#he said well oranges it is when given the opportunity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 2 months

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summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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maarrgarr · 9 months

Text

The Unknown Heir.

masterlist of the Unknown Heir.

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader.

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warning: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

The morning of that day began with you waking Ryusei up with a delicious breakfast in bed. "Happy Birthday my beautiful baby!" you told him when he opened his eyes. He gave you a big smile showing his white teeth and jumped towards you, hugging you around the neck. "You don't have to call me that anymore mommy, I'm grown up" he told you. You died of tenderness, but at the same time your heart broke knowing it was true.

You noticed how Ryu's eyes sparkled when he saw his favorite foods on the tray: mochis, pancakes with chocolate syrup, was accompanied with orange juice and chocolate milk. Ryu loved sweet foods, and although you didn't like that he ate so much sweet because it could hurt him, since it was his birthday, of course you left him.

When he finished his breakfast, you helped him get dressed and you both went to the infirmary so that he could stay with Shoko. "Can't you stay with me even today?" he asked you with a sad face. "Sorry love, but I have to go to work. I promise you that tonight we'll have a great time with everyone, yes?" He nodded a little more happily, "And will you give me the gift I asked for?" he asked and luckily, Shoko just opened the door. "Happy birthday to my beautiful nephew!" Ryu's attention drifted to his aunt and soon the two of them were in each other's arms.

You left Ryusei and went to the training ground where Tetsuo, Rumi and Gojo were already there. It was the same as always, the students trained among themselves, while you and Satoru watched them. You two didn't talk as usual, and you didn't look at each other either.

You were sorry for Ryusei, but you still weren't ready to talk to Gojo, let alone tell him the truth.

But, unfortunately for you, time has already given you several opportunities to tell him, which you missed. So fate would see to it that Ryusei got his birthday present.

It was already getting dark. And in one of the rooms, there were Shoko, Rumi, Ijichi, Ryusei, to your surprise there was also Yaga and lastly you. On the table there was a light blue cake with white details and around it many sweet things and on another smaller table, were the gifts that had been brought to Ryusei. While the room was also decorated with light blue and white balloons.

It was a quiet gathering, all of you chatting and laughing. Soon it was time for Ryu to blow out the candle. You lit the candles and soon everyone sang happy birthday to him. You picked up Ryu and he blew out all three candles. You smiled happily and kissed him cheek lovingly. "I love you" you whispered and he kissed you back on the cheek, "I love you more, mommy."

After blowing out the candles, they kept talking and having a nice time all together. Until Ryu yelled excitedly: "let's play hide and seek!". You were about to say no, since they were all big people and you didn't think they wanted to play that game, Ryusei's favorite. But Shoko spoke before: "Let's play". Rumi and Ijichi agreed, the latter a bit intimidated by Ryu, who almost forced him to play. You turned to Yaga thinking that he would say no, but to your surprise, very seriously he said: "I'll play."

"Mom counts!" Ryusei said and ran off, soon the others followed. You didn't give much thought to the fact that your son was out there by himself, so you just closed the loop and started counting.

Ryusei was running through the corridors trying to find a good hiding place. Hide and seek was his favorite game and he hated being found first. He looked at possible places, but none convinced him. In a corner he turned and for not looking well, he ended up colliding with someone.

Ryusei's gaze was on the person's legs since he was very tall. He looked up and saw a man, with hair the same as his and with bandages covering his eyes. "Sorry" Ryusei apologized, but for some reason he didn't leave.

Satoru walked through the halls with his hands in his pockets. He was ready to go to his apartment, where Megumi and Tsumiki were waiting for him. When he suddenly noticed how a small body was approaching he did it quickly and bumped into it.

Gojo couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a boy with his same hair color, his same eye color. He was just like him.

Satoru couldn't understand what was happening. Many things were going through his mind. Maybe he was dreaming? no, he was pretty sure he was awake. Perhaps there was some rupture in space-time where his child self and his adult self met? either, everything seemed to be normal. So why the fuck was there a kid exactly like him?

Ryusei couldn't understand what was happening either or really, he couldn't understand what he was feeling. Being in front of that man, he felt a kind of energy shock, it was strange. Ryusei was a little intimidated by the tall man, but at the same time, he was very curious about him.

On the other side were you. You finished counting and went looking for them. You checked every room you came across, but you never found anyone. You'd be lying if you said you weren't excited, you felt like a little girl.

You turned a corner and found yourself with a scene that took away all your emotion and, on the contrary, made your nerves invade you.

Ryusei and Satoru face to face.

Quickly, father and son, turned to see you. You weren't surprised that Satoru noticed your presence so quickly, but you were surprised that Ryu did. "Mom" Ryusei said.

Gojo felt a chill run through him when he heard how the boy identical to him called you mom.

He turned to look back at the child and realized that he didn't seem to be more than three years old, the same number of years since you left. Memories of you throwing up, memories of him noticing how you ate more than usual and how you had frequent emotional swings, washed over him.

And as if his mind were a puzzle and memories were the pieces, he felt everything coming together and fitting together perfectly.

That boy was his son

TAG LIST: @jellykingsblog, @dummyf , @nyfwyeonjun , @lenasvoid , @yyxy27 , @staygoldsquatchling02 , @whoami-72 , @blackcatpandora , @descargueestoporgojosatoru , @iluv-ace , @mommasbigd , @guenievresworld , @idktbhloley , @cluvsya, @ieathairs , @darianias , @dcvilxswish , @kyriekurokami , @yourfavstalker25789 .

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk x y/n #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen satoru

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leclerc-s · 2 months

Text

the end of an era

series masterlist

liked by dulceperez, schecoperez, maxjonesverstappen1 and others

isabellaperez talk about a post i never thought i would be making anytime soon. after much consideration, many tears (mostly on my part), i've decided that my time with red bull is over. i am grateful for all the opportunities red bull has given me but it's time to move on to bigger things. red bull will always be my family, no matter where i go next. to the orange army, thank you for enjoying my commentary and jokes as one of your many admins. fret not mis amigos, this is not the last you'll hear from me. i'll be back and better than ever!

tagged: redbullracing

user has restricted comments

pierregasly DID YOU GET FIRED OR SOMETHING? WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?

schecoperez vas a hacer cosas grandes isabella!

↳ isabellaperez gracias tio checo!

alex_albon did you get fired or something? what happened to i'm not leaving until max retires?

maejonesverstappen sad to see you go!

↳ isabellaperez i'll still be around!

nataliaruiz what the fuck??

carlossainz55 you're leaving red bull?

georgerussell63 what the hell is happening right now?

rhysjones what on earth is going on in the house of commons?

dulceperez okay, even i'm confused??

honey badger YOU'RE LEAVING?

duckling no? super max SHE’S A BIG FAT FUCKING LIAR! SHE’S LEAVING ME BEHIND!

paddock dad fred offered you a job at ferrari didn’t he?

duckling social media manager and an engineering internship super max YOU ALREADY HAD THAT HERE WITH ADRIAN! duckling i was adrian’s errand girl at best. i learned things, but i want hands on max!

duckling and i was just one of many admins at red bull. i get to be manager now!

honey badger i can’t believe fred got you + red bull engineers + lewis at ferrari

duckling he’s bald because he’s so big brained. duckling do not tell him i said that! i cannot be getting fired when i just got my dream job.

paddock dad and you told everyone at red bull where you were going?

duckling not necessarily. i only told them i got a different job

super max she only told me, mae, and checo

super max she's a coward like that!

duckling besides, it was for the best. christian was scared i was going to go start spilling company secrets to mclaren/oscar. not that i would ever do that! and i talked to fred before i got the job, he trust me to not tell mclaren/oscar anything.

paddock dad christian didn't trust you? duckling he's a little paranoid like that. duckling also, red bull's full of memories of when i was with austin. i loved the environment there but sometimes it just gets too much. super max why did you never say anything? duckling because i can handle my own problems, and going to therapy helps.

honey badger on the brightside, at least she'll be at the paddock every weekend.

honey badger and i bet she's thrilled to work at ferrari, arthur and ollie are there + nat, charles, and penny. duckling well, penny only for this season.

super max hey, seb?

paddock dad i don't know why lewis left mercedes for ferrari. i'm not coming back to racing. if i did know, i wouldn't tell anyone because that's for lewis to tell. duckling give me a year and i'll find out! super max we're counting on you!

liked by charles_leclerc, nataliaruiz, zoyatorres and others

isabellaperez to quote the great sebastian vettel, "everybody's a ferrari fan."

user has restricted comments

arthur_leclerc ISABELLA WHAT DOES THIS MEAN!

olliebearman welcome to the dark side??

oscarpiastri does this mean what i think it means??

zoyatorres i'm so confused, what on earth is happening?

↳ logansargeant you're confused? i'm fucking confused

↳ landonorris we're all fucking confused! what is happening

baileywinters hello? what does this mean?

penelopetrevino ANSWER YOUR TEXTS!!

maxjonesverstappen1 i don't want to see this shit.

↳ maejonesverstappen don't be a party pooper!

rowantodd does anyone know what's happening?

lewishamilton what is going on?

penelope trevino ISABELLA MARIA PEREZ!! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON???

rowan todd WHAT'S HAPPENING?

george russell YOU'RE LEAVING RED BULL??

max verstappen she doesn't have a middle name?

alex albon WHAT HAPPENED TO STAYING WITH RED BULL UNTIL MAX RETIRED??

oscar piastri is this about the thing?

daniel jones-ricciardo if this is about what you think it is, then yes? oscar piastri i didn't know she had accepted it!

lando norris WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? SOMEONE ANSWER US!

daphne jones-ricciardo you're going to ferrari aren't you?

isabella perez YEAH BABY! SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER AND AN ENGINEERING INTERNSHIP

zoya torres i thought you had engineering under newey?

isabella perez being an errand girl is not what i wanted zo! it's actual helping with the engineers! adrian didn't like that i was too jittery from all the coffee and red bull i drank. isabella perez i just asked him.

arthur leclerc LET'S GO!

ollie bearman i have to see you more than i already do?

rhys jones HOW DO I GET A JOB AT FERRARI?!

max jones-verstappen rhys, you're going to leave your acting job to work at ferrari? rhys jones never mind!

charles leclerc good luck with sylvia

carlos sainz is that why you couldn't even look me in the eye the last time we saw each other?

isabella perez oh that was because i found out about the lewis moving to ferrari and i felt bad. i accidentally overheard before my last meeting with fred. carlos sainz oh

lewis hamilton i thought i had gotten away free from ever having to work with you

isabella perez just because i said no toger doesn't mean you got away free sir hamilton! george russell but that does mean i'm off scot-free!! LET'S GO!

isabella perez question, will i be fired from ferrari for drinking red bull?

penelope trevino just hide it, that's what carlos does. carlos sainz working with red bull means you get a crippling addiction to red bull. pierre gasly he's not wrong. alex albon unfortunately i still suffer from addiction to red bull yuki tsunoda i will smuggle you the drinks isa isabella perez thank you yuki!

charles leclerc must you immediately cause chaos?

max jones-verstappen that's her brand charles. get used to it. daniel jones-ricciardo she will also embarrass you every opportunity she gets alex albon or jumpscare you at any given opportunity.

isabella perez how the fuck am i meant to handle all my responsibilities?

lando norris should've taken the job at mclaren you muppet.

daniel jones-ricciardo HOW MANY PEOPLE WANTED YOU?

isabella perez i had offers from mercedes, mclaren, and ferrari. fernando also tried bribing me to join aston martin after seb left. fernando alonso that is not true isabella! isabella perez oh it totally is old man!

zoya torres why not mclaren? oscar works there, you'd spend more time with him.

isabella perez i love my boyfriend and lando okay, but i will never, ever forgive mclaren for what they did to danny. bros before hoes. oscar piastri wow. so now i'm a hoe? isabella perez in this scenario yes babe.

daniel jones-ricciardo i thought we were past the mclaren thing by now?

rhys jones we're still at the restaurant. isabella perez what they did was unforgivable in my eyes. sure, oscar got an oppotunity but there are better ways to do things and they failed miserably.

logan sargeant but why leave red bull now? that's what i'm still confused on.

isabella perez i've been with red bull for 3 years, i needed a change.

sebastian vettel i think you'll do great at ferrari isabella.

isabella perez thanks seb!

rhys jones do you think you can convince fred to let you be race engineer to charles or carlos for one race?

arthur leclerc she could probably talk them into a quali at least. carlos sainz please don't torment me with that isabella perez well know i'm going to make it my mission.

bailey winters i've been trying to process for over 20 minutes that isa's leaving red bull. i can't wrap my head around it.

alex albon i'm still shock. lily's asked me if i'm alright about four times already.

dulce perez how did i never find out? you're a blabbermouth.

isabella perez you told me in november that i couldn't keep a secret. i proved you wrong.

max jones-verstappen YOU'VE KNOWN SINCE NOVEMBER? I FOUND OUT IN JANUARY!! isabella perez yes? why do you think i haven't posted anything on the red bull accounts? max jones-verstappen i thought you were being lazy for once. isabella perez no, i told christian back in november i wouldn't be returning for the next season. i didn't want to make a big deal out of it so i waited until abu dhabi.

george russell WE SPENT CHRISTMAS TOGETHER! HOW COULD YOU LIE TO US?!

mae jones-verstappen this is betrayal isabella.

alex albon did you know pastry boy?

oscar piastri no? i knew she was offered the job i just didn't know she had already taken it.

isabella perez anyways. get ready for most chaotic year of ferrari since fernando lost the championship to seb in 2012.

fernando alonso i am surrounded by children.

sebastian vettel that's what you get for being old.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting@anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! i don't think i ever mentioned that isabella is an engineering student, so my bad, but i'm mentioning it now! originally i was going to post this part when the season started back up again but then i remembered dts was coming out today so i putting it out now. this is also because i'm working on a dts part and i mentioned this specific move in that and i realized i couldn't post that without posting this one first.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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rollinouttahere-writes · 2 months

Note

Happy valentines ! Can I request dark chocolate for 5 and 8 please for Ace 🙏

This is lowkey a prequel to this one tbh

Yandere Ace x GN!Reader

1.3k words

Prompts:

You deserve this and more. Everything in the world, if you ask me.

If you don’t make a decision, I will.

Everyone tried to change your mind and discourage you from continuing your relationship with a certain pirate, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

Well, to be fair, you’re not sure you could call it a relationship. You two were in the throws of a flirty, will-we-won’t-we phase. Ace was extremely charming in a goofy, boy next door sort of way, and you found it irresistible. He was something new and exciting in an otherwise boring town. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have as much fun with him as possible while you could. Sure, the rest of his crew was filled with other fun individuals that you’d also enjoyed getting to know, but Ace was a definitive favorite.

When he asked you to meet up with him in a secluded spot late at night, you eagerly agreed and spent all day looking forward to whatever he had in store for you. He seemed excited about it too, so you’re sure that it’s going to be something good. Given how wary everyone has been in regards to Ace, you told no one about it. The meeting would be a secret rendezvous between two maybe-lovers. At least that’s how you were seeing it.

After making sure you looked your absolute best, you snuck out of the village and headed for where Ace said to meet him. Your heart pounded in anticipation, wondering what the night would bring.

At the south end of the small island you lived on was a cliff face overlooking the beautiful expanse of the endless ocean. The spot was actually already a well established location for romantic rendezvous, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Ace was aware of that. Was it purely a coincidence, or had he done that intentionally?

Using the forest as a means to hide yourself from any prying eyes did make the trip a little longer than it needed to be, but you didn’t want to risk anyone you knew seeing and trying to stop you. The trees eventually started to thin out, and you could see the clearing of the cliff face peeking through the spaces. You pressed forward with a renewed energy, feeling giddy like a teenager with a crush.

The first thing that caught your eyes was Ace’s bright orange hat, it was impossible to miss. It seemed he had his back to you. Grinning mischievously, you reduce your light jog into a slow creep, careful not to make a noise in the brush as you close in on your unsuspecting love. In the last few steps, you lurch forward; crashing into his back and wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

Ace yelped in surprise, but relaxed quickly upon hearing your familiar giggles. He squirmed around in your grip so he could face you. His strong arms circled around you, returning your gesture gently but firmly. You sank into him, nuzzling your face into the fabric of his yellow shirt and basking in the comfort of his scent. Notes of the sea, a campfire, and his natural musk.

“I’m glad you came, I was nervous that you wouldn’t show,” he spoke in a quiet voice. One of his fingers was tracing circles on your back soothingly.

“Of course I did, how could I ever pass up on this?”

His arms tightened and he chuckled, “You’re too kind to me.” Ace relinquished his hold on you, and you begrudgingly did the same. You finally properly took in your surroundings and noticed a blanket thrown over the ground near the cliff. A lit lantern and a basket sat on top of it.

You squealed excitedly and hugged Ace again, “Is this a picnic? Oh, You didn’t have to do all this for me!”

“I wanted to do this for you. You deserve this and more. Everything in the world, if you ask me.” The words were spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made your face hot to the touch and your heart flutter. How could any of your fellow villagers think of him as nothing more than some awful brute? He’s such a sweetheart.

He motioned for you to sit down and make yourself comfortable, and you had no reason to object. You’d been so preoccupied about tonight that you’d neglected to eat, so the late night meal was more than welcome. While you were happily digging in, you couldn’t help but notice that Ace wasn’t doing the same. All he did was pick at his food and occasionally steal glances at you. Upon looking a little more closely, you can see that he’s blushing.

Was this going to be it? Would he make your relationship official?

Your staring didn’t go unnoticed. Ace made eye contact with you, only for his face to turn a deeper shade of red and look away. Feeling emboldened by what, in your opinion, was confirmation of your feelings being mutual, you scoot closer to him and link your arms around one of his..

“So… Did you bring me here so you could tell me something?” You’re far too eager to let this progress naturally, so you try to goad him on.

The tips of his ears now matched his face, but he found it in him to speak. “I did.” There was a pause as he mentally prepared himself for what was about to be said. With a shake of his head, the nervousness dissipated and shifted into determination. He turned to face you fully and took your hands in his. The skin was rough, but so warm that it teetered on the edge of hot.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can only gawk at him.

“I’ve met so many people, but no one has made me feel the way that you do. You’re so perfect that I feel wrong for even touching you, but I can’t help myself but want more of you. I know it’s selfish, but I need you. I need you by my side. So I need to ask you something.” Ace pulled you closer, resting his forehead against your own, “Will you come with me?”

The elation from his confession abruptly crashes down around you as the reality of the situation hits you. Could you really go with him? Could you leave everything behind for a man that you’ve only known for a week? As love struck as you are, it’s not enough to completely blind you from reason.

Your hesitation and lack of a response punches Ace in the gut. His face falls and the heartbreak in his eyes almost makes you cave and agree. “You… You don’t feel the same.”

“N-No! That’s not it! I do feel the same! I mean- I love you, too. It’s just…” You trailed off as you struggled to articulate your dilemma and averted your gaze. “I don’t know that I can just up and leave so suddenly. My whole life is here… I need to think about it, okay?”

You look at his face once again, hoping to see understanding in his eyes. Rather than that, all you saw was hurt and betrayal, like he couldn’t believe your words. His hands still tightly grasped yours, but now they trembled. You wrack your mind to find the right words to sooth him, but you’re coming up blank.

“If you don’t make a decision, I will.”

The statement from Ace catches you entirely off guard. It… It almost sounded like a threat. The sparse lighting of the lantern only made his expression look more ominous. All you can do is stammer out a meek, “Excuse me?”

“We set sail tomorrow. If you haven’t made a decision by then, I will make it for you.” He finally let go of you and you were quick to put some distance in between you two. The warnings from your friends and family were starting to make a lot more sense.

“You’re going to be on that ship with me.” There was no question here, Ace appeared to already have his mind set on a specific outcome, and you’re afraid of what’s going to happen if you try and keep that from happening.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #portgas d ace x reader #yandere #valentines day event #ladydoe8

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sarahghetti · 7 months

Text

absolutely purr-fect; m.k. x reader

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: you and the boys adopt a cat.

warnings: none! only fluff 'round here, folks.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

if there’s one thing the boys all have in common, it’s that they’re all cat people.

steven thinks they’re particularly cute, and has always liked the idea of having a cat curled up beside him as he reads.

jake got attacked by a dog during a mission once and has been wary of them ever since.

marc just appreciates their independence—the fact that their trust needs to be earned with a little more effort, a little more patience.

(you give him this look when he says that, and steven snorts from inside their headspace. marc pointedly ignores you both.)

they’ve always wanted a cat, but the logistics of it never worked out given their vigilante schedule.

getting someone to drop by and feed gus the ii and his friend once a day? no problem. but leaving a cat at the flat? even if it were in the care of one of their neighbours, the idea makes them uneasy.

but then they met you. and since you’ve moved in with them, the opportunity has become much, much more feasible.

steven often looks through listings from the nearby adoption centres, cooing over the cats they have available.

steven lets out the most precious little gasp, excitement illuminated by his laptop, and you can’t help but lean over to see what he’s looking at. a picture of a scrawny-looking shorthair with a pronounced snout is pulled up on the screen.

“his name is scream,” steven supplies, utterly enamoured.

“scream,” you repeat, and he nods. “well, the flat does have good soundproofing.”

he scrolls down some more and almost instantly, there’s a fluffy mess lounging on the back of a couch that catches your eye. your hand falls on steven’s to stop him from going down any further.

“kit kat!” you take control of the trackpad to circle kit kat’s adorable face. steven shakes his head, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, but does kit kat hold a candle to margarine?” margarine is a kitten so small that she looks like she’d immediately get lost in the mess of books and knickknacks strewn about the apartment.

steven’s posed an impossible question. you pout a little. “I want both.”

he sighs. “me too, love.”

jake sends you a picture of every single cat he spots on the street. they vary in quality—some are so close that you can count each whisker while others are nothing more than a fuzzy blob in the night.

the utter quantity is enviable. you have half a mind to think that they just spend their entire night patrol looking for cats around the city.

that said, if you ask, “did you get to pet it?” the answer is almost always no.

for all of yours and steven’s window adopting online, marc is the one who ends up bringing a cat home.

not even an hour after marc left to patrol, you stir awake to the sound of the front door banging against the adjacent wall. your boyfriend’s quiet voice hisses, “shit.”

“marc?” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. usually, he’s mum as a mouse when he comes back, cautious not to disturb you. you squint at him in the dark. “are you okay?”

“’m fine.” his silhouette moves into the living room, and one of the softer lamps is clicked on. “just—”

a sharp little mrow interrupts him, and you both fall silent as it rings out in the flat. was… was that—?

mreo-o-o-ow!

“marc!” you throw the blankets to the side as you jump out of bed, scurrying so fast to his side that you nearly trip over your own feet.

he’s still in the suit, mask and hood retracted, and held gingerly in his gloved hands is a dirty bundle of orange fur. the little guy is dwarfed against marc’s broad chest; narrowed green eyes watch your movements suspiciously. you bring your hand up to let the kitten sniff you, but marc leans away. “careful—he’s a bit touchy.”

“you’re holding him fine,” you point out, and he snorts.

“hardly.” as if on cue, the kitten lets out another piercing cry, squirming and scratching so fiercely that you’re sure it would leave some marks if not for the suit. marc grimaces as he tries to maintain his grip without hurting him, but his eyes widen when you sigh endearingly. “oh, no, don’t you dare—”

“can we keep him?”

while marc knows that he can’t say no to you for very long—a fact that’s going to be the end of him someday, he swears—he does effectively put that conversation on hold until the kitten can see a veterinarian in the morning.

trying to convince you to go back to sleep is a lost cause. you’ve brought home a stray kitten, marc—there’s no way you’re leaving him to try and figure out what to do on his own.

the commotion also wakes up steven and jake. you can only hear marc’s side of the conversation, but it’s clear that they’re as excited as you are for your new guest.

marc’s staring down the mirror, brow furrowed at whatever his alters are telling him through the reflection. the kitten is nonplussed by the argument happening over its head, only sinking further into marc’s arms.

“no, we can’t keep him—”

“aw, come on!” you interject. marc, unable to do anything that could bring you down when there’s that much excitement in your voice, only responds with a restless noise.

“he could already have an owner somewhere,” he reasons. one of them must offer to take over, because his mouth twists into a stubborn scowl soon after. “I’m fine.”

getting marc to take care of himself is a herculean feat, so you switch tactics, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think they just wanna meet the kitty.”

still, he bristles, and holds the kitten almost protectively against his chest. “the meet and greet can happen after we figure out what we’re doing.”

he steps away from the mirror then, and you pump your fist when his back is turned.

there’s a chance.

it’s the most intense googling research session you’ve ever been a part of.

marc gets most of the grime off its fur with a damp cloth, handling the kitten so gently that it might as well be made of glass. he still won’t let you touch it—too worried that it’ll hurt you somehow.

(you go along with it because yeah, if it does bite you, there’s no way marc’s letting you guys keep it.)

an old cardboard box is pulled out of recycling to serve as a makeshift bed, and some spare towels are neatly spread out on the bottom to provide some bedding.

you watch marc have a staring contest with the kitten as it sits inside, every muscle in his body tensed and ready as if anticipating a fight. the kitten, a valiant opponent, doesn’t seem to show any fear at the sight of your boyfriend, ancient ceremonial armor be damned.

it’s not until it’s contentedly chomping down on some boiled chicken you prepared that marc finally gives up the driver’s seat, getting some rest at yours and the others’ insistence.

jake comes in with a wide, wide grin, immediately crouching beside the box with a disbelieving sound.

“so small,” he comments, twiddling his fingers in a way to entice the little guy. the spark in jake’s eye is enough to know that he’s on your side in the keep-him-or-don’t conversation.

which means that finally, you can ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“what should we name him?” after the impromptu bath, the orange of its fur gleams a little warmer in the low light of the flat, but you wait patiently as you let kitten sniff you. you bite back a giggle when its whiskers brush against your hand.

jake winces in a way that tells you that he must be getting an earful from inside the headspace, but presses on. “juice? naranja? OJ?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you really want to name him after orange juice, huh.”

“yeah well, steven says some egyptian god.” he rolls his eyes. typical.

“and what does marc say?”

“marc says—” his voice shifts to a monotone drone “’—oh my god stop trying to pet the cat it’s still dirty and hostile and why are we trying to name the damn thing it’s only been here for like an hour it’s not staying jake shut your mouth you’re not funny—’”

your laugh startles the kitten but you can’t help it, burying your head in your arms to muffle the sound to no avail. if you looked up, you’d see the smug look jake is pointing at his nearest reflection.

there’s a nudge at your side as you quiet down. “and what about you, carino? what do you think?”

“hmm.” you tilt your head. “where did marc find him?”

a pause as he listens, then, “in a dumpster. behind that chinese place we like.”

your mind whirs, and you can see that jake is following the same train of thought. egg tart. chicken chow mein. mapo tofu.

you gasp, “dumpling.”

the look on marc’s face when you put ‘dumpling’ on the forms at the veterinarian’s office is priceless.

for what it’s worth, the kitten is in surprisingly good shape. some washing up, a round of vaccinations, and one microchip later, he’s released back into your care with little fanfare, but you’re positively buzzing.

you guys go a little overboard at the pet shop. jake fills the handbasket with an assortment of toys while steven and marc argue incessantly about the best food to buy, which bed he’d prefer.

“thought you didn’t even want to keep him!” steven snarks into the gleam of a metal shelf at some point, and you can practically hear marc’s ensuing scoff.

when you guys get home, jake dumps all the toys on the ground at once, a colourful mess of bells and feathers that almost blend into steven’s existing mess.

to no one’s surprise, dumpling plays more with the disposable plastic bag than the toys themselves. still, that doesn’t matter—jake can lay on his stomach and play with him for hours.

steven, mediocre human food chef, becomes a master cat food chef.

“good god,” you comment as he comes back from the store with his arms full of fancy looking packages. what started as mixing wet food in with the dry has seemingly become a new pinpoint of steven’s focus, and your eyebrows raise a little more with each label you read.

chicken liver, mussels, duck egg—all freeze dried and decked out in cartoony illustrations. dumpling jumps up to take a look, sniffing inquisitively at each bag.

“you’re gonna be eating better than us,” you quip. he’s still a little cautious, shying from sudden movements, so you just let him explore and don’t push when he slinks away.

“little guy only deserves the best, doesn’t he?” steven pulls out dumpling’s fish-shaped dish. you watch, mesmerized as he carefully begins to put food on it; he’s even pulled out the kitchen scale to properly measure everything.

steven talks as he goes, telling you (and dumpling) about each element with the same vigor he would apply to egyptology. organ meats for nutrients, bone broth for hydration, oils for a shiny coat—dumpling looks as baffled as you are.

although—he also looks quite impatient. steven keeps having to push him back to keep him from the dish before it’s ready. his little paws slide on the counter each time.

“ta-da!” steven presents the finished product to you with a flourish. it’s surprisingly well-plated for someone who sometimes eats straight from the pan.

though it doesn’t last long. the second he places it down, dumpling is ravenous. broth is splashed onto the ground. bits of dehydrated powder get caught in his chin. you worry a little that he’s gonna choke somehow.

steven manages to pull his attention away from the scene for a second, turning to you. a proud smile pulls at his lips. “think he likes it?”

with all your efforts, it doesn’t take very long for dumpling to get comfortable; the flat becomes his kingdom.

you find him lounging on the top shelves of steven’s bookcases and leaving stapler-like holes in marc’s research notes with his teeth.

jake is constantly running around looking for his driving gloves because dumpling always manages to get his paws on them and always squirrels them away in separate locations, somehow.

you wake up more often than not to a mouthful of fur—he loves to sleep on your pillow, regardless of whether or not your head is already on it.

“why. why.” marc dangles dumpling in the air by his front legs. an entire piece of sushi—swiped from marc’s plate on the coffee table—hangs from the kitten’s mouth, nearly the size of his head. there is not a hint of remorse. “steven’s putting a dent in our finances to buy you organic beef hearts or whatever-the-hell and you come over here to steal my food?”

the defendant remains silent. marc lets out a low grumble and deposits dumpling onto his lap, sushi and all, keeping his hand on him to stop him from taking anything else.

you lean into his side. “thought you said we shouldn’t give him any scraps, hm?”

it’s true—while jake folded immediately, often sneaking bites to dumpling under the table, and steven excuses a bit here and there just as a treat, love—marc is the strict cat-dad who stubbornly ignores those big, begging green eyes whenever they pop up during a meal.

or at least, he was. marc chews slowly, an obvious delay to answering your question, and so you hum again, prodding. it’s not that he’s hated having the cat around, but for a while it was clear that he was the sole holdout to keeping him.

finally, he swallows. you wait with bated breath as he sighs. “he can have a little bit. just this once, though.”

the last part is said directly to the culprit, who’s purring like a motor with the soils of his hunt. your grin is blinding. marc goes back to eating, but you and dumpling come to the same delightful conclusion—

yeah, it’s not going to be just this once.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing

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gojot-t · 2 months

Note

Heloooo!

Can i have a 1 second chance romance with topping “I can’t imagine going back to a life without you.” “Then stay.” ?

Name is Sae Itoshi ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

from the valentine's day event! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

itoshi sae + second chance romance +"I can't imagine going back to a life without you." "Then stay." ˎˊ˗

tags :: probably ooc sae :(, gn!reader, this doesn't exactly follow the manga, a little angst but overall fluffy yayy, also probably grammar mistakes..

a/n:: anon im so so so sorry for the delay</3 i really hope you will like it nonetheless. on the other hand, this is almost 2k words :o

You remember the first time Sae asked you out.

You both were still children at the time, but in front of the ocean waves and ice cream dripping on the sand, no one had ever made you feel the way he did, so complete and loved.

That day, with the orange of the sunset illuminating his face, you almost thought he was an angel. When he looked at you so intensely and wrapped his hands around yours and whispered those words, like a precious secret between just the two of you, you already knew that he was the one for you.

"When I'm around you, I feel these strange things," he paused as if searching for the right words, "After a while I finally figured out what it was. I like you, I really like you, so... We should just date."

There were no fancy roses or chocolates, just an awkward confession of his way and the childish desire to always be there for each other.

"Dating? Like what adults do?"

"Yeah, like cuddles and stuff..." He looked away embarrassed as he spoke. It was rare to see Sae blush and the sight brought you more joy than you could explain.

"But we're not adults! And we already hug all the time..."

"Whatever, just accept it."

Sae's hands weren't much bigger against yours, but at that moment he felt as if he could hold the world in them.

After that, even though things had changed a bit, it felt natural, a good change. He had treated you well all along, but now he had turned into a complete gentleman. He would insist that you go to all his games to be his "lucky charm" even though he had always said that he didn't need anything but himself to win. "If I see you cheering for me, I'll definitely score another goal."

He would wait for you after school to go for ice cream together, walking hand in hand.

Once you insisted that you play ball together. Despite knowing nothing about the sport, you still wanted to share and support Sae's passion for it, but you just shamefully tripped over the ball and fell flat on your face in front of him, instead of laughing or mocking you, he knelt down beside you so worried that you were surprised. "Are you alright?? Does it hurt?! Do you want me to carry you??"

"I'm fine..."

"Good, don't scare me like that." He had given your knee a little kiss to "heal" and helped you up.

You wish you could cherish moments like that forever and everything was like a beautiful fairytale until Sae was offered professional training in Spain.

He had always loved soccer and that was no secret to anyone, so when the news arrived everyone hugged him and congratulated him. You couldn't have been happier for him and jumping for joy alongside him, despite his usual stoic façade, you knew that he too could barely contain his excitement.

There was just one small problem that you didn't have the courage to point out and apparently, Sae too.

When the day of his departure arrived, your heart was heavy with mixed feelings that you desperately tried not to let show. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Sae, and despite feeling so, so happy for him, when his flight was announced, the curtain of tears in your eyes finally came down.

You expected to meet his angry gaze, for being so selfish and crying at such an important moment for him, but instead you saw kind eyes and a sad smile.

"Don't cry, you look ugly like that."

The tears just fell harder. The hand that had been patting your head moved to your shoulder and pulled you against him.

The sight of you crying for him - because of him - brought an uncomfortable feeling to the pit of his stomach that he couldn't describe, but knew he didn't like. He had no experience in comforting anyone other than Rin, and you weren't Rin, but for your sake he was willing to learn anything.

"You won't forget me, will you?" Your hands grabbed at any piece of him they could reach.

You knew that Sae's family was probably watching the whole interaction, yet at that moment it felt like there were only the two of you in the world.

Sae seemed even sadder. "I should be the one asking this, you know. Don't think you'll be able to get rid of me that easily, I'll still call you every day. There are the holidays too, I'm going to visit at Christmas. Nothing between us is going to change."

You desperately wished it were true, but it never was. Sae didn't come back for Christmas.

The daily calls he'd promised became weekly, stopping only once in a while until you were the only one calling and being answered by the operator's monotone, robotic voice - this number is unavailable. Try again later.

You were worried, then angry with him and then at yourself. You didn't know what had caused the sudden change, so you blamed yourself. No matter how much you wanted to, you had to come to terms with the fact that you'd probably never know if things really could have been different.

Like putting a bandaid on a deep wound, that scar would always be open in you. Sometimes the slightest gust of wind was enough to make it bleed, like passing the ice cream parlor on the corner where you made so many fond memories with him, or Mrs. Sae who still greeted you on the street.

The truth was that the more you tried to forget the boy you handed your heart to on a platter, the more attached you felt to him.

That's why when you saw him standing in front of your door after four long years, you almost thought you were crazy.

With your emotions betraying your reason, you found yourself in front of the ocean waves with Sae again. Your mind has imagined this situation many times and each time you would shout at him, beat your fists against his chest, answer him with the same coldness that he dismissed you from his life, but a simple "Can we talk?" was enough for your determination crumble.

With your arms over your chest – your only armor against the memories that came at you like an avalanche – the dichotomy between the boy with the gentle hands and soft eyes you knew and the man in front of you is so much that it seems to destabilize you.

With his hands in his pockets, Sae almost looks a bit embarrassed. The deja vu of the situation doesn't go unnoticed and you decide to be a little petty and remain silent.

"... Coach said recently that there was still something holding me back in Japan."

"..."

He scratches the back of his neck slightly. "You probably hate me, right? I don't blame you for that... But in the last almost five years there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you."

Hate him? You don't think you've ever hated Sae. Sure, there have been times when you've been angry with him, but hating him... You don't think you're capable of it and the thought haunts you. You'd like to hate him.

"..."

He sighs as if he's tired. "This is where it all started, remember?"

"...Just what am I to you, Sae?" You thought your voice would come out as loud as a scream, but only it shakes with anger. "You... You make me think that you're the only one for me and then you leave just like that! Now you come back out of nowhere, what do you think I'm going to do? Crawl at your feet and say I missed you?! Just what I am to you?"

He doesn't seem surprised and this increases your anger even more. There's just one second where only the waves of the sea can be heard.

"There was this one time in elementary school when the teacher asked us what we wanted for the future. You said you didn't know, but as long as you could see me play you'd be satisfied... That's when I realized I was madly in love with you."

His answer catches you off guard, this happened right at the beginning of his and Sae's friendship.

"I'd never had those kinds of thoughts before. Futebol is an individual sport for me, so I thought my life would be like that too. I'd never imagined someone always by my side before, but then you'd give me that stupid smile with that cute little window of yours and suddenly all I cared about was having you with me."

"S-Sae..."

"When I got the offer to train abroad, I wanted to take you with me, but I couldn't... Some things happened there, and I was no longer the same boy you last saw. I didn't want to disappoint you and I didn't have the courage to look at you again, so... I thought it would be better if you just hated me. I was a coward."

He interlaces your fingers against his.

"Despite everything, all this time that has passed and trying to convince myself that things would be better this way... I can't imagine going back to a life without you."

Sobs clog up the words in your throat and even when you try to reply, all that comes out are cries. with your face stained with tears, you're sure that if it weren't for Sae's arms holding you, your knees would have lost their strength a long time ago.

"Sae, Y-You idiot,” you whisper against his chest, voice heavy with the pain of finally knowing the truth. “Coward.."

He hugs you and caresses your head, his touch has never felt so right on your skin - like the missing piece of a puzzle finally falling into place. So many years ago you were the same size as him, but now his shape completely engulfs yours.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Then stay." He opens his mouth but you stop him, you already know what he's going to say. "It doesn't have to be in Japan... Just with me, just be here, with me."

He rests his forehead against yours and hugs you harder. With a kiss salty with tears, he doesn't need words to seal this promise against your lips. Sae doesn't intend to make the same mistake twice.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae fluff #gojot t valentine's day event! 𓍯𓂃

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explorevenus · 2 years

Note

Steve fucking reader over the Family Video counter?

ahhhhh yes ,, i love a good opportunity to push steve to his limits, and reader for that matter hehehe ♥

thank u so so so much for ur patience btw, i know u requested this a while ago ,, i've just been a busy bee dealing w some personal things ;w;

nsfw (18+) - minors dni !!!

word count - 3.1k

tags/warnings - sub/brat!reader, daddy!steve, public sex, praise, pet names, fingering, unprotected p in v (obligatory don’t do it irl lol be safe out there y’all), creampie, u know the drill (aka i am nothing if not predictable)

my masterlist ♥

fic under the cut ,, thanks so much for reading and i hope u like it !! ♥

It wasn't incredibly often that you would find yourself desperate enough for Steve's attention to go bother him at work-- there's a time and place for everything, of course, and you knew that well, but...

Family Video was facing a pretty nasty understaffing issue since the school year started; a common, annual issue to be expected with jobs like this that tend to employ mostly teenagers over the summer. You can't say you didn't see it coming, but that didn't make you any less bitter about it considering that Steve's manager just expected him to pick up all those extra shifts now that he wasn't tethered to high school anymore. Perhaps it was your own mind hyperbolizing the situation, but for the past few weeks it truly felt like Steve wasn't home at all, and even when he was home, he was far too tired to play with you.

Now... that just wouldn't do, would it?

You pushed the door open with your two hands, stepping out of the chilly autumn air and into the video store with an audible ding of the bell just overhead, a bell that signaled to Steve and Robin that there was a new customer to attend to-- only you weren't really there to buy anything. It was less than an hour before close-- the orange sunset cast a cozy sherbet color over the shelves of tapes and the racks of popcorn and colorful candy, the same products that tinted the air with a certain sweet, theater-like aroma that followed your lover home every evening. It was an ambience that many people found comfort in, and certainly you used to as well, but not so much anymore. Now it only served to remind you of the very place that took so much of his time away from you.

Roused by the sound of the bell, Robin poked her head up from a book she was reading behind the counter, smiling as she greeted you casually, “Oh, hey, (Y/N)!”

“Hey, beautiful,” You greeted in return, forcing a half-smile through your frustration as you made yourself busy skimming this years selection of horror films. “Where’s Steve?”

Robin nodded her head towards the far right corner of the store, where you saw Steve walking some other girl through the romantic comedies. You felt a bit jealous, not because he was really doing anything wrong, and definitely not because you didn’t trust him, but because you were so truly starved for attention at this point that you would have given anything to be that girl right now... as pathetic as that might be, which you were fully cognizant of.

“Thanks,” You replied, sighing softly as you returned the tape you were eyeing to its rightful place.

You didn’t want to interrupt him while he was helping someone, so you chose to bide your time continuing to browse the new arrivals, but while you may have been looking at them, you weren’t really paying much attention. It was hard to think through the thick fog of need that had been building up inside you for so long, your thoughts racing through images of Steve at his finest, hot and sweating and moaning above you, gripping your hair like you’d disappear if he let go, whispering the filthiest shit in your ear while he drove into you--

“(Y/N)?” The warm, familiar sound of Steve’s voice cut through the static, and you looked up from the tape you were holding to see him right there in front of you. How long had he been standing there? “What’s up, babe? Robin said you were looking for me?” He asked innocently.

You weren’t really sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to just maul him where he stood, but you were right in front of a window, and even then you weren’t exactly alone right now. You shook your head as if you were shaking off your sinful thoughts, before gazing up at him with your widest, saddest puppy eyes. “Daddy, I miss you,” You whined quietly, clutching at that stupid fucking vest that he somehow managed to look good in. He flustered almost immediately, cheeks flushing with cherry color, which you took as both a sign of success, and as a sign to continue. “I-I miss you, a lot...”

He let out an unsure breath, resting a hand on your shoulder as he eyed Robin awkwardly-- she was deeply invested in her book, and presumably hadn’t heard a word. He turned back to you, speaking lowly, “Sweetheart, I’m working. Can’t you wait until I get home?”

You shook your head ‘no.’ “I’m sick of waiting,” You griped. “It’s been weeks, daddy, I want you now.”

After a quick dart of the eyes towards the counter, worrying over your volume, he reassured himself that Robin wasn’t paying attention before turning back to you with a rather patronizing scoff. “Now, huh? You sure about that?”

Suddenly shy by his tone, you frowned dramatically before burying yourself into his chest, nodding eagerly. “Can’t you take a break or something?” You spoke into his shirt. “Come on, Stevie, this place is working you to the bone...”

But he simply chuckled, patting your back. “No, honey, I can’t just ‘take a break’ half an hour before close. I’ve already had mine, and so has Robin.”

While his choice of words might have been a bit discouraging, you noted the mischief in his tone, the hint towards something more. Steve wasn’t really disagreeing with you, he just wanted you to beg for it.

Typical of him.

“Come on,” You groaned, tugging at his vest again, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Can’t you figure something out, get off early today? Please?”

“Hmm... I don’t think so, baby. Lots of work to do around here, y’know?”

“Steve...”

“What?”

It was overtly obvious that he was being infuriating on purpose, and as you fumbled for a response you only found yourself red in the face-- he’d talked you into a wall. Steve loved doing that, evident in the way his grin widened.

But, tonight, you didn’t plan on giving up so easily.

Pulling back from him, you crossed your arms over your chest and knitted your eyebrows together, looking up at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated discontent. “Are you saying you’d rather be stuck here, selling VHS tapes and M&M’s to high school kids, instead of spending time with your girlfriend?” You sassed. Of course you knew it wasn’t true, but you also knew it’d get a reaction out of him.

And it did.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” He was quick to rebut. “It’s not my fault you’re being a needy little fucking brat about it.”

You faked a gasp. “A needy little fucking brat?”

“Hey, watch your language,” Steve spoke lowly. “And your volume, please.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, taunting him right back, “Or what?”

To your surprise, Steve said nothing-- not to you, anyway. He took the tape you were holding right out of your hand, returning it to the shelf, before making his way over to Robin behind the counter. She hardly even noticed him at first, so absorbed by whatever she was reading that she almost flinched when he spoke up behind her. “Hey, Robin, you’ve got that thing with Vickie tonight, don’t you?” He asked.

Robin peeked up at him over the top of her book, brow raised in suspicion. “Yeah... why?”

“You should head out early, go get ready and whatnot. I can close up shop.”

Robin cast an unsure glance at you before turning back to look at him. “What about (Y/N)? I think she really misses you--”

“She agreed to stay and keep me company. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

Now all eyes were on you. Suddenly you were nervous, and just as confused about his intentions as Robin was. Thinking it best to just play along, you nodded with a warm smile and said, “Y-Yeah, of course, you should go have fun, Buckley. God knows you’ve earned it.”

“Uh... okay. I’m gonna stop asking questions before you change your mind, I guess,” She shrugged, sliding a bookmark between the pages before grabbing her bike helmet out from beneath the counter. “See you lovebirds later.”

You said your farewells to her as she passed by you on her way to the door, leaving behind only you, Steve, and the elephant in the room with a parting ring of that bell. There was a beat of silence as you both watched her leave, and then you turned to look at Steve with curiosity. He was still behind the counter, perched up on his two hands, eyeing you with an expression you could barely read.

Finally, he said, “Well, are you gonna come over here, or are you just gonna stare?”

Face burning, you made your way over to him at the counter, leaning over the glass to give him a kiss, figuring you would just have to deal with some making out and heavy petting for now, until he was finished closing the store-- but, to your surprise, he leaned back just as you’d leaned in, his eyebrow raised at you like there was something you weren’t getting as you stared at him with your lips puckered.

“...What?” You asked, voice small, but tinted with annoyance.

“Behind the counter, sweetheart,” Steve clarified. “C’mon.”

Odd. You followed his direction, joining him where he stood, but you were hardly given a chance to inquire further as he grabbed you at the waist, turned you in his arms, and bent you over the counter. The breath fell from your lungs, causing you to let out a shocked squeak. The two of you were in the direct line of sight of anyone who might dare to walk through that door, the open sign threatening to invite exactly that scenario, and you were positioned to stare straight at it. This was quite purposeful on his end.

You swallowed thickly. “S-Steve, aren’t you at least going to lock the door?”

He chuckled into your hair, pinning your arms behind your back with one strong hand and flipping your skirt up with the other. “No,” He answered simply. “We’re still open. You’re the one who so desperately wanted to play now... I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

A textbook case of malicious compliance-- also rather typical of him.

Your words failed you as he drew two fingertips up the length of your soaked panties-- that, in and of itself, was irrefutable evidence of your arousal. “Already so wet for me,” Steve mused, finding your clit through the fabric with practiced ease and applying just enough pressure to keep you dumb and compliant. “You like this, don’t you? You like knowing that anyone could walk through that door and catch you getting fucked back into your place over this counter? That anyone and everyone could know just how naughty you’ve been today, and exactly what I plan on doing about that?”

Washing over with humiliation, you shook your head rapidly, but you could hardly stop yourself from pressing your hips back further into his touch. “D-Daddy, what if we get in trouble?”

“You’re already in trouble, honey,” He laughed, pushing aside your panties so that he could feel the full extent of your arousal. “You just let me worry about that, ‘kay?”

Jaw dropped in stunned pleasure, you could only nod, wiggling your hips closer to him again in a silent plea for him to get on with it. “So fucking needy,” He chuckled under his breath. “Just relax and let me take care of you, doll, alright?”

Again, you simply nodded, willing yourself to hold still as his fingers dipped inside you, but you should have known that he wanted to hear you say it.

With a quick, unexpected swat to your ass with his free hand, Steve encouraged you, “Use your words.”

Your eyes screwed shut-- your anxiety could hardly stand to watch the door any longer. “Okay, daddy,” You sighed softly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’ll be good.”

“Good,” He hummed, sliding deeply inside of you down to the knuckles. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He reached forward with his free hand to steady you by your hip as his thick fingers pumped in and out of you so slowly that you could tell he was just trying to toy with you, or, in his own words, to put you back into your place. A quiet, impatient groan fell from your lips as you tried as hard as you could to keep still for him, to satiate his demand.

Lucky for you, Steve’s patience was already wearing just about as thin as yours-- his recent distance from you wasn’t easy for him, either, he was just better at hiding it. His ministrations continued only for a few minutes, just until he was confident that you were properly prepared to take him, and then he withdrew from you in a move that was sore for the both of you.

But it wouldn’t last long. Your eyes fluttered open in excitement at the sound of him fumbling with his belt. Obediently you chose not to move, gripping your own arms behind your back right where he’d placed them earlier, a nicety which he’d certainly taken note of with a soft praise of, “Good girl,” under his breath. His words alone brought another hot rush of wetness to your core.

He finally freed himself from the restriction of his jeans, dragging the weeping tip of his hardened cock up the length of you to wet himself with your arousal. The contact alone made you jump, eager for him to get on with it, but his own desire for you wouldn’t have you waiting for too long. In one smooth motion he gripped your hips again, sliding his engorged cock into your pussy with a low, satisfied growl.

You let out a whine, forehead dropping to the cool glass countertop beneath you as he buried himself inside you down to the hilt.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He sighed, stilling inside you for a moment just to savor the feeling. “Got what you wanted now, hm?”

“Y-Yes, God yes...” You moaned, only wishing you could see his face. There were few better feelings in the world, if any, than being filled to the brim with the length of your lover. “Thank you, daddy...”

“You’re welcome, bunny,” He chuckled breathlessly at your manners as he began to rock into you, knuckles whitening as his grip on your hips strengthened, and he began to lose himself to the sensation of your slick cunt wrapped tightly around him. “Aren’t you lucky you caught me in a good mood today?”

You weren’t sure whether he expected a response from you or not, so you nodded anyway, still biting your lip as you hummed, “Mhm...”

“Fuck, you feel like a dream,” Steve grunted, the sound of skin on skin flooding your ears, the force of his hips rocking your softened body over the counter at a measured pace. “I’ve missed this, missed fucking you 'till you can't walk right, and feeling your heart beat around my cock..."

Jesus Christ. Your words failed you as you soaked up his praise, that fire in your core burning hotter and brighter by the second. It was fair to say you were a bit sensitive given the space between you two recently, but you wanted for nothing more than to last as long as you could, to bask in the feeling of his cock dragging over your quivering walls and bumping into your cervix. A thin sheet of sweat misted over your body, leaving you sticky and hot and uniquely uncomfortable in your clothes. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether or not someone might walk in and catch you anymore-- everything fell together so blissfully. You could hardly think straight through the pleasure at this point.

Taking note of your weakness, and your distraction, Steve let a hand slide forward over your hip to toy with your clit, rubbing gentle, ghostly circles into your swollen jewel, making you cry out and let go of your own arms only to grip the edge of the countertop for stability. While he would usually call you out for disobeying his direction, he could hardly bring himself to care with the way his own head spun with pleasure-- he knew he was pushing you to your limit already, but selfishly, he reveled in the way you clenched around him in response to such stimulus.

Steve bore his fingertips into your skin as he held you tightly to him, turning you in his hold so that you were now on your back, all without bothering to remove himself from you. Your chest heaved with a pathetic sob at the complete and utter sensitivity that occupied every inch of your inner workings, and the increasing difficulty of staving off an orgasm against his unforgiving treatment. He continued to bore deeply into you, hips snapping forward with relentless fervor as he chased his own end.

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” He beamed down at you, cheeks flushed pink, his beautiful chestnut hair dampened with sweat.

It took you a moment to gather the words through the thick fog of lust that had settled over your thoughts, but once you did, you wasted little time answering him. “Yes, daddy, please--”

Your speech was cut off as he reached between the two of you once again, two fingertips circling over your clit at an incredible pace, as if he was really trying to drag it out of you. The pace at which he thrusted into you was faltering, each snap of his hips slightly more sloppy and primal than the last, indicating his own looming finish. Your legs were already shaking, hooked behind his back like you’d just crumble to dust if you let go, and that coil deep within you tightened at an alarming rate. Your head fell back with a soft bump to the glass as you lost yourself to his ministrations.

Soon enough Steve buried himself as deeply inside of your dripping cunt as he could possibly manage, warmth flooding your core as his seed spilled out into you-- that feeling was the final nail in the coffin for you, and almost simultaneously, your own cum gushed out around his cock in waves.

As you both fought to catch your breath, Steve pulled slowly out of you and watched with stars in his eyes as the mess you’d made seeped out of you and pooled on the glass. He let out a breathless laugh, teasing, “Now, you’re gonna clean that up, right?”

#goddess on the mountain top #summit of beauty and love #stranger things #steve harrington #sintext #venustext #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you

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scarletwritesshit · 9 months

Text

⛓️ Wriothesley x Reader ⛓️ Eye of the Beholder

In Fontaine’s rugged, unforgiving depths, there is no beauty to be seen by the sane traveler, unless one finds themselves with a curious fascination for filth. The ambience was dark and dreary, with only the most rusted of browns and aged of grays visible to the naked eye. Disgusting, it was, compared to the well-developed aquatic and surface regions of Fontaine and even the rest of Teyvat.

As a warden of Fontaine’s unforgiving dungeons, Wriothesley had no reason to see any sort of beauty in his surroundings. It mattered not if the convict was dressed in the finest reds or the most lowly of rags; if he caught them acting out of line or they somehow managed to slip under the noses of the wardens, he would not hesitate to hunt down the prisoners and bare his fangs. Little bark, all bite, he was known for.

On the rare chances that he did have an opportunity to rise to the surface, his poor eyesight did become somewhat of a hinderance. Under the cover of darkness, everything was in at least twenty different shades of gray. The real world as he knew it was merely blue, golden, and gray.

Through his eyes, the world was merely comprised of shades of those three colors. The rainbow of corals filling the sea and the colorful fish swimming alongside aquatic travelers were sights that Wriothesley was cursed to never behold himself. He had grown used to it, walking along the dungeons and all, but a deep part of him yearned to see the world in its full vibrance.

As you looked down from the water’s edge and found yourself engrossed in the diversity of Fontaine’s nature, Wriothesley would not share that same enthusiasm as you did. Perhaps it was due to his lack of occupancies outside of wrangling prisoners that he found no value in frivolous nature watching. You had faith, however, that if he could actually see what you were experiencing for himself, then he too, would be engrossed by the beauty of Fontaine’s upper-class regions.

He stood by a post out of habit, scanning the area around him while trying to keep his focus on your whereabouts. It was a warden’s habit to remain wary, as it was something that cannot be helped. He wasn’t too eager to hit every sightseeing location in the vicinity, but the fresh air at the very least would do his health some good. Wriothesley rarely had a chance for personal recreation, but when given the chance, he did not hesitate to accompany you on the surface for the time that he was allotted.

Raising an eyebrow, Wriothesley asked you, “What could you possibly find so intriguing about Fontaine’s waters?”

“You just need to take a moment to have a close look for yourself. From floor to surface, its bursting with colorful life,” you said.

Wriothesley shook his head, disinterested in your frivolous observations. The world above Fontaine’s dungeons was just as dull and colorless as the one below him, and so he showed minimal interest in observing the varieties of gold and gray, something he was far too used to seeing in the underground. Silently, he rejected your invitation to observe the waters, and continued resting his body by the post where his gaze remained sharp.

How do you get someone who cannot see the full rainbow to experience life’s vividness through your eyes? Red was but a concept to him, as he was even blind to the intimidating aura of his maroon clothing. Luscious flora was not an attention grabber, with nature’s blessing of the color green being nothing more than a shade of gold to Wriothesley’s wolf-like eyes. The violet corals accenting the forests of pink and orange…to him, they all felt merely the same.

If the physical appearance of color mattered not, then you would have to resort to other methods of conveying the beauty of the world that you saw. You grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the post, dragging him to overlook the waters below. A tall, dancing bush of seagrass waved happily in the gentle current, which you had pointed out to Wriothesley.

“Look at that. What color do you see that as, exactly?”

“…Golden, diluted by a crisp ocean blue. Why do you ask?”

You shook your head, though you knew that he was answering with complete honesty and precisely what he saw from his view.

“Feels like it blends in with the rest of the world, if I’m not mistaken?” you asked.

Wriothesley nodded his head.

“Now…define it not as the golden brown you perceive it as, but more of like…as if the seagrass was brimming with the energy of mother nature herself. It radiates serenity…tranquility…an ornament to emphasize the liveliness that is Fontaine’s ecosystem. This seagrass is but a small example of what the force of life in Teyvat’s has to offer…what we are blessed to call ‘being alive.’ Serenity…peace…the sea itself, all hidden beneath the human nature of envy and illness that is part of this inevitable cycle.

He tilted his head curiously.

“Through my eyes, I simply see it as the color green. To you, however, it exists not as a sight to behold, but as a concept with meaning that the average eye could simply not do justice with sight alone.

You pointed to a batch of branching corals not too far from the seagrass that you had observed.

“These corals,” you said. “how do they appear to you?”

“Darker than the seagrass, though still a shade golden yellow,” he stated.

“Hmmm…these corals are, in fact, quite energetic compared to their seagrass companions. They are bursting with vibrance, capturing your attention and filling you with joy as you gaze upon their tree-like structure. It’s a sense of happiness that cannot be put into words, yet it brightens you day like a warm sun during early autumn…”

Wriothesley focused on these corals as you explained how they felt, though he could feel his attention drifting from the meaning of the words to the mere sound of your voice.

“That is what I call orange. To you, it is the idea of happiness, bustling with joy and energy. Take pride in being able to embrace its luxury, for we do not appreciate its brightness until it has departed our lives.

Wriothesley seemed more attentive than before, as perhaps you had opened his eyes to the feeling of color, rather than thinking of it as something to merely see. He was scanning the water itself, both surface and floor, attempting to visualize the shades of gold that he sees as the feelings that you had described. After a few moments of observation, he pointed to a rounded coral, distinct from the branches you have described prior.

“Those?” you asked.

He nodded gently. “The rounded, lighter blue ones amongst the branched varieties…”

“The rounded corals serve as a metaphor for our imaginations. Their curious existence invokes a sense of mystery and discovery in the ones who have the honor of spotting these rarities. Nobles of both past and present would adorn themselves with these gems, limited only by their imagination; something that the lower class may not have the honor of witnessing in their lifetime. The diamonds in the rough you see here, are what I know as the color purple.”

Wriothesley had become so invested in your beautiful words, that he had lost his concentration on the truly vibrant world that his eyes were blind to. He looked down at himself, perhaps out of shame for his self-perceived dullness, then gazed out at the sea full of energetic corals and peaceful seagrass that stretched as far as the waters would allow. Nothing more than shades of gray and burnt yellow, he was doomed to see himself as.

But Wriothesley was far from what he viewed himself as. His own unique vibrance told a story in itself. It told how he had experienced years of bloodshed from such a rough occupation, how he showed passion to what was important to him, and how he had the strength to carry on despite the injuries that threatened to take his life on numerous occasions.

The dark red suit told a story in its own. Wriothesley was a tough man, but he was also full of care and compassion. By showing no mercy to those who broke the nation’s laws, he assured that the citizens of Fontaine could roam the streets freely and safely.

Wriothesley’s suit was the color of the feelings that you two had for each other.

Not to mention, the color of his face when you explained the meaning behind the red he was adorned with.

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic

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inmyminditsreal · 10 months

Text

Solving crimes and crushes

Fem!reader x spencer reid

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You're filling in for an agent at the BAU, but are surprised to find you like one of the team members a little too much.

It was early morning when you got a call from your old friend Aaron. You hadn't spoken to him in a while, so you almost instantly pick up.

"Hey Aaron is everything alright? you don't normally call out of nowhere.” you say, a little more excited than you should've.

"Yeah Y/n everything is fine except one of our teammates got injured in the field and is currently in the Hospital. I was wondering if you could fill in for her? That is, if you’re not too busy.” He says in a timid voice.

“I would love to fill in, how is your teammate? Is she alright?” you respond.

“She’s in stable condition as of now. Her name is Agent Jareau. You were also wondering if you could come in today. You already knew where the office is.” he replies.

“Of course, I'm on my way.”you say before hanging up and almost running to grab your keys.

In the car you're starting to get nervous. Are they gonna like you? Well, they don’t even know you, and you're filling in for their hurt friend. You wouldn't exactly be chipper to meet you if you were them.

Arriving at the office, you're met with an elevator with a lot of floors.

“Shit”, you mumble under your breath. You pull out my phone and send a quick text to Aaron saying,

“Which floor is it again? So confused.”

he responds saying, “6th.”

You press the button and hope that you make a good impression.

You walk in and meet a very nice woman with colorful clothes you learn whose name is Penelope Garcia. She walks you to Aarons office but she calls him Hotch. You guess now you would have to as well.

“Y/n!” Aaron said brightly “It's great to see you, I see you’ve already met Penelope” he added gesturing to Penelope who was peeking through the doorway.

“It's great to see you too Hotch, thank you for this opportunity!” you say with as much pep as you can muster.

“Let me call a briefing,” he said with a stern tone.

“Sure, just let me put my things away.” you say having no idea where to put them.

“I'll show you where you can” Penelope squeaks from the doorway.

“That would be great thanks!”

After putting my things down and chatting with Penelope, she leads me to the briefing room. You walk in and are instantly met with eyes all over you.

Hotch begins, “Team, this is Y/n L/n and she is filling in for JJ.”

“Hi everyone” you say with a meek voice.

“These are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer reid.” Hotch continues as you shake everyone's hands, everyone except for the Doctor. Everybody sort of stares at you and snickers as you look like an idiot holding your hand out in front of him.

“He doesn't shake hands,” Hotch says.

“Oh I'm sorry,” you say quickly.

“No worries,” Spencer says.

You take my seat wondering about the Doctor but, you don’t have much time to think as the briefing starts. Penelope starts with the briefing and you're listening intently.

After Penelope is finished, Emily says, “I get he's lighting them on fire but, how are the flames green in the picture, is it a glitch”?

you hear Spencer start to explain but you quickly say back,

“You can make green fire by mixing together borax or boric acid with methanol to make green flames, and its copper compounds that make flames green, sodium compounds that make them yellow, and calcium compounds that make them orange. Or this guy could have sprinkled some chemicals onto the fire to make it green.”

Everybody looks at you like you're insane. You fucked up didnt you? Spencer especially looks at me intensely.

“What?” you say confused.

“Thanks,” Prentiss says, sounding surprised.

After the briefing is done and my embarrassing moment is hopefully a far away memory, you go to collect you're things when Hotch says “Wheels up in 30.”

You Walk over to my desk you were recently given to pick up your things, when somebody approaches.

“How’d you know all that stuff?” Spencer asks, taking you by surprise.

“Oh uh about the fire? I read about it a while ago.”

He smiles subtly and responds with a soft, “Me too.”

After you take your seat on the plane, you feel like you screwed up your first day, that you haven’t even finished.

Someone sits down next to you to your shock and a little discomfort. It’s Spencer, which makes me extra shocked.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He asks softly while avoiding eye contact.

You can’t help but hear Morgan and Prentiss stifle their giggles.

“Yeah of course.” you reply sweetly.

There's a few minutes of horrible silence before it's broken by Morgan saying,

“So what do we know about our unsub?”

“What we do know is he killed 3 people by burning them to death.” Prentiss says.

“We also know he killed only men, in their twenties, and they all went to the same University, North Carolina state ” you add reluctantly.

“And that’s where we’re going.” Hotch adds while coming to take a seat closer to everyone.

“This guy didn’t want to be seen, he only killed at night and was probably covered in a hoodie or dark clothing. He waited until these kids were out drinking and followed them out. When he cornered them, he would pour a methanol and boric acid mixture on them and set them on fire with matches.” Spencer states.

The rest of the plane ride went smoothly, other than the little looks you and Spencer kept sharing. Why did he keep glancing at you? And why did you keep glancing at him?

We arrive at the college and split up into groups. Of course you and Spencer are in a group together. We begin interviewing the students, everyone seemed shaken up. Poor kids. You finish at the college and follow some leads. All of them lead to dead ends except for one. A girl you had met in the science room, as you talked to her, you couldn't help but notice her journal, which was covered in drawings of flames, but they were all different colors. She even wrote out the instructions to make each flame.

You glance up at Spencer, who returns your look of worry.

“What are those drawings about?” you ask her politely.

“Oh. These are just for a science project.” She says a little impudently while closing her book and placing it into her bag.

“Thanks for the information.” Spencer says before walking off. You follow closely behind.

“Hi, is there anything else you need?” The teacher asks.

“Yea. Have you been working on anything to do with flames, or different compounds for different colored flames?” Spencer says quietly.

“Flames. flames… Nope, Sorry nothing to do with flames.” She replies.

You walk off feeling more and more suspicious of the girl with the book. After heading back to the station you look further into this girl's life. Her name is Mikalya Sterman, and from what you can tell she’s your criminal.

Suddenly Hotch rushes in while saying, “There’s been another victim, same college, same gender, and age. We have to go now.”

Rushing to the car, you somehow are sitting with Spencer. You are solving a crime yet you still can’t get the adorable Doctor out of your head.

“How are you feeling about this case?” you ask desperately to break the silence.

“I think it's the girl we met, I mean, the drawings, the behavior, everything. She has to be our criminal.” He utters.

“Yea, I mean why else would she lie about those drawings. Also, I like your tie.” you say and immediately want to jump out of the car.

The car stops and Hotch and Prentiss get out of the driver's seat and you quickly follow. You try to run away from Spencer by speed walking to the scene and hiding your face. It doesn’t work.

“Thanks, I typically wear ties that match the rest of what I’m wearing like- this. So uh thanks.” He says holding out his sweater.

“Cute.” you add with a smile.

“Lovebirds, time to solve a crime!” Morgan states from the scene while Prentiss is laughing her ass

off.

Hotch rolls his eyes. Spencer and you quickly walk to the scene.

While examining the body you find a pendant hanging across the victim's neck.

“This belonged to Mikalya. I remember seeing her wear it while we were talking.” you tell everyone.

“Yea she was definitely wearing it.” Spencer adds on.

“Well what does this mean?” Prentiss asks.

“It means we need to find our killer.” Hotch states.

He sends you out in groups except, this time you're with Prentiss, not Spencer.

“Soooo- Spencer.” She says coyly.

“Spencer’s sweet.” you mutter back.

“Mhmmm” she insists “and what else?”

“Okay okay, he’s super cute and sweet and smart and nice, and sweet, an-.” you sputter before she cuts you off with, “Ok ok ok ok! I get it, he’s amazing. Sooo- what are we gonna do about this?”

“Nothing! Jesus, actually- nevermind! I don’t know!” you spit.

“We are looking for a murderer and you’re thinking about my kind-of-crush!” you whisper-yell at her.

“Oh please, they already caught the killer.” She says pointing to where they had, in fact, already arrested the killer.

“B-but! How? I was- WE were right here.” you say.

“Yes but your kind-of-crush was so distracting, you couldn’t even solve a crime!” she laughs.

“Oh my god. What have I become? Emily, help me.” you say sarcastically.

“I’m gonna ask everybody to go for drinks- wait- how about, you ask everybody to go for drinks, I’ll tell everybody else but Spencer to decline! I’m a genius.”

She says slyly before you add “No- yes- wait-okay, fine I’m on board.”

“YES!” she shouts a little too loud for comfort as we both walk back to the cars.

Driving back you weren't in the same car as Spencer despite Emily’s suspicious efforts to change that.

We get back on the plane and Spencer sits down next to you again.

“It’s still okay if I sit with you right?” He mutters.

“Of course Spencer, you don’t need to ask.” you reply with a reassuring tone.

He smiles shyly at your comment and you swear you see him blush.

Back at the BAU everybody gathers and you ask, “Hey does anybody want to go get some food or drinks?”

Emily winks at you and she's the first to say, “Sorry, I'm so tired. Maybe another time?”

Everyone else goes along with their excuses until Spencers the last one to speak.

“Sure! I'm starving.” He says while putting on his jacket and walking toward you.

“Great.” you say smiling. We both walk out, and you swear you can hear Emily and Derek chortling from the elevator.

P.s please give me tips!

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buckychristwrites · 10 months

Note

If you’re still taking prompt requests, what about one where the reader is a sportsman from a different sport and Keeley set up a PR collaboration opportunity for Jamie with the reader involved?

I’m always taking prompt requests!!!!

“Look over here, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes at the photographers pet name, letting your bow drop from across your shoulder to your hand again. The arrow in your hand, you imagined shoving it through your neck.

“Are we almost done?” You asked. It had been hours of single shots. Elsewhere, the footballer that you were doing a cover with for Sports Illustrated was having his individual portrait taken as well. “I’d like to eat something.”

“Yeah, that’s enough!” Keeley Jones shouted, earning a sigh of relief and a kiss blown in her direction from you. The photographer seemed annoyed, but stepped away from his camera.

“God bless you,” You muttered to her as you dropped the bow and arrow onto your directors style seat. “I’m starved.” Walking to the catering table, you grabbed a sandwich and stuffed it in your mouth.

“Grab something quick, they just finished with Jamie.”

You spit the food back out onto the grass.

“Jamie… Jamie Tartt?” You stared at her. “I thought it was with Roy Kent?”

She shook her head. “He backed out at the last second. Jamie is taking over as ambassador.”

The shoot was to promote a program to help underprivileged kids get involved in sports. It was a collaboration between AFC Richmond and the Richmond sector of Archery GB.

Before you had the chance to say anything else, the doors to the stadium opened, and out came Jamie Tartt. He was in his orange away kit, hair back in a headband, as if he was getting ready to play a match.

“This is Jamie,” Keeley said as he approached. He gave you a warm smile while she introduced you. It had been a while since you had felt starstruck, yet here you were, shaking hands with a player of your home team.

“Nice to meet ya,” He said softly. “Huge fan. You were brilliant in the Olympics.” The genuinity in his voice was throwing you for a loop.

It was a surreal moment for you.

“You, Jamie Tartt, a fan of me?” You said. “Can’t wait to tell my mum.”

He laughed just as the photographer called the two of you over. It wasn’t until you were back on the pitch that you realized you hadn’t actually eaten anything.

“Just play each others game,” He explained. “We’ll start with Jamie.”

Through your bashfulness, you were hesitant to just hand just anyone your bow and arrow to use. Even if that anyone looked at you with twinkling blues and had the most lovely smile you had ever seen.

“So I just pull it back like this?” He asked once in position at the target. He pulled the bowstring back, looking at you for reassurance.

“Here,” You said, approaching him so your chest was mere centimeters from his back. “Put your fingers like this…” Bringing your fingertips to his, you adjusted his grip on the riser. You reached to his other hand, and fixed his hold on the bowstring and the arrow end. Without moving your hands, you used your elbow to edge his upwards.

“Now, deep breath,” You whispered. When he inhaled, his back muscles shifted to brush against your chest. Impossibly, you tried not to think about it too much. “Three, two, let go.”

He released the arrow, and the two of you watched it fly towards the target. Though it didn’t hit the center, it did hit the target.

“Woah,” Jamie muttered.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” You asked, feeling your hot breath bounce off his skin and back towards you. Realizing that you were still close, you backed away. When he turned with freshly red cheeks, you knew he noticed it too. You scratched the back of your neck.

“Want me to show ya how to make a goal?” He asked when the silence went on for too long.

“Only if you’re as good of a teacher as I am,” You said cockily.

“Don’t worry, love,” He said. It was the first pet name you had been given today that you didn’t mind. “I’ll be even better.”

And you found yourself hoping for that.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt headcanon #anonymous #answered

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itsgrimeytime · 4 months

Text

Magnolia in May (Part Twenty Five) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21, 22, 23, 24...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: none.

[[A/N: DRAMA. That's all I have to say. Happy New Year !!! Thanks for reading !!! ]]

He wasn't serious.

Or maybe he was, you were rendered rather speechless afterward, on account of his lips pressing into yours without much less thought.

You hadn't quite thought of an answer because he didn't present you with the opportunity; in fact, he'd acted as though he'd never said such a thing in his life. He still held that soft gaze, as you explored the rest of his lawn, but you weren't quite there then.

Eyes distant, you were as though you had a shock to the heart and perhaps you did. No one had ever proposed to you, there were a few drunks who'd gotten close at certain parties, but never anyone with any merit.

Mr. Grimes loved you. He was courting you, only officially for a few weeks, sure, but still-

The man who was courting you had asked for your hand in marriage, and you had said nothing.

Headmistress was going to kill you.

It's not like he'd given you much of an option, really. He'd begun kissing you after as if such a confession was void, as if the words were just well, words.

But they weren't.

It was driving you mad, beyond mad. Which is why you were currently wearing a hole into the dining room carpet -walking back and forth, pacing really.

Your Father sat at the table, files at the ends of his fingertips, and in his hands, he stayed rather busy. The rest of the house was out to the theater, you'd been asked to come but refused -Maggie would know too much. She already had-

"Darling," he spoke and you immediately straightened, "-is everything alright? You're bound to run a hole in the floor with all the pacing."

"When did you ask for Mother's hand?"

It slipped out of your mouth before you could take it back. And you really wished you could take it back-

"Why do you ask?" your Father questioned, white beard lit up orange by the candlelight, "-Are you expecting something?"

"No, I-" you started, before stopping, "-May I ask you a hypothetical?"

"A hypothetical," your Father pursed his lips, "-Does it have to do with a proposal?"

"Yes," you echoed out, a little shaky, "-well, if someone proposed out of nowhere and didn't give you time to respond, would you believe them to be serious?"

"Any man who asks for someone's hand is serious," your Father relented, something in his eyebrow twitching, "-It's quite a large thing to say, especially in today's age."

"Right," you spoke, slowly -convincing yourself, "-right."

The silence of the room was unwelcoming.

"What if," you started, trying to figure out how to word this, "-What if it was more of an emotional response? Like... after a confession or... or-"

"Something else?" Father asked, raising an eyebrow -teetering on the question of what exactly.

"Yes," you swallowed, "-something else."

"Still," he echoed, "-such words hold high accountability, any man who says it often means it."

"But, just because he means it doesn't mean he's serious-"

"In some way," your Father restated, "-he is. A man does not say such words without thinking about it, dear. Without realizing what it means."

"So," you began, "-he may mean it, and be serious about it? Even though it came unprompted?"

"He may not realize it himself," he explained, "-That moment, when he, hypothetically, said such a thing maybe when he realized he wanted it."

"And what am I-" you stopped, clearing your throat, "-What are you to say to that?"

"Whatever you wish," your Father stated, picking back up his files -eyes peering over them, "-Is there anything you wish to tell me, daughter?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, "I think... I think Mr. Grimes proposed to me."

The room fell uncomfortably silent, the sole tick of a clock and the shuffle of paper echoing through the room. You couldn't look up at him, only down at the carpet -tracing the design with your eyes.

"Two weeks," your Father answered, setting down his files and looking up at you, "-it took me two weeks to figure out I couldn't live without her. I... I'm not sure it was proper, but we made it work, even then."

"Two weeks, that's-"

"Nothing," he hummed out, "-I know. I loved her and she loved me, there was no reason to wait."

"I love him," you said, sort of weakly.

"And he loves you," your Father added with a smile -certain.

"But, he didn't let me answer," you sighed, pacing yet again, "-what am I to say if he didn't let me answer?"

"You wait," he answered, "-until he does."

"How is that fair?" You questioned, "-He asked me, I should get to answer! I will... I want to answer."

"Then, answer," your Father laughed, "-you know where he resides."

"This late?" You echoed, loud and a little squeaky, "-I can hardly explain showing up at this hour."

"He'll know," he smiled, "-he'll know, darling."

"That's even worse," you remarked, "-I can't just... confront him with my hand."

"Okay," your Father reasoned, "-then let's go for dinner. I'm certain your sisters will demand to eat before returning and I don't know about you but I'm famished."

"Just dinner," you echoed.

"Just dinner," he reiterated, "-and if you choose to confront him, so be it."

So, be it.

The walk was not one of note, as your carriage remained an option but you requested the fresh air and Father neatly agreed. He didn't speak a word, as to give you time to think, perhaps. But part of you wished him to say something, anything-

"I already gave him permission," he stated, echoing out into the falling sun of the evening, "-so, such a question requires no clarification on my part. But, if you wish-"

"No," you started, headstrong, "-it has to be me, Father."

And the rest of the walk was as silent as a mouse, Father only giving you a few forlorn glances -as if he didn't wish you to be in this situation. He most certainly didn't, and you imagined, if you let him, he'd say a few choice words about it to Mr. Grimes.

But, were you to confront him, you'd simply choose to do it on your own. It was your issue, you'd deal with it.

The idea of Mr. Grimes confronting you first, however, was a much scarier one. Would he apologize? Say he didn't mean it? You weren't sure you could handle such words.

The estate was covered in the evening sun, and you thought for a spare second how beautiful it was. The orange haze drenched the plaza, the fountains, the hedges. It was stunning, and you felt rather wonderful to see such a thing -to know such a thing.

"Mr. Greene," a deep grumble echoed, Mr. Dixon stood rather strong against such a soft skyline, "-Ms. Greene, wonderful to see the two of ya."

You curtsied, and your Father spoke, "If you don't mind, sir, can you ask Mr. Grimes if we could join him for dinner?"

"'Course," he echoed, guiding the two of you through the door, "-follow me into the foyer."

You entered the foyer with a sort of curiosity, still, despite everything -you loved to see such a space every time. Yet, something was off. You'd been in here so frequently. You knew the space, so well, so when something was different-

Your eyes landed squarely on the wall, an empty space on the wall. You weren't certain what was there before, but now it remained empty -beautiful walls clear and open to the viewing.

"Father, it's-"

"Empty," he hummed -something in his voice, "-perhaps for something new."

"Ms. Greene," a voice spoke, a little breathlessly and suddenly a little startled, "-Mr. Greene, hello."

You wordlessly curtsied again, something in you nervous -Mr. Grimes lingered on such a movement, he could tell-

"I assume we're welcomed to dinner, then?"

"Very welcome," Mr. Grimes hummed, eyes darting to yours -just for a moment, lingering, "-Your family is welcome at all times, you must know that by now."

"Certainly," your Father echoed, matching his eyes -something conveying that he knew. And he did.

You shrunk into yourself only slightly, but still, Mr. Grimes noticed -blue eyes laid squarely on you. Something in his lips twitched into a frown, as his eyes swam along your face -you couldn't quite meet his eyes. He noticed.

"What's are we to expect?" you asked, something crossing over your face, "-For... For dinner?"

"I'm not quite certain," Mr. Grimes echoed, making a note to meet your eyes, "-but Ms. Peletier is bound to make something worthwhile. And-"

You matched his eye, and something in your chest warmed, just to see him.

"-the children would love to see you, Ms. Greene."

You smiled, couldn't help it, "I'm quite delighted to see them too."

"Wonderful," Mr. Grimes echoed, smiling in that same way he had before like he couldn't believe you existed, "-wonderful."

Your Father cleared his throat with a teeny little smile, "Shall we go to the dining room?"

"Certainly," you echoed, hand itching to take Mr. Grimes's arm, but instead you met your Father's. It felt right then, despite the urge -to brush your fingers against his shirt, to feel the warmth of his skin against your gloved hand.

You righted yourself, and followed your Father into the room, still as beautiful as the first day you'd ever seen it. It could be yours-

You flushed crimson at the spare thought, pushing it away in your mind. Not now, such thoughts are useless without knowing his intentions.

I want to know his intentions, something in your head rang.

Which meant you were to confront him, you needed to know. You had to know-

"Ms. Greene?" a softer voice spoke, a maid -you realized, "-Would you like to sit?"

"Yes, I apologize, I just-" you faltered, accepting the pulled-out chair, "-Thank you."

Mr. Grimes looked to you, something shadowing over his face -concern furrowing in his brow.

You sat just beside him at the head of the table, the two children on the opposite side and your Father on your right. It was all a rather organized affair, and not a word was spoken.

The comfortable chatter was lost, as the room filled rather full -only Judith's small little hums of appreciation breaking through the air. The food was delicious, certainly, but you had a bit of a sour stomach -you picked at the dish, a little preoccupied.

Mr. Grimes hadn't eaten a bite himself either, eyes boring a hole into your side. You knew such a conversation would have to be soon, if not-

"Ms. Greene, may I speak with you?"

There was a beat.

"Privately."

#rick grimes #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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madschiavelique · 8 months

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჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

<< Click here if you want to go back to chapter 1

Choice B : Accept and take a shor tour of the surrounding area

content warnings : none word count : 1,7k masterlist of the fic : here.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

It has to be said that you don't know much about the city, just as you don't know anyone here apart from your caretaker. Getting closer to Hobie and becoming his friend would be really reassuring in such an unfamiliar environment.

What about the delivery men? Well, they'd leave your things with the concierge, who'd keep them safe until you got back. It's no big deal, maybe you could even ask Hobie to help you put your stuff back together.

"I'm in, " you confirm.

"OK, let's start with the most important thing."

So the first destination is the music store. Hobie obviously knows the salesman well. So you learn that he belongs to - or rather is a member of, given that he wants to detach himself from any affiliation whatsoever - a band. You find out a bit more about the group, how he's the lead guitarist and that his friend Gwen, who's also a student at your university, is the drummer.

The next destination is a small, inexpensive convenience store. He knows there's a mall not too far away, but since every temple of consumerism is to be avoided at all costs, he shows you this one. You take the opportunity to do a bit of shopping in his presence, just to fill your fridge and cupboards up a bit so you don't go hungry tonight and tomorrow morning.

You share a packet of biscuits as he shows you the bar where he and Gwen tend to perform. He greets the waiters, people seem to generally like him, although the looks he gets thrown his way aren't always appreciative. But of course these same glances go right over his head, he doesn't give a damn.

The visit continues, the two of you chatting and laughing. The sun covers you both in orange as you finally reach the front door of your building, observing it. It's obviously not your first time here, but you can't help but feel that this place is going to be your home.

"Are you free for the next five minutes?" you ask Hobie.

"I'm free for the rest of my life," he corrects, "but I'm available now if that's what you're asking."

You tell him about the plan to move your boxes upstairs, and he agrees. The relief of not having to go back and forth between all the floors runs way too many times travels through your arms, encouraging them to hold on for the few weights you'll have to carry.

You swipe your building badge over the sensor and enter the Hall. You knock on the concierge's door, and he opens it and smiles at you. He's a kindly old man with a smile that never leaves his face.

"Ah, there you are. I tried to hold back the delivery boys because I didn't know if you'd arrive at the same time as them, but I didn't manage it," he says with a little shrug.

"It doesn't matter," you assure him. "My friend here is going to help me bring it all up." Hobie gives a little wave.

Although your concierge is old, he doesn't seem in the least bit shocked or judgmental of Hobie's style.

"What a nice gesture on your part, young man," he smiles as he goes out and grabs his set of keys. "I've had the boxes placed in one of the cubbyholes.

He guides you to the storage area and opens it, revealing the six boxes that have been deposited in a narrow room.

"Here they are," he turns to you, "don't forget to come and see me when you've finished so I can close it again."

"Thank you very much," you say simply as you grab the first two stacked boxes, elevating them as best you can. "We won't take too long."

"Take all the time you need," he laughs as he walks away, "the building's not going anywhere soon."

So begins the little move of all your stuff.

You've managed to get everything upstairs, along with your groceries, and you're on the ground after all that effort. You hand him a bottle of water, still fresh from the shop.

"I can't thank you enough for your help," you breathe out as he takes a sip.

"Don't mention it, you're the least depreciating person I've met in a while."

The remark makes you smile.

"Well, that's not all, but I'm not going to stay long," he says as he stands up, rubbing his hands together as if to dust them off.

You take him back downstairs, you exchange numbers, and he says goodbye one last time before leaving. You tell the concierge that you've finished your little move, and head back upstairs to your flat. It's empty, and while you still have a bit of energy left, you decide to inflate your mattress.

You don't have an air pump, so you have to use your mouth. During your interminable, head-spinning puffing session, you think back over the day, your meeting with the teachers who seem to be really great, and the very pleasant late afternoon you've had...

Oh, but you haven't met your neighbour yet! Perhaps it's time you pay him a visit and introduce yourself.

You quickly finish inflating your mattress and get up. You have nothing to offer for your arrival, and hope that it won't spoil your meeting.

You check your appearance in the bathroom mirror, just to make sure you look presentable, and leave your flat to take just a few steps to the opposite landing.

You knock on the door. You wonder what kind of neighbour you're going to have; all you know is that it's a man who lives there.

There's no way it's going to be someone too old on these floors, which reassures you. If you ever invited someone to your flat, like friends for a simple party, not necessarily with loud music, he'd be more understanding.

Another student perhaps? It wasn't impossible, on the contrary. The rent here wasn't too expensive surprisingly, and it was well placed for the university. If your neighbour was indeed someone around your age or a student, that would be reassuring.

But the man who opened the door for you was neither, and your heart froze by a burn along with your whole body.

A man in his late twenties, with your head barely reaching his shoulders, opened the door. His brown hair, swaying between the wet and dry of the shower he'd finished two minutes ago, fell over his brown eyes, which looked at you quizzically.

His towel in hand, still rubbing his hair, gives you a glimpse not only of his contracted biceps, which must easily approach the size of your own head, but also of the veins running down the back of his hand.

When your eyes return to his, he is still waiting for you to explain the reason for your visit.

"Hello," you greet, pulling yourself together as your mind hurries to rearrange your heart in your chest instead of your eyes, you present yourself with your name before you add “I've just moved into the flat next door," you point to it with your thumb behind your shoulder, your door still open.

He suddenly seems to understand and opens his lips to nod an Ah.

"Welcome," he says, holding out his hand, "I'm Miguel O'Hara."

Miguel, then, you think. But your thoughts go blank as you grab his hand and squeeze, the size of it almost completely encompassing yours.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr O'Hara," you smile.

"Please, call me Miguel," he says, leaning against the doorway of his flat, crossing his arms.

Is it even human to have so much beauty and aura that attracts you? Is it because of your air session with the mattress that you feel this way, or is it the effect he gives you that makes your head spin and sends stars to the back of your skull ?

"Have you got it all arranged yet?" he questions, pointing to your door with his chin.

"No, no, I haven't," you sigh, "All I've got at the moment is a humble air mattress."

"No box spring?" he asks, frowning.

"No, I'm hoping for a proper mattress in a month's time, along with a chest of drawers and some shelves. Once the movers have put everything in place, it'll be a nice little craft day for me," you joke softly.

"If you need any help, I could help you put it all together," he offers.

You're slightly surprised, the kindness and politeness with which you're chatting putting you at ease. You wouldn't have expected such generosity when you first arrived here.

Decidedly, this educational renewal was perhaps the best decision you ever made in your life to cross paths with so many nice people.

"I don't want to be a bother," you say, wrinkling your nose.

"No, really, I insist," he smiles.

Your eyebrows raise slightly, and you smile not politely this time but sincerely.

"Very well then," you say, biting the inside of your cheek. "I don't know how to thank you for this."

"No te preocupes," he says, waving it off gracefully.

A beep and a buzz sound. Miguel pulls his mobile out of his pocket, and sighs, a sudden look of exasperation placed on his face.

"Duty calls. Speaking of which, can you give me your number? It'll be easier if you ever have a problem."

Two phone numbers in one day? That's a miracle.

"Of course," you say, taking the phone he's holding out to you and putting your contact on it.

Your fingers slightly graze each other, and the single feeling of it creates sparks in your hand.

You hand it back to him, he taps it, and a few seconds later you receive a simple "It's me.”

"I wonder who that could be," you joke as he smiles slightly and you save his number.

"It was nice to meet you," he says as he gives you one last wave, pronouncing your name with a smile on his lips, grabbing his door handle.

"Likewise, Miguel," you smile as you step back towards your door.

His door closes and you enter your flat.

You could only think of one thing: the way your name sounded from his lips.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Common end >>

#madschiavelique ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #☁︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ oxytocin✦love ᥫ᭡

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mgarmagedon · 5 months

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It's one shot time again baby >:3

English:

Magnus walked through the prison corridor. The noise from the echoing cells was overwhelming, and despite them being fully soundproofed, the sight of the highest judge surrounded by inmates in that place caused sheer madness.

Unmoved by it all, Ultra Magnus walked silently, tapping his cane on the ground.

The man didn't have the opportunity to frequent such places outside the court, where he interacted with convicts, but this occasion was exceptional due to one prisoner, the son of his former leader – Bumblebee.

He couldn't believe that it was Bumblebee from all of the people that he needed to ask for help, especially considering how this young man had fallen and become a disgrace to the entire Optimus legend in Ultra Magnus's opinion.

He slowly entered the closed special wing, where prisoners were isolated from the rest, for various reasons, but Bee had been transferred here for the safety of other inmates.

Magnus took a chair standing in front of one of the empty cells, dragged it into one of the dark alcoves, delicately placed it in front of the solitary cell, and sat down slowly. He tossed his coat back, rested his hands and arms on the cane, looking into the dark cell.

A quiet cough to draw attention, hoping for something to finally happen in the dark cell illuminated only by blue floor lamps.

He could hear a faint rumble from the cell, reacting to the man's presence. This sound was followed by another – the shooting of the spine, getting up from the prison cot, and the quiet sliding of headphones from his head to the ground. Slowly and lazily, the dark figure stood up, concluding the entire procedure with a loud yawn and a scratch on the lower part of his back.

"Maybe you could show some manners in front of others," he remarked, looking at the dark figure. "Such unscrupulous behavior doesn't suit you, especially."

The figure in the darkness hunched slightly and sighed quietly. The man in the shadows approached the bluish glow.

"Do you care that much about my behavior, since when? Since the day you spat in Ratchet's face, blaming him for my whole behavior?" he crossed his arms.

The man standing before the barrier, who was shorter than Ultra Magnus, wore an orange jumpsuit, dirty from sweat and slightly torn, with food stains. His hairstyle was a messy mass of brown strands going in all directions. He wore no shoes, only socks with a hole through which a toe protruded. Due to a lack of care, he had grown a beard, and his previously well-toned figure had given way to a slightly protruding stomach.

Ultra Magnus scrutinized Bumblebee, who lost his touch since he got into prison.

"I see you haven't spared yourself during your time here," he said, despite the sarcasm, in a cold and serious tone, to the point that he meant it literally.

"And what about you? Is the cane and glasses a new thing to make you seem more dignified, or are you slowly deteriorating?"

"Without malice, Bumblebee, considering who you're still talking to, I can submit a request to extend your sentence for insulting a public servant of my high rank."

"Just tell me what you want from me? If it's about any capabilities to fight or lead, Arcee has all the qualifications to do it better and faster than me!"

The gray-haired man simply sighed at Bee's words and shook his head disapprovingly.

"If I could, I would have done it long ago. Currently, your sister is busy as she holds a higher position in the Senate."

"Even better," he scoffed at the news, behaving like an offended little child.

"Anyway," Magnus cleared his throat to interrupt Bee, "I come to you today with a kind of proposition that I rarely apply..." He struggled to get it through his pride. "Due to the fact that you are a trained soldier, an excellent agent, ready for any possible situation, where we need people like you the most in these times. I want to give you the opportunity for rehabilitation through community service. By fulfilling them satisfactorily, you would repay your social debt and become a free man again."

"Do you really want to release me so easily?" Shocked by the older man's words, Bee widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"Unfortunately, I have to..." he hissed through his teeth.

Bee grabbed his chin and pondered intensely over Magnus's words.

"And what exactly does this 'community service' entail?" Bumblebee crossed his arms again, looking into the eyes of the graying man on the chair.

"Something simple, where you'll have to communicate with young people and teach others your naturally acquired knowledge from the battlefield. You shouldn't have a big problem with that. Of course, we'll hire you in the central police station as a lieutenant for a while so you can get the necessary permissions."

"Wait," the man in the cell stopped him. "What do you mean by 'communicating with young people and teaching others my knowledge'?"

This was a question that Magnus wanted to avoid as much as possible.

"To teach my daughter a few skills. She has great potential and amazing abilities, but due to recent events, I realized that she doesn't cope well in the real world. With her knowledge and your skills, she would quickly learn how to function in real society, not just in theoretical situations. Besides... She needs to spend some more time with someone she won't take such an example from, like you."

The words spoken by the black man only disgusted Bee. He couldn't believe what Ultra Magnus was proposing to him. He approached the barrier separating him from Magnus, looked him straight in the eyes, and furrowed his brow.

"Are you mocking me?" He chuckled slightly in anger. "Now I have to take care of your brat, which you accidentally made, and you don't even want to take care of her yourself? Just because you think you're doing me a favor now by offering me to become a nanny for my own freedom? I have no idea what Optimus saw in you appointing you as his right hand; you're a messed-up piece of shit. Not to mention what state you've brought Cybertron to with your 'great council' after the war." He said mockingly. "Let me tell you one thing, Magnus, I'm NOT SUITABLE for taking responsibility for anything. Look at the state I've brought myself to! It's a miracle I haven't died in some ditch, becoming an anonymous corpse of some hobo, like every war veteran lately. And now, find yourself a better sucker! I don't know, maybe Bulkhead is free, or convince your ass-kisser Smokescreen. He'll surely agree, after sucking your dick for almost 10 years to get to a good position."

Bee turned on his heel and disappeared in the semi-darkness of the cell, lying on his cot with his face to the wall. Just so Ultra Magnus would finally leave him alone. He grumbled something under his breath. The older man just stood up, took the chair under his arm.

"I got the message. Well then, I guess Ratchet won't be able to see you anytime soon." He began to walk away slowly.

Bee moved towards the barrier at Magnus's words, pressing against it with all his might.

"What do you mean by 'meet'?" he shouted in his direction.

"I intended to let you meet your father shortly after joining your service as a reward for your conduct. It's amazing how your family misses you, even Arcee and that con, Knock Out, are asking about you. After all, for the first time in a long time, they all know where you are, and that you are safe."

"Do you really think attempting to force me to become your lackey will accomplish anything? They don't need me, and everyone knows it well. I'm just garbage in their eyes and in the eyes of the whole society! Stop, just... I..." he rubbed his face with his hand. He sighed loudly; his head was already a mess from this conversation.

He didn't know what to say or do anymore. He also missed everyone, but he sincerely believed he was just a burden that had to be dragged along. He kept telling himself that he was a failure and the reason for all the misfortune in his and others' lives. Now he was wrestling with himself, and didn't want to sell himself so easily to Magnus, on the other hand, it sounded so easy to be free again and escape far from here once again. 'But does it make any sense at this point?' he asked himself this question, slowly bending down to the ground to sit crouched. Clutching himself as much as he could, he hid his head between his knees.

"So what's your final decision?" Magnus after he came back to Bee, raised an eyebrow standing in front of Bee. "This is not the time for such behavior; just say yes or no."

Bee froze in this position for a moment, unable to utter a single word because with every scream thrown into the space of his mind, tears were gathering in his eyes.

"Will it make anything better at all?" he said, staying in his crouched position.

"You'll have a chance to finally stabilize and perhaps change your life for the better," Magnus stared blankly into the space in front of him, noticing how Bee's cell was neglected.

Torn papers were scattered everywhere, and the photos attached to the wall had strings made of shoelaces connecting them. Clean clothes were piled under his cot in an indeterminate mass, remaining untouched for a while. On Bumblebee's bed, there was a discman covered with slightly yellowed stickers.

"When should it start?" the brunette whispered. "In about 3 months, the new semester will begin at the academy, and that's when I plan to take my daughter, Strongarm, for homeschooling, which you will take care of. Of course, I'll take care of your repair, medical care, and psychiatrist. I'll also make sure you return to your prime form by then," he cast his gaze back on Bee, slowly getting up from the ground. "I understand that this is your consent, Bumblebee."

"I guess so..." he replied uncertainty.

"Great. In a week, my secretary will come with documents for you to sign." he walked away with the chair under his arm, leaving Bee without further explanations.

Bee was left alone, shaken by the whole situation, not knowing what to do and why such situations only happened to him. He lay down again on his cot, put on his headphones, and immersed himself again in his world of music

Polish:

Magnus szedł przez korytarz więzienny. Szum z unoszących się cel był wszechmogący i mimo tego że cele były w pełni wyciszone, widok sędzi najwyższego zbiorem zamkniętym w tamtym przybytku powodowało czyste szaleństwo.

Ultra Magnus niewzruszony tym wszystkim cicho szedł przed siebie postukując swoją laską o ziemię.

Mężczyzna nie miał okazji zbyt często przebywać w tych samych przybytkach poza sądem, gdzie widział się ze skazanymi, ale ta okazja była wyjątkowa, z powodu jednego więźnia, którym był syn jego byłego przywódcy- Bumblebee.

Sam nie był w stanie uwierzyć, że był skazany na taki, a nie inny wybór, zwłaszcza przez to jak stoczył się ten chłopak i stał się wstydem dla całej legendy Optimusa zdaniem Ultra Magnusa.

Powoli wszedł do zamkniętego skrzydła specjalnego, gdzie więźniowie byli odizolowani od reszty przybytku, z wszelakich powodów, ale w tym został tutaj przeniesiony dla bezpieczeństwa innych więźniów.

Magnus wziął krzesło stojące przed jedną z pustych cel i zaciągnął je w jedno z ciemnych rozgałęzień. Po czym delikatnie je ustawił przed jedyną celą i usiadł powoli, zarzucając swój płaszcz do tyłu, a swoje ręce i ramiona oparł o laskę patrząc w głąb ciemnej celi.

Cicho kaszlnął by zwrócić na siebie uwagę, by coś się w końcu wydarzyło w ciemnej celi, podświetlanej jedynie niebieskimi lampami przy podłodze.

Można było usłyszeć cichy pomruk unoszący się celi, reagujący na obecność mężczyzny. Tym dźwięku nastąpił kolejny- strzelania kości, przez wstawanie z więziennej pryczy i cichego zsunięcia słuchawek z jego głowy na ziemię. Powoli i leniwie czarna postura wstała, kończąc tą całą procedurę głośnym ziewnięciem na koniec i podrapaniem się po dolnej partii pleców.

- Może zachowałbyś trochę kultury przy innych.- stwierdził patrząc na czarną posturę mężczyzny.- Takie bezpruderyjne zachowanie nie przystoi zwłaszcza tobie.

Postura w ciemności jedynie jedynie nieco zgarbił i cicho westchnął. Mężczyzną w cieniu podszedł do promieniującej na niebiesko.

- Aż tak ci zależy na moim zachowaniu, od kiedy? Od wtedy kiedy splunąłeś w twarz Ratchetowi, że to jego wina i jestem wstydem dla Optimusa i niego? - skrzyżował ręce.

Mężczyzna stojący przed barierą, był niższy od Ultra Magnusa i był w pomarańczowym stroju, brudnym od potu i nieco podartym, posiadającym plamy od jedzenia. Jego fryzura za to była tylko rozczochraną masą brązowych pasm włosów, które niezgrabnie rozchodziły się we wszystkie strony. Nie nosił żadnego obuwia, jedynie skarpetki z jedną dziurą przez którą wystawał palec. Brunetowi przez brak ochoty na większe dbanie o siebie urósł zarost. A jego ówcześnie wysportowana sylwetka oklapła i zastąpił ją delikatnie wystający brzuch.

Ultra Magnus dokładnie przyjrzał się Bumblebee, który wyszedł z formy przez zastanie i ogólny brak woli do robienia czegokolwiek.

- Widzę, że się nie oszczędzałeś przez ostatnie lata pobyty tutaj.- Mimo, że jego wypowiedź była sarkastyczna, powiedział zimnym i poważnie, do stopnia, że mówił to dosłownie.

- Ty chyba też? Ta laska i okulary to nowa, rzecz która ma ci dodawać powagi i respektu czy już powoli niedomagasz?

- Bez złośliwości Bumblebee, widz z kim nadal rozmawiasz, mogę dodać wniosek o wydłużenie ci wyroku za obrazę funkcjonariusza publicznego tak wysokiego stopnia jak mój.

- Powiedz mi po prostu czego chcesz ode mnie? Bo jeśli chodzi o jakiekolwiek możliwości do walki lub by coś poprowadzić, ona ma wszystkie predyspozycje by zrobić to lepiej i szybciej ode mnie!

Siwy mężczyzna jedynie westchnął na słowa Bee i pokiwał głową z dezaprobatą.

- Gdybym mógł to bym dawno to zrobił. Aktualnie twoją siostra jest zajęta, bo obejmuje wyższe stanowisko w senacie-

- Jeszcze lepiej.-prychnął na tą wiadomość, zachowując się jak obrażone małe dziecko.

- Wracając.- odchrząknął by przerwać Bee.- Przychodzę dzisiaj do ciebie z pewnego rodzaju propozycją, której nie stosuje prawie nigdy...- ciężko mu przez jego dumę przechodzi to przez gardło.- Z powodu dlatego iż jestem wyszkolonym żołnierzem, świetnym agentem, gotowy na wszelkie możliwe sytuację, gdzie potrzebujemy takich ludzi jak ty najbardziej w tych czasach. Chcę ci dać możliwość na rehabilitację swoich czynów poprzez pracę społeczne, dzięki którym po wypełnieniu ich w satysfakcjonujący sposób, spłacił byś swój dług społeczny i byłbyś spowrotem wolnym człowiekiem.

- Naprawdę chcesz mnie tak łatwo wypuścić?- zszokowany na słowa starszego mężczyzny, Bee zrobił duże oczy i podniósł brwi.

- Niestety muszę...-wysyczał przez zęby cicho.

Bee chwycił się za brodę i zaczął się intensywnie zastanawiać nad słowamis Magnusa.

- A na czym mają polegać te "pracę społeczne"?- Bumblebee ponownie skrzyżował ręce i spojrzał w oczy siwiejącego mężczyźnie na krześle.

- Coś prostego, do czego będziesz musiał komunikować się z młodzieżą i jedynie uczyć innych swojej naturalnie nabytej wiedzy z pola walki. Nie powinieneś mieć z tym większego problemu, oczywiście przez to zatrudnimy cię tam jako porucznika na jakiś czas, byś dostał potrzebne pozwolenia-

- Poczekaj.- zatrzymał go mężczyzna w celi.- Co masz na myśli przez "komunikację z młodzieżą i uczenie innych mojej wiedzy"?

To pytanie, które Magnus chciał ominąć jak najszerszym łukiem. Aczkolwiek również nie zamierzał go w tym temacie okładamć, bardziej uniknąć tego szczegółu.

- Uczyć moją córkę fachu. Ma wielki potencjał i niesamowite zdolności, ale przez ostatnie wydarzenia, zrozumiałem, że nie zbyt dobrze sobie radzi w prawdziwym świecie. A z jej wiedzą i twoimi umiejętnościami, szybko by się nauczyła jak funkcjonować w prawdziwym społeczeństwie, a nie teoretycznych sytuacjach. Poza tym... Musi trochę pospędzać więcej czasu z kimś z kogo nie będzie brać takiego przykładu, przez jak skończyłeś.- słowa wypowiadane przez czarnoskórego mężczyznę, jedynie zniesmaczyły Bee.

Bee nie mógł uwierzyć w to co mu proponuję Ultra Magnus. Podszedł bliżej do bariery oddzielającej go od niego. Spojrzał mu prosto w oczy i zmarszczył brwi.

- Kpisz sobie ze mnie?- zaśmiał się lekko w złości.- Teraz mam jeszcze zajmować się twoim bachorem, którego sobie zrobiłeś przez przypadek I nawet nie chce ci się nią zajmować? Tylko dlatego, że myślisz, że robisz mi teraz Primus wie jaką łaskę proponując mi zostanie niańką za własną wolność? Nie mam pojęcia co w tobie widział Optimus mianując cię swoją prawą ręką, jesteś skurwiałym śmieciem. Nie mówiąc już do jakiego stanu doprowadziłeś Cybetron po wojnie s "wszechwspaniałą radą".- powiedział to kpiąco.- Powiem ci jedno Magnus, ja się NIE NADAJE na branie odpowiedzialności za cokolwiek, spójrz do jakiego stanu się dopuściłem! Cud, że jeszcze nie umarłem w jakimś rowie, zostając bezimiennym truchłem jakiegoś żula, jak każdy weteran wojenny ostatnio. A teraz znajdź sobie lepszego frajera! Nie wiem może Bulkhead jest wolny albo weź zmuś do tego swojego lizodupca- Smokescreena. On na pewno się na to zgodzi, w końcu od prawie 10 lat ssie ci pałę, by dość do dobrego stanowiska.

Bee odwrócił się na pięcie i zniknął w półmroku celi, kładąc się na swoją pryczę twarzą do ściany. Tak by w końcu Ultra Magnus dał mu święty spokój. Burczał coś sobie pod nosem. A starszy mężczyzna jedynie wstał i wziął krzesło pod pachę.

- Zrozumiałem ten przekaz. W takim razie, chyba Ratchet nie będzie się w stanie z tobą zobaczyć w najbliższym czasie.- zaczął powoli odchodzić.

Bee ruszył do bariery na te słowa Magnusa. Przycisnął się do niej z całej siły.

- Co masz na myśli spotkać się?-wykrzyczał w jego stronę.

- Miałem zamiar cię puścić na spotkanie z twoim ojcem w niedługim czasie po przystąpieniu do twojej służby jako nagrodę za Twoje sprawowanie. To zadziwiające jak twoją rodzina za tobą tęskni, nawet Arcee i ten con- Knock Out się o ciebie dopominają. W końcu pierwszy raz od dawna wiadomo chociaż gdzie jesteś i że jesteś chociaż tutaj bezpieczny.

- Serio myślisz, że próba wymuszenia na mnie zostania twoim sługuskiem coś da? Oni mnie nie potrzebują i wszyscy o tym dobrze wiedzą. Jestem zwykłym śmieciem w ich oczach jak i całego społeczeństwa! Przestań, po prostu... ja...- przetarł swoją dłonią twarz. Głośno westchnął mają już mentlik w głowie przez tą rozmowę.

Nie wiedział już co ma powiedzieć, ani co robić. On również tęskniłem za każdym, ale szczerze wierzył, że jest jedynie męczącym workiem mięsa który trzeba za sobą ciągnąć. Ciągle sobie powtarzał w głowie, że jest nieudacznikiem i to on jest powodem wszystkich nieszczęście w jego i innych życiach. Sam się teraz gryzł ze samym sobą, nie chciał się tak łatwo sprzedać Magnusowi, z drugiej strony, brzmiało to bardzo łatwo by znowu być wolnym i uciec daleko stąd ponownie 'ale czy to ma już jakikolwiek sens w tym momencie?', sam sobie zadawał to pytanie, powoli schylając się ku ziemi by usiąść skulonemu. Ściskając się jak najbardziej tylko mógł, ukryła głowę między kolanami.

- To jaka jest w końcu twoją finalna decyzja?- Magnus podniósł jedną brew stając przed Bee.- To nie czas na takie zachowanie, powiedz po prostu tak czy nie.

Bee zastygł w tej pozycji na chwilę, nie potrafiąc wypowiedzieć jednego słowa, bo za każdym okrzykiem wyrzuconym w przestrzeń jego umysłu, zbierało mu się na łzy.

- A czy to jakkolwiek sprawi, że będzie lepiej...?- powiedział to zostając w swojej skulonej pozycji.

- Będziesz miał szansę w końcu się ustabilizować i być może zmienić swoje życie na lepsze.- Magnus patrzył pusto w przestrzeń przed nim, zauważając jak cela Bee jest zaniedbana.

Wszędzie leżały poszarpane papiery, a zdjęcia przylepione do ściany, miały że sobą powiązane sznurki zrobione że sznurówek. Czyste ubrania były ubite pod jego pryczą w jedną nieokreśloną masę i pozostając nieruszone od dłuższego czasu. Za to na pryczy Bumblebee leżał discman obklejony nieco przyżółkłymi naklejkami.

- Kiedy by miało się to zacząć...?- szepnął brunet.

- Za około 3 miesiąc zaczną się nowy semestr, w akademii, wtedy właśnie zamierzam zabrać moją córkę- Strongarm na nauczanie domowe, którym ty się zajmiesz. Oczywiście zajmę się twoim zakwaterowaniem, lekarzem i psychiatrą. Również zadbam o to byś do tego czasu wrócił do swojej najwyższej formy.- zarzucił swój wzrok znowu na Bee powoli wstającym z gleby.- Rozumiem, że to twoja zgoda Bumblebee.

- Tak sądzę, że tak...?- odpowiedział niepewnie.

- Świetnie. Za tydzień moja sekretarka przyjdzie z dokumentami dla ciebie do podpisu.- odszedł z krzesłem podpachą, zostawiając Bee bez większych wyjaśnień.

Bee został sam w jednej chwili roztrzęsiony całą tą sytuacją, nie wiedząc co zrobić i czemu takie sytuacje tylko mu się przytrafiają, położył się znowu na swojej pryczy, założył słuchawki i oddał się ponownie w swój świat muzyki.

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loversj0y · 2 years

Text

midnight caller

in which barre chords are hard, and being apart from your love is even harder

wilbur soot x reader (gn)

yeah @lyssys this was inspired by your lil post. was supposed to be a blurb. might be longer.

for tws: theres references to being over life and to wilburs hypochondria but not much other than that i suppose

The emptiness of your apartment was filled only with the soft and gentle sounds of shakily practiced plucking and hands striking chords. The darkness of the midnight sky contrasted the lamp on your bedside, as well as the streetlight from the window casting an orange haze over the room.

Your hands were shaky. It was important to figure this out. You wanted to figure this out.

Wilbur was so excited when you asked him.

“You want me to teach you guitar?” And when you’d subsequently nodded, he’d given you his grin and his praise in response of “Darling, I’d love to. We could play together!”

And he was so, so excited. You couldn’t risk hurting his happiness.

Of course, that was when you two were next to each other. Wilbur was intrigued by America, said he’d always had been, so of course he’d jump at the opportunity to visit his American partner at any turn (aside from his love being housed there, both literally and figuratively). But he would always have responsibilities. And it was a bit hard to keep a secret partner if you would have to stream from their home on another continent.

This always seemed so easy when Wilbur did it. When his hands wrapped around your own to show you finger placements, or explaining how you can use semitones to make new chords with less strain on your fingers. Maybe things were just easier when he was here.

But in a sunset glow, hands shook as they moved and tried to remember the words of your boyfriend a few weeks (or maybe months now) before.

“So, for a standard C, you’ll start with the ring finger on B at the first fret, then your second finger skips G and goes to second fret D, and you finish it with third finger on third fret A. And then you just strum and,” he paused for dramatic effect there, “you have a C chord.” You couldn’t help but look up at his slightly goofy but loving smile. He always was one for the dramatics. He looked up at you and his grin only increased, leaning forward to gently place a kiss on your forehead.

“Here, you try, darling.” His hand gently took hold of your own, taking each finger and delicately placing it exactly where he’d said. After a few moments of adjusting, you strummed out a C chord, and you could watch the fireworks in Wilbur’s eyes over and over in your head in that moment.

But now your own eyes were not sparkling but rather dull as exhaustion creeped into the brain. You were still practicing chords, missing your boyfriend and pretending it would make the distance shrink to sit in his clothes and play guitar. But the more and more you messed up the chords, the more lonely you felt. The swell of emotion in your chest finally reached it’s apex when you tried your hand at an F chord, and the only sound that came out was a muted buzzing. You let your head fall against the guitar, letting out a long and low groan. If he was here, it’d be easy. If he was here, it’d make sense. The ache in your chest only continued to grow as you placed your forehead against the guitar, a cold contrast to the warm lips you craved to be placed there instead. In a moment of frustration, you harshly set the guitar down on the bed next to you, letting your face fall into your hands instead.

A few silent moments later, your phone set a soft glow across the room, with a message notification and a heart.

“Good morning, darling. Hope you’re sleeping well. I miss you so much this morning <3”

Attached with the message was a photo of Wilbur, still with messy bed head, holding a small plushie you’d bought him as a gift last time you visited. That alone was enough to turn the lights up in the room and hit the video call button.

A few seconds past before he picked up. He was still in bed, face confused as he lifted it up towards his face.

“Darling? Why are you still up? Isn’t it like… four am for you?”

You sniffled a bit. “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded softly, leaning back in his bed. “Alright, what can I do for you, love?”

“I dunno. I just- I really, really miss you. I was trying to play guitar, and I just kept fucking up the chords, and I-“ You sighed a shaky breath out, tears welling in your eyes. “Everything is easier when you’re here. I can’t stand not being around you anymore.”

He frowned softly and nodded as he listened. He pulled the plushie you’d given him closer. “I miss you too, darling. Every day that I wake up without your face next to me I feel the cracks in my heart grow deeper. But, I can at least help with the guitar part. Is it with you?”

You nodded, straightening up and grabbing the guitar.

He hummed softly, “Okay, show me what the problem is.”

You nodded again, leaning the phone against a pillow. You started doing the F chord again, and once again, the same odd buzzing sound came out.

He made a soft “oh” sound before speaking again, “That used to happen with me before I started my lessons. You have to move your thumb placement, so,” He stood up, grabbing his guitar and setting the phone up like yours was.

“Right now, you have it nestled along the neck of the guitar. It’s not necessarily wrong, especially for your more basic like C or E chords, but it’s a bit harder when you’re doing a barred chord.”

You nodded, listening to his words closely and feeling warmer just at hearing his voice.

“So, it’s going to feel weird at first, but place your thumb in the center of the neck, sort of in the middle of where your fingers are placed.”

You did as he said, and he nodded again.

“Perfect, you’re doing great, love. Now, strum again.”

You did, and instead of the weird buzzing, you were finally met with the soft, albeit a bit weak, sound of an F chord. You let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding, letting your head fall.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly.

“Of course, love… do you… want to talk?”

You shook your head softly, “Not really. Just feel really far from you recently. Every time I play it helps because it reminds me of when you were here, but today, I just couldn’t get anything right.” You yawned a bit, setting the guitar down again and grabbing the phone, holding it closer.

“I know we wanted to wait some time to see each other again so we could still live our own lives, but I really don’t know how to do that anymore. I hate being so far from you, I hate everyone here, work sucks, fuck, I’m even missing Tommy, now.”

“Wow. You have to be really upset if it’s got you missing Tommy.”

“Exactly.” We both laughed a bit before you continued more, “But seriously. I just don’t know if I can handle it anymore.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You can handle anything. If it helps, I haven’t been much better. I get scared every time you go to sleep, or when you tell me that you will be gone for a bit. I’m scared something is going to happen to you one day, and that I won’t be there to help you. I don’t think I’d ever be okay if I lost you.”

You laid down, sighing softly. There was a silent moment before Wilbur spoke again,

“You know, there’s a far more simply solution to this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Here’s the plan. You go to bed, and by the time you wake up, I’ll have everything figured out. I’m talking every detail, jobs, plane tickets, everything. Every tiny detail.”

“Wait- Wil. Are you talking about me moving there?”

He blushed a bit before nodding softly, “Yeah. If you’ll accept, and are okay with moving all the way out here, I’d love to have you live with me.”

You were silent for a moment, before nodding softly. “Yeah. Okay.”

A grin split out on his face, and he stood, jumping out of bed and letting out a huge yell.

“My darling loves me! Brighton, are you hearing this? I am in love! My tiny person will be moving in with me!” He was essentially yelling out the window now as you laughed loudly.

“You’re going to get a noise complaint.”

“Hey, wouldn’t be the first. And with you here, it won’t be the last.”

“I- you- stop it!”

He just laughed, grinning at you, “Sorry my lovely little piece of sea glass, I’m just incredibly excited. I’m going to start figuring stuff out literally right now.”

You grinned quietly, “Okay. Mind staying on the phone so I can at least fall asleep with you there?”

He smiled fondly. “Of course. And soon enough, you’ll never have to worry about falling asleep with out me ever again. I won’t even let you. I’ll find you wherever you are and wrap you in a blanket, and we will cuddle. No choice there.”

You laughed softly, “I don’t need a choice, because I already agree.” You yawned again.

He smiled fondly, sitting down at his computer and setting the phone up to view his face. “Sleep well, darling. I love you so much. I’ll send you all the information I get as I plan it, okay?”

“Are you gonna make a spreadsheet?”

“Of course I am.”

“I expected nothing less,” You yawned softly, eyes starting to slip, ”I love you too, my favorite wet bandaid. I’ll dream of you.”

“It won’t be a dream soon.”

#wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes

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