#i finally found some time to play again!!!
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A Breath of Life || Challengers
Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.)
CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.
Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)
Wordcount: 9.7K
Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.
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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to.
You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep.
You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.
For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it.
Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered.
It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real.
But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water.
Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone.
But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again.
And your prayer was answered.
She appeared before you like an angel.
Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life:
“So, when can I play you again?”
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Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world.
You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you.
Tashi had breathed life into you.
Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear.
Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.
But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.
How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?
You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.
Or so you thought.
At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin.
“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in.
You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands.
“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.
She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.
The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile.
“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”
You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.
“Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.
You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music.
“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!”
You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”
Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”
Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm.
Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over.
Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach.
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The four of you had wandered down to the beach.
Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form.
You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her.
Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you.
You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.
Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk.
“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.”
“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”
You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”
Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you.
You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.
You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display.
Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear.
“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear.
Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.
When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass.
“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you.
“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.
You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.
Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.
When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:
You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.
You see Art’s coy smile.
They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.
And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.
You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is.
But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.
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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria.
Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.
“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.
Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”
“I would never do that.”
You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”
Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”
“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”
“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”
You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face.
“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”
He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:
“You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”
“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.
“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table.
You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.
“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”
“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.”
Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?”
You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”
This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.
“What?”
“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently.
“Do you love her, Art?”
“Can you please just answer my question?”
“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”
Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:
“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.”
You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”
“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”
You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her.
Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.
“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”
“You deserve to be loved.”
You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.
“I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”
You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.
You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you.
Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.
His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.
Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.
Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.
Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:
“Patrick isn’t good for her.”
And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth.
Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi.
“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.
“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.”
Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.
But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek.
“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.”
You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!”
“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”
“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?”
“Ask me how I know.”
“No.” You spit back at him.
But you don’t move.
Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together.
Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin.
“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”
“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.
A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you.
He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”
“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.
But Art won’t let it go.
“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”
You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back.
“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”
You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.
“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”
He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious.
Why won’t he follow you?
Why do you still want him to?
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You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art.
You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.
You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.
You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong.
You walk through the stands until you come across Art.
There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised.
You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.
“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares.
“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.”
“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”
Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”
Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone.
Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him.
“The match is about to start.” You say coldly.
Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away.
“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”
You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”
“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“
The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence.
In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.
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Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain.
What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.
“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!”
The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.
He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.
So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away.
Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.
When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.
You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.
Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you.
You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for.
Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.
“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka.
“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.
“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.”
He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury.
“Shut up, Patrick.”
You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling.
Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs.
You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head.
You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.
When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“
Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.
Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over.
As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet.
“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.
It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door.
You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs.
You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top.
“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.
Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication.
You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:
“I felt sorry for you.”
Patrick laughs.
The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most.
“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”
You should fight him, but you don’t want to.
You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to. You want him.
Art had been right about both of you.
No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure.
Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you.
You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.
“We both know what this is.” He goads.
“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him.
“Inevitable.”
“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names.
An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around.
You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.
The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.
“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”
You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him.
“But you only ever pursued Tash-“
He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert.
When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol.
When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.
You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes.
“Do that again.”
You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.
Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side.
Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back.
The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips.
You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next.
You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art.
Art.
Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?
You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him.
Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you.
He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist.
“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move.
“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck.
He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force.
In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real.
As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive.
The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room.
If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t.
He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away.
You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.
━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━
You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world.
No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered.
You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.
For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life.
You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him.
Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.
And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come.
From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old.
But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered.
You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art.
It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either.
Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you.
And that had not changed.
You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you.
You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room.
It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him.
You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him.
But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch.
You get down off the barstool.
As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.
The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.
And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.
You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down.
It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak.
It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them.
Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture.
When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.
“Can I ask you to sit with me?”
“I don’t know Art, can you?”
He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him.
You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be.
Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.
His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.
But he’s still close, too close.
Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do.
He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.”
“When have you ever known me to have one of those?”
You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds.
You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.
He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him.
You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him.
“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly.
You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.”
“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.”
You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him.
“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question.
“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?”
“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”
When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.
━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━
You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship.
You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses.
Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.
Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.
This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer.
You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.
You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.
Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.
The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you.
The door to your room clicks shut.
You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you.
When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head.
“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck.
“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”
You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean.
Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined.
You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most.
A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.
“Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head.
Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to.
Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.
“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly.
“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.”
“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.”
You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.
The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you.
When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up.
With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.
His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.
When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin.
“Lay back.” He instructs gently.
But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.
He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre.
“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations.
As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets.
“You deserve so much more than I can give you.”
You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.
Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait.
“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head.
He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs.
“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs.
“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.”
Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you.
You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks.
Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever.
As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity.
You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.
Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.
As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs.
Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck.
Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping.
“Is this alright?”
Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.
“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch.
“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.
His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”
It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.
Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision.
You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.
You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.
As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper.
“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”
Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick.
“You stared at Tashi.” You say.
You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.
“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.”
“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”
You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts.
You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi.
Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world.
After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.
It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.
━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━
You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip.
You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum.
You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead.
It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place.
Someone was knocking on your door.
And then you hear her voice.
Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.
“Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”
This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.
In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you.
When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.
You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.
Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.
The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.
You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door.
The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things.
Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.
She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.
“You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously.
If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade.
Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.
All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”
Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.
“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.
“I have a coach.”
“They’re not me.”
“No, they’re not.”
And just like that, you were snared again.
You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.
Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too.
Only time would tell.
#challengers movie#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson smut#mike faist#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#tashi x reader#zendaya#josh o'connor
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A Lesson in Heartbreak
Part 1 of 3: The Night it Fell Apart
Rating: T | Word Count: 2082 | Pairing: Azris/Reader
Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.
Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Read Below
Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue
A/N: @daycourtofficial asked if we would ever see that big fight mentioned in Even High Lords Need a Break and I was like sure why not aka let me channel my upsetti spaghetti emotions into this
Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe
Your food was cold but not as cold as the empty dining room you sat in. You’d stared at your plate in silence, letting tears fall before wiping them away with your napkin. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat. First due to waiting, then due to nausea from the realization they weren’t coming.
They promised, played in your mind over and over.
It was a betrayal you’d never felt before. The hollowness in your chest was eating away at you. You’d blocked the bond, determined that they would have to come of their own accord. But an hour passed and neither of them showed. After one last wipe of your face, you stood and tossed the napkin onto the table. Anger burned in you for a moment at the utter waste of food in front of you.
You left and found Azriel first.
He was in the upper library, books scattered on the table. The second he looked up at you, his face fell. You didn’t say anything, just stared with anger in your chest and tears falling again. He appeared in front of you, shadows weaving all around you.
“You promised,” was all you could get out.
Azriel fell to his knees, wings flaring out.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I promised. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.” Regret etched in his voice and features. “I was just busy-“
“And your shadows didn’t remind you?” Azriel’s silence was deafening. He reached for you but you stepped back. His shadows left you as well. “Where is Eris?”
“His office, but-“ you didn’t listen to what else he said.
You winnowed to the High Lord’s main office door. Without knocking, you threw it open. Eris was hunched over papers himself, fingers stained with ink as they ran through his hair. He didn’t even look at you.
“Eris.” He still didn’t look up. “Eris!”
“What?” He snapped, finally looking at you. He frowned as he studied your face. His tone was softer when he asked, “Why are you crying?”
“You don’t remember?” You were shaking, grief and anger building further.
He cursed, realization washing over him. “Dinner.”
“Yes. Dinner.” You gritted out. “You promised me that you and Az would be there.” Like you promised the past several weeks, you thought but bit it back.
“I know, I know.” He moved papers on his desk around. “But the High Lord meeting is in a week. There are things we have to plan for, it’s taking longer than-“
“You said that last week. And the week before that. Then it was tithe you had to work on. These are just excuses!” You screamed. “Neither of you showed! You promised!”
“Do not raise your voice at me.”
A command, one that had you clenching your fists at your side. He was on his feet, hands planted on his desk and he looked at you like he did his unruly governors. You could see fire in his eyes as he continued.
“I am genuinely sorry that I missed dinner. However, some things are more important than a meal. I’m the High Lord and I have responsibilities. We are hosting this time and we have to make certain everything is in order. You would know this if you bothered to help.”
You went still, even tears streaming down your face seemed to halt. You had heard of Eris’s cruel tongue for centuries. You never dreamed it would be directed at you.
“You told me I didn’t have to,” you whispered, your voice steadier than your body.
“Exactly, so you do not get to complain when Azriel and I are busy,” he snapped back. “You knew what you were getting into when we mated.”
Eris may as well have stabbed you.
“I suppose I did.” You suddenly felt like someone else was talking, with how calm the words came out. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”
You kept the bond shut, winnowing to your rooms. You used your magic to seal the room, barring even Azriel’s shadows. You went straight to the office, pulling out pen and paper while you sniffled and wiped your face with your sleeve. The first letter was rushed and sloppy- a letter to Samira, and sent it with a flick of your wrist. The second you took a deep breath before writing down where you were going. You sealed it with your personal seal and took it to the bedroom, tossing it onto the duvet.
You pulled out a travel bag and threw in clothes, not bothering to make sure they were neat and folded. You had to get out of Autumn before Azriel’s shadows told on you. You had to get out so you could process what happened. With your bag stuffed, you thanked the mother when a letter returned to you. You ripped it open. Samira was in Summer but spoke to Tarquin and granted you permission to travel.
You stuffed the letter into your bag and winnowed. One moment you were in your bedroom, the next you were outside, fae lights gleaming against the tan stone and reflecting off the sea glass doors in front of you. To your right Samira had been waiting for you. She was as beautiful as ever in a seafoam Summer Dress, her skin darker no doubt from the sun and her black hair braided back. She took one look at your face and her gaze softened. Just being in her presence broke you. She wrapped her arms around you and you sobbed.
“Let’s go inside,” she whispered, patting your back. “Cress has a room being made for you. We can get some tea and talk.”
You nodded, wiping your eyes again and followed her into the place.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Az was panicking.
We told you, his shadows hissed. You don’t listen. Our mate is angry.
“Shut up!” He bellowed.
His shadows scattered. He got to his feet, hands shaking. How could he have done this to you? He never made you cry- well, not like this. And his silence when you asked him if his shadows had told him, the betrayal on your face gutted him. Yes, they had told him. He kept saying he would go in a few minutes. He didn’t realize a few minutes turned into a fucking hour.
He went to the table, closing books and stacking papers to put away. You left in a flurry when he told you where Eris was. Az had to find you and apologize. He’d get on his knees again if he had too. Maybe Eris was already apologizing for both of them, considering you implied he didn’t show either. He ran his hands through his hair. After this conference, he wasn’t going to do another damn thing for the next two months. He owed it to you.
Azriel sent the papers to his personal study with magic and took the books over to a trolley. He didn’t notice that his shadows went missing. He made his way down the stairs, mind buzzing with ideas and thoughts. Thoughts of what to say to you to convince you he was sorry. He didn’t make it down the stairs, however. Shadows returned in full force, swarming around him. All of them spoke to him over each other.
Mate. Gone. Blocked. Gone. Letter. Read it. Read it. Read it.
Something fell onto the stair he was standing on. A letter. He picked it up, confusion on his face as he looked it over. It was your seal. One you only used to correspond with other courts. He ripped it open, unfolding the paper inside. He skimmed the first two lines and his heart felt like it stopped. He read it again, thinking he was misunderstanding it.
She locked us out. Gone. Our mate upset her. Shadows hissed.
His breath quickened and his heart raced. He read the letter again fully. He felt like the air was punched out of him. You left. You left. And the words were blurring as his eyes watered. What you wrote didn’t make sense. Then he remembered you went to Eris when you left him.
Sorrow was replaced with rage. Eris had a temper. Always had. He had a sharp tongue as well. He did or said something to make you leave. He had too. Your side of the bond was silent, no doubt to help you slip away unnoticed. Eris however, Azriel sent all his fury to him as he winnowed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eris had been staring at the itinerary in front of him for half an hour. Yet if anyone asked him what it said, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He had let his temper get away from him. He swore the day he killed Beron he would never act like him and yet- you came into his office like a summer storm, eyes and cheeks red from crying. He knew instantly he was the cause. And gods was he angry.
He was so angry at himself for forgetting again. For failing you again. But all that came from his mouth was venom he’d used for centuries to protect himself. He was wrong and he knew it. He wanted to tell you but you had shut down the bond. No matter how much he tugged and clawed, he couldn’t get through to you. Eris figured if he waited, the both of you would calm down and he could apologize. He would beg on his knees for you to forgive him.
A moment passed and he suddenly felt rage. Not from you, but from Azriel. In the next moment, the room filled with darkness, only blue siphons lighting the room. Eris was out of his chair but not from his own accord. The chair toppled and Azriel had Eris pressed against the wall.
“What did you do?” Azriel growled.
“Azriel.” Eris could feel his flames wanting to rise. “You better have a good reason-.”
“She left.” Az’s hand punched the wall beside Eris, the blue light pulsing on his siphons.
“What?”
The shadows didn’t let up, darkness still covering the room.
“She left Autumn.” Eris could see the tears now. “She left us!” Before Eris could ask further a note was shoved against his chest. “What the fuck did you do, Eris?”
“Me?” He didn’t even look at the paper yet. “If she told me correctly, you missed dinner as well. And you have less of an excuse than I do.”
Anger flashed in the bond and Eris had to duck to keep Az’s fist from connecting with him. Eris winnowed away to the door, out of the shadows and into the light. Some shadows were crawling on him still, acting agitated. Eris finally looked down at the letter.
I’m going to stay with a friend. Do not look for me. I will not burden you both any longer. I should have known when I mated to a High Lord and his consort, I would never be as important as the court. I was a fool. You’ll never be subjected to my foolishness again.
Eris stumbled, falling back against the door frame. Realization sank in and he read the letter again. You actually left. It was all his fault. His mind said this was ridiculous; it was just dinner. But his heart knew it wasn’t. It was not coming to bed until you’d fallen asleep, rising before you woke. It was the pleading looks you gave when you asked him or Azriel to join you even if for a moment. It was how he hadn’t shown you an ounce of his love for months now.
Then shadows suddenly parted and Eris looked up to see Azriel, wild eyed with siphons still pulsing.
“She’s in Summer,” he came around the desk to Eris, grabbing him by the shirt. “We have to go get her. We have to bring her back.”
“Get a hold of yourself.” It was Eris’s turn to grab Az and flip them around so Az was pinned to the wall, with his wings splayed out. “We cannot just winnow into Summer. Where did they say she went?”
“The palace.” Fresh tears rolled down Az’s face. “She banished the shadows when they found her. She blocked our rooms the same way when she-“
Eris felt the wave of sorrow from Az. He grabbed him and pulled him against him. Eris didn’t like crying but he couldn’t help but blink repeatedly, failing to drive those tears away. He would fix this. He had to.
Part 2
#I’m sorry not sorry#angst#big fight#Neapolitan bonds#Azriel/eris/reader#azris/reader#azriel acotar#eris vanserra#eris acotar#acotar x you#acotar x reader#I wrote this instead of working on my other wips
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Suffer Pt. 4 | Lucifer x Reader
The time has come, babes, this could be the final part
I wanna say this part is 18+ , so MINORS go away
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
♡♡♡
"I'll see you, Lucifer."
"I hope so."
Even with high hopes, Lucifer anxiously paces his own workshop, twisting his grip on his cane and watching the minutes pass by. Literally. He would either pull out his phone and check the time, or peak up at the novelty clock hanging nearby, and scoff at how little time has passed since the last time he decided to look. To occupy his time, he would rummage through his piles of squeaky creations, scanning over them as if he had anything on his mind other than you. He'd walk in front of a mirror, fixing his lapels, straightening his tie, then questioning whether or not he should just change entirely. With one more pacing lap around the small room, he stopped in front of the mirror again, while brushing his hair back with his claws. The sudden glimmer of his wedding band reflecting some light caught his attention. He froze in front of his reflection, then shifted his gaze down to his left hand. He twisted it around as if he never noticed it until now, even after wearing it for 10,000 years. Why is it bugging him now?
Oh, yeah. He was about to see you in just a few minutes.
But that shouldn't upset him, you two were becoming friends again.
Lucifer broke his gaze from his hand and looked towards the large family painting still hung on the wall. He couldn't take it down. He had no idea why Lillith left, for all he knows, it could've been a perfectly valid reason. But she looks so happy in that picture. In fact, they all looked so happy. How did that happen? A combination of the clock chiming, and an alarm he set the day before, going off at the same time made him jump. He fumbled his phone into his suddenly sweaty claws, letting out a nervous yelp.
3:01PM
"Aw, Hell! I'm late!" Before snapping his fingers to open a portal to the hotel, he mindlessly slipped the ring off his finger and placed it carefully on his desk, leaving it alongside a family portrait.
—
You hummed your usual tune, the same one that calmed you and young Charlie, as you twisted and turned to examine your outfit. You were almost as nervous as Lucifer was. Well.. not really. He was a wreck. But why should you be nervous? Why would he be nervous? You two only agreed to meet up at the hotel and.. catch up some more. No activities were really planned, it was as if you simply wanted to hear each other's voices again. As if the late-night calls you were having weren't enough. It was a nice change though. No matter how late you were talking to each other, you slept like a rock the rest of the night. No need for some silly radio anymore.
Speaking of,
"Alastor, what did I say about knocking? Or even going through the door in general?" You questioned out loud, not even looking away from your figure in the reflection. The radio on your nightstand suddenly started playing a barely recognizable old-timey tune, and you could feel the radio static sensation growing in your chest, so you felt no need to break your concentration to look his way. You heard your bed creek next, only peeking in your reflection for a moment to catch Alastor sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed.
"Isn't today your weekly Rosie visit? What do you want?" It's not like he was bugging you, but recently Alastor had been keeping close quarters. You found him sitting next to you a lot, a little too close, during exercises. Which was strange, considering he never really attended exercises until recently.
Obviously, he's been inviting himself into your room without permission, which caused him to interrupt some phone calls with the king. He's also been inviting you out to Cannibal Town more often, and even bringing some unannounced fresh-cooked meals for you. You wouldn't admit to the cannibal thing, but it's hard to avoid it after working in that bakery for so long. You didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't.. rare. So, you suppose it was nice of him to cook for you.
"Indeed! I’m assuming you'll be joining me, that is why you’re dressing so formally, correct? Rosie's been talking about you quite a lot, considering you've missed our last few outings." You could hear his teeth clench while he spoke his final words.
"All good things, I hope?" You had moved on to looking through a little jewelry box, occasionally pulling out necklaces and holding them up in the mirror to see how it'd look on you.
"Of course!" Alastor reassures, rising from the bed to stand behind you, his hands gently placed on your shoulders. He has to bend at the hips a bit to see his own face in the shorter mirror.
"Then, I'm sure she can handle one more lunch date without me. I'll join next time." You said, still rummaging through the little trinket box. With a victorious hum, you pulled out a little golden chain, with a snake charm that swirled into an S shape.
As you held it up to your neck, like you did with the rest, you felt Alastor's hands shift from your shoulders to take each end of the necklace, carefully pulling the chain around your neck to fasten it in the back. With a quick thank you, you pulled your hair to the side to assist him. His breath was hot against the back of your neck, sending an instinctive shiver down your spine. Alastor started to feel a bit flushed at the sensation, which surprised even him. The thought of sinking his teeth into the softest part of your neck, doing anything to keep your mind off of that damned angel, immediately flooded his mind. He fastened the necklace quickly, pulling away as fast as he could after that grotesque thought crossed his mind. He was sure that he was just hungry. He cleared his throat, stepping a good few feet away from you.
"So? How's this? Does it look okay with the dress?" Oh, it did. You tried your best to not concern yourself over what you wore, but Lucifer was always one to dress in his finest suits, so you'd hope to meet him at least halfway. Excuse the phrasing, but God bless Angel and his eye for fashion. You arrived in Hell before Charlie was even born, then essentially worked in uniforms up until you arrived in the hotel. Emphasizing that this was not a date, Angel found you a pretty little purple dress. It was perfectly fine as is, with thin straps, a skirt hugging your hips just slightly and stopping right below where your thighs meet. But he insisted you "spice it up", accessorizing you with a patterned corset, decorated in leafy designs and tied together with a silky ribbon at your back. It took you hours of convincing to even put it on for today. All this for just a hangout. What would you even do? Have dinner? Would Lucifer go into Pentagram City with you? What would happen if you stayed in the hotel?
"Not exactly my style, I prefer something with more.. coverage. But you look lovely either way." Alastor's words broke your train of thought and you immediately turned red, embarrassed by how lost in your own thoughts you got. You recovered and rolled your eyes at him, finding your phone and looking through it.
"I don't know why I asked, it's not like I'm dressing up for you." You said, Alastor watching you as you swipe through something and then smile at your phone.
"Then who might you be dressing up for, might I ask?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning foward on his cane, craning his neck to look at your whatever could be making you smile so brightly. You pulled your phone to your chest and glared at him.
"No one! ..Me! I'm dressing for myself! Is there a problem with that, Al?" You let out a little humph, before checking the time on your phone.
"He should be here soon.." you said softly, almost hoping he didn't hear you. "Tell Rosie I said hi, will you? I'm seeing Lucifer today." You said quickly as you left your room, hoping you could avoid his response by leaving in a hurry. Luckily you did. You felt the static running through you soften as you went down the stairs, looking at your phone as you did. With one more mental pep talk, you took a deep breath and opened the hotel's double doors.
"Heyyyy! You!" Lucifer stood eagerly, without a ring to fiddle with, he toyed with his clawed hands behind his back. You should respond. You should greet him, say hi, welcome him in, anything. But he stood there wearing a plum and black purple blazer, that stopped just at his waist. It was fitted nicely over a ruffled black top and dark trousers. Before you could stop yourself, you realized you had let your eyes trace his body up and down. Quickly meeting his eyes with a reddened face, you nervously chuckle, stepping aside to let him in.
"S-Sorry.. I- uhh.. Hi. Lucifer." You finally greet him, shutting the door as he enters the hotel.
"You look nice. Purple always looked good on you." He stated out loud. Purple? When was the last time you wore anything purple? Looking around the hotel, he examined any detail he might have missed from his last visit. Of course, that wasn't what he was really doing. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes off of you, needing to let his heart rate slow.
After finally calming himself down, he turns to you with a grin, opening his mouth to say something- but what he saw was you gripping onto the hem of your skirt with a nervous look on your face, your eyes wide.
Purple always looked good on you.
"Are you okay? Sorry, did I - uh.. should I - " you quickly step away from him, waving your hands.
"N-No! You're fine! I'm okay, I just uh.. dinner! You want something to eat? Or.. we can check out the city-" Desperately trying to take the topic off your feelings, you threw out some ideas for the night.
"Oh! Okay, Dinner sounds great! We should probably stay in the hotel, but will.. will anyone else be joining us..?" He looked around the clearly empty room.
"Charlie and Vaggie just left to try and recruit some sinners, Angel's working and Husk avoids people if no one's the bar, so.. I think that it might just be us." You smiled. Why were you smiling? Maybe because they're contagious.
Alastor. The familiar grinning face comes trailing down the stairs, greeting you and you alone.
"Oh! Your Highness, I had no idea we'd have company!" He walked behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders again as he looked down at Lucifer.
"Al, I told you he was coming by." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Lucifer glared, immediately breaking the contact from him to look at you.
"Will he be joining?" Lucifer asked, in an agitated low tone.
"No, he's busy. Right? You were just leaving for Cannibal Town." You stressed, turning your head to look up at the towering demon. Lucifer wondered how you weren't intimidated by him? Your head barely reached the center of his chest.
"Of course, I wouldn't want to intrude! Just be careful with our little doll here, your majesty." He says, then leans closer to the crook of your neck. "And I thought I'd bring your cardigan, dear, it's a tad cold today." The sweater suddenly appears in his hands and he drapes it over your shoulders. It felt heavier than usual.
"Oh, um.. thanks.. Al." You clear your throat, shooting him the best smile you could muster in this embarrassing moment.
"Have fun with Rosie!" You finally said, essentially pushing Alastor out of the hotel's doors. None of that had to happen, he could've easily phased his way out of the hotel and you knew that. With a final sigh, you went back to Lucifer, taking off the sweater and folding it, before draping it over the couch in the lobby.
"What, not cold anymore? He was just trying to be nice." As much as you'd like to hear that as a joke, it had a sense of discomfort to it. You knew Lucifer didn't like Alastor; he made that clear multiple times. Considering he's been so kind to you though, you thought you had to at least try to defend him. But with Alastor's recent actions, and just how.. touchy... he's been, it's getter harder to try and explain his actions.
"It's Hell, Lucifer, it's never cold. It doesn't go with the dress anyway. Now, c’mon. I can make something quick in the kitchen." Trying to move past the subject, you take hold of his hand and guide him to the kitchen area.
You definitely cooked a lot more since you stayed in the hotel. Despite your mild cannibalistic tendencies, you loved making regular, flesh-free, food for everyone else. It was just who you are, you loved to dote. At this point, you were making meals for everyone, cooking specific courses for certain demons. Specializing in their favorites. It was no different than how you were when you were taking care of Charlie. A messy toddler had a constantly changing appetite, and Lucifer always seemed to admire how well you could keep up with that. I mean.. despite kissing a married king, who was also your boss, you were actually good at your job.
The cooking process went by fast, you put on an apron before starting to cook, which Lucifer could argue looked adorable on you. But he would never admit it. He simply sat on a nearby counter, his legs crossed over each other as he leaned back on the palm of his hands. You recreated something that used to be a favorite back at the manor, and of course, it was delicious. The two of you didn't even make it to the table. You plated everything and went towards the door, but before you could leave, you turned to see Lucifer already working on his plate as he sat on the counter. You laughed at him, before attempting to join his side. This was probably for the best, sitting at a table while eating seemed so.. Date-y.
You struggled to hop up to the counter without flashing anyone. Dammit, Angel. With a quick motion, Lucifer had his hands on your waist and he lifted you with ease onto the cold tabletop. With a nervous exchange of thanks, he hikes back up the counter and sits next to you. It felt ridiculous to examine the entire moment. Here you are, sitting on the edge of the damn kitchen counters with Lucifer, kicking your legs every now and then, laughing at jokes and just.. enjoying everything. He made you glad you lived in Hell.
The plates now set aside, Lucifer had turned to face you, his crossed leg lightly brushing against yours as he recalled some embarrassing things that Charlie did when she was growing up. Things that happened after you left.
"Oh it was bad, we don't even know what she used to dye her hair but it was not easy to get out. You know.. Teenager stuff, I guess." He showed off some images from his phone, making you lean into his shoulder to catch a better glance. You found yourself leaning past Lucifer, your sides fully together at this point. Lucifer braces himself up with his hand behind your back. When you finally had enough of the pictures of Charlie in her emo-phase, you sat straight, making Lucifer's arm shift to the small of your back. You hummed quietly at his touch.
Don't do this. Don't ruin this, not again.
"Dishes! I'll um.. let me clean up and we can find somewhere with actual chairs.." You hopped off the counter, stumbling a bit before leaning into the sink and starting the water. Before you could even start scrubbing, the dishes simply poofed from your hands and into the drying rack at the side of the sink, sparkling clean.
"Oh, right.. Angelic powers." You laughed nervously, looking around the room for a moment.
Finally deciding that the air was too thick with some kind of tension, you gestured him out of the room and showed him off to the small book room. You didn't go in here often, but it was either this or your bedroom.. Obviously, that wouldn’t end well.
Taking a seat on the little sofa in the room, you managed to get the conversation back on a regular topic, complaining about some customers you used to deal with while working in Cannibal Town. He finally went on a rant about his rubber duck fixation, which baffled you but didn't really surprise you.
The conversations didn't last long. It was bound to happen. Alone in the hotel? Catching up after all these years of built-up tension? It started with Lucifer placing his hand on the small of your back, something that has always given you butterflies. It didn't feel the same when Alastor would do it. Lucifer's hands were obviously smaller, but they were so gentle. And he had no intent on pulling you closer or keeping you sitting upright, he was doing it just so he could touch you. Your hands had traveled in between the two of you, supporting you as you leaned into him. The room was silent, but your thoughts were screaming in your head. He's hurt you before. He's just been alone for too long, this isn't anything special. Don't make the same mistake.
Staring into each other's glazed-over eyes, unsure of how to proceed but unwilling to move away, he finally bites the bullet. Raising his free hand to caress the side of your face, brushing a few strands of hair away, you place your hand overtop of his, relishing in his gentle touch. You felt his hand flinch a bit at your actions, but when you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned into his palm, he immediately felt at ease. He moves his hand towards him just slightly to better bring you closer. Your foreheads now pressed together, all your concerns went away. This wasn't like before. You felt so safe with him, there was no fear of things going wrong or being ruined. Not anymore. Not at this moment. Your comfort was disrupted by his quiet voice.
"A-Are you sure about this.? Can I.. Maybe we should just-" Shut him up. You muffled any other worried thoughts he might have by placing a gentle and quick kiss on his lips. His eyes widened just for a moment, looking surprised despite all that's happened beforehand. Suddenly desperate, he pulls you in, making your lips meet again in a long, long, overdue embrace.
You were just as desperate for this. All you could think of was how gentle he was being, even with the eagerness of his quickening breath. You leaned in more, forcing Lucifer to prop himself up with his hand beside him. You kept leaning. At this point he's taken both his hands off of you, needing to brace himself up. Your lips never pull apart. You placed your hands on his chest, moving underneath his jacket, and onto his shirt, just to be even the slightest bit closer to him. Suddenly processing the position, Lucifer shifted his leg to allow you to crawl closer to him. You were careful, you knew this was long overdue, but it'd be a bad idea to do anything too intense right now. It would overwhelm both of you. Still, finally breaking your kiss, you pushed back to assess his beautiful expression. He looked disappointed. Almost runny eyes, he was propped up by his elbows while you kelt your hands placed on his chest. His porcelain skin contrasted with the red glow across his cheeks.
"You okay, Lucifer?" You asked softly, reaching a hand to brush some strands of hair back into place. He only nodded, before returning a hand onto your back and pulling you on top of him, deepening the kiss you had so rudely interrupted. You felt his hand pull away for a moment, and heard him snap his fingers. You heard the door shut. Then you heard it lock. That made you as nervous as it did relieved. Pulling away for a moment you decide to tease him.
"What, you couldn't have done that before?" You said slyly with a smirk on your face. With a sarcastic laugh, he pressed a kiss onto your smile. Neither of you could believe what was going on right now.
Both your breaths were becoming heavy, Lucifer had scooted to rest his back on the arm of the couch, he pulled you closer and rested his hands around your waist. Neither of you had made the decision to go any farther than enjoying each other's lips yet, but at the same time, you wouldn't complain about staying connected to him like this forever. He reached back and tugged on the silky ribbon of your corset, maybe not as an invitation, but to find something to fiddle with to keep his nerves at bay. You weren't sure. But there was no harm in assuming, right? You took hold of his hand, which still held one of the laces, and guided it to pull it completely loose. It wasn't covering anything, it just loosened the fit of your dress. It wasn't like you were stripping for him. But his face was absolutely flushed by the action.
Letting the corset belt drop to the ground, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. Moving to the inside of his coat, you slipped your fingers over his shoulders to guide the jacket off of him. With some more shifting and adjusting, you both sat straight. Lucifer found himself dragging his lips to your chin, then your jawline, guiding your head to tilt back for easier access. Pulling your body against his with one hand, he cradled your head with the other, running his claws gently across your scalp before doing so. The action sent shivers down your spine, almost a relieving sensation to your hot skin.
He speckled kisses down your neck, taking his time to cover every inch of you. You could feel his labored breath against your skin every time you let out a little moan or hum. He ran his hand down your shoulder, hooking the strap of your dress with his thumb and moving it aside, careful not to undress too much. Not yet. With the newfound space, he nipped at your skin, making you yelp quietly. You quickly place a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the sounds coming from you. Lucifer was not going to let that happen. He traced your arm, running his fingers along your skin, and gently pulled your hand away from your mouth.
"W-What - " You could barely question him, before he forced another yelp from you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just a bit deeper this time. He hummed at your finally unmuffled voice, taking your hand that he had been holding and guiding it to his head. You immediately took hold of his hair, gripping just lightly, something to keep you from floating away, while he continued to work across your collarbone. Feeling a light suction, you gasped and yanked on his hair, pulling his face away from your chest.
"N-No, no marks! Don't be.. mm... s-stupid.." you scolded, as he leaned down, and ran his tongue up the length of your neck.
"What if I put them somewhere only I can see?" He had moved to your ear at this point, kissing the crook of your jaw as he spoke so sweetly against your skin. Ooh, fuck, you wanted that. Bad.
You took a hold of his jaw and pulled him back up to your lips. Placing your thumb along the bottom of his lip, you opened his mouth a bit, inviting yourself into his mouth. Tracing his lower lip with your tongue, you slid inside, his tongue feverishly following suit. The sensation forced a quiet whimper out of Lucifer, you felt his body weight droop for a moment, falling forward and pushing you onto your back. Caging you in with his arms, he refused to pull away, even if he needed to breathe.
You pushed his chest slightly, and he immediately pulled away, his lustful gaze turning to concern. You watched him catch his breath. While he was panting, you could see his forked tongue just slightly hanging from his lips, which were glossy from the messy and desperate kisses you'd been exchanging. You looked up and down his body for a second. Keeping your hands on his chest, you smoothed over his shoulders, before pulling him back in for another kiss. With your hands still near his chest, you reached towards the clasps of his shirt, beginning to work the expensive feeling fabric off of him. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin. You ran your closer hands across his bare chest, once completely undone. He was overheated and panting, you were just helping him, obviously. You'd say anything to convince yourself that what your doing was okay. Why wasn't it okay, again?
"It's okay, babe, we'll try again later." A saddened groan was muffled through the closed door. Oh. Right. You heard Vaggie comforting a frustrated Charlie just outside the room. You both looked at each other with widened eyes, probably for longer than you should’ve. It was a mixture of disappointment and anxiety. And a little bit of consideration, that maybe they won't check the room if you're quiet. The set of footsteps was coming closer, possibly passing the room to go up the stairs, but it finally forced you out of your head.
You pushed him off of you, desperately making as much distance as possible. The motion of pushing him from his chest, which your hands were so sweetly caressing moments before, took the air out of his lungs, forcing out a loud groan. Hushing him as if you weren't the reason he was wheezing, you struggle to get your corset back on. Finally giving in, you threw it over the back of the couch and took hold of your trusty sweater that was still draped over the back of the couch. You scrambled to put it on. Lucifer simply snapped his fingers to fix up his hair and return his suddenly clean and crisp top back on him. You also heard him unlocking the door.
"Fucking angelic magic.." you muttered, out of breath from your little frantic display. He lets out a cocky chuckle. Taking the risk, he pulls you in for one more quick kiss. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment, his eyes absolutely sparkling just at the sight of you.
His hand slipped away quickly once the door opened.
"Holy shit- dad?? You didn't tell me you were visiting!" Charlie held onto the handle as the door was opened, Vaggie stood beside her looking just as confused. Before you could acknowledge it, Lucifer gestured to the little coffee table in front of the couch, with some random board game sprawled out on it. When did that get there?
"Heyy Sweetie- well, I-I uh.. we were just catching up, ya know, playing some games. The.. usual.." He grinned nervously, picking up some random game piece and observing it like he knew what it was for.
"Yeah, don't worry Charlie, I'm kicking his ass." You said smoothly, smiling at him when he turned towards you with a glare. You were definitely better at acting casual than he was.
"Oh! Well.. okay, then! Maybe we can all get a game in before you go!" Charlie planned out, already walking off. Lucifer sent a sweet smile and a little wave to Vaggie. She returned the greeting, a comforted smile on her face as she followed after Charlie.
"Well! That was-" Lucifer turned to you with a nervous expression, scratching at the top of his hand.
"- A close call?" you said through some chuckles, "but.. good. It was good." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile you couldn't shake off. You looked at him nervously fidgeting with his hands, your eyes widening at the sight of his ring-less finger. Blinking a few times, thinking that maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, you couldn't stop yourself from turning red.
"Just good? I'm offended, sweetheart, I thought I did a pretty amazing job there." He boasts, crossing his arms across his chest. Jokes were another coping mechanism Lucifer used often. But you weren't caught up on that.
Sweetheart. You sucked in your lips to hold back a ridiculously wide grin.
Awkwardly clearing his throat when you didn't respond, he clasps his hands together in his lap.
"Sooo.. what now..?" He asked sheepishly. He sounded nervous asking that. You took a hold of his hand and kissed his knuckles, before standing and taking him along with you.
"Now, we have to play some random board game with Charlie. That's your fault, by the way." He laughed after letting out a sigh of relief, following behind as you left the room.
Things were really looking up after that. The board game was awful, and you had to avoid eye contact with Lucifer the rest of the night, the sight of him turning you red immediately. His lips were all over you literal minutes before this, yet he’s acting much calmer than you. It almost frustrated you. Charlie even asked if you were feeling sick at some point. What a fucking nightmare.
Besides that, the unavoidable tragic events proceeding with the extermination day came and went. You did everything in your power to defend the hotel alongside Charlie and your newfound family. During the battle, you found yourself getting distracted by Lucifer's little fight with Adam. It's not like Adam wasn't getting a few hits in, but Lucifer seemed completely unphased. Sometimes you forget. You've seen him as a nervous, loving father, with a habit of making too many ridiculous jokes, but at the end of the day, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anything else in this realm. It was kinda hot..
A spear flying by your head snapped you out of your thoughts, and you groaned, simply embarrassed by your own mind.
The construction of the hotel went the same, he was creating endless materials amd assistance for the crew and you couldn't help but appreciate his strength and abilities. You assisted Charlie to keep your mind from thinking about Lucifer's teeth sinking into your shoulder or how smooth and warm his bare skin felt underneath your hands. But you found yourself chatting it up or helping Lucifer with some tasks every now and then.
Still, you had your fun during the process, sneaking off every now and then to "recharge". A single kiss on the cheek gets this man going, but you kept it at that. You weren't willing to risk any more run-ins.
Finally, the renovations were nearly finished, you were walking the halls just looking for any little things that may need to be cleaned up before you were meant to meet outside for the finale touches. Humming and scanning the area for any debris, you were stopped in your tracks feeling a fuzzy static sensation. It didn't feel like Alastor's usual presence, it was uneven and wavering. You looked around, finally finding him leaning against a wall with a hand clutched over his chest.
"Holy shit- Al! We thought you died, what happened?Oh my god, are you hurt? I mean everyone's gonna be relieved that you're okay, but we have to get you patched up soon or-" you rushed towards him as you spoke, watching a new pocket of blood seep through his coat. Attempting to reach for the wound, his hands came to your shoulders, Holding you with a bruising strength.
"A-Al, that hurts.." you gripped his wrists, attempting to pull him off of you.
"I hate to do this, love, but it appears I'm desperate. In exchange for my silence, you said you owe me one. Now, do me a favor. Stay away from that pompous king." Before you could say anything else, a whirring green smoke encased you both, finalizing the deal.
"What? Hold on, what did you do? Alastor, what's going on?" You questioned him desperately as he released his hands from your shoulders.
What just happened?
"Hm. Don't make such a fuss, I'm just helping you. Unless I'm forgetting, I'm quite sure he did something to hurt you in the past. So it's probably for the best to keep your distance. Ah! I believe they're looking for us, outside, dear! Shall we?" Alastor brushes off his suit, covering the stain with his overcoat and suddenly dropping the injured act. He hooks your arm into his and the two of you melt away into the shadows before you could protest to anything that just happened.
♡♡♡
lmao jk there's more parts coming
( Just an extra extra note, it honestly takes me awhile to write, I usually work on it piece by piece over a few days, then it takes me a day or two to finish editing it, plus it all depends on what's motivating me that day :') PLEASE keep sending more requests and I really appreciate everyone who has already sent one in being so patient )
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bsf!Rafe who for once gets jealous and annoyed, and it's reader's time to remind him he's still reader's favorite boy
I adore your mind anon 😭😭 jealousy is such a pretty color on rafe <3 this is fr my favourite pairing to write for at the moment so I’m literally always and forever willing to discuss thoughts on them!! <3
bsf!rafe who gets sad jealous when he sees some other guy flirt with you… <3 listen to babydoll by ari abdul, cause rafe calls reader babydoll hehe <3 cw: suggestive content (no actual smut): intimacy, tension and neck kissing, rafe gets jealous, minimal swearing, rafe calls reader babydoll once, reader is a no bullshit taking kind of person, alcohol consumption <3 for @chenslucy (I love love love you heaps anna 💚)
part of this little universe <3
you didn’t even mean to, it just happened.
he cornered you at the bar when all you wanted was to get some beer for you and rafe, and said things like he’s been looking at you since you came inside the party mansion, and thought you’re the prettiest person he’s ever laid his eyes on. you knew it’s all the alcohol in his system talking; he wasn’t even all up in your face yet you could smell the alcohol on his breath.
it took you quite some time to tear away from the conversation; after a lot of convincing from your side that you were not into him, even when he kept on flattering you more and more. you finally escaped the conversation, letting out a deep sigh as you hold two cups of beer in your hand, the next task being to find rafe in the huge crowds.
little did you know, you were under the microscopic vision of rafe. he was in a corner of the party, watching you with his hawk like eyes as the guy talked with you. he couldn’t hear a thing, but from what he saw from the distance, you were being flirted with, and he wasn’t sure you were trying to avoid him or were enjoying it.
he contemplated coming over to break the conversation off, but decided against it. he didn’t know why, but he decided to just watch it all play out, and to see how you react. but what was not helping was his burning jealousy. how can some other man talk to you that way, and even think of making you his?
with a lot of struggle, you found your way through the crowds and finally spotted rafe. you could see he’s slumped in a corner, a scowl on his face. “here you go,” you said, holding out his cup as you took a sip from your own cup. rafe didn’t even look at you, just took the cup from your hand and gulped down most of the beer in one go.
“geez calm down,” you said, furrowing your brows a bit as you watched him down his drink too quick. he still didn’t look at you, and only finished off the drink in another sip. he tossed the empty plastic cup somewhere aside on the floor, and you watched it roll off and get crunched under someone’s foot.
you looked back up to see rafe’s jaw tightened, the scowl had not left him and his eyes were narrow. he was looking anywhere but at you.
“what’s up with you?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink and peering at him from over the rim of the cup.
“nothin’,” he mumbled incoherently under his breath, still not making any sort of eye contact with you. his eyes roamed around the party almost nervously, as if examining each detail and fixing it in his mind.
you rolled your eyes at his answer. “that’s not gonna cut it, come on, out with it. what’s up?”
he grumbled something incoherently again, but this time, you were not having it at all. the lack of eye contact, the bare minimum words; you had enough.
you took hold of his wrist and practically dragged him out of the party mansion, maneuvering through the sweaty crowd of young adults. rafe got caught off guard at first, but didn’t fight and he followed your lead. you led him outside where it was much more quiet, the music a blur and maybe a person or two hanging out, but it was more or less quite silent. you both were right besides the pool, and you sat down, pulling him with you too.
“what’s wrong? speak up, now, because I’m not having that mumbling nonsense you’ve been doing,” you said, your voice a bit cold as you took a sip of your drink.
you could see rafe looking at the water in the pool, the reflections of the calm water dancing across his handsome face.
“jus’ didn’t like you flirting with that dude, ’s all,” he muttered.
you furrowed your brows at him, almost confused as to what he was referring to but catching up quickly. “I wasn’t flirting with him, he was flirting with me. and being quite forward about it too,”
“yeah but you were smiling and laughing, don’t think I didn’t catch that,” he muttered again, his gaze not leaving the pool water.
“cause I was tryna let him down easy! I didn’t want to come off extremely rude,” you said.
rafe didn’t say anything or looked up from the water. you let out a sigh at the sight and kept your cup aside, scooting closer to him.
“look at me rafe,” you mumbled, your breath dancing across his ear. he slowly turned his head, his blue eyes meeting yours under the reflections of the water; the reflections a subtle green due to the dark green tiles at the bottom of the pool.
“I don’t care about that random dude, at all,” you murmured. “I never would, okay? fuck, I didn’t even catch his name, and frankly, I’m not interested in knowing his name,”
you could see his eyes softening. the moonlight along with the green water reflections lightened his eyes to an electric blue instead of the warm blue you usually saw him with.
“yeah?” he whispered, his brain suddenly registering how close you were to him.
“mhm,” you hum, your hand coming up to rest at the side of his neck as you gently rubbed the skin with your thumb.
you could see rafe’s eyes fluttering when he felt you starting to apply some pressure at the side of his neck, almost as if the sensation was sparking the feeling of pleasure in his veins.
“why would I do that when… I’ve got you?” you whispered, your hand coming off his neck for a moment but quickly replaced by your lips, a gentle kiss delivered under the whites of the moon and the greens of the pool.
rafe let out a soft sigh at the feeling, his head involuntarily tilting back as his hands slipped around your shoulders, holding onto you for stability when your kisses became more repetitive, yet were slow and lingered on his skin for a moment each time.
“you’re my favorite boy, always and forever, and don’t you ever forget that yeah?” you whispered, your lips parting from his neck for a second before attaching themselves back again, the same slow speed carried by you.
you could feel rafe’s nails dig into your shoulders through the fabric of your clothing, and that only prompted you to kiss him even more.
as your lips trailed up to his ear to gently press behind the delicate skin of his ear, rafe’s lips parted to let out the softest gasp, his body only craving that sensation on every inch of his skin.
“oh…” he gasped softly, tightening his hold on your shoulders.
“oh babydoll...”
— —
I think bsf!rafe’s nickname for reader would totally be babydoll, might include that more in the rest of the fics for them :p ANYWAYS I love them so so much and I would love to have any requests you may have for them ahhhh
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron oneshot#rafe cameron concept#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron prompt#bsf!rafe x reader#bsf!rafe#written by edith! 🪄#anon! 🪄#edith answers! 🪄
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A Love Worth Fighting For ~ JJK
⤜WORD COUNT: 2.7K
⤜GENRE: Established relationships, angst to fluff, a little bit of toxic from Jungkook, feelings of being unwanted/unneeded
⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
The soft glow of the city lights spilt into the dimly lit apartment, casting shadows around the apartment as you stood by the window, phone clutched tightly in your hand. The familiar buzz of anticipation tingled in your veins as you waited for Jungkook's voice to fill the silence that had settled between you both. He'd been on tour for what felt like forever now and you were finally deciding that you wanted to talk to him.
Usually, the two of you would stick to texting on occasion since you knew how busy he was and you didn't want him to think of you as "clingy" but the more you thought about it the more you realised it wasn't "clingy" to want to hear from your boyfriend. You stared out at the city and watched as couples together laughed and played together in the streets. You missed Jungkook and you weren't afraid to let him know that anymore.
When the two of you had started your relationship you'd been completely understanding of everything but as time went by and you saw how his band members kept in contact with their partners you wanted more from him. You at least wanted to speak to him more when he was away, to feel a little less lonely than you did right now.
When he finally answered, the warmth you'd been craving dissolved into icy silence, there was now happy greeting from your boyfriend, just a grumbled "What is it?" as he finally answered the phone to you after what felt like the tenth phone call.
"I miss you, Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling, anxiety beginning to bubble up inside of you as you thought about his reaction to it. Something you never should have had to fear with a boyfriend and yet here you were, second guessing everything you said and did.
"I miss us." You finished. There was a pause on the other end of the line, a pregnant silence that stretched between you like a taut wire.
"I'm busy, Yn," he said, his voice cold and distant, cutting through you like a dull knife that wanted to hurt you as much as it could but as slowly as humanly possible. This was nothing like the Jungkook you'd fallen in love with. Maybe he was tired or stressed but it didn't give him a reason to talk to you like this. The two of you needed to talk like adults and communicate what the other was feeling.
"You know how it is." He mumbled once again, his patience growing thin and your heart clenched at his words, the ache of longing swelling within your chest.
"But I need you," you pleaded, your voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.
"I need you here with me." But before you could utter another word, the line went dead, leaving you standing alone in the suffocating silence of your shared apartment. You couldn't believe he would even do this to you after you'd done everything you could to support him.
You'd moved from your home country to be with him in Korea for the brief periods he was home, you upended your entire life because he had asked you to but he couldn't find five minutes in his day to even let you know he was okay?
For hours, you sat by the window, lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts as tears streaked down your cheeks. How could he do this to you? Sighing to yourself you made your way to the wardrobes and began to rifle through the drawers until you found what you were looking for, your passport ready to be used. If Jungkook thought you were going to stick around any longer to be treated as nothing better than a side piece then he was sorely mistaken.
Without a second thought about it, you dragged out some bags, your stomach churning as you folded and placed everything into your suitcase, each item weighing down on you as a reminder of everything you were leaving behind. You knew you couldn't take much with you right away but you could ship everything else before you went for a flight.
You couldn't continue to live in the shadow of a love that had grown cold and distant, and you refused not to listen to your own heart anymore. So you zipped up your bags with trembling hands and sighed to yourself, looking around at the now practically empty wardrobe and began to make your way out of the wardrobe and to your laptop, you needed to get a flight as soon as possible to get out of there.
As Jungkook stepped into your apartment, weary from the road and longing for the familiar embrace of you, he was met with an unsettling emptiness that sent a shiver down his spine. The flight had been awful and he was ready to crawl into bed beside you but for some reason the air seemed heavier, charged with an unspoken tension that prickled at his senses.
"Yn?" He called out, hearing nothing back except from the sound of a dripping tap in the kitchen, the house was freezing, as though you'd been gone for a while but it was 3 in the morning. You had no where to be at three in the morning.
"Babe. I get you're mad but I'm back now, I'm ready to talk about it....I'm sorry!" He cried out, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table when he realised that there were things missing. Photos of the two of you were ripped from the frames. His heart quickened its pace as he called out your name again, the sound falling flat against the silence of the apartment. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as he searched every corner of the place, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness.
You had left him.
The realisation struck him like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs as he staggered backward, his world crumbling around him. Images of your arguments flashed before his eyes, each word spoken in anger etched into his memory. The last time you'd spoken to him, you'd been begging for him to talk and he just ignored you. Choosing to hang up the phone and deal with his stress alone rather than talking it out with you.
Regret washed over him in waves, mingling with the bitter taste of remorse as he sank to his knees, his hands trembling with the weight of his own guilt. How could he have been so blind? How could he have let you slip through his fingers without even realising it? The two of you were meant to be, he knew that, anyone with eyes knew that and yet he'd let you slip away without giving it a second thought.
He had been selfish, neglectful, and cruel, driving away the one person who had loved him unconditionally. Tears blurred his vision as he whispered your name into the emptiness, a desperate plea for forgiveness that hung heavy in the air. But deep down, he knew that mere words could never mend the shattered pieces of their love. As he sank to his knees, the weight of his regret crushing him like a vice, he knew that he had lost you but he knew that he was going to do anything within his power to get you back.
The small café buzzed with the gentle hum of conversation, the soft aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries. You moved with ease behind the counter, your movements graceful as you prepared drinks and chatted with customers at the same time. You'd been home for almost a month now and you'd started a new life, you'd gotten a job and decided that this was your fresh start with everything.
As you worked, a group of old ladies settled themselves at a nearby table, their curious eyes lingering on you with a mixture of interest and intrigue. With mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you approached their table, a warm smile playing at the corners of your lips. You knew that all of them had been debating your arrival back home for weeks now and you wanted to tease them a little on it.
Not even your own family knew what had happened between you and Jungkook. You didn't want to risk a huge public blow out, you just wanted time alone and clearly he did too.
He could have been home from tour for almost a week now meaning he knew you were gone and you hadn't received a single call or a text asking where you were. Meaning...he didn't care.
"Good morning, ladies!" you greeted cheerfully, your voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the café.
"What can I get for you today?" The old ladies exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yn, dear, we couldn't help but notice that you're back home. What brings you back to our little town?" Your smile widened as you leaned in closer, a playful glint in your eyes.
"Ah, you know how it is, ladies," you replied with a wink. "A girl needs a break from the hustle and bustle of the big city every now and then. Besides, who can resist the charm of our quaint little town?" You smirked at them, you hated small towns where everyone knew everyone's business, you preferred being alone in a big city where no one spoke to you. Where you'd never see your boyfriend. Or where everyone was so rude toward you for simply walking too slow or even too fast.
The old ladies chuckled at your response, their eyes twinkling with amusement as they nodded in agreement.
"You tease us too much, you can't blame us for wanting to know what happened," one of them said with a smile. Your heart tightened in your chest, you knew everyone would have their own theories to it but you'd tried not to think about it too much.
"But we can't help but wonder if there's more to the story than you're letting on." Your grin widened as you leaned back, placing a hand on your hip and shaking your head at them all.
"Oh, you know me, always keeping secrets," You teased, your laughter ringing out like a melody in the cosy confines of the café.
"We keep secrets." One of them smirked and you shook your head,
"My lips are sealed. Now, how about I whip up some of my famous cinnamon rolls to sweeten the mystery?" With a chorus of delighted nods, the old ladies eagerly accepted your offer, their laughter mingling with the warm chatter of the café. And as you disappeared into the kitchen, a sense of contentment washed over you. You liked being back but it was getting harder to hide the truth from people and a part of you felt lost without Jungkook. You missed what you used to have, part of you longed to go back but Jungkook had made it clear by never messaging that things were over between you both.
The soft chime of the bell signalled the arrival of a new customer, and you had flour all over your hands so you called out with practised ease,
"Welcome! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like." You called out without looking up, finally washing off your hands in the sink but as murmurs and gasps rippled through the café, your curiosity piqued, and you lifted your gaze, only to find Jungkook standing there, his presence like a sudden thunderclap in the peaceful atmosphere of the café.
Shock and anger surged through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. How dare he show up here, uninvited and unwelcome, after everything that had happened between you? What was he even thinking? Someone could see him, photograph him and it'd be all over the news.
Yet, under the anger you felt toward him, a part of you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that danced in the depths of your chest. Despite your hurt, there was still a part of you that longed for his presence, that yearned for the warmth of his touch and the familiarity of his voice.
For a moment, your eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, each word left unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you. And then, with a defiant tilt of your chin, you turned away, busying yourself with the tasks at hand, determined not to let him see the effect his unexpected appearance had on you.
Jungkook smiled at a few of the people in the cafe, sending a wink at the old ladies who were all smirking at him. They'd been the ones letting him know where you were. He'd been in your hometown for over three days now searching for you, your family refused to reveal anything to him so he went searching. Jungkook made his way into the kitchens and you sighed a little, refusing to look at him.
"Why are you here, Jungkook?" You asked, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of steel.
"After everything that's happened, why would you come looking for me?" Jungkook's gaze never wavered as he reached out to gently cup your trembling hands in his own, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
"Because I can't imagine my life without you, Yn," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, he'd planned everything he wanted to say to you but all of that had flown from his mind the second he saw you here.
"I've made mistakes, more than I care to admit, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right." A tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within you.
"But what about your career, your dreams?" You asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
"You can't give any of that up. You're just bored now you're back from tour." You mumbled at him, harshly and he didn't blame you.
"I'd give it up if it meant being with you," You scoffed at him, turning around to face him and you saw him properly for the first time. Bags under his eyes, his hair a mess, facial hair even growing, he was letting himself go.
Jungkook shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. It didn't matter if his dreams were in Korea, if you were here then he was here too. Being away from you for so long had given him clarity that he knew he didn't want that life without you.
"You are my dream, Yn," he said, his voice unwavering. Gasps sounded inside of the cafe as onlookers took int he scene in front of them, all of them interested to see what was going to happen.
"Without you, none of it means anything. I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant I got to keep you by my side." And in that moment, as the weight of his words settled upon you, you felt something shift within your heart. With a trembling breath, you reached out to brush away the tears that stained his cheeks. It was going to take a lot of work to get back to being together the way you used to be but if he was willing to work then so were you.
"I'm tired of running, Jungkook. I'm tired of being second best to your job. I get that you love it but...I need more," you whispered, your voice barely a whisper in the hushed stillness of the café.
"But if we're going to do this, it has to be different this time. We have to do better, together." A smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook's lips as he pulled you into his embrace, the warmth of his touch a beacon of hope in the darkness.
"I promise, baby," he whispered against your hair, his voice a fervent prayer.
"I'll spend the rest of my days proving it to you." He whispered, prepared to do whatever it took to keep you in his life.
It had been a month of you both alone in your home town and you were finally prepairing to go back to Seoul together, your things were packed and shipped but you were saying goodbye to everyone you'd grown to know in the cafe.
"If he hurts you again, you come get me." Red - one of the elderly ladies - said as she looked at you, arching a brow. Jungkook had grown to know all of them on a personal level but he knew they were all looking out for you,
"Yes, ma'am." You promised, hugging her tightly as Jungkook smirked from the doorway, happy that you'd made friends.
"You better bring her back more too! I want you both here for more 80th Birthday party!" She screams at him and he chuckles.
"I promise we'll be here," He told her, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into his embrace.
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#bts#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts imagines#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook imagines
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my sweetheart- Cooper x Fem!reader
okay so i’ve wanted to write a one shot of The Ghoul cuz he’s so funky I love him!!!! so this is an attempt to writing something that isn’t hazbin hotel heheheh :3c
the surface was something else, and for a vaultie like her it was terrible but she’ve been out and about for at least a decade now so she knew her way around. She had her fair share of partners sure, but finally after years she found the one, the perfect person for her. Coop was a ghoul, a pre war one too and for those 200 years he hadn’t found anyone after Barb, no one at all, but something about her changed his heart forever.
they met during a bounty hunt, long before the Wilzig one,, and they just so happened to bump into each other in Filly, it was definitely not normal to see a ghoul there so she got curious, she said sorry for bumping into him, tucking her hair behind her ear out of slight embarrassment
''Don't worry, I'm not gonna crumble after a slight push,,
he says smirking, lit cigarette in between his lips, takes a puff and looks back at her
''say do you by any chance know where I can find this fella here?,,
he says showing a drawing, of what seems to be a wanted poster, she looks at it carefully only to not recognise the guy and biting the top of her finger looking at the ghoul
“sadly no, but i can help you find him! i’ve had a few bounty hunts in my time,,
she says, kinda proud of herself since she hadn’t been doing that for long, and she thought she was pretty good at it
the ghoul looked her up and down, not in a rude way but it was the fact she was still wearing her vault suit, after years of not being in a vault she was still to attached to it and couldn’t take it off, of course she tweaked it a little bit with patches where holes where and some armour on top so it wasn’t in its original state
“sorry sweetheart but i don’t think a vaultie like you would ever take on of my bounties,,
she seemed a bit taken aback by his sentence but tried not to show it, she strikes a bit of a pose, hand on her hip and the other one takes the poster from his hand, gently of course
“well, try me!,,
the ghoul smirks again, taking a last puff from his cigarette then making it fall on the ground and stomping it with his boots
“sure thing,,
that was the day they met,, and since then they’ve been inseparable.
now in the present they would take bounties together all the time, but now was one of those days where they stayed home, they got a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, near enough vegetation to grow their crops
they were relaxing on their bed, she was playing on her pipboy while he was reading a book, suddenly he plops down his book and looks at her being concentrated on her game, he starts kissing the back of her head with soft little pecks making her shiver a bit but still playing the game
“hun get off your pip boy and come cuddle with me for a lil, huh?,,
he says now kissing her neck, so she decided to turn off the pipboy and give her man attention.
she turns around and gets under his arm cuddling in, then looks him in the eyes
“how lucky i am to have you Coop,,
he chuckled and looked at her kissing her nose
“I think it’s the other way around my sweetheart,,
this is a short one!! but i like it!! WE LOVE THE GHOUL RAAAAAH
#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#fallout show#fallout#fallout x reader#x reader#fallout fanfic#fallout x you#the ghoul fallout#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard fallout
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This is going to sound incoherent to those who haven't been told over and over they're monsters or demons or animals as children, but I need to write it down.
It was often I would be told that I was some kind of evil creature and not a child, as a justification for abusing me, and I wouldn't have any kind of response to that, because how do you combat that? How do you respond to a parent or a family member calling you a snake and a swine and satan? I would get frozen in doubt and start to internalize, that I must be non-human, I must be evil and fundamentally wrong and demonic in some way, because I couldn't find any argument against it. After all, these people were saying it so surely, so filled with rage and righteous justice, that I was non-human, that it was not only okay but necessary to hurt me, and it's all I've ever known. And I still get flashbacks to those moments when I would be told stuff like 'you should have been strangled to death the second you were born', and I freeze. It hurts. I can't reason with hatred like that.
It's only today my brain finally found some counter arguments to it.
Was I born to a human being, or to an animal? If I had been an animal, I would have been born to an animal mother. And she wouldn't hate me like you do. Even if I was a baby snake, there would have been no need to torture me, I would have been normal and natural as a snake. But, even as a child, I had arms and legs, it was obvious I wasn't a snake.
If I as a demon, how would I be born into a family of humans? Wouldn't it be shown in the color of my eyes, or my skin, or my actions? Have I been displaying anything but normal child behaviour? How would anyone be able to tell I was a demon, if I was born to humans, acted like a normal human child, and had never done acts of irreparable evil and sadism? What made me a demon then?
If there was nothing but evil in me, why was I in so much fear and pain all the time? Is that how evil-doers feel? Why was I too scared to do even normal, mundane things that other kids fearlessly did? Why was nobody afraid of me? Why did people feel comfortable hurting me, cornering me and attacking me, if I was so dangerous and malicious?
It was painfully obvious that I was a human child from the start. Calling a human child demonic is not normal, it's not well-intentioned, it's not for the child's own good. It's cruel and vicious. And it wasn't based on anything inside of me. You saw a child you wanted to hurt repeatedly, and making the child believe they're not human was the simplest way for you to get away with it. Why did you need to hurt the child repeatedly? Even if you believed it was something else, an animal or an evil creature, why did it give you pleasure to hurt it over and over again? Why would you intentionally corner a small creature inside of your home and cause pain to it? Did it give you pleasure to see fear and tears? Did you enjoy it so much you just had to keep doing it?
All small humans are the same, they have small little limbs, they're squishy, they're sensitive, they get spooked and scared easily, they like playing brave to make themselves feel stronger. There's no reason to corner and torture one, and call them evil for that. I was the same. I was acting brave but I was small, and soft, with little limbs, easily spooked, easily brought to tears. What was in you to want to break me? What was it worth to you to do it?
You could have picked any child for it, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I was just what was in the house.
#cult abuse#brainwashing#child abuse#tw graphic threats#tw graphic death threats#tw threats to kill a toddler#psychological abuse#emotional abuse
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(This one is a riff from an idea a reader suggested.)
SIX COORS LATER
Sean Bennett woke up a little groggy. He probably had a couple too many beers last night.
The ex-QB told himself he should be a more responsible man. His wife had just borne their third kid six months ago, fer chrissake. But Sean's job had him on the road every week during the college ball season, put up in one soulless luxury hotel room after another. He'd had an amazing run as an NFL quarterback, with some ups and downs to be sure, and now how had an enviable gig being a sports commentator for college ball. Saturday night, after the broadcast, was his chance to let loose a little.
Only Sean realized he wasn't in a hotel room. The ex-athlete's eyes adjusted to the early morning dimness. He was definitely in a bedroom. Some modern condo or apartment, sparsely decorated. A dude's bedroom.
Just then the sportscaster hunk felt the warmth of another body scoot up next to him, placing a thickly muscled forearm over Sean's still-fit and manscaped upper body.
"Hmmmm," came the deep voice cracking in morning voice. The dude scooted up next to him as Sean tried to remembered any details about the guy but was coming up short. Even on the name. Jason? Justin? Jesse? Jackson? Fuck.
The man felt nice. Probably around Bennett's age. Late 30s with a cross-fit body. A work-hard, play-hard professional. BIG Michigan fan. A very thick uncut cock and a sexual stamina that could go multiple rounds. Funny how those details were coming back to the ex-jock so easily.
Maybe it was that hard thick shaft pressing into Sean's hips and the way the fan's hand was pawing at Sean's hard body, even if in a groggy slowness.
"Hm... you probably should go soon, bro... my girlfriend gets back in town this morning."
Sean nodded, but didn't make a move to slip out of the guy's warm bed. Hell, those powerful arms felt SO good. Bennett enjoyed a man's touch from time to time, but he rarely stayed around for the morning, for the more sobered up experience of this. Just a second longer, he thought.
Thing was, Jackson or Justin or whoever wasn't letting go. His kisses traveled up Sean's neck, finding that sensitive trigger spot right behind Bennett's ear, the one that makes the ex-athlete wanna put out. Just like he'd found it so effortlessly last night.
"Yes," Sean hissed. It was only then that he was aware of his own cock, a shank of morning wood that jerked excitedly, now awake. And Jackson's hand was drifting down those washboard abs, over the trimmed light fur to finally touch that QB bone.
"You fuckin' horndog," the guy muttered with a clear lust. Then after he kissed that spot again, he added with a louder voice, "Turn over."
The two had fucked three times the previous night, twice in one go and once waking up at 3 in the morning. But they hadn't done this position. Without ceremony Jackson was crawling on top of Sean's prostrate body, kissing along the shoulder blades and then back at the neck. Sean could feel the guy's hard, hairier muscle on his back and that thick wedge of uncut dick press into his surprisingly wet ass cleft.
The top took a second to enjoy that mounting position before he reached down to guide his fat dong into place. "God, you're still wet with my cum," he said. His voice was clearer now, fully awake.
Sean blushed. He'd been a little drunk when he agreed to come back to Jackson's place, and he wished he was drunk now. At least his hole was loosened up, fully, for this thick tool. The first time Bennett had been shafted by a large cock was a mindblowing experience, but now he got excited by girth even more than length. And Jackson brought he girth.
It was now four solid inches inside him. The hunk was clearly excited, kissing Sean some more. "Bro... I used to jack off so much thinking about doing this to you," he said.
Then, all of a sudden, the top powered the rest of that fat prick into Sean's guts.
"FUCK!" Bennett exclaimed. Not in pain but definitely uncomfortable and surprised.
"You got this, bro," Jackson urged. Sean could tell from the edge in his voice he was eager just to start fucking, and that scared the ex-QB. "You took me like a pro last night."
"Give me a sec, OK?" Bennett pleaded.
"Yeah," came the reply. But a second later, Jackson was reaching over for something. The hand came back, right to Sean's face and it was the smell that made him recognize the poppers.
"Come on, bro," came the guy's voice. Urging Sean to sniff the fumes. "I need to pound one off real bad, and I don't got a lot of time."
One of these days Sean Bennett would learn self-respect. Today, he sniffed the amyl, one nostril then the other.
The heat hit his body just at the right time. Jackson liked to fuck hard and fast, using his whole muscled body. That thick tool was plunging in and out of Sean's guts and felt INTENSE. Only now it was intense in a good way, making the ex-jock's insides buzz.
"Fuck, that cunt is so squishy, man," Jackson hissed.
Indeed, they could both hear the sloshy slick sounds of each inward thrust and Sean could feel excess cum dripping down between his legs, and over his ball sac. Just that tickling trickle made Bennett rock hard against the guy's bedsheets. The bottom didn't know how much was the amount of cum Jackson had shot inside him last night and how much was the girth of the cock forcing the load out with each shove.
"Bro... you're milking it right out of me man... Gonna milk my load right out into that hot ass of yours.... oh SHIT!"
The heaving body went rigid on top of him, and Sean knew he was getting loaded up for the fourth time in 12 hours. He knew when the poppers wore off, he'd regret this. He'd gone cold turkey actually a few years back, and even when he started fooling with guys again, he told himself it would be more of an occasional thing.
And now he felt about 210 pounds of masculine dude rest the full body weight on his stretched out body. Jackson felt heavy, but Sean didn't want the guy to break body contact not yet. That fat dong was still jerking inside him, undoubtedly still shooting some dribbles deep up in him.
Finally the guy shifted on top of him but didn't push himself off. Instead, Jackson reached around to find Bennett's tool. Still rock hard and still leaking so much he didn't need lube.
"Aw fuck!" Sean gasped as he felt the hand stroke his prick. Combined with that very stuffed, very loaded feeling, the very touch of Jackson's hand was magic.
Sean heard a soft chuckle in his ear as the top leaned forward and jerked Sean with determined strokes. The dude had a great touch, for sure.
"Come on, bro," he urged. "You wanna..."
"Yeah," Sean replied. He wanted to. He wanted to let this hot stud play him like a violin. It was the opposite of sex with his wife, when he did all the work. Now, the QB was the penetrated one, passively worked over by a man who knew what he was doing.
The pissslit stung just a second once the cum barreled out, it was that kind of orgasm.
"Nice!" Jackson hissed and kissed Sean's neck once more. "Let it out, buddy."
Sean did. Maybe because he hadn't shot load for load with Jackson's orgasms, and he was behind in the count. Maybe because he loved his mounted position more than he wanted to admit.
He'd barely had time to come down from the high of his cum when that hand withdrew and that thick dong finally retreated from his clenched asshole, but not before dragging some of that fresh deposit with it.
Sean felt a pat to his rump and felt the bed shift as Jackson slid off the bed. His host walked over and undid the bedroom curtains, letting in the dawn light.
Slowly Bennett turned on his side to get a good look. He was embarrassed to realize he could barely remember what Jackson looked like. But he was getting a good look now. About 6-foot-even, handsome more than cute, thinning brown hair, blue eyes. Back in the day, Bennett liked the thrill of fucking around with big-league athletes and coaches, then he went through a phase of being into regular guys... fans, married men, guy next door types. Jackson was in a different league, with an incredible body yet still carried himself like a regular dude.
"God, you're hot," Sean said before his mind could censor what his libido was thinking.
That made Jackson paused and turn toward the NFL star. He let out a little laugh and smiled, "Man, you're a trip," he said.
From the new angle, Sean could see that hard muscle beneath the brown body fur, rounded and ripped, and just how thick and heavy that dong was, even soft, swaying beneath a large nutsac. If this dude wanted to go for round five...
"Your girlfriend is probably on her way," Sean said instead, injecting reality as he sat up in bed. He knew he had a great body, but could see in the way Jackson's eyes swept over his form that the top was definitely starstruck himself.
"Yeah," he said with a little sadness. "Her flight lands around 7."
Sean nodded. He wasn't gonna make trouble for this dude. He slid out of bed and felt proud as Jackson just watched, staring like a wolf circling the hen house.
As Sean got dressed, his host slipped on some gym shorts and walked out to the kitchen to make some coffee.
The ex-QB knew this was gonna be one hell of a walk of shame. Still suited up from the night before. His cohost and work buddy Curt Collins ould probably razz him for going home with one of those dudes from their bar outing.
But even as the regrets were sinking in, the sex had been worth it. Sean made sure he looked presentable and that he had everything. Then he walked to find Jackson shirtless and hunky as hell, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.
The guy looked up with that look again. The look of a man who'd had his bucket list fantasy satisfied in the biggest way.
"She's in an uber now," he said. "You good, man?" he asked. Maybe worried Sean was freaking out some.
"Yeah," Bennett replied. "I'm good."
It was Jackson who seemed shy now. "Well..." he started. Then he picked up a folded scrap of paper and handed it to Sean. "In case you're back in town," he added. "It's my Google number, just be discreet."
"I usually don't," Sean said, taking the paper nonetheless.
"I get it," Jackson said. "Shoot your shot, right?"
That made Sean laugh. This guy was just a normal dude. He stuffed the paper into his suit pocket.
"A final kiss at least?" Jackson asked.
Sean smiled and stepped up. The dude was a few inches shorter but their heights matched well. Their kiss was soft and surprisingly sensual.
"I taste like stale beer," Sean apologized.
"Yeah you do," Jackson said with a smile. "It's cool though. You're a good kisser. We didn't do enough last night."
They kissed again.
"Fuck!" Jackson finally hissed. Sean knew why.
"All right," the athlete said. "Take care."
Sean was in the Uber back to his hotel before he pulled out the folded paper. The handwriting was simple and masculine, more neat than a scrawl. "Matt," it read. The phone number.
So that was his name, Sean thought.
He didn't know the next time he'd be in this city. Probably once next season, though maybe his travels would bring him here again. Maybe Matt would want to come to Ft. Lauderdale, or even Miami.
Doofus, he thought to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Sean took another look at that piece of paper then picked up his phone.
"Hey, great to meet you. SB." was all his message said. He typed it, looked it over, and hit Send.
No reply immediately. Matt was probably showering up, or washing the sheets. Maybe the girlfriend was already home.
Instead a text came in. Collins. "Tell me you had as much fun as I did last night." Sean couldn't remember who his buddy and colleague had chatted up. Maybe one of Matt's buddies. Hell, THAT could have been Jackson. Or Jason. Whatever.
"Probably more," he typed back with a grin. "What happens in Austin stays in Austin, right?"
"Right-O," Curt typed. "They grow 'em big down here in Texas dont they buddy?"
Sean smiled. His hole ached to think of Matt's huge dong. "They sure do man."
He'd find a way, any excuse, to come back before next year. Somehow.
He slid his phone in his pocket and shut his eyes just to rest them. He'd need a major nap on the plane ride for sure.
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exactly what he needs, pt. 3 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt1 | pt 2
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: nate takes you shopping at the mall, to dinner, then bowling, before dropping you off at home.
— tags: having a great day with nate, even if he has ulterior motives
— tw: dollification, objectification, sexualization, emotional manipulation, pushing boundaries, guilt-tripping, drinking, eating
— word count: approx. 6.4k
— a/n: i have never been inside a nordstrom in my life, so i have 0 idea what their changing rooms actually look like. | baby-doll dresses | tennis skirt | blush | necklace
GIF by msgorillagripcoochie
Once you and Nate are on the road, he decides to offer you full access to his car's stereo once again—he has an aux cord stored away in the center console, which he'll only offer if you can't figure out how to pair your phone through bluetooth.
There's just something about the idea of his truck being saved in your phone that appeals to him. Hell, maybe he'll get lucky and you'll fuck up, letting it read your calls and texts, too. He wouldn't mind finding out who all you're talking to.
If he's lucky, it'll be people he knows. People he can spin stories to you about to get you to cut them out of your life.
He'd made the mistake with Maddy in letting her have friends. Like Cassie—he didn't need to list the problems she'd caused. Then there was Kat, always her enabling little sidekick. Even Lexi to an extent, who he knows you're also friends with. He supposes as far as female friends to have goes, Lexi is the better one to keep company with, but she's still Cassie's sister.
He knows he'll, in time, need to figure out a way to get rid of her. But that's a problem for future him.
"Would you like to play some music?"
You smooth out the skirt of your dress. "Sure. Do you have a uh-"
"It has bluetooth."
"Oh."
Great, you think, I get to spend the next fifteen minutes looking like an idiot as I fight to get the thing to pair with my cell.
Surprisingly, however, you get it to sync up rather quickly. You scan through your music, now sweating, wondering what song to choose. What if he thinks your taste in music is stupid? Then, you mentally shrug. He can take over at that point if he thinks so.
Eventually, a soft melody begins to drift through the cabin, low enough that it serves simply as pleasant background noise, until Nate reaches over, turning the volume up, making you shrink back in your seat.
You turn the room a shade heaven, and learn my name.
You flush. You shouldn't have chosen a stupid romantic song. You should've chosen anything else.
You look out the window, refusing to sing along like you normally would as the chorus starts.
No one ever will love me better than your everlasting love. I found only one way in and no way out...
You fold your hands in your lap, waiting for the damn song to eventually end.
Finally, once the tempo has faded, Nate turns the radio down.
"Is that one of your favorite songs?"
You glance at him, nodding.
He can tell you're embarrassed, but can't understand why. He thinks it sweet: one of your favorite songs being one about love.
He then wonders if you sing. Perhaps, if so, you'll do so once you're more comfortable being around him like this.
"I liked it."
"Oh, good," you say, still flushed.
He likes how easily he has that effect on you.
"So, where are you wanting to head to?"
You shrug, fumbling with your phone and turning some lofi music on instead now. Nothing with lyrics.
"Wherever you want to go is fine with me."
He likes that: you letting him choose for you. Letting him make a decision for the both of you.
He enjoys how easily agreeable you are today.
He hopes it's due to you feeling comfortable enough with him that you trust him to do so.
"Do you want to eat first, or would you like to go to the mall for a bit?"
You glance at the clock and see that it's only a few minutes past four. "I can wait a couple more hours to eat."
He nods, heading in the direction of the East Highland mall.
Once Nate has parked, he comes around to your side and you nearly slip on the running board, falling against his chest.
He catches you, helping you down.
You look up at him, your face a shade of red. "Sorry. Thanks."
Stupid klutz—should've worn boots, you think.
He shuts the door behind you, quickly locking the vehicle before placing his hand against the small of your back. "No problem."
As you enter the mall, a pair of men leave, glancing at you. Admiring you, from Nate's perspective.
His grip tightens imperceptibly, pulling you the least bit closer to him as he gives the men a nasty look.
Meanwhile, you're oblivious, instead overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells, the awful florescent lighting overhead. God, you hate crowds.
You look up to him, just wanting him to pick a store to get you out of the way of everyone milling about. Coming here on a Friday afternoon was a bad idea.
He looks down at you. "Where to first?"
He can see that you're nervous. His brows furrow. "Do crowds make you uneasy?"
You nod, your eyes staring into his, practically screaming for him to get you out of here.
He lets his hand drop to his side, then speaks again. "Do you want to hold my hand?"
You blanch.
Having something—someone—to ground you and lead you through the throngs of people surrounding you sounds nice enough, but what if someone from school is here and sees you? And won't it seem a bit childish? That you're that easily overstimulated that you have to hold another grown-person's hand in a shopping mall?
Just as you're about to tell him no—that you're ok—someone bumps into you, shoving you into his side.
Your hand quickly latches onto his.
Nate twines his fingers between yours.
You don't see the smirk on his face.
Nate leads you into Nordstrom, a store you've never been in before because you know it's far, far out of your price-range, but you don't object as you step inside, the crowds behind you fading away as quiet pop music plays overhead, only a handful of people browsing the racks of clothing.
You look up to him, suddenly unsure of yourself.
"You can look around, if you want."
You release his hand and he already hates the feeling of his palm being empty.
You step over to a rack of midi dresses and your eyes widen when you see a price tag for $120.
Nate keeps close to your side. "Do you like that one?"
He knows he doesn't—hates midi and maxi dresses—but he wants to buy you something today. Anything. He just wants to give you your first real present from him.
He doesn't count him bringing you breakfast everyday for the last week—despite your objections, even if you did always finish it with a grateful 'thank you'—as as much.
You place the dress back where it was hanging, shaking your head. You look up to him. "That dress it over one-hundred dollars. Nate, I can't afford to shop here."
Not unless they have a clearance section, you think. But even then...
Nate steps away from you for a moment, his attention now stolen away by a white babydoll dress with puffy sleeves. Fucking perfect, he thinks.
He grabs it off the high hook which it hangs from—something you'd never be able to reach—and goes to hand it to you.
"Try this on."
You hesitantly take it from him, a confused expression on your face. "Why?"
He shrugs. "I just think it'd look nice on you."
You hold it up to yourself, not liking that it comes up well-above your knees.
"I don't thi-"
"The changing rooms are this way," he says, nodding his head in the direction of the back of the store. He doesn't care to hear you argue. You're trying the dress on. He needs to see it on you.
He'd been picturing you wearing—essentially—that exact dress for over a week now.
He places his palm against your back, leading you to the desired destination.
Once you've reached the back of the store, Nate opens a wooden door to one of the changing areas and just stares at you, waiting for you to enter.
Finally, you sigh, stepping in.
"I'll be waiting right out here," he says before closing the door behind you.
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, realizing just how different—how little—you look like yourself right now. But you consider it, perhaps, a good thing: forcing yourself out of your comfort zone, even just a little.
You'd been considering finally wearing the sundress that Nate had picked out for you for a few weeks now. It was nice of him to compliment it—you. You aren't entirely sure how you feel about your hair being down, however.
Finally, you hang the dress up that he'd handed you, deciding to get undressed. The sooner you've tried it on, the sooner you can be out of this over-priced boutique.
Nate sits in a chair directly outside of your changing room, watching your legs shift from one foot to the other, until, finally, your sundress pools at your feet.
His cock hardens, knowing just a few feet away is your half-naked body. He leans back, waiting a minute, then two, then he stands.
He gently knocks on the door and you jolt in surprise.
"Y-yes?"
"Do you have it on?"
"Yes..."
"May I come in? I'd like to see."
You balk. He wants to come into the changing room with you? Is that even allowed?
"Isn't that against some sort of policy?"
He likes how much of a good girl you are—no, fuck it, loves it—but in this moment his patience is wearing real fucking thin. "No one else is out here," he replies as gently as he can.
A beat of silence, and then the lock on the door handle clicks.
He quickly enters the changing room, promptly taking in every inch of you.
You look just how he had imagined you would.
You don't meet his eyes. "I look so stu-"
"Perfect," he interrupts.
You look up to him. "What? Really?"
He studies you for a moment, your wide innocent eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to answer.
He runs his fingers through the hair draped over your shoulder. He then runs his hand along that same shoulder down your upper arm, where it comes to rest. "Yes. I just wish you could see what I do."
You blink up at him, then sniffle.
"Are you crying?" He nearly cringes. That question had come out a bit more harsh than he'd meant for it to. He'd wanted you emotionally vulnerable numerous times for the last week so he could finally find a way in, and now here it is. He prays he didn't just fuck it up.
You nod. "I'm sorry. I'm just...no one has ever been this nice to me."
He almost breathes a sigh of relief. He hadn't hurt your feelings.
So that's all it's going to take with you: a few kind gestures, some nice words, a few soft touches, and you'd be like putty in his hands. His to mold as he pleases.
This was what being alone for so long had done to you: made you desperate for affection—of any kind.
You step a bit closer to him, unsure of yourself, unsure what you're doing or even why.
When he doesn't move, you press yourself against his broad chest, taking him completely by surprise.
Fine with being alone his ass. That entire statement had been utter bullshit. Not even you understand just how lonely you are.
Finally, he wraps one arm around you, holding you close, his other hand slipping into your hair, massaging your scalp.
You remain quiet, just focusing on his breathing, the beat of his heart, his warmth. When was the last time someone had held you like this? Hugged you? Shown you any form of affection or attention?
You'd truly thought you were fine without it.
Meanwhile, Nate's head is racing. God, you'd shown him just in this action alone just how easy it was going to be to manipulate you. A couple of compliments had nearly brought you to tears? Just wait until the two of you are in a relationship. No, starting tonight he'll begin pouring it on heavier.
But once you two are together? He'll fucking suffocate you with gifts and attention and love. And above all: sex. That will be his weapon. You're inexperienced. Know nothing about it. A few orgasm denials and Lexi will be long-gone from your life.
Then he'll no longer have to worry about the risk of her relaying stories of he and Cassie, or he and Maddy to you. Won't have to worry about his occasional shitty behavior toward them coming to light, driving—no, taking—you away from him.
If you ever find out about the choking incident...it'll be over before it ever begins.
He feels you snuggle the least bit closer to him and he briefly glances to the mirror to the side of both of you. He sees that your eyes are closed and your cheeks are flushed.
Finally, he pulls away and you look up at him, shame filling your features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-"
He gently grips your chin. "I didn't mind."
"Oh." It's the only reply you have. It feels inappropriate—being here with him like this. You're in a changing room together, for God's sake. You'd tutored numerous people before and never had you ever spent any amount of time with any of them outside of school.
But Nate is different. You tutor him in private, whereas all the rest had been at school or in public. There'd never been a chance at friendship with any of them. You'd convinced yourself that it was something you didn't need in the first place anyway. Told yourself you were better off alone.
High school is temporary, along with the friends that come with it. No point in getting attached to someone who won't be sticking around.
You know all too well about abandonment.
Nate will probably be just like all the rest.
You take a step back. "I should probably change."
"I never got to see the whole dress. Can you turn for me?"
You pause. "Like... Twirl?"
He crosses his arms, just staring at you.
Finally, you begin to slowly turn until you're facing him once again. "Ta-da,"you say nervously.
He turns toward the door, placing his hand over the handle. "It looks really cute on you, just so you know."
While you're busy changing, Nate quickly returns to the rack from earlier, grabbing the same dress you were currently taking off, along with another one, but in light blue. He then spots a pink tennis skirt and grabs it as well, with a matching flowy top. He takes all the items up front, to a register.
When you exit the changing room, you see Nate straight ahead, standing just outside the store.
You come up to him, glancing down to the shopping bag in his hand, then up to him with a concerned impression. Surely he didn't...
He shrugs. "Just something for my mom."
You smile, feeling relieved. "That's very sweet of you, to get something for her."
He just offers you his hand again, which you take after a moment.
As the two of you wander around, mostly window-shopping, you try to ignore just how nice it feels to be holding someone else's hand. To be touched at all. You briefly wonder if he thinks you pathetic now, after what happened in the changing room.
You glance up to him. "Nate?"
"Hm?"
"You're sure it didn't bother you?"
He doesn't need you to elaborate to know what you're referring to. He likes that you're insecure and emotionally fragile. Broken pieces in the palms of his hands.
That had been another issue with Maddy—she'd been too independent, too confident, too secure and comfortable with herself. Whereas Cassie had known what he wanted and had tried to mold herself into it, all in some attempt to keep him interested.
But you? You're clueless to the ways of men. You're just...you. Intelligent, book only in a book-smart sort of way. Sweet—so fucking sweet it makes his teeth ache. Quiet, and reserved—prim and proper and meek.
And he'd thought it before and would again—so. fucking. innocent. You have no idea the power you already have over him. And he wants it to stay that way. Wants to be the one in complete control this time around, without being given permission to be, like Cassie had given him.
She'd told him what she had wanted: him to choose her clothes, what she eats, to decide who she could talk to—the list went on and on. Because she had clocked him from day one—the type of guy he was—that he was desperate for control.
With you, it will be gradual, insidious manipulation until he's all you have left in your life to turn to. Until, one day, you look up, and everything is different and you have no goddamn idea how you've gotten to where you are.
He stops walking, still keeping your hand firmly in his, incase you decide to wander. "Not at all."
"I don't..." you shift nervously. "I don't know what happened. I'm not usually like that. I don't get emotional in front of other people, like, ever."
He gives you a kind smile. "It's ok, really. I just don't think you're used to it."
"What?"
"Kindness. Someone wanting to give you their attention and time. You don't have to worry, I still like hanging out with you."
You look down and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
"Good," you reply.
The two of you stop in at Sephora, and while you browse their lipglosses, Nate steps away, looking through their selection of blushes, until he finds a soft pink shade that he likes and he takes it up, quickly paying for it, and placing the small bag within the larger Nordstrom one. One more gift for you.
When you leave the cosmetic store, you excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes into the Tiffany store next door, browsing their necklace collection, until he spots one that he deems perfect for you: silver, with a small diamond pendant hanging from it. He doesn't even bother looking at the price tag when he asks an employee to retrieve the item from a glass case and box it up for him.
He's waiting for you when you exit the restroom.
He takes your hand in his, not bothering to let you make the gesture this time.
"Hungry?"
You nod.
Nate, though he doesn't want to, bothers with asking where you'd like to go to eat as he watches you buckle yourself in—wishing you'd let him do that himself, but knows him taking such an extreme measure for your safety this early will do nothing more than freak you out.
You shrug. "I don't go out much, so I'm not sure what all is around here. You can choose, if you'd like?"
He smiles, unsure the last time he felt so happy and in-control as he shuts your door.
Nate takes you to a rather expensive bistro, perhaps twenty minutes away from the mall, his right hand itching to wedge itself between your bare thighs as he drives, but he doesn't dare touch you. Not yet. The only thing he has to keep himself in-check right now is the surety that, soon enough, you'll be all his to do with as he pleases.
Every inch of you.
When Nate comes around to your side of the truck, after he's opened your door, he takes things a step further this time, gripping both of your hips, helping you down. As he sets you on your feet again, before you can say a word, he speaks. "Didn't want to risk you tripping again."
He adjusts your dress and your hair, then takes your hand firmly in his as he leads the two of you inside.
You immediately feel regret in him bringing you here. You should've told him literally anywhere else, so long as it was cheaper.
The rustic décor alone screams pretentious. And you know the menu will be even worse.
But just as you think to tug on his arm and ask him to take you elsewhere, a hostess greets the two of you, leading you to a table in a corner near a window.
Nate pulls out your seat for you, scooting you in, then seating himself.
You both pick up menus, and you're thankful your face is hidden by yours when you see the outrageous pricing.
You can barely afford a small salad here.
"Have you been here before?" You ask, still hidden by your menu.
"Mhm, their food is pretty good. I thought you might like it."
Unless it's dipped in gold, it can't be worth what they're charging is what you want to say. Instead, you remain silent.
Finally, your server arrives. An older woman, with red curly hair, freckles, and a curvaceous figure greets the two of you with a smile. "Do you two know what you'd like to drink?"
Nate looks at you.
"Water, thank you."
She nods.
"It'll be one check, and a diet coke."
She nods again, leaving the two of you to each other.
You look at him, now panicking...just a bit. "You don't have to pay for me. It's fine, really, I-"
He lifts his menu, glad that it apparently works in getting you to be quiet about his spending money on you. Again.
You'd already freaked out enough over him bringing you breakfast for three days in a row, until the fourth when you finally ate in silence.
"I told you I was taking you to dinner. It was my idea to bring you here, so it's only fair that I pay."
You cross your legs at the ankle, unsure how to feel about that.
You simply lift your menu again, now even more unsure of what to get.
He sets his menu down, seeing that you're now hidden behind your own once again. "I know their choices can seem a bit overwhelming the first time you come here. Would you like me to order for you?"
You lower your menu. "You're sure?"
He gives a slight nod of confirmation.
It's then that your waitress returns with your drinks and you stay silent, sipping on ice water as Nate orders dinner for both of you.
As you wait for your penne alla vodka—all you know is that it's some sort of pasta—Nate stretches out his long legs under the table on either side of your chair.
"I've had a really nice time with you today," he says, a soft look in his eyes.
You wrap your sweaty hands around your cold glass. You smile. "Me too."
He crooks his head slightly to the side. "Would you like to go bowling after this?"
Your brows raise. "You want to?"
He nods. "I do if you do."
You glance out the window for a moment. "I'm not sure the last time I went bowling. I think when I was really little."
He leans forward, foot brushing against one of yours completely on purpose, so as to pull your attention back to him. "So is that a yes?"
You blush. "I guess so."
Nate glances up to you every few moments from his steak and rice, watching as you take small bites of your pasta.
"Do you like it?"
You quickly grab your napkin, wiping your lips. You nod, swallowing. "It's really good. You chose well for me. Thank you."
He smiles, his foot "accidentally" brushing against your leg again. "You're welcome, sweetheart."
You grow quiet again at the pet name, taking another bite of your meal.
Once the two of you have finished your dinner, Nate pays the check from his phone before standing, throwing two twenty-dollar bills on the table—you're impressed that he tips so generously—then pulling your chair out for you.
He twines his fingers between yours before leading you back out to the truck.
Once Nate has paid for a game of bowling for the two of you, you both go to your designated spot. You sit to put on the pair of hideous bowling shoes you've been given, until Nate sits on the small table in front of you, grabbing your foot and resting it atop his knee as he slips the shoe on your foot, tying the laces.
You laugh nervously. "I can do that."
He merely glances up to you, before doing the same with your other foot.
Once you feel well and truly like you have on a pair of clown shoes, you go first...and miss every single pin.
Nate stands behind you laughing. "It was a good try."
He'd not actually bothered watching you play, he'd instead watched as you'd bended over slightly, getting a brief flash of your pink panties before you released the heavy bowling ball.
You go to sit down. "Shut up," you say, clearly embarrassed.
Nate goes next...and of course gets a strike on the first try.
You tell yourself not to pout; that you're not a competitive person by nature.
"I'm just rusty is all."
"Mhm," he replies with a knowing smirk before leaning down, hands planted on either side of you. "I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"
You glance behind you at the concessions, looking over their menu. Meanwhile, Nate looks you over. Your neck, which he wants to lick and kiss and leave hickies all over to mark you as his. Then down your dress at the swell of your breasts...which he wants to do the same to. Then your thighs that he wants to shove his face between.
When you finally look back at him, you jump, seeing that he's still looking right at you. "Oh, uh, maybe just a water?"
He reaches up, brushing some hair out of your face. "Not hungry?"
You shake your head. "I'm still full from dinner."
Right. Dinner.
"I thought at least some cotton candy," he replies, before walking away.
You're left sitting there, wondering what that was supposed to have meant.
When Nate returns, it's with two Budweisers and a bottle of water, which he hands to you.
You stare at the extra bottle he sets on the table as he twists the top off of the other one, taking a swig of it.
"Is that smart?"
He looks at you with a raised brow. "Hm?"
"Drinking...since you're driving?"
He smirks. "It takes a lot more than two beers to get me drunk, Y/N. But if it makes you that uncomfortable, you can always drive us back."
He's not sure how he feels about letting you drive his truck, in truth. He'd never let Maddy, and sure as hell not Cassie behind the wheel. He was more-so offering to see if you'd let on whether you know how to drive or not.
And he gets his answer, just like he was wanting.
"I...I don't know how."
He sits on the same table from earlier, your legs between both of his knees.
"Not at all?"
You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed of the admittance. "No one has ever exactly been around to teach me."
You're no longer looking at him now, so you don't see the frown on his lips.
"I could teach you."
Your head jerks up. "That's probably not a good idea."
He takes another sip of his beer. "Why not?"
"What if...what if I hit something with your truck, or damage it?"
"I have insurance."
You nearly roll your eyes. "Ok, what if I hit a person?"
He notices your lip twitch, trying to fight a smile.
He grins. "It has a big bed."
You laugh and so does he. God, being with you is so easy.
He holds out the bottle to you. "Do you want a drink?"
You consider it for a moment, then of course shake your head. "No, thank you."
"Have you ever even drank before?"
You don't want to give him the answer to that either. "No."
"Really?" He asks, a bit of surprise to his tone—even if he isn't actually surprised at all. If it's 'bad' for you, he's sure you've never done it before.
You nod, feeling like a total fucking square. "How did they even give it to you in the first place?"
He stands, briefly removing his wallet from his back pocket and he hands you his fake ID.
"Oh."
"I can get you one made, if you want?"
You shake your head, handing it back to him. "I'm ok."
He likes you innocent and unknowing, but he isn't used to someone being so...within the lines. He can't tell whether he wants to corrupt you or not. Perhaps he'll just start with doing so in bed and go from there when the time comes.
Once he has you daydreaming about his cock, he'll move onto bigger targets.
He puts his wallet back away, then jerks his head back toward the bowling alley. "Your turn, sweetheart."
Halfway through the game, you get your first strike and you squeal in delight, causing a smile to breakout across Nate's face.
You jump up and down, then run toward him and he catches you in his arms just in time as you wrap your legs around his waist, only spilling a little of his beer. "I did it!"
He laughs, loving seeing you so fucking happy for just one moment.
"I see that, baby."
You're so pleased with yourself that you barely even catch the new term-of-endearment he's given you.
You look down at him, your hair falling over his face as he looks up at you. "Sorry, that was exciting," you say with a laugh.
One arm firmly holds you up, under you bottom, while the other comes up to cup your cheek. "I like seeing you happy like this. You don't smile nearly enough."
He should really make more of an effort to get you drunk before the two of you leave. He has a feeling you're a happy one, and if he's extra lucky—all the alcohol will go straight between your legs.
You beam at him again, trying to prove him wrong, and all he wants is to kiss you until you can't breathe.
Finally, he lowers you back to your feet and you sit, now excited, as he takes his turn again.
You skip through the parking lot, your hand in his, completely elated at having won.
And to your knowledge, it was fair and square.
Even if Nate knows otherwise.
He'd offered to buy another game, but you'd told him you were starting to get tired, so he'd agreed to take you home, even if he wanted to stay out with you all night. Preferably in the back seat of his truck with your clothes off and lying underneath him as he explores your soft, sensitive body.
Instead, you sit in the passenger seat, all smiles and giggles as he drives you back home.
He's in enough of a good mood himself that he turns up the radio, some song with thumping bass coming through the speakers, as he rolls the windows down, the warm summer night air blowing your hair.
Nate, now actually nervous—afraid he's about to ruin everything—reaches over, resting his palm over your bare knee.
You don't push it away. Instead, you simply glance at it for a moment, feeling something...something you're not sure how to describe at the sight of him touching you like that, and then lean back, content to leave his hand right where it is.
And so he does. The entire drive back to your place.
It doesn't matter how desperately he wants to, he doesn't move it any higher.
Once he's pulled into your driveway, he removes his hand, your leg now feeling cold, and kills the engine. You unbuckle yourself and turn toward him. "I know we said it earlier, but I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, for dinner and bowling and just...today."
He reaches up, running his fingers through your now-tangled hair. "It was my pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"
You nod, smiling. "I'd like that."
He wants to lean across the console and kiss you, but once again tells himself no. Something he's quickly tiring of having to do.
He glances out the windshield. "I'll walk you to the door."
He retrieves the Nordstrom bag from the backseat before coming around to your side, holding it behind his back as he offers you his hand to help you down.
Nate walks you to your door, watching as you unlock it. He wishes you'd just come back to his house instead, but doesn't dare suggest as much. He'd rather you sleep in his bed with him than stay in this empty house where you're not safe on your own.
Even if he'd made sure you were a couple night this last week when he parked across the street, a couple houses down, pistol in his glovebox. Just incase.
You look up to him with a shy smile. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," he replies, handing you the shopping bag.
Your brows furrow. "I thought this was for your mom?"
He shrugs. "I lied. I wanted to buy you something all day, but knew if I asked, you'd tell me no. This way was easier."
You're not sure how to feel about the fact he'd lied to you so easily. Had made—most likely, if the brand-name on the bag is any indication—a rather expensive purchase for you. You're just not sure why.
Before you can bother asking, he plants a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Hope you like it," he says before heading back to his truck.
Once you're inside and in your room, you immediately start pulling out the contents from the bag and setting them on your bed. Your heartrate only rises with each item. A small bag from Sephora, another one from Tiffany, and four clothing items from Nordstrom—one being the dress he'd asked you to try on.
You feel lightheaded at the price tags on the clothing. But when you look in the Tiffany bag—pull out the jewelry box and open it, you sit down on the edge of your bed.
A diamond necklace.
"Nate..." you whisper to yourself in a panicked voice, wondering what had gotten into him to think that this is ok.
Surely...surely this item is meant for his mom. He'd just accidently thrown it in with everything else.
You pick up your phone with shaking hands, drop it, then pick it back up once again and call him.
"Hey, everything okay? I'm not too far away. I can turn back arou-"
You shake your head, despite the fact he can't see it. "The...the necklace for your mom, you accidentally put it in with-"
"I didn't get it for my mom. Everything there was purchased for you."
You go quiet suddenly, forcing Nate to check that you're even still on the line. He waits for you to respond.
"Nate, I don't know that I feel comfortable with this."
He slams on the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road, throwing the truck in park. "With what?"
"It...it'd be one thing if you'd bought me some cheap keychain or t-shirt or something. But all of this...do I even want to know how much this necklace costs?"
"Probably not," he replies, nonchalantly. Even if he wants to tell you that it was over a grand.
You hang your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You don't need to buy me stuff to try and repay me for tutoring you. I do it for free because I like helping people."
"I didn't do it for that."
"Then why?"
How to say, without alarming you: it makes my dick hard spoiling and spending obscene amounts of money on you?
"I just wanted to give you a few nice things. That's all."
"Nate, I don't-"
"Listen, do you want to repay me?"
You go quiet again. Meanwhile, he wants to say, if you say yes: then do it in sexual favors, starting with letting me wrap you hair around my fist as I face-fuck you.
"How?"
"Enjoy it. Wear the white dress and necklace to school on Monday." He wants to throw in the blush, but doesn't, hoping you'll decide to use that all on your own.
You lay back on your bed. "It's all very nice and pretty, and I appreciate it immensely. But-"
"Do you want me to turn around and come get it?" His tone is now the slightest bit annoyed. "If you don't like it, you can tell me. You're not going to hurt my feelings. I'm sorry, I guess I fucked up."
You feel guilty now somehow. Like you're being ungrateful. Even if you hadn't asked for any of it. Maybe...maybe this is what Nate thinks you have to do to make friends: buy their affection?
When you grow up wealthy like he has, you reason, it makes sense.
"No, I'm sorry." Your voice is soft and gentle and feminine now, and he relaxes, his grip on his phone loosening.
You don't even realize it, but his sudden shift in mood had been so imperceptible that it had scared you.
All you do know is that you somehow feel wrong, but you're not sure how, exactly. So, you just brush it off and blame it on being tired. Blame it on anything but him.
"I'm just...I'm not used to people buying me gifts. It's very sweet of you. Thank you," you say as you lightly run your fingers over the soft material of the white dress he wants you to wear in a couple of days.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
You're not sure how to feel about the pet names, either, but don't want to hurt his feelings again, so you ignore your discomfort.
"I'm going to go take a shower and throw my new clothes in the washer. Be safe driving home. Goodnight...again," you say it with a small laugh.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagine#euphoria x you#euphoria x reader#whew lad look at me exploring my emotional abuse trauma through my writing#i hope this chap doesn't suck‚ i feel like it sucks
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Hide and peek part 2? Pretty please?? 🥺 (btw I really love your writing style it's so unique)
Tag, You’re Mine
Prior notes: Sorry for not posting yesterday. I died because of the heat, got to talk with the Lord finally, and then he sent me back down because it wasn’t my time yet.
Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader
Warnings ‼️: Some days I am forced to eat food with no seasoning. That’s not a warning it’s just sad.
Oh what’s wrong? Nothing to look at today? Not at all? Is it because Bi-Han caught you? I see. Well, my dear, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You are one of many who would do whatever to get a peek at that gorgeous, icey man. Don’t give up on the game now. He’s willing to play.
You were embarrassed that you were caught sneaking peeks at Bi-Han before. Things would have been fine if he hadn’t found you and forced you to speak. You were content with keeping your fantasies about him in your head and not make them a reality. It would have been easier than going up to him and talking. He didn’t seem like a man who did much talking.
Just because you were caught didn’t mean you would stay away from the Fire Temple forever. You still wanted to see Liu Kang. But instead of hiding and seeking, you were running away from the one you used to seek. See you pulled a sneaky on him.
Now it was Bi-Han who was looking for you. At first he thought you would still be looking at him from a distance. He would look around, acting like he doesn’t care and pretending he isn’t looking for you, only to see that you were nowhere in sight. Not a strand of your hair or the rustling of leaves to indicate you were anywhere near. That was disappointing to him. His not so secret admirer was not admiring him.
“Looking for your admirer, brother?” Kuai Liang teased his older brother. When else would he get a chance like this.
Bi-Han groaned before at his brother’s teasing, “I am not. What is taking Liu Kang so long? How long are we expected to linger?”
He tried changing the topic away from the fact that he was looking for you. He paced around while occasionally looking in the direction of your usual hiding spots. Still nothing. He was getting impatient with you. This is unlike you. He wants his shy girl back!
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
You were still around. You were just doing other things. Like right now you were organizing books inside the temple. You actually found some that you would like to read some day. But first to organize them.
Put some in that corner. Maybe some on the lower shelf. Oh this one is supposed to go on the top shelf. Just reach up and—OH MY FUCKING GOSH HE’S BACK!
Yes, when you looked up to try to put the last book on the top shelf you realized Bi-Han snuck up behind you again. He was looking down at you with that usual grumpy expression he had. And just like the last time he snuck up behind you, you let out a yelp which alerted everyone that once again he found you.
“Stop yelling!” He growled as his hands covered his ears.
“I’m sorry…” You whispered as you started to covered your face with the book.
Yup, that’s you all right. Shy as can be, unable to face Bi-Han still. Your cheeks were burning as you were unsure of what to do now. You tried to shuffle your way out but he caged you in. Your back was pressed up against the bookcase. His arms were at your side. You really have no escape unless you wanna try smacking him. I wouldn’t recommend it.
“Put that book down and look at me.” He commanded.
You slid the book down a little to show your eyes. No, no, he wants to see your whole face.
Bi-Han yanked the book out of your hands and placed it on the top shelf. There, now he can see you. He watched as your eyes shifted around. You wanted to look some place else but Bi-Han would always be at the corner of your eye. And looking forward won’t help either. Staring at people’s chests is rude.
“So…you need anything?” You asked because you legit didn’t know why he was here or what he wanted.
“Where have you been? You are clearly still around yet you purposely try to avoid me.”
He always sounds upset but this time he seemed really upset. He didn’t hate that you had a crush on him. It was cute and the shyness was a somewhat bonus. It’s not a bonus when he has a hard time trying to make you talk.
“You wanted me to come looking for you? That’s strange.” Clearly you were confused.
“Ironic that those words are coming from the woman who was constantly looking at me from a distance.” Oh he called you out.
So what now? He found you. How will this play out? Well, you really didn’t think this far ahead. I’m not even sure Bi-Han did either. You were too embarrassed to ever encounter him again. Knowing he knew you were looking at him the whole time makes you smack your forehead constantly. It was so humiliating! But you did like that you got to see his features up close. Those cheek bones oooo.
Hey! Hey! Focus on the game plan!
“Why do you even want me to come looking for you?”
You stumped him with that question. He didn’t think you would be brave enough to do that. He had no answer ready because he doesn’t know the answer to that.
The truth is he did find you and your actions to be cute. Might also be the fact that he doesn’t come across many ladies in his life nor will he give them the time of day. So in a strange way you are a little brave for pursuing him in your own way.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just come with me.”
Bi-Han grabbed your wrist and started dragging you with him. Your mind goes blank as you’re unsure of what he wants you to do. He takes you into the other part of the temple where his brothers and Liu Kang are. They were waiting for him to come around so they could discuss the next mission. Liu Kang looked with great curiosity at the actions that were taking place. Bi-Han left you at the doorway and walked over to his brothers. He stared at you, waiting for you to do what you do best. Hide.
Due to habits and your nervousness you started hiding yourself near the doorway, peeking your head in so you could keep looking at Bi-Han. It was like rolling a blunt you never forget how to do it.
Now he was satisfied. He started looking at Liu Kang now, waiting impatiently for the god to talk. The god was too stunned to speak. A few blinks and now he started briefing them on the mission. Tomas leaned over to Kuai Liang to whisper something.
“That poor girl, Bi-Han won’t ever let her go now.”
“Pay attention!” Bi-Han yelled before punching Tomas at the back of the head.
You’re reminded of why you hid from him in the first place. It was his temper and cold demeanor that scared you off but not enough to be at a distance. Yet as you watched him punch his adopted brother you still can’t help but be drawn to that sexy man.
That’s exactly what he wants. He wants your admiration while also having the chance to get close to you. He likes having you as his admirer. He’ll keep you around for a while. Maybe even bring you back to the Lin Kuei Temple so you can do the same over there while he trains his clan. That will surely get you excited.
Do you think you can handle the cold?
After notes: Wish me luck since I have my asl final tonight. And if somehow y’all hated this don’t curse me tonight ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡. Also how come i didn’t know there was a Goth/Rave color palette that is perfect for me. Alright I must mentally prepare myself. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#bi han#sub zero x you#sub zero x reader#sub zero
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☆ “I don’t…. I don’t like girls” part 1
Warnings: cursing, drinking, internalized homophobia
Summary: nicks bestfriend has been acting distant and ignoring him for weeks on end now. nick is at some party and drunk out of his mind… he decides to call his bestfriend.
Saying Nick was drunk would be an understatement. It was nearing the end of a party thrown down at the beach where the typical teenagers liked to throw parties, and he was definitely more than a few drinks deep at this point. He pulled his phone out, too drunk to stop himself as he calls y/n, one of his best friends who he hasn't seen in a few weeks. y/n has been acting distant and very cold and nick has no idea why.
y/n sits on the edge of his window, hitting his burnt ass penjiman bored out of his mind when he gets a call from nick. y/ns eyes widen and his body seems to freeze. “fuck” he mumbles to himself. y/n sighs and stares at his screen considering declining while hitting his cart again, his thumb moves to the decline but he stops and moves his thumb to the right, putting his phone to his ear.
“hey nick” y/n says with a dry whisper, shutting his eyes slightly while exhaling the smoke.
Nick blinks in surprise as y/n pick up the phone. He tries to stifle a yawn as he speaks, realizing he sounds more than a little intoxicated. "hey." Is all Nick seems to get out.
“hey” y/n says back softly. y/n has been soooo distant from his bestfriend. truth is,recently y/n has realized in the past few weeks that he is, in fact, gay. He's known that on some level for a long time, but it's finally become real to him. Too real. He’s disgusted with himself, he knows being gay isn’t a bad thing but he just doesn’t understand why he has to be. On top on that he's beginning to realize that he has feelings for Nick. He doesn’t know if Nick even likes boys. He can't fully admit it to himself yet, and he hasn't told anyone else either, but that feeling of shame, guilt and disgust is definitely there. It’s there anytime Nick pops in his mind.
"What're you up to?" Nick asks, trying to sound sober though he doesn't completely manage that
As y/n’s sitting at his window, he tries to speak confidently, like everything's fine and he isn't bothered at all by nicks call, but he still sounds somewhat shaky, his voice wavering just a bit.
"Uh, nothing really, just chillin'… what about you?” y/n fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Just at some party ." Nick chuckles a bit. "God, you should've gone, you're missing out." He’s trying to make this sound like some normal call.
Y/n giggles a little to himself at nicks drunk voice as he's sitting at his window - he can't help it, even though he really wants to keep on with his distant act. It’s nice to act like everything is normal between them for a second. something about the call with nick just got his heart rate soaring, and he's got a flutter in his stomach. He's trying to hide the fact that he's thinking about his new found feelings, but he can't help smiling a bit and getting a little giddy.
"What are you doing instead of being here?" Nick says snapping y/n out of his thoughts trying to sound more curious than he is. In reality, he's slightly miffed that y/n didn't show up even though y/n knew damn well he wanted him here.
there is some silence between the boys
"You should've come..." nick says more quietly, hoping to prompt y/n to say something more.
"Yeah, sorry I went out with someone but I'm back home now." y/n’s tone is a little dry as he says it, and he's trying to sound casual and like it wasn't a big deal, but you can tell there's more at play than he's letting on. Y/n’s mouth tenses when he says that, because he's lying - he didn't go out with anyone, he’s been sitting alone in his room all night listening to music and getting high.
“Went out with someone? Like a date or something?” Nicks tone completely changes .
“no… just hanged out that’s all” y/n lies through his teeth
“Whatever,” nick says, his tone getting more and more irritated. “So you just hung out with some random girl and didn’t even consider going to a party with me?”
y/n mentally groans at the word “girl” and still hasn’t spoken a word. “uh-“
"You're seriously passing up a great party just to 'hang out' with some girl?” Nick interrupts, his tone clearly accusatory. He's got a bit of a jealous streak in him, so he gets kind of pissy when people spend time with other people instead of him. Especially if it's y/n.
“Me and you have hardly hanged out anyway.” y/n says through a whisper. he knows this conversation won’t end unless he is cold. every fiber in his body tells him not to say things like this to nick but he can’t help but push Nick away.
“Yeah…” nick says quietly. “That’s kind of what I’m trying to change, you know? We haven’t hung out as much lately and that sucks… I just don’t understand.” Nick slurs a bit while rubbing his eyes, frustrated.
there’s just silence on the other end. Nick thinks of why on earth y/n would be so distant and ignoring his best friend.
“You’re not mad, are you?” Nick says, sounding slightly more drunk as he asks that while his voice breaks a bit . There’s a clear tone of insecurity in his voice though, and a bit of annoyance at having been ignored for the past few weeks.
“no I’m not mad” y/n says through a shaky voice. he hates that he made someone feel like this, especially Nick.
“Good,” Nick says quickly, not really believing him but not wanting to argue with him either but his drunk brain is letting him say whatever he thinks. “Cause you got no reason to be mad at me anyways.”
“alright…” is all y/n seems to get out. every part in him is telling him to start apologizing and tell him everything but he bites his tounge, staring at his feet dangling from his window.
"So, you gonna come meet up with me or what?" Nick slurs.
y/n sits at his window still biting his tounge. he can’t help it… he misses nick. y/n sighs. “fuck it… fine I’ll sneak out.”
"Good," Nick mutters sounding more relieved than he should be. His slightly drunken state only amplifies this relief and annoyance into something a bit more pronounced. "So you're coming then?"
“mhm” y/n hums while grabbing his backpack.
"Good," Nick repeats "Welllll, hurry up. I'm kinda drunk right now and you don't want to keep me waiting." He says playfully, trying to mask his worry of what’s gonna happen when he try’s to talk to y/n later
“alright bye” y/n says dryly, he’s trying his best to seem nonchalant and not nervous.
“Bye,” nick mutters, a little hurt by his dismissive attitude. He hangs up and puts his phone away, waiting by the fire pit for y/n to show up.
Nick leans against some tree, looking at the fire, listening to the music that's being blasted through portable speakers nearby. Nothing really feels like anything is real right now for nick.
"Come onnn," nick complains to nobody in particular, glancing at his phone every now and then. He's been waiting for a little while, and he's getting increasingly impatient just sitting around and waiting for him to show up.
then he sees y/n from a distance. he’s talking to some people and dapping them up. Nick stares at how y/n talks to the others, he’s charming to say the least. Why is he only distant with me?
Nick gets lost in his thoughts and looks up as he sees him approaching, he blinks as he realizes how long he's actually been staring off into space for. He blinks a few times in rapid succession to try and focus back, and he gives y/n a half-assed wave as he approaches.
“hey” nick says trying to hide how buzzed he actually is. "Took you long enough."
y/n rolls his eyes and sits down beside Nick. He doesn’t know what to say, he never seems to around nick. he takes a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair.
"So did you meet up with some girl or something?" Nick asks, his tone teasing but also slightly agitated. He's still a little annoyed that he didn't show up to the party, even though he knows it's not really his place to control who he hangs out with.
y/n grabs a little on his hair and groans* “it was just my friend”
Nick gives a mock dramatic groan. "Right, your 'friend'... I'm so sure." his tone dripping with sarcasm and doubt.
“it seriously was just a friend but whatever…” y/n mutters while bitting his inner cheek, while matching nicks stance and leaning his head on the tree.
"Right, sure," nick says, still skeptical. "Whatever you say. So are you going to start hanging out with 'friends' more often and ignoring me? Is that how it's gonna be now?"
y/ns heart sinks into his stomach.”I’m not ignoring you-“
"Really? 'Cause you haven't made any effort to hang out with me lately, and you know damn well you could've come to the party but ignored me as usual instead."So what gives?"
y/n stares down at his feet and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna talk about this” why the fuck did I even come here y/n thinks to himself.
"You don't want to talk about this? "Why the hell not? You haven't been around for like a month, and I thought you could at least come to one fucking party with me today."
nick raises his voice a bit looking at anything but y/n. he just doesn’t get it, y/n has always been a person that is very stubborn. nick has tried to pry in the past to get him to talk about his feelings but he’s never succeeded.
y/n squeezed his eyes shut. he knew he should have came and everything Nick is saying is valid. “I’m here now” he whispers while glancing at nick, then bringing his eyes back down to his beat up shoes.
"Yeah, but you're only here now because I was getting pissy about you ignoring me! I had to call you and practically beg you to come, and you're just acting like this is fine. You weren't even planning on coming!" Nick now raises his voice, the alcohol making him have no filter.
“you just don’t know shit about me nick ok?” y/n snaps back, matching nicks tone. Nick just stares a him.
"The hell do you mean I don't know anything about you? You're my best friend! I know you better than anyone else in this damn town” nick is now yelling
Y/n’s jaw clenches and he takes a shaky breath “it’s just-“
"It's just what?" Nick spats at him
y/ns fingernails dig deep into his palms holding back tears. Taking deeps breaths. Doing anything he can to calm down. don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. He opens his mouth trying to form words. ” I don’t….I don’t like girls.” y/ns cheeks are now full of tears. no way he just said that out loud.
Nicks expression changes immediately, going from annoyance to confusion to realization. He freezes for a moment, and he doesn't say anything as he tries to digest this new piece of information. He thought he knew so much about him. truth is, y/n doesn’t know everything about nick either.
to be continued
#Spotify#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo x male reader#sturniolo fanfic
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It’s like, yeah. The writers were aware of Destiel, but they didn’t care about it. Even that recent Edlund quote, he said he wasn’t “absolute” about. Basically saying, “yeah it’s something, but don’t really care enough to genuinely explore it.” Bob Singer straight up saying it’s not something they ever talked about, Jensen’s feelings on it. Misha has even said it wasn’t a serious thing until S15, but he’s been changing his story since the start.
I mean, they were pretty aware of the fans, so of course they knew it was a thing in fandom. In a similar way to how they knew fans complaining was a thing in fandom, or wincest was a thing in fandom.
Sure, there were some points where the show made suggestive jokes, but that is mostly an entirely different conversation. One that is not actually about story and authorial intent, but changing cultural views on the relative appropriateness of certain types of humor versus real life usage. One that would need to address the context of the entire rest of the show having the same kinds of suggestive commentary, especially between the brothers as a baseline of how characters interacted.
Part of the hellers disconnect from reality in terms of claiming they were queerbaited is how they want to extract the jokes and interactions of ONLY D/C and demand romantic follow though. It's queerbaiting when they ship it! Except characters making eye contact in dramatic moments and throwaway jokes to ship tease the fans is neither the promise of a storyline nor a storyline in and of itself. It's no more a suggestion the writers were seriously intending D/C than the many more jokes about D/S meant the brothers would suddenly start making out on screen. Which, again, is part of why they freaked out so hard over the barn scene. They'd spent so much time desperately trying to convince themselves that offhand sexual jokes and any degree of intimacy = legit romantic storyline that has to be made canon endgame? That they found one. Oops.
At the end of the day, what the show itself actually told them up through the finale, what the showrunners and Bob Singer told them, what Jensen told them? Was ship what you want, but that's not our story.
They would rather listen to the one guy who also told them that, but then changes his story when he needs money/has something to sell. Because they aren't actually mad about being queerbaited. They're mad they couldn't force the show to play out their fanfic in live action. But they desperately want to pretend being entitled brats is oppression.
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How the Bigger Bodies Smiling Critters Died (head canons)
Alright so I R E A L L Y wanna talk about how I think the Smiling Critters perished in Poppy Playtime
Cw: mentions of (sorta) cannibalism, torture, accidental suicide, self-harm, addiction in terms of The Red Smoke
this is gonna be r e a l l y long, so strap in y'all
. ☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️ .
Bubba Bubbaphant
"I'm Bubba Bubbaphant! ...Hey! I remember you!"
"An elephant always remembers!"
"Want to know what I remember about you...?"
This character is pretty much the nerd emoji of the Smiling Critters. He's really smart, and, as he stated in his cardboard cut-out dialogue, has a really good memory. Although I can't really see that being put into play of his actual death, I can see that this last bit of information he stated (before just spiraling out of control) can be connected to our character.
(Our character is an ex-worker and is always greeted with distain by the major antagonists, which leads me to believe that we have actively, or at least indirectly, participated in the child/worker experimentation/conversion based on what Bubba says.
Although in his last bit of "dialogue", he's screaming quite loudly as if he was in major agony, but also laughing, as if he was ingesting something that caused great harm to his mentality and body, but since he's had it so many times before to the point where he actively begs to have more, it's agonizing, but also "heavenly."
Therefore I think his cause of death would be due to him trying to escape during The Hour of Joy, but was eventually caught by CatNap and his use of The Red Smoke. In the Smiling Critters cartoon, all the critters are struggling to go to sleep because of how scared they were of the storm outside. However, once CatNap enters, they all practically light up with such disturbing happiness. Bubba is the first one to beg him to "help them go to sleep". Fast forward to The Hour of Joy, CatNap must've used his addiction against him to keep him sorta in place so he could kill him.
KickenChicken
"Hey! I'm KickenChicken! Wanna go outside and hang out?"
"It's lookin' pretty rad outside!"
"I've...never been outside before..."
"Will you come with me? I'm scared..."
"Here, follow me. I-I'll step out first..."
Here, I used to think that he had barricaded himself along with some of the other critters somewhere safe inside the Playcare during The Hour of Joy, and he decided to step outside once all the humans were finally killed. Once he did, CatNap found him and killed him for his disobedience towards his god.
But a recent theory sorta convinced me otherwise. I still believe in my own theory, but I also support the fact that KickenChicken could've also been one of the first toys to reach an exit to the outside world. But, once he and the other critter tried to step outside, he got killed by the Prototype.
Picky Piggy
"Hi there! I'm Picky Piggy! Let's eat!"
"Roast beef? Delicious!"
"Grilled chicken? Down the hatch!"
"Seared elephant? Yum!"
"Flayed unicorn? Mmm!"
"Still hungry... Hey, what do you say you and I be friends?"
(This one actually scares the hell out of me, i love it)
And it's pretty obvious too, for the most part. I believe that Picky was separated by the other critters during The Hour of Joy, and ended up with nothing to eat for a long time.
She ended up wandering aimlessly throughout the factory and eventually came across the corpses of her dead friends. Saddened, but desperate for food, she ate her friends' corpses as soon as she came along them, but all that effort soon went to waste as she eventually died of starvation, a constant theme throughout Poppy Playtime.
Hoppy Hopscotch
"I'm Hoppy Hopscotch! Wanna try hopping to the moon with me?"
"On three with me! One... two... three! ...Heh, didn't get very far, did we?"
"Again! One, two, three! Nope... still didn't make it."
"Listen! This won't stop until we make it to the moon!"
"One, two- No, no! Don't look at your feet! None of that matters! Again! Again!"
"JUMP! JUUUU-"
Yeah this one just makes me really sad, seeing how I think her death most likely would be accidental suicide. In an attempt to escape CatNap or The Prototype or another toy that was hunting them down for food, or maybe just trying to reach somewhere that lead to an exit, she encouraged her friend(s) to jump towards freedom, but due to her impulsive/impatient tendencies, she didn't think it through and ended up falling to her death.
Bobby Bearhug
"Hi! I'm Bobby Bearhug! Wanna know how much I love you?"
"I love you to the moooon and back!"
"I'm crazy about you." "I'm lost without you."
"I've been lost a long time..."
"Please, take me with you this time...!"
"You won't leave me, will you??"
Bobby loves everyone and everything, unconditionally. So, when The Hour of Joy occurred, she naturally felt terrified and wanted to stick close by with her friends as they tried to find a way out of the factory after that day. This might also be in relation to DogDay and Picky as well. DogDay probably shooed them away in attempt to save them from CatNap, and while the massacre occurred, Picky got lost during all the chaos. Them being her friends, she was greatly distraught by this, but soon forced herself to go along with who was left. That was when she probably witness some of their deaths: Bobby being lured by the Red Smoke and eventually killed, Kicken getting killed by either CatNap or The Protoype, Hoppy falling to her death, being scared away by CraftyCorn (I'll get to her later).
"Take me with you this time!" I believe this line was spawned from DogDay's actions. Since he was the leader of their group, she, along with the other critters, looked up to him. Perhaps Bobby believed if he has taken all of them with him, she wouldn't have ended up all alone.
She eventually ended up all alone, turned to madness by loneliness as she always thought about the events that made her friends leave her. After a long time of wandering and losing hope, bit by bit as each day passed, she died of starvation.
CraftyCorn
"H-Hi, I'm CraftyCorn. Will you help me with my painting? Pass me the blue, please!"
"Thanks! Now, will you give me some red?"
"More red, please!"
"Out...? But, w-we can't be out."
"You're hiding more red from me... I know you are..."
"GIVE IT HERE!"
"There, now that's much better!"
Despite CraftyCorn's established gentle and caring personality, both would be thrown away for the sake of keeping her creative juices flowing. She always loves everything artistic, so she also most likely uses it as a coping mechanism (and that's also seen in the Smiling Critter's cartoon, where CraftyCorn is drawing on multiple pages while still being scared of the storm outside).
I believe she also witnessed some of her friends' deaths along with Bobby Bearhug, and, as her way of coping, she just tries drawing and drawing and painting and painting her worries away. But while her urges to cope may last, drawing materials do not for long, and she eventually runs out. This causes her to turn to panic, as she thinks she'll have to finally face reality that her friends are gone, but she's not ready, so she desperately tires to find more art materials, mostly the color red (because that's the most of what she's been seeing since The Hour of Joy). So, in a blind, maddened dismay, she attacks her friends and uses their blood for painting, piling on unimaginable guilt for hurting her friends, the very thing she was trying not to make herself realize.
Now as for her death. Her remaining friend(s) probably ended up leaving her for the sake of their own safety. She doesn't realize this, because again, she's so deep in her own distractions that she's lost touch with reality, until she finally runs out of red again. She desperately tries to find more, but can't extract any from an outside source.
So she uses her own blood as paint. She extracts her blood, runs out, extracts again, runs out again, extracts again, runs out again, over and over until she finally harms herself to the point of dying from blood loss.
DogDay
"DogDay says... fetch!"
"Go, go! As far as you can!"
"Why are you...just standing there?"
"You can't be here. You can't stay..."
As I said earlier, DogDay must have helped his friends escape from CatNap's hunting ground and the main killing areas during The Hour of Joy. He realizes that CatNap holds a burning rage for him and his friends for not going along with The Prototypes control, and drives them out somewhere where he thinks they'll be safe. But he then told them that he couldn't go with them, because as the leader of the Smiling Critters, and holding a deep love for his friends, he felt the need to sacrifice himself so they can be safe.
Once they were away, he goes and finds CatNap. Since I believe that DogDay was once a worker for Playtime Co., I don't think he remembers his past. Therefore, he truly believes that he is DogDay, and that the Smiling Critters, including CatNap, have been friends for a lifetime. He believes that his friend is still in there, not seeing the fact that CatNap remembers exactly who he is and how he became this way, including why he worships The Prototype. DogDay tries to convince CatNap to remember all the good times they had (even though, with the Big Bodies version of the cast, CatNap was particularly distant from the rest of the Smiling Critters, since I assume they're also workers). Of course, this doesn't work, and CatNap attempts to kill him.
However, I believe that DogDay had escaped and went to look for his friends once he was at a safe distance. But this is FAR after the events of his friends' deaths, so one by one he comes across his friends' corpses, personally seeing the horrors of after The Hour of Joy "I'm...the last of the Smiling Critters...." (what he says before his own death)
After years of losing so much hope, seeing that none of his friends survived the horrors of the factory, DogDay doesn't see the point in trying to escape. If his friends didn't make it, what was the point? And, during his most vulnerable, this is how CatNap eventually ends up finding him. He gained some sick pleasure into see this heretic suffer, but he felt that he needed more misery, by kidnapping him and torturing him by cutting off his legs and feeding them to the mini critters, and stringing him up in the prison where he's slowly eaten by The Prototype's worshippers.
Still, he holds onto what sanity he has left from his interactions with Poppy (who I believe he ran into while he was wandering the Factory), and believed that an angel will bring them salvation.
. ☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️☀️⭐️🍎💡⚡️🌸❤️ .
That's about it! Hope you guys enjoyed!!
~ 💜🌙 ~
#the smiling critters#poppy playtime#poppy playtime chapter 3#headcanons#poppy#dogday#hoppy hopscotch#catnap#bubba bubbaphant#kicken chicken#craftycorn#bobby bearhug#picky piggy#s-m-i-l-e ev-er-y day!#smiling critters
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Hi!! Hope you're having a good day! May I ask for levi with some sort of anime girl type hoodie and reader asking him to get rid of it because their jealous?
hello! of course :)
enjoy!
Me? Jealous?
Levi was looking forward to his gaming session with you that evening. You'd been seemingly very busy the past week, so he hadn't gotten a chance to snag your sole attention at all. He hated having to vie for your affections during the day with his brothers, so instead he sent you a text to ask if you were up to play games. He was overjoyed when you said yes.
Right after dinner, he set off to his room to tidy up. After throwing away the several empty energy drink cans and chip bags, and wiping every controller down, he let you know he was ready when you were. You showed up to his room soon enough with a smile on your face.
"Levi!" You peaked in through the crack in the door he'd made to check who'd knocked. He fully opened the door and promptly shut it behind you.
"Hey Mc." He found himself grow increasingly nervous as you threw your arms around him. You'd known each other for so long now, yet every time he turned to putty under your touch.
"You have any games in mind?" After they backed up, he noticed your expression fall a little, causing him to panic. What had he done? Maybe you'd finally realized you'd rather hang out with Mammon or Asmo. They were much more fun anyways.
"Yes... no! I meant no." He stumbled over his words after remembered he had to speak.
"If you had something in mind, let's do that. You're the expert after all." You grabbed his arm and dragged him towards his gaming setup. Eventually, after some coaxing from you, he showed you what he wanted to do with you, so that's what you spend your evening doing. A few times during the evening, he thought he saw you give him some side glances, but he brushed it off because you seemed happy enough.
Once you’d done what he wanted, and you were both growing tired of that particular activity, Levi suggested rewatching a favorite anime of yours. After he put it on, he only got halfway through the first episode before letting his thoughts run rampant again. He was certain they were giving him side glares now. The anxiety of the situation began to eat away at him, crippling any confidence he had. After he caught you full on staring at him, he knew he had to say something.
“Mc?” He turned his head to meet your gaze.
“Hmm?” You seemed as if you’d just woken up from a stupor of some kind.
“Are you… alright?” He held his breath waiting for your response.
“Yes. Why do you ask?” They shifted their body towards him. Silence filled the room. He has no clue where to go from there. He didn’t think he’d get that far to be honest.
He could only muster up a small “Alright.” Way to go genius! What a smart way to answer a question. But, he just couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again for anything that wasn’t sad, deflated balloon-esque noises. The pair stared at each other now, neither speaking. Eventually, you finally said something.
"I'm sorry. It's just be being dumb." You looked away from him, sneaking glances. He remained silent. You sighed, and continued despite seeming to not want to. "It's just... your hoodie." He looked down suddenly at what he was wearing. It was just some generic anime girl on a hoodie. It had been a gift from Mammon, and when he says he scoured the internet for he, he found nothing. She wasn't a real character and while he didn't actually know where he got it from, he had his guesses.
"What?" Was all he could muster. He felt like he looked incredibly stupid, kind of like a fish with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"She's not a character I've seen in your room before." Levi could sense there was more you wanted to say, but kept dancing around the topic. As he thought more about your words and the expression on your face, the lightbulb above his head finally lit up.
"OH." With that realization, he began to panic and immediately tried to take off the hoodie, only to remember he wasn't actually wearing anything underneath. He quickly pulled it back down and decided to turn his back to you instead.
"Levi! You don't have to take it off, you know." You put your hand on his shoulder.
"If you're jealous, then I need to. I know what that feels like. It's not a good feeling. You shouldn't have to feel that if you don't need to." The words that came out of his mouth were more poetic than usual. For a second, you were unsure on how to respond.
"Thanks. You're really sweet. Now, do you want me to get out while you change?" You began to giggle as his face turned beet red. He quickly ushered you out of the room, causing you to laugh more, but as soon as you were out of the room, you dwelled on the warm, fuzzy feelings Levi gave you. You were so lucky to have him in your life.
#obey me#obey me!#obey me x reader#obey me levi#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me! shall we date#obey me levi fluff#levi obey me#levi obey me fluff#obey me levi x reader
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I HAD RANDOM THOUGHT I WANT YOU TO EXPAND ON!! This came outta nowhere but won’t leave: imagine if you somehow casually made a joke about babies/ pregnancy (or just mentioned it for some reason) and Tan laughs and jokes it off like it’s nothing and then carries on, and you’re just so suddenly hurt by it?? And so you’re either snapping at him, leaving the room or harshly moving away from him/ not wanting to touch him anymore?? And you’re both confused and you’re hurt and he’s like “oh SHIT FUCK I GOTTA FIX THIS” idk how much sense this is making but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN (and that’s how you finally admit to Tan that you’ve been having baby fever, ahhhhh!!)
ME?? YAY I FEEL SO SPECIAL. did this on my phone, so apologies for bad punctuation. also your argument one is in my drafts xx
TANGERINE NOT REACTING WELL TO YOUR COMMENT ABOUT FUTURE BABIES.
omg?!? like you’ve been wanting to integrate it into convos but you don’t wanna scare him. so yes like mentioned, you point out something cute and baby related. maybe you’re at the shop, and you walk around the clothing section and ‘happen’ to stumble upon the baby section
you’d point out how cute and tiny the little baby clothes are, and how you can’t wait to buy some?? or how you can’t imagine holding something so small. and he’s like “bit of a long way off” and laughs (but not in a patronising way, like a nervous, awkward laugh) and he’s moving the trolley to get out of the section (bc gotta get lots of stuff and doesn’t want to be wasting time??) and you don’t know what to say, and it kinda feels like a gut punch. bc that’s how he feels, and you feel the opposite
so you go quiet for the rest of the time in the shop and in the car you’re quiet. AND to make it extra angsty you have your knees tilted towards the door! tan asks if you’re okay, and what’s the matter etcetc. you say how it’s nothing. you feel hurt but you don’t want him to know, maybe you feel silly for being so upset about a small throw away comment
AND YES LIKE MENTIONED you avoid him a little bit and there’s a bit of friction bc you’re being distant and snappy and moody??
and you’re confused why you feel so hurt about the comment. and he’s also confused by your sudden coldness towards him
and he’s trying to rack his brain to figure out why you’re so upset and what’s got you feeling that way. but he comes up empty. so then he retraces steps to the moment you went off on him. and then he realises his little comment at the shop may have set you off
so he kinda corners you bc he wants you to talk to him without you walking off or shutting him down. and he’s like “you’re upset about how I reacted to that baby comment, right?”
and you take a few moments and then nod
he’s like “and you’ve been off with me because you want a baby, and what I said wasn’t what you wanted to hear?” he’s got you all figured out
edit —
and bc he’s a communication king, he wants to patch things over and he’s like “I thought you were playing around. I didn’t know that’s how you really felt” and he says how in the past when you’ve mentioned baby fever, they’ve always been really passing lighthearted comments. so he thought it was the same again
and so you say how you’ve had baby fever, and it’s been a lot different to all the other times. it’s lasted longer and been more intense etc
so he’s like “would you like a baby?” and he’s trying to get to the point but in a gentle reassuring way. like he’s trying to solve the problem
so you say something like “yes. but the timing is not right and if you don’t then neither do I”
and he’s a cutie and he says something about how he’ll make time or that there’s never a right or wrong time etc blah blah. or he wants a baby if you’re the mother
OHHHMYGODD MAYBE!!?? the reason you’ve been even more upset about it is bc you already found out that you are pregnant!??? but haven’t told him yet!!!???!!! so you’re even more upset that he seemed to be against it. but maybe the hormones scrambled your brain so you felt like his comment was that of betrayal
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yours, truly. | ot5
a/n: and the most creative title maker goes to .... *drumrolls* BEA 1!1!!!1!!1! (i'm supposed to be studying for finals but the brainrot is consuming me rn.)
pairing: non-idol!ot5 x gn!reader (separately)
summary: basically some silly ot5 hcs on who i think would be the yapper/listener in a relationship
warnings: intentional lowercase, but other than that, nothing !!
choi soobin — 최수빈 .ᐟ
no cuz have u seen that man argue with his members friends ...
(#1 yapper istg)
like i doubt he'd be any different when he's in a relationship
you'd always have to listen every time (which you'd gladly do)
would probably send random voice messages of him yapping about the members teasing him that day 😭😭
as you listened to soobin's voice messages, quickly overflowing your chats, his voice filled with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "you won't believe what they're going on about now," he chuckled "it's like they've found their new favorite hobby!"
you couldn't help but giggle in response, imagining the scene playing out in your head. "what are they teasing you about this time?" you'd ask, already expecting some weirdly hilarious anecdote.
"oh, you know, the usual," he replied with a message. "apparently, i'm the official target for their entertainment!"a
you laugh again. "well, at least you're providing them with some sort of entertainment," you send another message.
soobin sends another voice message, this time with a sarcastic tone in his voice. "yeah, lucky me,"
choi yeonjun — 최연준 .ᐟ
i feel like it varies with him
DEPENDS ON HIS MOOD FOR THE DAY REALLY 😓
maybe on some days he'd be the one listening while on other days he'd be the one yapping
EITHER WAY he's still a good listener !!
you'd come home from your workplace tired and you just need to spill out your worries and yap yourself to sleep (while cuddling with him)
exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders as you drag yourself through the front door, the days work still echoing in your mind. all you wanted was to collapse onto the couch and let your sleep consume you. but, as if sensing your weariness, yeonjun walked in, a comforting presence in the dimly lit room.
without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. "rough day?" he asked, his voice soft.
you nodded, too drained to form a response. "i just need to rest," you managed to mumble, leaning into his embrace.
"of course," yeonjun whispered, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "i got you."
nestled against his chest, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as fatigue tugged on your eyelids to shut. "i love you." you murmured one last time before drifting off to sleep.
"i love you too," he smiled against your head. "sweet dreams."
choi beomgyu — 최범규 .ᐟ
personally i think he comes close to soobin !!
he yaps a lot (soogyu arguments......)
he's probably a good listener (i'm not so sure about this one guys.. 😓😓)
like a lot of the times he comes to you and yaps about arguments he's had with soobin (or others, mostly soobin probably) but then whines when you don't swoop in to take his side 😭
as beomgyu settled beside you, his head finding its usual place on your shoulder. you sensed something was amiss. beomgyu's voice carried a faint edge, a hint of frustration as he recounted the playful argument he'd had with his friend earlier. "you won't believe what soobin said this time!" he began, launching into the details of their playful disagreement.
listening intently, you couldn't help but smile at the animated way he described their exchange, when he reached the climax of his story, his tone shifted, a touch of indignation creeping in. "can you believe he actually said that?" he exclaimed, looking up at you with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
you chuckle softly, trying to diffuse the tension with a light-hearted comment. "well, maybe he has a point,"
to your surprise, beomgyu's response was immediate, a mocking gasp escaping his lips as he lifted his head off your shoulder. "you're taking his side??" he protested, a pout forming on his lips.
as if caught off guard, you laughed, reaching out to pull him back into the comfort of your shoulder. "you have to admit, he did have a point,"
reluctantly, he relented, sinking back against your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "fine, whatever." he conceded, wrapping an arm around your waist.
kang taehyun — 강태현 .ᐟ
SUCH A GOOD LISTENER UGGFHHFHQ
i can't stress how much i think that he'd be a really really good listener
something inside me just tells me so (the voices.)
you can literally yap to him about ANYTHING. one time you were yapping about which goes first; cereal or milk, and he just sits there listening intently (like a good bf 🫶🫶🫶🫶)
you and taehyun lounged on the couch, the conversation drifted to one of those timeless debates; cereal or milk first. with a playful glint in your eye, you launched into your carefully considered stance on the matter, each point delivered with exaggerated seriousness.
"you see," you began. "it's all about logistics. pouring the cereal first allows for better control over portion size and ensures an even distribution of toppings."
taehyun chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he listened to your impassioned monologue. "but think about it," he countered, his tone teasing. "pouring the milk first prevents the cereal from getting soggy too quickly."
you raised your eyebrow, considering his argument before shaking your head with a smirk. "ah, but where's the joy in living on the edge?" you retorted, unable to resist a playful jab.
as you both bantered back and forth, the debate evolving into a light-hearted exchange of opinions, you couldn't help but marvel at the simple pleasure of sharing such trivial matters with taehyun.
huening kai — 휴닝카이 .ᐟ
probably similar to yeonjun
like he yaps sometimes but he takes it into consideration that you'd also need to yap too sometimes
i feel like you'd both yap about your days at work during the weekend, like he'd yap and you listen, vice versa
saturday morning finds you both nestled in the cozy embrace of your shared bed, lazily entwined in the warmth of the sheets. with the sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting a soft glow around you and huening kai, you both indulged in the simple pleasure of sharing details of your whole week.
as you recounted your adventure with your friends from the previous day, huening kai listened with rapt attention, his eyes sparkling with amusement at each twist and turn of your story. "and then," you exclaimed, punctuating your story with exaggerated gestures, "we stumbled upon this hidden gem of a café, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city."
"maybe we should go there sometime!" he recommended, eyes lighting up as you mention the word 'café', suggesting that it could be a new place for you and him to go on a date.
"sure, maybe sometime." you responded as you stop telling your story and it's now his turn to share a story.
as you both traded anecdotes and shared some laughs, the boundaries between past and present blurred, each memory weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your shared narratives, in the comfort of your shared bed, surrounded by the remnants of sleep and the promise of a lazy morning ahead.
please reblog if you enjoy!!!
#txt#tomorrow x together#tubatu#soobin x reader#yeonjun x reader#beomgyu x reader#taehyun x reader#huening kai x reader#choi soobin#choi yeonjun#choi beomgyu#kang taehyun#huening kai#fluff#txt ot5#txt ot5 x reader#IM GONNA FAIL MY FINALSSSHSNS#bea's brainrot works >ᴗ<
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