

That is, until he woke up on the Alchemax floor that dreadful day, surrounded by debris from the destroyed collider.

He remembers seeing his hands first, ghost white with a couple black spots on each. But they weren’t like a bruise or mole that stayed it place—they were fluctuating and pulsing like dark matter. Convinced he was just seeing things, he tried to rub his eyes, only to feel nothing and instead see his fingers come out through a hole on his leg.

He screamed in terror, pushing his gangly body off the ground and stumbling towards the nearest reflective surface he could find.

“No, no, no-” his voice shook, looking at himself for the first time.

He turns away, too horrified to look any longer. He couldn’t go home to you like this, let alone live any sort of life at all like this. He scans his gaze over the rubble, running to the first intact thing he sees. “I can- I can fix this. There has to be a way to fix this!”

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

He got to work searching for anything salvageable from the labs and collider, theorizing and writing equations and running tests for weeks, not that he realized it had been that long. His mind bordered on madness, obsessing over every single detail that could possibly fix him.

“I have to fix this, I have to fix this…” he muttered to himself over and over, voice cracking. Every test and experiment failed day after day, nothing worked. He didn’t want to give up, but maybe this was something not even his genius intellect could fix.

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything—but now he had to.

He slumped onto the floor, wailing into the void of the abandoned building. He screamed and cried as much as he could without having tears, begging to anyone who could hear to be put out of his misery.

His face fell to his hands, or at least what was left of one. His thoughts returned to you, with your sweet eyes and smile he adored so much and the heartwarming memories you’ve shared over the years. You’re his everything, his other half, and everything he’s ever wanted. He thought about holding your daughter for the first time, wanting to give her the world and more.

He couldn’t go back to you like this. He couldn’t even look at himself, so why would you? His daughter would surely be afraid of him and he’d lose everyone he loved in an instant. He couldn’t put himself through that, he just couldn’t. You probably think he’s already dead, might as well let you remember him as he was.

You never thought you’d have to deal with being a single parent. You and Jonathan have an incredibly healthy relationship and marriage, so you figured you’d be together forever. You never thought you’d have the unthinkable happen to you, having to go on after the death of a husband.

Each day gets harder and harder, and everything that was fine or even good before becomes a struggle. You know pretty soon your emergency savings will run out and paying rent will be a problem, and you’ll have to start picking up overtime at work and have to spend less time with the baby. You’re more alone than you’ve ever been in your life, and you still don’t even know for sure what happened.

No one dares stand up to Alchemax, not even after a disaster like this. You had asked Jonathan multiple times to consider somewhere better to work, but he assured you it was the only place he could do the full extent of his work, which you understood. Still, if he had left this wouldn’t have happened to him.

He wouldn’t be dead.

All you want to know is how he died. Was it painful? Was it quick? Was it peaceful?

Every night you lie awake, the questions racing through your mind. Most days you’re thankful that Dottie is not a fussy baby, but sometimes you wish she was so you’d at least have something to distract you.

It’s been a few months since the accident, and Jonathan is still crippled with fear. He refuses to look at himself, covering himself with layers of clothing to get around the city and avoid seeing his own skin. He tries to keep ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him to go home, muffling it with the anxiety of being seen by the one person who could completely shatter his soul.

But if he did go to see you, at least he’d finally know. He wouldn’t be left wondering his whole life what you’d say and how you’d react. He might not have the both literal and metaphorical hole in his heart aching for closure forever.

He knows you’re usually home by the hour, the baby probably down for a nap while you have some free-time. He approaches the door of your shared apartment, hand hovering next to the door. He knocks quietly, and hears you shuffling towards it.

“Who is it?” your voice is like honey, and his heart wrenches.

“Please don’t—please don’t freak out, okay darling? It’s Jonathan,”

The door swings open faster than he thought possible, and you fling yourself into him.

“Holy shit I thought you were dead, I-” you sob into his chest, your tears blurring your vision enough that you can’t see him clearly. “They said—they said everyone in the building died from that explosion-”

You pull away slightly, looking him up and down.

“Why do you have so many layers on? It’s super warm out,” you reach up to pull off the mask and glasses over his face, but he stops you.

“There’s something you need to know before you do that,” he says. “I survived, yes, but not without enormous cost. The explosion left me severely deformed,”

You try to fight his grip on your hand, attempting to reach up again, “Johnny, you know I will still love you no matter what. Please just let me see you-”

“No.”

A wave of deep concern washes over your features, “What happened?”

“I-I tried to fix it, but it can’t be fixed. I’m a monster now, I don’t even look human anymore. Somehow my body fused with a black hole I was carrying during the explosion, and now that’s all I am...just holes,”

You do your best to take in and process his words, but you know you won’t truly understand until you see it for yourself.

“I’m going to look at you, okay?” you tell him sternly.

He sighs in surrender, awaiting the inevitable. You start by taking off his gloves, interlocking your fingers with his white ones. He hums at your touch.

“I’m still here, Johnny,” you assure him. Next you unzip and slip off his jacket, revealing his torso and arms covered in black spots. It’s certainly strange, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t, but it doesn’t scare you. The spots look like splotches on an artistic painting, and you already love them.

You decide to wait to take off his pants and shoes, and instead bring your hands to his head. You remove his hat, smoothing your palms over his completely white and bald head. Of course you loved his gorgeous hair before, but you’ll get used to this.

You hesitate your fingers around his face, waiting for a sign of approval.

Jonathan nods, but he grabs your hands once again, “Darling, I literally don’t have a face anymore. You’re not going to see what you want to see,”

“I don’t care. I want you no matter what,”

You rip off his mask and glasses in one go, met with a deep black hole staring back at you.

He sighs again, turning away from your gaze, “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. You don’t deserve a life married to someone like me,”

“Johnathan,” you scold him. “When I married you I promised to love you no matter what. For better and for worse and all that shit, okay? Sure this will be an adjustment, but I want to adjust with you. I’m just happy you’re alive,”

You watch as his face spot fluctuates in size and shape, and you decide to interpret that as his new way of expressing emotions. You appear to be right, because he quickly pulls you into a tight embrace and whimpers into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, his body shaking as he holds you closer and closer, to the point you feel yourself going through a couple of his spots. “But what about Dottie? She’ll cry every time she sees me,”

“You don’t know that,” you say, rubbing his back, tracing your fingers around one of his spots. “Her first word was ‘Dada’ you know. I talked about you a lot to her while you were gone,”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. She can crawl now too. I’ll go get her from her crib, this is usually around the time she wakes up anyway,”

Jonathan slowly releases his grip as you slip out of his arms, bracing himself for whatever might happen. He looks like something from a horror movie, of course she’s going to be afraid. He may have lucked out with you wanting to stay with him, but there’s no promises his daughter will feel the same.

You come out of the bedroom holding her, a bit bigger than the last time he saw her. You place her gently on the floor so she can crawl around, and she doesn’t even seem to notice Jonathan at first, more interested in the toy next to her. She grabs it and sits upright, and then finally sees him.

To Jonathan’s surprise, she doesn’t seem phased by his appearance. She simply cocks her head slightly to the side and stares at him.

“Dada!” she finally babbles, giggling to herself.

“She...she recognizes me?” he asks, in awe of her cute little face.

She continues to giggle, repeating his name over and over. She rolls forward onto her hands and starts crawling towards him, grabbing onto his leg. Jonathan leans down to pick her up, and she flails around happily, settling into his arms and poking her hands into his holes on his face and chest.

“How is she not scared of me?” he says, completely dumbfounded.

“Because you’re not scary, Johnny,” you smile, wrapping your arms around the two of them and kissing his cheek. “You’re family. Spots or not,”

Dottie squeals as if in agreement.

“I suppose so,” he hums, resting his head on top of yours.

Jonathan would never give this up for anything.

#the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot #johnathan ohnn #across the spiderverse #spiderverse

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seulgiwifeee · 3 months

Text

Secret Admirer || Seulgi

pt. 2 here <<<

♡ Member: Classmate*Seulgi x Loser*Femreader

♡ Theme: slight angst and fluff at some point kinda?.. Idk just please read lol

♡ Warning: None

♡ Description: For months you've communicated with Seulgi by sending her secret admirer letters, but one day you decide to try taking things further between the two of you.

Word count: 4.2k ???

(Sorry if the time stamps might seem a little messy)

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It was like love at first sight.

At the beginning of the school year when your eyes spotted Kang Seulgi walking the busy hallways after exiting your pre-calculus class.

That silky jet black hair, those dangerously sharp monolids that tried to mask her dark yet alluringly soft eyes, her peachy pink lips, the seductive sway of her hips, the confidence in each stride she took, walking the halls as if she owned the school..

And you will never forget those long three seconds of eye contact you two shared that moment, she was so beautiful, your mind couldn't fathom that she was even real! And to top everything off, her shoulder slightly brushed against yours when you walked past each other, cold chills instantly being driven up your spine, your breath hitching and goosebumps rising upon your sensitive skin.

You paused right there in the middle of the moving hallways and flipped your head around, adjusting your big glasses as you curiously watched the girl approach her friends, hearing them all cheerfully call out for her. "Seulgi!"

"Seulgi.." The word melted off your tongue like ice cream, repeating and savoring the taste of the sweet name under your breath to lock it in memory. "Seulgi."

At first, you were intimidated by her mysterious allure, but with the bright smile she flashed spotting out her friends and hearing the warming tone she spoke in when greeting them, you realized she was just a fluffy bunny in disguise as a black cat. You turned your head back around with flushed cheeks, the girl's name echoing throughout your mind, and walked off to your next class with a satisfied heart. Just everything about those amazing fifteen seconds instantly locked you in, and soon after that, each day whenever Seulgi would walk out from her second period, you'd make sure to always stay near the lockers in time just so you could see her beautiful face passing by you and hear her tender voice when chatting with her friends.

Now you, Y/N L/N, have had plenty of minor crushes before, and you obviously knew you deeply admired Seulgi's beauty and charismatic personality, but after a few weeks passing by, you started to realize that this wasn't just an innocent hallway crush, you were becoming obsessed over Seulgi. Every time you looked at her it was like seeing her for the first time over and over again, giving you the same comforting and content feeling, you cherishing those strong feelings you didn't even know you could hold for someone!

You were catching feelings.

Deep feelings.

And you loved it.

For you, you felt like you had an advantage at crushing on Seulgi knowing that she wasn't really a popular student, so that meant there was less of a competition for you and it made you feel like you weren't too far down from her level.

The only downside of falling for Seulgi was that the two of you had no classes together, zero, nothing, nada, so other than walking past each other once or twice a day during the five-minute time period of switching between classes or possibly at lunch if you weren't sitting in the far corner, then there honestly wasn't any other way to see her.

But even if the two of you did have any classes together, there was no way in hell your wimpy, shy, introverted self could start any sort of clear conversation with Seulgi without freaking out and ending up making an absolute fool of yourself! That was the reason alone on why you hadn’t made any friends yet, so how would you had even expected to freely talk to someone you had feelings for?

Lucky you, you came up with a solution and your solution to this problem was to start writing secret admirer letters to Seulgi and slip them into her locker when she wasn't around. Trying to be cute, the nickname you came up with to use as your anonymous signature was "Candy."

Your first attempt at sending the letters was of a cheesy poem you had written about Seulgi's eyes. That entire day you had discreetly walked past her locker multiple times, hoping to catch her in the act of reading it, but either you missed her or she just ignored the letter, both thoughts as equally leaving you disappointed.

Fortunately, during your second attempt at sending a new poem the next day, you caught Seulgi with one of her friends hanging at her locker. You quickly hid and stood around the corner of the hallways, secretly observing the scene as your eyes only gave interest in to where Seulgi's hands were leading to next.

When Seulgi opened her locker, she was immediately startled from the envelope flying out past her, landing in the center of the non-crowded hallway. While she picked it up her friend peaked her head over, nosily asking Seulgi what it was. You watched closely as Seulgi carefully opened the envelope, making sure not to rip your heart sticker seal, and pulled out the note to which both of the girls instantly starting reading out loud. When done reading, Seulgi blushed, covering her mouth in bewilderment while her friend stared at her with her jaw lowered in shock.

You watched intensely, your heart booming in your chest, anxiously trying to read Seulgi's features to figure out whether or not she was feeling the letter, but seeing her bubble a coy laugh with her friend, holding the note tightly to her heart like it was her most prized possession, a wave of relief finally washed over you, confident in knowing that Seulgi was flattered by your poem. But your smile quickly faltered hearing Seulgi and her friend trying to guess who "Candy" was, all the names mentioned only being random guys from the athletic teams.

You were offended, honestly. All that effort and thought you put in just for them to think that any of the boys mentioned were capable of spending any time out of their day to write something as sweet and romantic as your poem?

Those boys wouldn't even buy a girl roses on the first date!

But their words also struck you like a knife to the chest, stinging you in the most sensitive place of your heart. It pained you that the only people in her thoughts were boys.

Boys..

Would Seulgi ever consider being with a girl?

Did the thought ever cross her mind?..

That upsetting question lingered in the back of your mind for a while, but even though the doubt wanted to take over you, it didn't stop you one bit. You were going to let your admiration for her be known no matter what! So ever since then, you'd consistently send Seulgi the admirer letters you'd spend all night working on, never daring to miss or skip a day.

What started from poems went to you asking questions about herself and her daily life, trying to get to know her better, to eventually just having casual conversations. At the bottom of the letters, you would tell Seulgi to write her response on the backside and place it on top of her locker so that you were able to access the letter again to respond back to her; Lunchtime would always be the time you'd check for her responses since you knew Seulgi and any of the people she hung out with would be too far away to spot you near her locker giving and responding to the notes.

In the span of just two months after starting these letters, you and Seulgi were pretty much like best friends. You were so confident in responding to her, it seemed like you knew so much about her now, like you were actually a known person in her life. Each new fact you learned about her only made you fall for her harder.

You were so comfortable, having already accepted to yourself that this was the only way you would continue to communicate with Seulgi, that you weren't at all prepared for what the upcoming second semester had in store for you when you got moved to gym class.

—

You walked into the gym awkwardly and uncomfortably cladded in the skintight gym uniform that you were positive had to have been a size too small. Your arms hugged your body tightly as you sat on the far end of the bleachers, trying your best to keep yourself hidden while you spectated the classmates around you, impatiently waiting for your coach to hurry and start class.

While your eyes glanced around the spacious gym, something, or someone, caught your attention almost immediately. You swiftly pulled your glasses off, cleaned them, and placed them back on to make sure your eyes weren't deceiving you, and surely enough as the gym doors closed you saw the raven head mark her entrance in.

Your hand flew to your mouth to hide your gasp when you saw the tall girl walk to the center of the gym with her friends alongside her. Your first-ever class with Seulgi and it had to be gym? You couldn't tell if this was a blessing or a curse because, on one hand, this would give you a better opportunity to interact with and finally get to see a new side of Seulgi, athletic Seulgi, but that also meant that Seulgi's first impression of you would most likely be as the embarrassingly unfit girl who fails miserably to do even the simplest of stretches, but that's only if she'd even care to spare a glance your way.

Your mouth was quivering and your legs shaking ogling at her slim figure in the fitted gym uniform from afar. And when class had started, you guys running laps and doing basic stretches, all you could do was stay distracted staring at Seulgi the entire time. You never realized how much more attractive Seulgi could get, so now athletic Seulgi was the only image invading your mind for the next couple of weeks when writing your next few letters.

You so badly wanted to write to her about how amazing you thought she looked each time you saw her in class, but you wondered if that would expose too much to her about who you truly were, so you ended up never mentioning it. You weren't confident enough to reveal yourself to her just yet..

—

During one class as everyone was running laps, you were weakly running behind Seulgi and her friends who were jogging with ease, all chatting with one another.

Your eyes were too focused on her lower half, distracting you from the untied shoelace that caused you to trip momentarily, you yelping and falling face-first into the freshly polished wood flooring, causing a dramatically loud thud.

You laid on ground in defeat like a stupid starfish for a few seconds before weakly lifting your head, scanning the area around you to notice everyone paused in their tracks to stare down at you with their confused eyes. Your eyes narrowed over to Seulgi and her friends who were only a few feet ahead of you, all turned around to look at you too. Some of her friends covered their mouths in shock while others were clearly trying to hide their laughs.

To say you were embarrassed was completely an understatement, but as your gaze averted to Seulgi's you noticed something that put you at ease. Although your vision was blurry from the lost of your glasses, you could clearly she wasn't laughing at you.

In fact, it seemed as if she looked genuinely concerned, like she wanted to help you up. But unfortunately, if that was her intention, a random guy had already beat her to it—him stepping in front of you, blocking her completely from your view and holding out his hand to help you. You reluctantly accepted his offer, pulling yourself up to your feet.

Some classmates tried to ask if you were okay, one of them giving you back your fallen glasses while you brushed dirt off your shirt, but you quickly dismissed them, placing your glasses back on and hurriedly ran off finishing your laps in embarrassment, your brain continuously repeating to yourself about how much of a loser you are.

At the end of class, you sat on the locker room bench, mindlessly sinking alone into your thoughts, blankly staring at the floor, but the light tap of a finger on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. "Hi!"

You clocked your head to the side, immediately recognizing that silky voice, and felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you made eye contact with the one and only Kang Seulgi. "H-Hi!" You stuttered, your cheeks burning red, trying your best to keep your focus away from Seulgi's abs poking through the cheap white cotton.

Seulgi sat down in the space beside you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. "You know, that was a pretty hard fall earlier. I just wanted to know if you were okay," Seulgi said, her head tilted as she stared at you, her eyes full of wonder.

You fidgeted with your fingers, keeping your hands close to your chest while trying your best not to break eye contact even though your legs were starting to get equivalent to the feeling of jelly. You were very much still flustered from the earlier incident, so talking about it with Seulgi who watched the whole thing in 4K play out was embarrassing. "Oh.. uh, y-yeah! I guess it kinda hurt then, but I'm okay now, really!" You glanced down at your legs, discovering scraped-up knees you somehow didn't notice or feel earlier.

Seulgi smiled at you, her eyes turning to crescents and the corners of her lips reaching her cheekbones. "Well, that's nice to hear!

By the way, what's your name? I'm Seulgi!" Seulgi held her hand out, waiting for yours. You nervously lifted your shaken hand and joined it with her’s. Your nerves melted at her touch. "I'm Y/N.."

"Oh, yeah, Y/N, that's right! I remember now!" Right after when it looked like Seulgi was going to say something else, her friends walked up to her and told her to hurry with them so they could make it in time to their next class. Seulgi slightly frowned, but then looked at you one more time with a smile, waving bye, and exited the locker room leaving your awkward self all alone again.

Wow.

The first time you spoke to Seulgi, and it didn't end up terrible?

Unfortunately, you and Seulgi didn't go any further than that, that day being the last time you had made real-life conversation with her, but Seulgi fully acknowledging your existence alone is a huge step up for you, and now whenever you two make eye contact, whether it's in gym or the hallways, almost every time she blesses your shy soul with a warm smile to which you reciprocate back an awkward half smile.

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It's now the current date, February 12th, two days until Valentine's Day.

There's a plan you have in mind, but it's so far out of your comfort zone that you don't know if you'll be able to pull yourself to go through with it.

You look down at the note in your hands, rereading it, soaking in the words, pondering it, hoping that you can bring yourself to a conclusion quickly.

Tomorrow morning could we meet at that one tree near the entrance of the tennis court? I feel like it's about time you should know who I truly am!

— Candy ♡

Because it's been months of you and Seulgi hitting it off with the letters and since it's so close to Valentine's Day, you thought why not try to ask her to be your Valentine? You know that if you don't reveal yourself now, then you most likely never will, so why waste this perfect opportunity than to make your reveal to her even more special?

And besides, after a while, Seulgi will surely lose interest in talking with and responding back to basically an invisible person who's leading her on to nowhere.

You let in a deep breath to calm yourself down before sliding the note inside the envelope and sealing it closed with your signature heart sticker. The note is held close to you as you lie under the covers of your bed and turn off your lamp, trying your best to comfortably sleep through the night. You will go through with this.

—

When making your entrance into school the next morning, your mind is full of uncontrollable doubt. For some reason, you now think you're taking things too quickly.. maybe it's too soon? But you've already come this far, there's no way you can back out now.

You walk up to Seulgi's locker, making sure beforehand that no one's around, and hurriedly slip the envelope through the slot, quickly running away to your first class.

Class periods go by and soon it's lunchtime. You walk back to Seulgi's locker to check on the note, hoping to arrive back to a response, but when you search the top of her locker you frown.

There's nothing.

Quickly you're starting to get nervous again, imagining the worst, thinking that Seulgi's ignoring Candy now. Maybe she even threw away the note! You knew this was all just a mistake to do from the start!..

You grip your arm awkwardly, walking away from the lockers with your head held down in shame and dreadfully enter the cafeteria, grab a lunch tray, and look around in search of an open seat. You normally sit alone in the far corner of the cafeteria, but a random friend group for some reason stole your table today so now you're forced to actually be seen out in the open. You groan, looking around for empty tables with fail until you notice an open section at an occupied table. There's at least a two-seat distance from the other person sitting on that side of the bench so that's okay enough for your introverted comfort.

But what you didn't realize when sitting down at the table was that Seulgi and her friends were sitting at the other end. You froze as your eyes locked on her figure, stopping yourself mid-chewing with the fork still sitting in your mouth.

You could hear them speaking on the topic of Valentine's Day which instantly opened your ears to eavesdrop.

"So Seulgi, has anyone asked you to be their valentine yet?" One of her friends asks. Seulgi laughs shyly. "Actually, a lot of guys have asked me!"

Your heart sinks at the excitement in her words.

"But.. I haven't accepted any of their offers."

You're suddenly confused. You never saw any of the guys' said attempts, but you're so sure she would've accepted one of them by now since it seems like so many people have asked, right?

"Then who are you gonna go out with? Are you seriously going to ride single again this year?" Another one of Seulgi's friends chimes in, rolling their eyes as if they're disappointed in her.

Seulgi quickly shakes her head at them in protest and pulls out her backpack, digging deeply through it. You can see something poking out as she pulls something out, your letter, but then she hesitates and pushes it back down, zipping her bag closed. "I think I'll have a Valentine tomorrow.. You know, I know I haven't really updated you guys about anything, but I've still been receiving those letters from my secret admirer and honestly, it seems like he's been hinting at me that he'll ask me!"

All of her friends squeal, now starting to bombard her with questions. "What—Why haven't you told us? Can you show us a letter? Did he send you another one today?" Someone tries to reach for her backpack but Seulgi's quick to slap their hand away. "No! Move!"

You listen to the conversation in disbelief, slowly chewing on your lunch. Seulgi saw the letter, but she didn't write you a response to it, but she also basically just admitted she'll be your Valentine if you ask her out tomorrow, right?

Also, it's clear she's been keeping you a secret from her friends, but in a way, it flatters you because it makes this thing feel so much more personal. No friends with her to laugh at your conversations, just genuine bonding. It really seems like she's looking forward to you..

..But her words sting at you once again once she speaks the words "He."

You've never asked her if she likes girls or given her any hints you even are one, which is stupid, you know, but every time you thought about writing it you'd freak out and crumble up the note.

You almost feel bad. You're the mole amongst the table while the girls continue to wonder and guess who the admirer is, obviously expecting a hot football player, not someone like you. You bet she rejected all of the guys asking her out just so she could wait to be asked out by you, and now once she meets you she's probably going to be faced with disappointment..

In the deep corner of your mind, there was always a thought knowing that rejection for simply being a girl was a huge possibility, but you never fully registered how you would react, the embarrassment and shame that would come from it. You knew you weren’t ready to handle that.

On the detour back to your locker at the end of the day to grab your backpack, passing by Seulgi's locker, you spot a piece of paper sticking out from the top of her locker. Looking around to make sure no one's paying attention to you, you slickly grab the paper and quickly walk away to your locker trying not to look suspicious.

As you approach your locker you look down and read the note you sent Seulgi, flipping it over, reading over her response, and see her confirming she'll meet up with you tomorrow.

You want to smile at this, but nothing can distract you from the ongoing fear you have.

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You want to throw up.

After your long night of anticipation, it's finally the day you'll be asking Seulgi to be your Valentine.

There's no way you can back down now, she's already agreed to meet and if you don't and try to write her an excuse instead on why you didn't show up then she'll for sure never respond to your notes again!

You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, taking in deep breaths as you examine your curled pigtails. You never thought you would see yourself wearing your hair in anything other than down, but while you and Seulgi were talking a few months back she had mentioned her favorite hairstyle was pigtails, so why not do that? You already knew you weren't the most attractive person out there, so maybe she'd find you more appealing this way?

You walk out of the bathroom with your mind finally formed at some sort of peace, grab your bag, and pick up your gifts for Seulgi before finally gaining the courage to walk out of the house.

The wind is chilly as it swishes past your bare legs while you walk down the sidewalk. Soon, you reach the school grounds, being greeted with an unnerving chill up your spine upon entrance.

You so badly want to turn around to go back home and just forget about all of this—it's terrifying, really.

But you inhale one final breath, breathing in slowly and exhaling all of your worries and doubts away. You return on your walk through the school campus, the couples around you punching at your heart as you walk past them being all up and close on each other, the girls blushing as their boyfriends gift them roses, tiny teddy bears, and boxes of chocolates. You know, the stereotypical things.

You approach closer to the tennis court, your heart booming in your chest as the calm thoughts you thought you managed are overrun with fear. What if Seulgi's not even waiting there? What if this is just a waste of time?

You squeeze your eyes shut when turning the corner leading to the tennis court, not bearing to watch your failed plan. Your eyes slowly opening, your body tenses seeing Seulgi standing by the tree just like you had asked her, her scrolling on her phone as she waits patiently.

She actually listened to you. Well, to Candy.

You hold Seulgi's gifts behind your back and slowly but surely make your approach to her, your legs shaking in fear after each step.

Quickly, in the corner of her eye, Seulgi notices you and lifts her head, beaming a joyful smile your way. You gulp and smile awkwardly at her, stepping closer until the two of you are a good three feet apart. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" Seulgi innocently asks.

Your lips quiver, looking into her oblivious eyes, preparing your words. "I-I.. I wanted to give you something important.." You somehow manage out past your shaky breath. You hesitate your actions, but pull yourself together and hold one of your hands out, a note held tightly between your fingers as you offer it to Seulgi.

There really is no turning back now.

— Seulgiwifee ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১

#red velvet #kpop imagines #red velvet imagines #seulgi #kang seulgi #seulgi imagines #kpop #wlw #seulgi x reader #seulgi red velvet #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #fem reader #fluff

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