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yan-lorkai · 27 days

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Was listening some horror stories while I finished some projects then got inspired by it and wrote this. Hope u guys like it <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, kidnapping, murder. Probably typos too.

"Nuh-uh, dad!" You looked at the book Lilia carried with him. He had read this book for you a thousand times and a pout formed on your lips, already thinking how you would have to bear this torture again.

There was nothing wrong with the stories, per say. But they get a little old and boring when you had heard them this many times. And Lilia was quite forgetful so asking him to buy other books wasn't always a successful endeavor. Though when you asked him to create a story he told you he wans't creative enough either. You aren't having any of that. You were tired of hearing about snow white, rapunzel, ugly duckling and all the classics. You wanted something new and today you would have it.

"Tell me another story, please!" You asked, making your best puppy eyes at him. Those eyes worked on Silver and Sebek, so you wanted to try on him as well. His reaction was different from the one you were expecting though, Lilia smiled and patted your head.

You loved having him read to you - it was your favorite activity to bond with your father, where you solved mysteries with him and laughed at silly pickup lines, but Lilia was still fond of the classics. There was though another book, called The General Tales. The author was unknown and the cover was painted a dark red, it was strange. And you hadn't the chance to read it because your father was very conscious about it, hiding when you so much as glanced in its direction.

You could only suppose it was a horror book. But you were already quite grown up. You were almost 13 years old! You could sit through any story he read without having nightmares! He didn't seem to agree.

"What am I going to do with you, little batty?" Lilia mused to himself when you showed the book. There was an excited glee in his eyes whenever he looked at it, as if it contained his favorite memories; little did you know what was written on those pages and how much blood they had seen. How much blood Lilia used to write those same pages.

He smiled finally. Dangerously, like he did when you pranked him and he was plotting his revenge.

You make space in your bed for him to sit beside you and he opened those secret pages you had always wondered about. They were yellowed by the time and some were dog eared, written in a beautiful yet hushed cursive. You were fascinated.

Lilia waited till you made yourself comfortable, laying your head against his chest and body nestled into his side, so he turned some pages, humming to himself. You could only think what kind of story would he read to you. You could only hope it was scary. It wans't night time yet and even if you got scared then surely at night, when he put you to bed, you would have already forgotten all the gorey details. Right...?

"There was a couple who lived happily at the woods," Lilia's deep voice started its tale and you closed your eyes to fully immerse yourself in your imaginnation as you listened to him. "but then a plague started to poison the soil and their crops were destroyed. The walk to the nearest village used to take a whole day to go and another to come back. The husband tried to hunt animals to feed his lover and their one year old child but he failed each and every time. Without other options he started traveling to this village."

"Wait, what about the plague?" You asked fulled with curiosity. Then you through to yourself why they didn't tried to make it go away somehow.

Either they tried and didn't worked. Or they didn't even thought about it. Nonetheless, you brushed it off as they don't having this knowledgment. But this bugged you for a second. Humans and faes knew about plagues and how to get rid of them, they been doing this since they were brought to existence.

Your question made Lilia smile cheerfully, you observed. He must be proud of you for asking this, as he had homeschooled you and used to brag about how smart you was to anyone who wanted to listen - he'd brag even if they didn't want to hear. "Ah, you see, they were bad people. The soil knew this and rejected them, my dear."

Well... Growing in Briar Valley you knew this was probable to happen. Fae were internally linked to their florests and woods, and rivers and oceans, and everything nature could touch. That was also why Lilia raised both you and your older brother, Silver, in the woods. He used to take both of you to fish, and swim and watch the dawn all the time. Though time changed and life got busier, maybe you ask him to take you fishing again someday. Or to go camping somewhere.

"Makes sense, what happened to them then?"

"The man bought everything he needed, every last golden coin spent. But he had food for months to come, he was already imagining what his wife would cook on the way back when an incident happened."

Lilia turned the page and you could see a little drawing of a man horse riding into the horizon. Then he started reading again after taking in your expressions.

"A stag came running at him, the horse didn't react at time and both animals collided. Wounded, the animal couldn't walk and neither could the man who had fallen and sprained his ankle. Snow was falling, surrounding him like a veil, all the food he brought with their remaining gains lost there. He thought to himself 'I'm going to die certainly', rejected he was once, rejected he was at that moment. Lost and in pain, feeling miserable, he tried to stand but failed. Every attempt more painful than the other. A river was falling from his eyes when he finally gave up."

Your heart ached at this. But you hoped for the better. Freezing and being left hungry during winter sounded like hell. Lilia pinched your cheek when he noticed you frowning. He laughed at the face you make at him, annoyed at your father's antics.

Lilia smiled. "Nope. Nope, instead he had heard a voice from the woods, a hooded figure was suddenly standing in front of him. He could only see the figure's blood red eyes."

"Oh no, did he die?"

You looked at your father. "Your eyes are red!"

Lilia nodded, his leg bouncing with how excited he was from reading this story. "Do you think the hooded figure was me?"

"Well, it was?" You replied with another ask. Your father didn't respond.

Instead he continued reading. "If I save you, what can you get me in return? The hooded figure asked, crouching to be on the man height. Their touch was tender as they wiped his tears and looked at him, but there was something in them that make him tremble more than snow could. There was something truly evil behind those eyes, something terrible behind that smile. The man didn't answer nor said anything for various minutes. Though for him, hours seemed to have passed. Maybe even years as he looked at those eyes."

"Nah, I didn't think it was you," You thought out loud. "Your eyes are very beautiful and gentle."

Returning your little compliment, Lilia squeezed you in a side hug while laughing. "Oh, thank you sugar. Your eyes are beautiful too."

"But they aren't red as yours." You pouted.

"You wanted them to be?" You nodded. Nor you or Silver have his red eyes. But you wish you had. His eyes were unique, were cute but also intimidating. So intimidating when he wanted them to be that you were imagining that the hooded figure had those same eyes.

You both stayed in that hug before you remind him to read again. There were fewer pages to go now. And again there was a drawing, this time you could see the man with that figure chatting while snow pilled beside them, as if the cold didn't bothered them. Then on another page he stood up and a carriage had appeared, he held the wet food in his arms, saving whatever it was possible to save. He would go back home to his family.

But at what price? It wans't written. The author had keeped too vague.

"When he arrived home, with a new horse and a carriage, which the hooded figure told him to sell for its quality was impressive and he would gain even more gold than he had spended, he was his child running at him, happy that their, uh, father had finally returned. The entire time though, the man could still feel the figure's eyes on him, could see those eyes in his mind. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, held his child and whirled around with them to they laughed. He watched them disappear back inside when they got too cold. And then he explained what had happened to his wife, she deserved to know."

He explained this incident with the stag, about the hooded figure and the deal he made with it. And very lowly he whispered how he wouldn't follow his part of the deal - and lying to a fae is something one must never do. Something he shouldn't have done. But he did. And that's the soil reject them even more.

Beneath the earth it was possible to feel the tremors or the wind that pushed everything out of its way. Lilia read how the man dealed with each and every tribulation, how he passed the trials and went his way around the deal, doind the bare minimum to ensure only his and his family safety. He only forgotten that the figure could see him.

"Then one night the hooded figure came to pay him a visit. It knocked on the door and it smiled when it saw the wife holding her child, looking at it with clear fear in her eyes. Like her husband, the wife was trembling in its presence. She let it enter, if anything because she couldn't send him away, she didn't know with what she was dealing, she couldn't act wrong and jeopardize her child safety. Instead she played the role of a welcoming hostess."

Lilia paused a second to breathe then he smiled as if he too was imagining what happened next. Pressed against him you were still. Were it going to kill everyone?

"Please, you may sit here. Do you want to eat something or perhaps are you thirsty? She asked. The air around them was tense. Though her child was poking the stranger without fear, filled with innocent curiosity. The figure picked the child and looked at their eyes. A carnivorous smiled streched on it's face. 'This will be not necessary' the figure said.'"

Another dramatic pause. It was so silent you could hear the birds flying from a considerate distance. It was so silent that you could focus on the blood flowing on your veins. You were anxious to know what happened next. And your father seemed to take fun on this, delaying his narrative to look at the drawing of the figure and the child. This one was colored and you noticed that the child looked just like you. Same hairstyle and same color eye, even same skin color.

You didn't know how to feel about it. You was thinking about what the figure would do to that child. Coming from a horror book you had only one guess. Lilia though didn't share your apprehension as he started narrating again.

"'Call your husband and let's eat. Together. No lies this time or this cutie will pay the price.' The figure warned her. But it know what was fated to happen. The couple were liars and no good persons. Of course they were going to lie. When everyone was seated to eat, the wife served first her guest then her husband then her child and finally herself; though the figure was still holding the child. The wife looked like she wanted to ask something but held her tongue."

Lilia licked his fingers and turned the page. Your heart breaked at the drawing. It seemed painful and explicit but you keeped yourself from looking away, you asked for him to read and you wanted to hear and see everything.

"'Open wide, little one.' The figure told the child, holding Its own spoon of soup to feed the baby. The mother seemed alarmed by it as if she had just done something stupid. And she did, poisoned the figure's spoon and plate, and food too. She held its hand and looked at it with pleading eyes. She fell to her knees, afraid for her child's life and security, stuttering and mumbling. 'please, don't.' she asked it. And a laughed escaped the hooded figure's lips, so sweet, so dangerous, he looked at the child who made grabby hands at the food. 'I said no lies yet you lied to me, tried to deceit me when I've been nothing if good for the both of you. And what did I asked in return? Say it, word by word, to her, mighty husband.' The wife looked at her husband."

"But it was so vague... Dad, what did it said?" At this your father patted your hair, twirling his fingers in your hair to distract you. He almost never replied to you in these moments, wanting you to draw your own conclusions. Still you wished he answered you on this matter. You were too curious and inquisitive.

"'I want you to restore the crops with this insecticide I'm giving you, I want you to make house for the birds and for you to clean the rivers when they thaw. And... And I want your first-born, f-for them to take your place, a-a life for a lif...' The husband answered, without finding his wife's eyes. Though he didn't looked at her, he knew how the color vanished from her face and how she was stunned into silence. He had never mentioned the part where the figure wanted their child, had he done that she would killed him herself. Her pregnancy was problematic and painful but she was so happy that her child was here now, she was delighted to her their little laugh and see them starting to walk and talk. And he stole all this from her."

You gripped your father's arm, you aren't expecting this betrayal. You expected the hooded figure to be the killer who would slaughter everyone and then dance upon their corpses. But there was something intimately sad knowing that someone so close as a father to his own child, could be a liar. You felt a bad taste on your tongue. Though part of you was excited to see where things were going now. Would be possible for this story to have a happily after all? Part of you didn't know but you hoped so.

"'You lied to me? About this?' The poor wife was inconsolable, struggling even to stand still as her whole face burned with ire. She knew nothing could be done. Maybe it was her own fear, maybe it was the figure's presence who seemed to feed into her negative feelings, the next second she threw herself on top of her husband punching and screaming at him. Her chair had fallen to the ground with her plate, food flying everywhere. The hooded figure sighed but tucked the child's face in his neck for them to not see this. The couple flighted like two angry kittens, disjointed, clumsy, without really knowing where to hit to hurt more. It was pitiful to watch. It hummed while the scene unfolded before its eyes. They fought and screamed but the figure still soothed the scared child who gripped its clothes hard. It prevent them from turning around, holding them tightly against it. 'Just a second, little one.' it told them."

A knife fell from the table when the husband managed to kick his wife off him. She hitted her back at the wooded table's leg but took the knife and looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes. She tried to stab him but he dodge and evaded every attack, he laughed at it. And she was feeling angry, so angry she'd die if she could kill him and then the entity who watched them in silence. "I hate you. You ruined everything. You couldn't even do a thing right!"

Her words were words of a frightened woman and, above all, a mom who knew she had lost her child. The precious child who bringed so much life and happiness into her life. You felt sad at this. They were both bad. The husband for making the deal and then not following it, and the wife for trying to poison the hooded figure without trying to ask what it wanted. You wonder if things would have ended differently if they didn't lie.

"The husband could only smile and roll his eyes at this. Nothing he could say was going to be enough, nothing he could say was going to comfort her or save them from their demise. The fight ended when he twisted her own arm and stabbed her with the knife, twisting. She fell on the ground painfully, blood painting the carpet. The last thing she saw was her child sleeping on that creature's arms."

You sniffled, trying to stifle your cry so not get attention of your father. But he was perceptive, always was. He could know what you were doing even if he wasn't in the same room you were. It was a dad instinct kinda of thing, you thought once.

Lilia patted your head, letting you feel what you were feeling without commenting on the small tears that rolled down your chest or tease you. He had told you and Silver multiple times to not be ashamed to cry or feel freely, to not repress your emotions. And you weren't ashamed by it. But you did thought you were overreacting a little. It was just a story after all!

"The now armed man swinged at the hooded figure, tears falling from his eyes the same way they have fallen weeks before. This time though he had an ever more serious reason to cry, he had killed his wife. He lost the one he loved it and it was all that hooded figure fault. Or so he said to himself, still lying. Fighting though was futile, his effort was futile, he was no match for the figure, so agile and fast, even if it was holding a sleepy baby on its arms, it still could fight with ease as if battle and fight were it's old friends. It killed the man easily, with a swing of it's hands and a little magic, the man joined his wife in the afterlife where she would want him down eternally."

You jumped a little when he closed the book, looking at him in disbelief. The tears had dried on your eyes but they were still a little red from crying. "That's how it ends?"

Lilia nodded then added. "Though there's still a line. It goes like: the entity looked at the child affectionately, it had what it wanted, it had the child. The hooded figure finally lowered the hood from its face, revealing its young and yet deceitful appearance. It was a he and he looked at the child gently. 'I'm going to call you Yuu. Fufufu, how does that sound, Yuu?'"

You whined in surprise. It was your name! You liked to think that your name was unique and no one else had it, just so you could feel a little special, but at that moment you didn't know how you felt. There were so many plot twists in that story, your mind seemed to run a marathon by how hard you were thinking about everything. Only thing you could muster was. "They were dumbing, lying to a fae."

Though you wonder... Why there was a drawing of a child so similar to you and that also has your name? You searched for you father's eyes and found him him staring at you. But he wasn't staring how he used to stare, it was mischievous, evil. Dangerous. You found out that you couldn't move, paralyzed in fear while his eyes searched for something inside your soul. Whatever it was he seemed happy, his gaze softening as the minutes passed, his headpats returning slowly.

"How does tea sounds, little one?" He asked. It sounded like death coming from him, Lilia managed to even burn the water. You mumbled something, too busy thinking about the story to care that you were about to be poisoned by Lilia's tea. There was many puzzle pieces missing for you to complete the entire frame.

Maybe someday, Lilia thought with a smug smile.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere lilia #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia x yuu #yandere lilia x mc #yandere lilia x reader #lilia x mc #lilia x reader #lilia x yuu #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge #tw yandere #platonic yandere #male yandere #gender neutral reader #lorkai oneshot

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 month

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Tell Me No

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Marc prefers when you take what you want.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, this is really not going to be for everyone. Please look at the warnings.

Warnings: hand jobs, sub!Marc, Marc having a rape fantasy/ravishment kink, rapeplay, safe words, forced orgasm (but not really forced *dennis reynolds voice* it's the implication), this isn't noncon because both parties have agreed on this - which is also mentioned in fic but I till feel like it could cause distress in anyone that has a trigger, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1592

“Tell me no?” Marc asked softly as he gently touched your arm.

You turned from where you were putting plates away to face him fully.

He swallowed, his fingers still brushing against you, looking down at your feet. His head was tilted slightly, making it even more obvious that he was shying away from your gaze.

Slowly you hooked your forefinger under his chin and lifted his head upwards ever so slightly. Your touch delicate, but firm.

He sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing but kept looking at the floor, his eyelashes practically kissing his cheeks.

“You want that?” You asked firmly, your voice steady but gentle.

He nodded once, a small micro movement.

“You gonna ask for it properly?”

He swallowed again, the action making a gulping sound that clicked around the room. But he took a little too long to answer,

“Or do I have to make you?” You said, your voice still that same constant sturdiness.

He nodded again and you smiled.

It had started as an accident really, a bit of a silly joke when you were still early into your relationship. Sitting on the grass in Greenwich Park, Marc pouting and saying ‘no’ when you tried to kiss his cheeks. You had laughed and backed off every time, not touching him, when he’d bitten his lip and asked sweetly. “Do it anyway when I say no?”

“You want me to kiss you anyway?”

“If you can.” He’d wiggled his eyebrows at you, purposefully making you giggle. But even then you had recognised that he was trying to cover something, some nervousness with bravado. Even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

“Alright,” you smiled. “But what if you really want me to stop? How will I know?”

He had looked to the side, in thought for a moment. “I’ll say dandelion.”

“Dandelion?”

“Hmm.” He nodded.

“You just chose the first thing you saw!” You laughed.

“So what if I did?” He said cheekily.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have you kisses as punishment.”

“No.”

You couldn’t remember when the name of the game had stuck, ‘tell me no’, but Marc always said it that way, despite him being the one that would being saying the negative. It seemed easier for him to ask you that way.

He had been awkward about it the first time he brought it up in conection to sex. More than awkward. Fumbling over his words and not looking at you, until he had given up in frustration and huffed as he walked off. But he didn’t go off to sulk, instead he wrote down what he was having such trouble saying and handed you the paper.

‘I know it’s weird.’ The word was underlined twice. ‘And you can say no. But what if we play tell me no during sex?’

You had looked up at him. “That’s not weird.”

He paused, his face completely blank for a moment. Error screen. Loading. Clearly he hadn’t expected that response.

“Lots of people have that fantasy.”

He paused, raising his chin ever so slightly in question. A microexpression you were used to.

“Really,” you smiled and touched his arm, reassuring him. “I’m happy to. But we need to talk about it a little before hand, I need to know what you want, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Marc wanted to act like he didn’t want you to touch him, please him. He wanted you to do it anyway, to force him to come.

You kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth and growling when he pulled away.

“Please, don’t.” He said softly, looking down like he was ashamed.

“But I want to.” You pinched his chin lightly between your thumb and forfinger and turned his face back towards you. This time you kissed him harsher, biting at his plump bottom lip.

Marc groaned, allowing himself to sink into your embrace for a moment before he moved his hand away again. “Stop, please, I shouldn’t.”

You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his biceps and walking him backwards towards the bed.

He muffled a moan against your lips, pretending to squirm to try to get out of your grip. He raised his hands, pressing them to your chest as if he was trying to get you off him. But he used no where near half of his strength, his touch practically begging you to manhandle him.

You push him back against the bed, pining him down under your body and straddling his hips. He whines under you, bucking upwards as if he was trying to push you off, but really he was rubbing his already half hard cock against your core.

You bite his lip again, hard and he lets out a sweet moan. The sound turning into a stiffled breath as you nip down his jaw and suck on the sweet spot on his neck.

“Stop, please, stop, no, I don’t want this, I shouldn’t-”

“You’ll take what I give you,” you hiss in his ear and Marc shivers, his eyes rolling back as he groans. “Gonna make you come and make a mess everywhere.”

“No,” he shakes his head rapidly. “Please.” The stress on the word is delicious, the way he looks up at you, begging silently for you to continue.

“Shut up you stupid whore.” You grab hold of his wrists and pin them up above his head with one hand, Marc groans, wiggling his hips a little. It would be so easy for him to move, to get away from your touch. Your fingers are just resting on his skin, not even squeezing. That’s how he likes it. The illusion of being pinned. But knowing he can move at any moment if he really wanted to.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to give up control, he does, he craves it, it’s just that past experiences have made the reality of having his hands tied a little impractical. Even if he knows he’s safe, even if his mind is begging for it, his body still reacts with adrenaline and fear. Panic attacks and gasping for breath. Neither of you want that.

“Stop.” He mutters, shaking his head from side to side, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes that you know are dark with lust and desperation.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” You hiss, reaching down and pushing your free hand under his jogging bottoms and grabbing his warm, velvety length.

He whimpers, biting his lip. “Stop! I don’t want this!”

“You’re so dumb, you know that?” You run your fingers up and down him a few times, revelling in how he twitches and hardens under your touch. “Saying you don’t want it. Look how hard you are.”

He lets out a sob, arching his spine in a pretend attempt to throw you off.

“Flower Marc?” You ask softly.

“Rose.” He says quickly, his version of green.

You start jerking him off quickly, watching his face as he whines. “Look how much your body wants it.”

“No!” He shakes his head rapidly, even as his words turn into needy moans.

“Fucking look.” You hiss.

He keeps his eyes closed.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

He groans loudly, having to tense his muscles and fight against his body with an iron will to stop himself from coming at your words. He knows you’d never actually hurt him, never lay a finger on him that wasn’t wanted, that wasn’t there to cause pleasure. But the threat of it, your tone. It feels too good.

He looks down to where you’re touching him, how your sliding your fingers over his cock and teasing his slit. He moans loudly, trying to choke back the sound.

You pull his t-shirt up higher until the material is grumbled up at his chest, and then go back to squeezing his cock, pumping your hand up and down the burning length of him. As you get to the tip on every stroke you twist your wrist just a little, tighten your grip ever so slightly.

Marc’s hips jerk up, his thighs tense under you as he wiggles, trying and failing not to give in and chase the sensation.

“Please don’t,” he moans, “don’t want to come, please.”

“You’ve got no choice in this.”

His sounds increase, sweat beading on his forehead as he relentlessly bucks upwards into you grip. Every nerve is on fire, every thought bleeding out of his mind onto the matress, only the pleasure of your touch remaining.

“Please don’t make me,” he whines, so close that he can almost taste it, almost touch it.

“You’re gonna come Marc, you’re going to give it to me. Understand?”

He groans loudly, the sternness of your voice tipping him over the edge. The command making his body obey without his say in the matter.

He comes loudly, spurting all over his stomach in hot, thick squirts that splash all over his skin, staining it white.

You slow your hand, but don’t stop. Still stroking him evenly.

Marc gasps, shivering with aftershocks. His breathing is heavy, his eyes a little unfocused as he opens them to look back up at you.

You smile, leaning down quickly to kiss his temple.

When you move back he has his lip between his teeth, his thighs twitch under you. You recognise that look.

“You’re gonna come again Marc.”

He shakes his head. But there’s a glint in his eyes, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “No.” He pouts.

“It wasn’t a question.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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jammiycge · 2 months

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Hold me close like you did before

In which the boy who broke you're heart was now running back to you like he had a chance.

(Isagi Yoichi x gn reader)

tags- gn reader but I wrote this with male reader in mind, slight angst, swear words, not proofread, typos or grammar errors, reader implied to have an aloof and cold personality.

———— ★ ————

"I'm sorry..I shouldn't be here." he didn't move off from you though, melting into your embrace. right now, he was at your front door.

he knew it was selfish, he it was unfair for you to endure someone chasing you. he didn't even have the right to run back to you.

"yeah you shouldn't, so get off." Isagi flinches a bit. words cold as ice, it pierces through his heart just a little. he should've stuck to his decision of breaking up with you.

“please just let me stay a little longer? just a little…” his voice trails off, and he buries his face into your shoulder.

"why're you even here..?"

he doesn’t speak, but his body tells the truth. He rests against you, still melting into your embrace. He pulls away from you slightly, but doesn’t pull away entirely so that his forehead is still against your shoulder. His voice is soft, and he feels ashamed when his voice breaks. “because I can’t stand how lonely I’ve been without you.."

"but you're the one who broke up apart. this isn't fair Isagi.." ouch. last name basis? he chose not to comment on it though. he didn't have a choice anyways.

yoichi closes his eyes and sighs. “I know, I just…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain himself. this is the first time he’s talked to you after the breakup. he never thought about what he’d do. his eyes grow soft. “I miss being in your arms like this…”

"that isn't a valid reason, isagi."

he opens his eyes, and a pained expression washes over his face. “I know, but…” He trails off. the look on his face speaks for him instead, as he glances at you with a look of longing. It’s unfair, he knows, but his heart aches when he’s not with you. it wasn't his place to complain..

"it's your fault for breaking up with me when you knew you couldn't handle being away from me." the tone was nothing like he was heard from you. being used to the calm and composed one that he grew fond of.

yoichi winces at your words, but is unable to deny them. “I shouldn’t have broken up with you, I just…” he pauses, as his thoughts trail off. He can’t find the words to express himself clearly. “just please, let me stay. for just awhile longer?” His voice was soft, and his words were pleading.

"no.'' he knew damn well you were sadistic and there was no second chances in your book. you believed that if someone broke your heart once then there should be no reason to love them again.

yoichi looks at you, and his lip begins to tremble. you were always stubborn, but he didn’t know you were this stubborn about this. maybe it was his fault for assuming he was an exception. the thought made him bitter.

“please…” Your stubborn response wasn’t what he expected, and his grip on you tightens for just a moment before letting go. your heart is cold, and all he could think about was how he wanted to warm it up.

"do you think I'll choose you now and everyday..? I hate to burst your bubble, but i won't."

yoichi shakes his head, your words shattering what he hoped was a possibility. instead, the reality of you having moved on sunk in for him. all he could hope for at that moment was that you were happy. he hated the feeling of jealousy that bubbled within him. “no,” he says, his voice was barely above a whisper, “not anymore.”

"you know the answer. so why are you choosing to still love me when you know it'll be ten times harder to do so." the fact i had a way with words was only a stab in his heart. he used to love how i portrayed my love for him before, but now, he hated how its being used against him.

“because I can’t help it,” he says, closing his eyes. He knows you’re right, but his heart can’t stop loving you. The thought of moving on from you is impossible. everything about you was too perfect to let go, and he can’t find a reason to not love you. he knew it was a bit pathetic how he was acting, but the truth was that he still loved you. a part of him always will, he knows that now.

"just let me go."

yoichi's whole body freezes, and his heart beats faster at your words. you were serious about this, more serious than he expected. but you said it so gently, that he wanted to cry. he didn't want to let you go.

he lets you go from his embrace, though not entirely. his hand cups your shoulder, as his eyes are locked to yours. he swallows the lump in his throat and spoke, "..can I ask you a question?"

"..what?"

for me to be quiet was something uncommon. I was a person who was passionate in his words. so to leave me speechless or..wordless in this case was a bit out of place.

he always found you to be passionate and fiery with your words. It was what he fell for in the first place .

"have you found someone else?" his voice was soft, almost pleading. he couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else, and yet he hated himself for being so jealous. he couldn't help his emotions, and he hoped that wasn't enough of a reason for you to hate him.

"no..? you were my first and my last." you gave up searching for love after Isagi. you couldn't bare getting your heart broken after him. however, one part of you still longed for those short-lasting relationships.

yoichi pauses at your response. what? so you hadn't. that was some consolation, but he'd expected the worst. "and you don't plan to?"

"no, and why're you still here?" you didn't care on how rude or mean your responses were. you didn't bother adjusting for him.

your response stung more than he expected. he felt unwanted, but he deserved it.

he'd made his bed, and now he must lay down in it. "okay..." your words and actions were clear. he couldn't stop the tears from falling as he stepped away from you.

you just blinked at him with the same eyes that used to hold so much adoration, all for him, but he wasted it all. you didn't even look like you held any remorse.

everything about you from your words and actions was cold as ice, your words were a cruel reflection of his actions. yoichi can't deny that his emotions are hurt from it. He never knew you could cut so deep. feeling a sense of finality, yoichi simply nods. It's the only thing he can do in response to you anyways.

"..." you didn't even look at him. he knew he couldn't have a second chance in loving you, yet if he knew the consequences. it still hurt as much as he thought it would.

yoichi wanted to follow you, but this time he knew when to stay away. you were serious about this, and he knew that nothing he said could bring you back. He watches you disappear around the corner, and sighs. he turns and places his hands against the wall, letting out a frustrated huff. “I really should have taken you seriously,” he muttered to himself.

"you should've." you managed to catch a little of what he said and responded in a somewhat calm tone.

yoichi heard the tone in your voice and frowned to himself. he wished he could have another chance, but his actions have already spoken. he can't blame you for rejecting him after everything.

“damn it…” he mumbled softly, his words were filled with frustration with himself. he couldn’t believe he’d made the mistake of breaking up with you.

you weren't someone to be played with so easily. but maybe, just maybe, It was your mistake that your missed out on the chance on getting back what your used to love oh so dearly. Isagi didn't know that though.

the two never spoke again.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock x male reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x male reader #yoichi isagi #blue lock angst #angst

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ay0nha · 10 months

Text

Idle Hands | Chef Luca

SUMMARY: Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong.

PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

WARNINGS: mentions of eating/food, straight fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst, Luca trying to poach reader for his restaurant, self indulgent, **I am not a chef nor a good cook** etc.

A/N: I wrote this in one sitting on my phone, so mind the typos and lack of cohesion. I didn’t think I would finish this, so also mind the rushed ending. Inspired some by things in Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential (he’s my idol). I’m interested in writing more, send some thoughts my way about Chef Luca. Enjoy.

The fog seemed idyllic. It was dense with humidity and carried the dawn light over the horizon better than the days prior; the rain was starting to get to you. It punctured your routine with puddles that were unavoidable and time that allowed your items to go stale because of a slow-trafficked day.

What had gone unnoticed during those days, and frankly underappreciated, was the space the weather provided. You had moved so quickly, your keys almost slipping from your hands as you bustled into the bakery, trying to keep dry. Yet, now your steps were paced by your exhaustion, only stopped by him.

Luca.

He knew better than to bring you coffee, the gesture acting more as an insult to your sleep schedule than a remedy to your dark circles. Instead, he was early, leaning against the brick wall of the bakery, waiting for you. Punctuality was just shy of being an aphrodisiac.

The cooking life was like a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. Yet, like any love affair, looking back, you seemed to cling to the happy times the best—the things that drew you in in the first place, the things that kept you coming back for more.

Luca understood this well. Conscious or not, it hadn’t mattered; he indulged just the same. It was why he set on the stoop, day after day, only skipping out when the weather begged him to. Regardless he returned to you, waited for you, and deferred to you, even when his purpose was to poach you.

“I’m starting to lose count—” You refused a greeting. He blocked your journey to becoming a morning person. “—how many days does it take to be qualified as a stalker?”

Luca tutted teasingly, pushing through to find your humor. “Not quite eligible yet.”

“Shame.” You hummed, your key cracking open the rusted door. The click was becoming too screechy to ignore. The rain only proved further repercussions.

Noted. Fingers crossed, a handyman would be looking for something delectable on their break. Just as Luca came to expect your dry humor, you learned his body language just as well. Holding open the door you just unlocked, he held back the offer to repair it.

“Rumor has it you found your sous.” Your voice carried well through the echoing building. It was a small place, barely worth what you pay to keep it open.

Your fingers were stiff from the cold. You cursed the winter and how it made you physically fumble for the months it endured. It was as though your body rejected how it influenced you. Yet, once your fingers found the light switches, you retracted your afflictions.

“He’s temporary.” Always a man of few words. Pointed and punctual.

“And he knows that?” You scoffed, scarf still muffling your words ever so slightly.

Your back was to him as your question lingered. Luca’s gaze admired your routine, the one he memorized as if each layer of clothing was a recipe in itself. You always saved your scarf for last as if it the way it twirled was an old-fashioned caramel drizzle on a forbidden apple.

“Everyone knows I want you.” He said deftly. Even with your back to him, you were sure he could picture your flattered, flustered features. “...He’s good. Young.”

“Mmm…” You mused, facing him. A part of you was convinced Luca would stop coming by once he’d found his counterpart. But his dissatisfaction still radiated off of him. “How long do you think he’ll last?”

“Depends.” Luca matched your tone. Young meant talent, but it also meant naive. “When do you plan to join me?”

Your laugh was let out as a breath—its presence small but worth it. “Luca—

“I’ll give it a rest.” His promise wouldn’t last very long, but it would do.

Luca reached for the apron that he had donned as his own. He reached the shelves you struggled with, learning within days through observation where to place that for when you finally mosied over. He was envious of your movements, how you found joy in moving slowly, so unrushed and unbothered to the point of pleasure.

It was strange the routine formed. It was just as unorthodox as the relationship. But within the culinary world, nothing was off-limits. There was a vague beginning to the friendship, another fitting mark. You were a friend of a friend that knew a guy. And you were the one that’s rumors claimed you were better than him.

Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong. You liked when your hands were layered with flour to lay out your dough. To stir a glaze in just the right way so that there was enough for an extra taste. It was you and the stillness without the adrenaline-filled demands.

The quiet of working side by side, the soft clinking of metal sheets and ceramics, was the perfect white noise. The simple patter of packed flour being muddled with oil was far better than the tourists that invaded your senses. You couldn’t decide if it was a welcomed distraction.

“What do you think?” He respected hierarchy. It was perfect. But you valued the imperfections of each unique item.

“Hmm?” You looked to your side. Luca was close; the small layout allowed for it.

“Try it.” He slid the plate to you.

Routines were hard to break. Every morning you skipped breakfast, it wasn’t until your stomach rumbled would you realize you were hungry. Luca learned you loved things sickly sweet, just shy of making your mouth pucker.

You worked alone often; you hadn’t needed the company nor the help. However, the pair of hands that steadied themselves on your hips to pass by made you question your need. It made you question if the warmth that spread through your body was from him or from the oven pre-heating near your knees. It would have been easy to doubt it all if there hadn’t been a ghost print of flour on your black apron.

“Go on…” Luca returned, pushing a found spoon into your hands. “Give me your worst.”

You rolled your eyes. He knew it was good. You knew it was good. The first spoonful was annoyingly satisfying. You maintained your breath through the second bite. If you went for a third, you knew Luca’s ego would soar.

The extra hands were helpful, but you refused to let the aid blind his purpose. So, you deflected, pointing the spoon to him.“I’m sure it’ll sell.”

Luca’s lips played with a frown. You were good at reminding him that his so-called sweetness could cross over into becoming a chore. His thick skin was scarred, burned, and continually tested. You had the skill to crawl under it and almost get to him.

Accepting the utensil, he tasted his own creation. “It’s missing something.”

“Yeah?” You weren’t shy about plucking your finger into the cream filling for another taste. “What are you thinking?”

There it was, his earlier promise broken. With just a look, you knew what he was thinking; you. It was a tacky way to beg again for you to work with him; it was why he only gave you a look. One that was brief and gone before you could say anything before returning steely.

“Increase the fat content.” You advised, breaking your gaze. It was a test, and you were well aware you passed. It was textbook. Again, you’d proven your mind was in tune with his. “Cut it with acidity.”

He nodded, inked arms crossed against his chest. Luca lacked the asinine chef bravado. A welcome reprieve. Self-assured, steady, and strong. Your eyebrows pinched when he stumbled slightly, drawing in a breath to say something just to let the words die. It was out of character, a side to him you didn’t believe existed. He seemed nervous.

“It’ll be ready in a few weeks.” His words seemed to settle finally.

“Ah…” You wiped your hands on your chest, reaching for the next thing. The beauty in baking was constantly moving. Even when your patience was being tested while things rose, there was always another something to work on. “...I forgot how much modernist cuisine attracts attention.”

New items meant new clients. New reviews and new criticism. You continued to assure him, chatting softly of what snobs people could be when they were filled with only ignorance. You meant to ease his apprehension, but you realized it had nothing to do with hosting an event.

It had to do with the invitation that flew from his lips. “Think you’re free that night?”

#q #the bear #the bear fx #chef luca #luca x reader #chef!luca x reader #chef!luca x f!reader #luca x f!reader #chef!luca #the bear fic #chef luca fluff #chef luca angst #chef!luca fluff #chef!luca angst

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seresinhangmanjake · 14 days

Text

Stolen Angel - Part 4

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1793

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“You didn't eat.”

You don’t flinch at the intrusion of his voice, not this time. While it was peaceful without his deep tone in your ear, you knew him finding you was inevitable, and honestly, you’re surprised it took him this long. Although, it’s possible that he didn’t need to find you at all; he could have been watching you from afar. Just because you haven’t seen his face in almost twenty-four hours doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen yours, and you’ve certainly provided him with an unobstructed view. But then you wonder why he hasn’t dragged you back to your room.

You weren’t going to run. You just needed to see it, feel it, for yourself. Maybe that’s why he’s let you be; why he’s not scolding you until your brain melts. Maybe he knows that you won’t have logic overpowering your emotions when it comes to this, because even if you had some semblance of which direction to go in, you wouldn’t know what to do once you got there. To be anywhere other than here, like it or not you need him. You need his guidance and support, and worst of all, his permission.

“I ate some of it,” you confess.

“Not enough,” he says.

When he steps in front of you, his body eclipses the sun. The field around you untouched by his shadow still radiates its vibrant shades while you sit in the darkness he is creating. You look up, and his blond hair is glowing almost blindly from the backlight of the sun.

“Why are you out here, Angel?”

You turn your attention to your hand that’s nestled in the grass. “I had to see if it was real,” you say softly as you twirl your finger around a green blade.

He hums. “And are you satisfied with what you've found?”

Satisfied? You could scoff. What a foolish question; a disrespectful question. You can’t be satisfied with what you don’t understand. Feeling the dirt between your fingers and toes doesn’t provide you with the wealth of clarity he has been denying you. Clarity that you’re owed.

“Come on,” he says at your lack of reply, reaching out a hand. “Out of the grass.”

“Tell me what this place is,” you say.

“I can explain it to you later. You’re not completely healed and we need to—”

“No,” you snap, meeting his eyes. “Now. Explain it to me now.”

Jake sighs, his hand dropping back to his side. “Angel—”

“I could become a lot more difficult, you know.”

He lets out a huff of a chuckle. Little crinkles form in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I do know.”

“Then tell me.”

His smile settles. He mutters something under his breath before he glances over your head to the structure behind you. When you turn to get a look at what has stolen his attention, you find only an empty doorway.

“You want me to like you, don’t you?” you ask, knowing that will draw him back to you.

A blond brow raises in curiosity and suspicion. “This will make you like me?”

“It would help,” you lie. “The truth is important to me, and I don’t understand how you can expect me to want to be here if I have no clue what ‘here’ is.”

As he bites the inside of his cheek, you begin to worry that the promise of your affection is not a strong enough offer—that he might want more than just your words, he’ll want proof that you intend to follow through with what you say by your actions—but then he turns where he stands and lowers himself into the grass beside you. He’s close, and when his wing brushes over yours as he makes himself comfortable, he’s quick to pull it away, as if your feathers could set his aflame.

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before he rests his elbows on his bent knees. “It’s called The Tower,” he eventually says. “It was a prison, technically, until about two months ago.”

“A prison,” you repeat. “How fitting.”

He shoots you a look. You’ve offended him and you need to reign yourself in. “If you bothered to behave, it wouldn’t have to feel like one,” he informs you.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. You’re the textbook definition of a prisoner and you both know it. He can deny it to your face all he wants, but you have a right to feel like this place is a prison, even if it doesn’t exactly have the look of a prison. At least, not where you’re from. You don’t know of many ‘cells’ that include wardrobes, open windows, double beds with thick coverings, and fireplaces. Before you left your room you were imagining many possibilities for the cage you’ve been kept in, but among those were large estate or small castle, not a home for the naughty winged people.

“It’s awfully fancy for a prison,” you say.

“Our offenses weren’t so horrible.”

Our?

Your brows almost shoot off your forehead until you take a half-second to soak it in and then accept the shame of being shocked. “Of course, you’re a criminal,” you say, nodding to yourself. “Did you kidnap a few other innocents and turn them into monsters, too?”

Jake doesn’t look you in the eye as he swallows hard, so you turn your head back to the horizon. “You’re not a monster, Angel. You’re perfect,” he tells you, then shakes his head. “But no. There were no others. I broke a rule—the same rule—a few times, which got me three separate six-month sentences in five years. Four months into my last one, the prison was dissolved here and set up elsewhere. Everyone was released; I stayed.”

Your brow pinches. “Why would you stay in the place you were captive?”

“I liked my room—well, your room right now. I liked the view. I thought it would be a good place for us once you joined me,” he says. “Secluded. Intimate.”

Stomach flipping, your heartbeat gives a sharp thud. Instinctually, you think to move away, make an early retreat back to your room, but for once he’s actually answering your questions and you can’t sacrifice that in case you’re never given the same chance.

“What was the rule that you broke?” you ask.

“Out past curfew, so to speak.”

“Out where?”

Jake goes silent, contemplating, then he says, “That's enough for now.”

But it’s not enough for you. “Out where?” you press to no response, so with a huff, you push off the ground to stand.

He grabs your wrist as you’re about to take a step. “Sit,” he says. “I'll tell you if you stay.”

Subtly smirking at the win, you return to the grass.

Jake blows out a breath. “The Below,” he tells you.

“The Below…” You roll the words around on your tongue. They mean nothing to you until Jake makes a face like he might come to regret what he’s just done, and then they mean everything. “My world?”

Jake groans. “How many times do I have to tell you that that is not your—”

“You were there more than just that one time?” you interrupt, stunned that you momentarily forgot that your home is where he met you. It must have been the anger or fear or lasting daze from the week of pain, but somehow it didn’t register that you could potentially return as well. “How?”

“No more questions,” he scolds.

“But I thought you wanted me to like you,” you counter.

Shifting to sit on your hip with your legs bent at your side, you set your hand on top of his. He stares at the new touch, then his thumb begins to rub along the line of your index finger in soft, slow motions.

He doesn’t stop his staring. He doesn’t stop his thumb’s gentle caressing. “Yes, I was there more than just that one time.”

Despite your carefully restrained excitement at the plethora of new information, you forget the game you’re playing and jerk your hand away from his just as he’s about to intertwine your fingers. “So you can go whenever you want?” you ask. “Then take me.”

At the demand, his teeth clench, jawline sharpening. “No, I cannot go whenever I want, and no, I am not taking you.”

“Why not!”

“Because you are right where you should be,” he says decisively.

You feel his heightening irritation, so you quickly place your palm on his shoulder and slide it down to his toned bicep where it stays.

“I just want to see it,” you tell him before you scoot yourself closer to his side, your hip a couple inches shy of pressing against his. He looks down to where your bodies are nearly touching, then back up at you. You try a light smile. “Please, Jake.”

His eyes lock on to your smile, your lips. He darts his tongue out to wet his own, and you prepare yourself for the kiss you’re sure he’s about to give you—a kiss you won’t say no to if it helps get you home—but it’s a kiss that never comes. He just thinks; drinks in your smile and thinks.

The green of his irises in the sunlight is overwhelming when directed at you for such a long pause, and you don’t initially notice when he opens his mouth.

“If you show me that you can listen to me and do as I tell you, I’ll consider it,” he finally says.

Your head flinches back, mind immediately going to the worst of what he could want from you. “What will you be telling me to do?”

“To start, you’re going back inside. You haven’t finished healing and because you took yourself on a little adventure, you stressed your wing and now part of it is inflamed. You need rest.”

You must have been so mentally preoccupied that you blocked out all physical transmission to your brain because it’s only when he says it that you feel the return of the ache.

“And you’re going to eat,” he continues. “Everything, this time.”

“Fine,” you relent.

“You’re going to wear something made of more comfortable fabric than that,” he gestures to your smock, “And you’re going to stop arguing with me over every damn thing. You can’t change what’s been done, so being pissed at me doesn’t do you any good.”

It takes extra effort to muster up an agreement to that last one. Your swallow you can only compare to trying to get down a sponge soaked in wet cement. “Fine,” you grit out.

“Fine,” he says, standing. He extends his hand out toward you again. “Let’s see if you’re capable of behaving, Angel.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me @eloquentdreamer

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #demon!jake seresin x reader #top gun au #tgm fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst

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huexuri · 4 months

Note

okay, first of all, I'M SO SORRY FOR SPAMING YOUR INBOX😭😭 anywayyyy

best friends reader and soobin where soobin has a crush on some random girl, but he's a total loser and he knows it, so he asks reader for help... and she totally misunderstood him and thought he's way after the flirting stage and now just wants to fuck with his crush... so she invites him over and decides to teach him how to finger a girl.......on herself. soobin doesn't have an idea what he's doing, but his long as fuck fingers are enough to make reader cum!!!! it all ends up with soobin confessing that reader is his crush lmaooo (omg i got carried away and wrote DEFINITELY too much)

FINALLY DOING THIS ONE🔥🔥 ur genius bro

· show me - fem!reader x soobin ·

SMUT, MDNI!!!

warnings: fem!reader, cnc, friends to lovers, dry humping, fingering, that's probably it

*ding!*

you're in your room, slumped in your office chair, rushing and stressing about the pile of assignments in your inbox that has been assigned by your lecturer since 3 weeks ago. so you almost lose your shit when you hear a notification followed by a buzz from the phone beside you. "who the actual fuck is messaging me at 2 fucking am?" you muttered to yourself. but your gaze on the phone screen — being the only thing emitting light in your eyestrain of a room, softened when you realize it was a text message from your boy best friend — soobin.

"girl, i seriously CANNOT." - soobie boobie, 1 min ago.

you look at the notification in utter confusion — this message without context could mean a bunch of different things.

you click on the notification and reply:

"what's up w u??????"

"there's this girl yhat i like bruh,.... and then like i need to get her to confirm,,,,,,,that she likesme u knwo???SOS????????"

you almost don't understand whatever the shit he's saying because of the typos, but you do know that he's a fucking loser, and that all he wants to do is lose his virginity to some girl he likes.

"u want tips?????" you replied.

"no shit, how tf do i get her to even think of me🙏🙏" soobin replies, followed by "ur a girl u should know what makes a girl like you happy"

"okay so like..... just come over rn and ill teach u everything u need to know to pleasure tf out of yo girl" you suggest.

"COMINGGGGGG" he texts back, so you continue your work while waiting for him.

"open ur door"

he texted you again after what felt like hours, and immediately you shut your computer and put ur notes aside — immediately jumping out of bed and running to the front door.

"come on, let's go to my room." you said to him as he nodded and followed you to your room.

you sat down on your bed and patted the empty space beside you, indicating him to sit down. he follows suit, and looks at you with expectancy.

"okay, soobin, so first thing to do is that you need her wrapped around your finger right?" you sigh.

"yes, obviously." he replies — thinking you didn't literally mean it by "wrapped around your finger" and assuming you were talking about the saying, so imagine the shock that replaces the expectant look on his face when you start stripping in front of him — looking at him with confusion as if you didn't just flash him with the sight of your bare pussy.

"what?? you wanted her wrapped around your finger, so i'm gonna teach you???" you replied.

"n-no, not like th–..... nevermind." he'd soon change his mind when he decides that he does prefer this much more than regular advice.

you sit, now facing him with your legs wide open and clit wide open on display for him. of course you're pretending that you have no idea why he's so shocked — you know he wanted regular advice, but who can say that he'd deny the view in front of him? you desperately needed someone to fuck you. wasn't this basically the perfect opportunity?

soobin, lips slightly parted — still looking up and down on you in shock, tent that wasn't there a minute ago growing in his pants. you grab his wrist—

"so, your fingers, preferably this and this finger — will go in, and then curl upwards, but make sure not to scratch the inner lining of the vagina." you tried to say as seriously as possible, "i'll show you, wait." you continued.

"oh, u-uh, okay," soobin replied, holding on back to your wrist instead.

using your free hand, you insert one finger up you, then the other and thrust it further in— letting out a loud, lewd gasp at that, then curling your fingers up and straight up moaning at the feeling.

"l-like that, do that, now.. haa.. it's your t-turn,," you slowly slid your fingers out of you, licking your arousal.

"okay, uhm,," soobin's face grew hot as he broke apart the grasp on your wrist.

his slender fingers hesitantly start to play with your walls, then slowly he inserts his middle finger into you — making you stutter as his one finger feels like two of yours, noting the size and length difference of his girthy but still slender fingers compared to yours who is half the length.

he slides another finger in, and that's enough for you to let out another heavy sigh.

he looks at you with concern, but when you ask him to, "now, curl, soobin." he doesn't hesitate to curl his fingers up and suddenly you start to moan for more.

soobin starts positioning himself so he can hump the bed while fingering you.

"a-are you sure i can do this to you?" soobin softly said, repeating the same move you taught him.

"please, fuck yes, soobin. play around if you want.." you sighed.

now as if soobin had years of experience– no, a fucking degree in fingering, he'd start to finger-fuck you, making this feel better than any of the times you'd finger yourself. your fingers feel so pathetic in comparison to what his long and veiny fingers can do to you — and soon, he's rubbing your wet clit with one thumb and fingering you with three fingers with the other, all while humping the bed, his sweatpants looking as if it's about to explode because of how big he is against the thin fabric.

"oh shit, fuck y-yyhh-yes... soobin, fuck... more... please, please,,, ngh—" your hips start to jitter, your eyes start to water and your knees are trembling as it's wrapped around his back.

"like that, like that? do you like it? feels—fuck,, feels good??" soobin softly asks, his cheeks glowing red and leaving a wet spot, maybe drool or his precum on the bed.

"fuck soob—you're doing sso...good.."

"mmh, is this what g-girls like? w-what you, you–y-ff-fuck, fuck.... shit.. you're really so... sso hot like this,," soobin's voice cracking and raspy, sounding like he's close.

"soobin, i'm cumming 'm ssso.. close."

"shit, i'm also... gonna... ngh—fuck—oh god—"

"you make me feel so fucking good, fuck,,!" tears streaming down the sides of your eyes as you slowly drench his entire hand in your slick, spurts of semen also seeping thru his sweatpants material.

you both pant loudly and fall on your backs against the mattress — his 3 fingers slipping out of you with a wet pop sound.

you immediately suck one of his fingers covered in your arousal, leaving him to taste you on the other two.

"soobin?" you tiredly turn your head to his direction, chest still rising up and down.

"yeah?" he swiftly says, almost sounding like a sigh.

"who's that girl that you like?" you say, now in more envy in your voice than ever before.

"it's you." soobin simply splurts out with no hesitation.

"oh.."

"what's with that oh?" soobin asks you, now slightly worried.

"honestly, same. i just didn't expect it to be me."

soobin softly smiles at you.

"can i say that i love you now?" soobin said in between heavy breaths.

"yeah."

"i love you."

"i love you too.." you smile back at him. he shuts his eyes, and the both of you doze off.

#xuri writes #xuri inbox #soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #soobin x reader #soobin x reader smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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kriffingstars · 5 months

Text

Johnny MacTavish; found out

pairing: Johnny MacTavish x Price!Reader summary: you and Johnny get rumbled. Uncle John is not a happy camper warnings: verrrrrry slight age gap (I imagine reader to be around 20, Johnny is 26), canon typical violence, swearing a/n: i wrote this running off of 4 hours sleep on an 8 hour flight, i can only apologise for any typos/sentences that don’t make sense. i did try and check before posting

It's careless really, the way your Uncle finds out about the two of you.

After two months away, he calls you to let you know he'll be home at the end of the week. You get a similar call from Johnny after, letting you know that he'll be all yours for the next few weeks.

At your beck and call, is how he phrases it.

You hadn't forgotten about the letter stuck to the front of the fridge with one of the magnets your Uncle had bought you whilst he was away a few months ago.

On the contrary, you adore it. It's on the fridge because you see it every time you walk into the kitchen. Reading the tentative words in the first love letter you have ever received.

Sweets,

Being away from you is killing me, I'm being safe like I promised, keeping my head in the game, but I can't get you out of my head.

All I'm thinking about is coming home to you, you're going to have to pry me off you when I'm back.

I haven't said it yet but I love you. No one will ever come close to the way I feel about you. You bring me peace, make all the stuff in my head quiet and it's just you.

I can't believe you've been hidden away from me all this time.

When I'm home I'm going to take you out, I'll whisk you away somewhere nice and it'll be just us. No work, no worries and we'll figure it all out.

I hope you're not working too hard like I know you do. You're too smart for any of us, me especially. I could listen to you talk for days. Missing your voice, I'm sorry we can't call, but figured you'd enjoy a letter all the same.

Love your Johnny x

You cried like a baby when it arrived. Even when you're thousands of miles apart he's still thinking about ways to make you happy, and you're more than sure that he is it for you.

No one else could ever compete with the way that he has completely and utterly captured your heart.

Price feels his blood boil as he holds the letter in his hands, eyes flitting over a few of the stand-out phrases in it, written in Johnny's unmistakable handwriting. He's seen it enough on reports he's had to sign off to know it's his without having to even check the last line.

Seething is an understatement as he climbs back into his car, racing back to base to confront the man who has blatantly ignored all the warnings he's given.

It's not even the disrespect that angers him the most, it's the trust that Soap has completely broken. All the assurances, joking that you're a nicer version of him. How it's all just friendly, how he'd never make a move on you.

His thoughts flit back to you, you've got no clue what you've done to yourself. What you've opened yourself up to because if you realised, he's certain you would never have done this to him.

You're out at the moment, god knows where. He was expecting you to be at home considering it's the summer holiday for you. He'll deal with you later, probably more softly and with a bit more tact than the way he knows he's going to deal with Soap when he gets his bloody hands on him.

He's never driven so quickly back to base, even when he's been called in for emergencies.

He doesn't care for the speeding fine he's most likely going to cop, all that's on his mind is tearing Soap limb to fucking limb.

"MacTavish," is all he bellows as he spots the Scotsman, laughing with Ghost about who knows what.

"What the fuck is this?!" he bellows, slapping the letter down on the table in front of the cursed man.

Everything about the action causing the Scotsman in front of him to jump out of his skin.

"You're a dead man, MacTavish. Going to fucking bury you," he shouts as he leaps towards Soap, who's backed away from the table and the letter that's tossed on top of it.

Ghost has never seen the Captain so red, the veins in his neck stand up with rage as a vein down his forehead pulses with anger.

He doesn't waste any time putting himself between the two men, holding Soap back, his t-shirt screwed in his fist, and a flat palm again Price's chest.

It doesn't matter that he's the aggressor in this instance, he's not manhandling his Captain, no matter the issue.

"I told you to stay away, let you be her friend and you ignore everything."

Right. This needs to go somewhere private because this is definitely a personal issue, and there are a lot of eyes on the three of them currently, listening in to everything.

"Not here," is all Ghost needs to say before Price is storming off to his office, not even checking to see if Soap is following. He doesn't need to, Soap knows he'll only make things even worse if he runs now.

"What did you do, mate?" is all he says as he releases the man, pushing him in front, not before grabbing the letter left on the table, as they both march to Price's office.

When they get there papers are strewn, furniture is out of place and Price is pacing and mumbling incoherent threats.

Neither man has ever seen him so riled up, even on the battlefield. It's jarring. Usually, their Captain is so precise with his anger, it's carefully controlled and this is nothing like that.

He doesn't acknowledge them when they come in, he lets them stew in the tension. Waiting to pounce.

"Sit down."

Soap's in the chair in seconds, and for the second time today Ghost sees something new, this time it's Soap moving the fastest he ever has.

"I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them."

Ghost feels like he really shouldn't be here, but if he leaves now he's not certain both men are coming out of this room alive.

Soap's looking absolutely terrified, he's pale and shaking harder than ever. His heart is beating at a rate that's completely unsustainable, he's either going to pass out or go over with a clutcher.

"How long."

Soap is stumbling over his words as he eventually spurts out "Six months,"

"Sir. Six months, sir," Price corrects, as he squares his shoulder, the tension not easing.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Soap apologises as he bows his head not risking making eye contact.

"You've been lying to me and directly disobeying order for six fucking months!" he spits, as he advances on the man in the chair, before slamming his hand down on the desk next to Soap.

The sound rips through the office and once again Soap is jumping out of his skin at the blistering noise.

"Do you realise what you've done?" is the next thing that comes from Price's mouth. It's barely audible as he gets up in the younger man's face.

Ghost's seen Price interrogate the worst of the worst, and still, nothing could compare to this. The venom in his voice, or the malice in his eyes.

It's personal this time.

"Tell me why I shouldn't gut you from head to toe?" he spits, as he leans back again, waiting for Soap's answer.

"Because I love her, sir."

It's the first time he lifts his gaze the entire interaction.

"You love her?" Price scoffs, as he mocks the man shrinking under his gaze.

"That makes it okay then, why didn't you say so?" he mocks.

Ghost isn't sure what's going to happen next, it certainly isn't what Soap says next.

"I want to marry her, sir. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, sir."

That was definitely not the right response, and it sends Price reeling.

"Oh, that makes it okay then, should have just said so!" he's seething now. Ghost really didn't think he could get more riled up than he already is, but once again he's surprised which doesn't happen very easily.

"Not only have you disrespected my orders. You've dragged her into your life and now you plan on marrying her now," his voice is steady and now filled with a deeply unsettling calmness.

"Get out of my sight," is the next thing to come out of his mouth before turning his back to the men in the room.

"And don't you ever think of contacting her again."

#john mactavish x reader #john mactavish headcannon #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish headcannon #john mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish x price!reader #cod mw soap

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yelena-bellova · 10 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Movin’ On Up

Plot: Y/n receives some surprise visitors on moving day, and Richmond suffers a shocking blow to their lineup.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: f!reader, language, (16+)

A/N: I really don’t know how I’m managing to crank these out so fast. Maybe shorter chapters? Anyway, this one was fun. We’re getting into the meat of the story, so hold onto your butts, and enjoy!!

(Forgive any typos, I wrote the bulk of this one at midnight 🌙)

——————

If there was a magical force at play in Richmond, it had made Y/n its latest target.

Not only had she found the perfect apartment, she’d toured it, signed the lease and booked movers in the same week. In all her post-university years, she’d never seen real estate move quicker.

Y/n wandered the flat, directing the men and whatever piece of furniture they were holding to its corresponding room.

A knock sounded from the stairs.

“Oh, the dresser can go to-“ Y/n spun around to help guide the mover she’d just seen downstairs, only to find the last person she expected.

“Hey, there, neighbor,” Ted greeted, standing at the top of the steps.

Y/n quickly plastered on her Monday-Friday grin, “Ted. What are you…how did you…?”

“Well, you said you were movin’ into your new place this weekend,” Ted hopped a step inside the apartment to let one of the movers pass by, “Took a guess that the van that came through this morning was probably yours.”

Y/n tried to laugh off the intrusion. The safety of living thirty minutes away was long gone…

“Brought you a little ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift,” Ted held up a little pink box and set it on Y/n’s kitchen counter. It was the same one that he dropped on Rebecca’s desk each morning.

“Thank you,” Y/n replied while pointing one of the movers in the direction of her bedroom.

Ted stuck his hands in his pockets and took a look around the living room. He let out a whistle, “I wish you’d’ve told us you were movin’ in sooner. Coaches and the boys coulda saved you some money, get you settled ourselves.”

That was exactly why she hadn’t told anyone she was moving until the day before. She knew Ted would have assembled the Greyhounds and she would have had 15+ footballers funneling in and out of her apartment, invading the little bubble she had left.

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna inconvenience you guys,” Y/n replied, watching Ted as he maneuvered around the boxes, “Especially with the match tomorrow.”

Ted made a raspberry, “Pish posh, Oshkosh. Woulda been happy to help. Hey,” Ted swirled a finger toward the ceiling, “This place got A/C?”

Y/n nodded.

“Whew,” Ted exhaled, “I gotta tell you, biggest surprise comin’ over here.”

“You get used to it,” Y/n replied, a deep double meaning to her words.

“What about you? What was the biggest shock for you, movin’ here?”

Y/n thought back to when she was eighteen, fresh out of high school and starting a brand new life in another country. Even if it had only been a few years, it felt like a decade ago.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “Probably the difference in English. Chips versus fries, that sort of thing.”

“Man, I still slip up,” Ted said, “Took me months to get the football lingo down.”

“I still call the pitch a field sometimes,” Y/n admitted, settling on one of her barstools.

“Well, now I don’t feel so bad,” Ted chuckled as he came to sit across from Y/n, “Hey, what’s the thing you miss most from home? Just a little thing, y’know?”

Y/n sighed, thinking about the region-specific foods she couldn’t find in the international section of the market or the channels missing from her television. Truth be told, there wasn’t anything she missed so much it could be considered missing.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s been so long since I’ve been home.”

“When was the last time you went back?” Ted asked.

“Uh…” Y/n traced back the list of holidays, “My sister’s birthday…two years ago?”

Ted whistled once more, “That’s a long time. Bet your folks miss you.”

On cue, Y/n’s muscles tensed. Her smile returned to conceal her discomfort. “My sister visits,” she said, “Every year.”

“Aw, that’s nice,” Ted cooed, “For me, it’s gotta be good barbecue. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they do food dang well over here, but I miss a good southern BBQ, y’know?”

“I actually do,” Y/n admitted with a small laugh, “4th of July’s always weird.”

Ted smacked a hand against the counter. “Thank you,” he said loudly, “Last year, we had a game. Felt like Beard and I were betrayin’ our ancestors or somethin’.”

Y/n chuckled, Ted struck her as someone who went all out for Independence Day.

“Hey, truth time,” Ted continued, the humor draining from his face, “Yea or nay on tea?”

Y/n shrugged, “I like it.”

“Dang it,” Ted bobbed his head, “Beard, you…us ex-pats keep droppin’ like flies.”

“It takes some adjusting, I’ll admit that,” Y/n raised a finger, “Not exactly a frappachino.”

“Mm-mm,” Ted shook his head, “I have tried and tried with that tree piss. Warmth ain’t goin’ anywhere north on that one.”

Y/n snorted a little, imagining what that might look like, Ted sipping on earl grey.

One of the movers asked Y/n where she wanted a bookcase and she gave him directions. For once, Ted sensed the moment.

“Well, I’ll get outta your hair,” he held up his hands and hopped off the barstool, “But I’m just down the street so you ever need anything, don’t be a stranger.”

“Good to know,” Y/n watched Ted walk away, “Ted?”

He stopped at the top of the stairs, “Hmm?”

While Ted was still a lot, after all her years spent as the foreigner, it was almost…nice to talk to someone from home. Someone she didn’t need to explain her references to or rearrange her vocabulary for.

“Thank you,” Y/n said, quickly concealing the truth of her gratitude, “For the biscuits.”

“Anytime,” Ted saluted before heading on his way.

Y/n let out a loud sigh once she was sure he was gone. She wandered back over to the counter and opened the pink box, finding the signature biscuits Rebecca raved about. Out of curiosity, she broke off a bite and ate it.

“Shit,” she mumbled, they were better than anything she’d ever found in any of London’s cafés.

Despite his line-crossing, Ted was good-natured. He had a heart of gold and tried to make sure everyone he encountered felt like they had one too. Y/n could call it tolerance or simply learning to deal with him, but deep down, Ted’s efforts were starting to poke and prod a little harder at her walls.

—————————

That evening, after the movers had finished and Y/n had gotten the basics unpacked, she started on the non-essentials. She was stacking dishes when the doorbell rang.

Y/n was perturbed as she descended her stairs, there were exactly three people who had her new address, the absolute minimum. Lisa, who handled payroll at the club, Ted, who’d stumbled upon her apartment by sheer luck, and her sister.

Looking through the peephole, Y/n sighed. She’d forgotten there was a fourth on the list.

Jamie smiled smugly as Y/n opened the door, “You went with mine.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I didn’t ‘go with yours.’ I was the one who found it, you just deemed it worthy.”

“And I was right,” Jamie stuck his neck out and lifted off his heels.

She’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing, but Jamie was completely right. The night of the West Ham match, the two of them had stayed at the Crown and Anchor till Mae kicked them out, pouring over each apartment until they’d eliminated 75% of the stack. The one Y/n had settled on was also the one that Jamie had decided was the best.

Jamie held up a plastic takeaway bag, “Come bearin’ sustenance.”

Not only was Y/n tired, she didn’t want to entertain anybody else from work. But, starving as she was, she was in no position to turn down free food.

“Entry permitted,” she snatched the bag from him, “Barely.”

Jamie took an exaggerated step over the seal and passed Y/n. They’d gotten to know each other better over the last few weeks, Jamie stopping Y/n anytime he saw her to ask about the apartment tours she was taking on the weekends. They’d gotten many laughs out of the stories of Y/n going against Jamie’s advice and visiting the properties that did indeed turn out to be crap.

In another world, they’d almost consider each other friends.

Upstairs, Jamie swung his arms as he took in the living room, “Not bad.”

“‘Not bad?’” Y/n turned around from where she stood in the adjoining kitchen, “You pick this place out and then it’s just ‘not bad?’”

Jamie cackled, spinning on his heel and pointing a finger at Y/n. “That’s an admission.”

Y/n internally cringed, her sharp edge was dulled by exhaustion. She could usually keep up with Jamie. “If you want any of this,” she unpacked the styrofoam container of kebabs, “You’ll stay on my good side.”

“Can’t have any,” Jamie replied, coming to lean on the bar, “Diet, ‘member?”

Y/n shook her head, popping a stray piece of chicken into her mouth. “I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

“You know why,” Jamie crossed his arms on the counter, “Gotta get back to being the best.”

“Yeah, but is being better than Zava worth missing out on things like food and sleep?” Y/n asked. She could appreciate Jamie’s drive, but this dedication seemed overboard.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jamie stated.

Y/n decided to play the asshole, sliding across the kitchen to wave the kebab box under Jamie’s nose. She watched his willpower waver ever so fleetingly.

Jamie glared up at her, “You’re evil.”

Y/n snickered as she went back to her spot, stealing a bite before going back to unpacking. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Roy?”

“Night before a match, I’m off,” Jamie swung around the bar to the kitchen.

“So shouldn’t you be resting?” Y/n asked as she un-bubble wrapped a stack of plates.

“I will,” Jamie shrugged, bending over to peel the tape off a box.

Y/n glanced over, watching as Jamie began to unpack various glasses. He didn’t offer, he didn’t ask, just went about it as if it were his business. It was slightly intrusive…and also kind.

Jamie Tartt, Y/n had come to learn, was nothing and everything like what she’d thought he’d be. He had more depth than he let onto and he’d shown a side of it by trying to help her find a place. And though she knew the Zava battle was a personal thing for him, she also knew how much Jamie cared about his team. He wanted to be at his best for them just as much as he did for himself.

Unlike Keeley, who announced her efforts to get Y/n to crack at every turn, or Ted, who went overboard, Jamie hadn’t tried to enter into Y/n’s life. He had simply occurred.

“Do you get nervous?” Y/n asked out of pure curiosity, “Before games?”

“Not really. I mean,” Jamie answered, lining up coffee mugs in a cupboard, “Sometimes. Depends.”

Y/n stretched on her toes to put away china she never used, “On?”

“I dunno,” Jamie replied, a particular trigger or two popping up, “Lots of things.”

“So what about tomorrow?” Y/n continued.

Any slip Jamie’s mind had made was caught with quick footing. “Nah,” he said confidently, “Nah, we got that.”

“Well, good,” Y/n exhaled, setting the empty box on the floor, “It’d be nice to get a win. And hey, if it doesn’t work out and you’re forced to retire after this season, I’m sure the reality tv world is still thriving with opportunities.”

Jamie managed to grimace while smiling, “How the fuck did you find out about that?”

“You thought the PR department wouldn’t know about that?” Y/n strode past him to get another box, “I also live in England.”

“You at least vote for me?” Jamie asked, a playful lilt to his tone.

Y/n hoisted another box of kitchenware into her arms and balanced it on her knee. “Yep, you caught me,” she sarcastically grunted, “I have a weakness for crap tv featuring mediocre footballers.”

Jamie set down the mug in his hand with a particular harshness. Mediocre footballer. “Now, hang on-“ he began.

“Less talking, more working,” Y/n cut him off, she stopped to check out the cupboard he was finishing. “That’s also not where they go.”

“What?”

“The mugs,” Y/n gestured to where her coffee maker was, “Disrupts the flow if they’re all the way over there.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, only playful annoyance accompanying. “God forbid we disturb the flow,” he lamented, grabbing a mug in each hand and heading to the correct cabinet.

They unpacked in comfortable silence a minute more before Y/n decided it didn’t matter if Jamie wasn’t nervous about the match. They needed all the encouragement they could get.

“It’ll happen tomorrow,” she said, referring to their recent losses.

Regardless of whether he was hiding any feelings or if they’d pop out the moment he stepped on the pitch, Jamie stopped what he was doing to absorb the kind words. Y/n was a recent addition to his life, certainly an unexpected one, but she felt…safe. Like even if they didn’t know anything about each other past their mutual taste in real estate, he didn’t have to act so much around her.

“Thanks,” he replied, making effort to meet her eyes.

Y/n gave a small smile, “It will.”

—————————

It didn’t.

Over the next month, Richmond’s lack of luck turned to a 7-game losing streak. Some weeks were better than others, but they all ended the same way: with the Greyhounds leaving the pitch with their heads hanging in defeat.

Luckily, Y/n was kept occupied on the eighth week. Jack Danvers was coming into the office for a meeting and Keeley had asked Y/n to be there as well.

“You’re all business-y,” she’d said, “You know way more than I do, plus, Jack really likes you.”

Y/n sat on one side of Jack, with Barbara on the other, as she and Keeley recounted the conversation and clash of opinions they’d had recently.

“I completely understand where Barbara’s coming from,” Keeley said, keeping a kind tone as she turned to her CFO, “But as I was explaining to you, I’m worried that by adding more clients that could mean less attention paid to the wonderful people we already represent.”

“And then,” Barbara chuckled, though she lacked any humor, “I reminded Keeley, as you’ve said so many times, Jack, that if it does get to the point where we feel we’re spreading ourselves thinly, then we’ll hire more people,” she grinned politely at Keeley, “It’s called ‘growth.’”

Y/n and Keeley glanced over at one another fleetingly, the tension was so poorly concealed, it was getting uncomfortable.

“I’m sure you can see that as well, Y/n,” Barbara gestured towards Y/n.

“Actually, Keeley’s absolutely right, in my opinion,” Y/n answered, spotting her boss a smile, “There’s big firms, there’s small firms. Both have their allure, but I think our personability is the biggest thing we have going for us.”

“Oh,” Barbara’s grin grew scarier, “Wonderful, wonderful…”

Jack looked sweetly towards Barbara, “Okay. Let me weight in here.

“Oh, please,” Barbara obliged.

“I agree with Keeley,” Jack finished.

“Oh, that’s great,” Barbara beamed.

“Being a small boutique firm is exactly what sets you apart, like Y/n said,” Jack went on, “You want a restaurant to look successful, you take out half the tables and you have a line out the door. I say, let’s go for it.”

Keeley and Jack shared a smile.

“No, that’s wonderful. Yeah,” Barbara forced out as she rose, “And instead of salaries, we can give away the tables we threw out.”

“Don’t worry, Barbara,” Jack called, “It’ll be great.”

Barbara mumbled some dishonest agreement as she left the room, leaving it open on her way out.

Jack turned to Keeley and Y/n, “Do you ever think sunshine gets jealous of her?”

The women shared a laugh just before a knock at the door revealed Shandy. “Knock, knock.”

“Hi, babe,” Keeley greeted her friend.

“Now that your little cool girls meeting’s done,” Shandy leaned on the empty chair, very visibly unhappy, “Just wanted to share the exciting news that I’ve started an app.”

“Oh,” Keeley replied.

“It’s like Bantr, but it’s better and cooler,” Shandy’s tone was even and icy, “And actually cares about helping people have sex with celebrities.”

Y/n kept her head down, sharing an awkward glance with Jack. This was strictly Keeley’s business to handle.

“What? Shandy-“ Keeley began.

“It’s called ‘Star Fuckr,’” she announced before looking to Jack, “And yeah, we are looking for investors.”

When Jack didn’t offer to write a multi-zero check right then and there, Shandy stood tall, shot daggers at Keeley and strutted her way out of the room.

“I take it she’s still angry about the whole Bantr thing?” Jack asked.

“Oh, yes,” Keeley nodded, “Shandy does not have a good relationship with rejection, or her ex, or with her workplace, or most nouns, really.”

“‘You are so passionate, but I have to let you go,” Jack said, pulling Y/n and Keeley’s attention, “‘I’m sorry, but I know someone as brilliant as you will land on their feet.”

Keeley struggled momentarily, “What did I do?”

“No, no, no, no,” Jack reached out across the desk, “Keeley, sorry. That’s what you say when you fire Shandy.”

Y/n and Keeley both exhaled forcefully, laughing after.

“Sorry,” Jack apologized.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Y/n’s hand was pressed to her chest, “I just saw my lease flash before my eyes.”

“It’s called a compliment sandwich,” Jack explained, “You give someone bad news, but to soften the blow, you slap it between two delicious slices of compliments.”

Keeley nodded, “But I can’t fire Shandy. She’ll hate me. And she really thinks she’s killing it.”

“I am sure she does,” Jack exhaled, “The worst people often think they’re the best. My dad calls it ‘talent dysmorphia.’”

Keeley laughed while Y/n stayed silent, knowing what was coming next.

“What do you think?” Keeley turned to her hardest worker, “Do you think it’s the right decision?”

Y/n looked down at her notebook, taking a deep breath to see if it would help the force of what she wanted to say dissipate. Jack was waiting on her too, and she couldn’t lie to her or Keeley.

“I think…” she started slow before shutting her eyes and letting it fly, “Keeley, if you don’t fire her, she will literally run the company into the ground and strut over its mangled corpse.”

When she opened her eyes, Jack and Keeley were leant back an inch or two as if to avoid the splash of her opinion. Before she could try and explain it more eloquently, the two women started laughing.

“No, no,” Jack chuckled, “Don’t hold back.”

Y/n exhaled with a small smile, turning to Keeley, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Keeley reached a hand over and poked the back of Y/n’s, “That’s why you’re my best. You don’t hold back.”

It was ironic, they both knew, considering how withdrawn Y/n kept herself. But with Keeley, it seemed to be a bit of a joke between the two of them.

“You two wanna get some lunch?” Jack asked when the giggles had died down, “My meeting just got pushed.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “Yeah, my stomach started grumbling when you said ‘compliment sandwich.’”

“You guys enjoy,” Y/n rose with them and collected her purse, “I’ve gotta get back to the office.”

“Oh,” Keeley reached back over her desk and handed Y/n a sheet of paper, “Give this to Zava. A couple more people called requesting interviews.”

Y/n glanced over the list she’d originally made, it seemed like the Zava craze still hadn’t died down. In fact, the more Richmond lost, the more people wanted to hear what he had to say. “Are we sure it’s a good idea to do so many interviews on a seven-game streak?”

“That’s the thing,” Keeley grabbed her coat, “The press eat up whatever Zava says. Can’t get enough.”

Quirking an eyebrow in understanding, Y/n tucked the list in her book and tried to imagine the ridiculous headlines that would be tied to Richmond this week.

—————————

Returning to the office after having taken lunch by herself, Y/n rapped two knuckles on the open locker room door. She still knew to wait for the all-clear.

“Everybody decent?”

A chorus of various ‘yeses’ were her key in.

“Zava,” Y/n turned to the star player, “Here’s your interview schedule. The press is really eager this weekend in particular. Let me know if there’s any changes you want to make.”

Zava pressed a hand to his heart and touched Y/n’s arm with the other. “Thank you,” he said softly, before looking to his teammates, “Men.”

Taking hold of both her shoulders, Zava guided Y/n to stand in front of him. “Okay,” Y/n stuttered as she was stood in front of the entire team. Seated in the middle of the room with Isaac, Jamie matched her confused gaze.

“This is what your hearts should be seeking,” Zava began to wax his odd form of poetry, “Brains, talent, warmth-“

Y/n’s brow creased, what the fuck had she walked into?

“Outer beauty will fade,” he continued, “But a smudge like this,” Zava smiled down on Y/n, “It will last forever.”

Zava patted her shoulders once more before throwing his towel over his shoulder and exiting the room. Not only was Y/n left with every Greyhound staring at her, contemplating Zava’s words, but with his schedule still clutched in her hand.

“Can someone make sure he gets this?” Y/n asked, failing to keep her tone even.

“Oh,” Dani raised his hand and climbed over Jamie’s leg to get to Y/n, “I will.”

Y/n willingly handed it off, “Thank you, Dani.” Not caring to spend another second in the room, she turned on her heel and left. She backtracked her steps quickly, “Is a smudge a good or a bad thing?”

Colin scrunched his face up, “It’s not…not…a good thing.”

Pressing a hand to her temple, Y/n decided she didn’t need to know any more about whatever conversation she’d interrupted and left the locker room.

—————————

The Man City match came about like every other one, but the air of anticipation heightened with each week. Would this be the day Richmond finally broke their streak? Or would they take another step towards double digits?

Not more than a second after Y/n had parked in the car lot, her phone rang with a call from Higgins.

“Hi,” she answered, “What’s going on?”

“Are you here yet?” Higgins asked, his tone nervous.

Y/n shut the door to her car, striding towards the back entrance to the stadium. “I just pulled in.”

“Could you pop into the coach’s office?”

“Yeah,” Y/n hung on the syllable suspiciously, turning in the other direction and swinging the door to the office building open. “Be right there.”

Y/n took long steps down the hall, passing by the locker room and heading straight for Ted’s office.

“Hey,” she said as she entered. Coach Beard, Roy and Higgins were standing around the desk clump, huddled together in conversation. Ted was already on the pitch. “What’s wrong?”

Beard kept his hand pressed to his mouth, Roy scowled at the air.

“It seems that Zava hasn’t showed up yet,” Higgins answered, “No one knows where he is.”

Y/n’s lips parted in confusion, “He’s just…not here?”

“Apparently so.”

Setting aside her annoyance, Y/n snapped into work mode and pulled her phone from her coat pocket. “Alright,” she scanned her contacts, “Let me get on the phone with some people. See if I can track him down.”

“He’d better fucking be here,” Roy growled at no one in particular.

Y/n raised her phone to her ear and pointed to Roy and Trent’s office, the former nodding for her to take it. She started at the top of the list of Zava’s personal team he’d given to her, Keeley and Higgins. Why a fecalist needed to be considered an emergency contact, Y/n would never understand, but she’d try whoever she had to…

Except the fecalist hadn’t heard from him.

Or his agent.

Or anyone Y/n dialed.

Defeatedly, and beginning to grow anxious, Y/n rejoined Beard, Roy and Higgins. “No one knows where the fuck he is,” she answered.

“Fuck,” Roy muttered.

“We got three minutes,” Beard shrugged, “What the fuck do we do?”

“Start Colin,” Roy resolved before looking to Y/n, “If you track that prick down, I don’t care, you fucking get on the pitch and tell us.”

Y/n gave a definitive nod, “You got it.”

With not so much a plan as a temporary fix, Roy and Beard left for the locker room while Y/n and Higgins headed for the hall.

“I told everyone to call me if they hear from him,” Y/n reported as they walked.

“What could be so important to make him miss a match?” Higgins pondered as they made their way to the stadium.

“I don’t know, but so long as his wife and kids are breathing and in possession of all their limbs,” Y/n practically growled, the cheering of packed house of Greyhounds growing louder with each step, “I’ll drag him onto the field myself.”

—————————

Rebecca took to the news…as expected.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Y/n sat on one side of her boss, raising two fingers of the hand rubbing at her temple, in agreement.

“So just, no one’s heard from him?” Rebecca asked.

“No one,” Higgins grimaced.

“Well,” Rebecca let her palms fall against her legs, “There goes any chance of a win.”

“Let’s pray otherwise,” Y/n scanned her phone for the fifth time since she’d sat down. It was then that she realized there was a very vocal presence missing. “Where’s Keeley?”

Snapping out of her most likely violent thoughts, Rebecca unlocked her phone and held it up to Y/n. She found a text thread from Keeley including a message that said she’d be missing the game. Below it was a picture of a baby lamb standing on the table of the KJPR conference room, surrounded by its own feces.

Three months ago, Y/n might have had a question or twelve. Now, she simply nodded and sat back in her seat. “So Shandy’s gone,” she mumbled to herself.

The game went as well as the last ones had. Colin, though talented, couldn’t rival Zava’s skill. Jamie’s extra training wasn’t the solution either, and Man City walked away with a 4-0 win against the Greyhounds.

Rebecca retired to her office while Higgins and Y/n headed to touch base with the coaches. Trent met them along the way.

“No one heard from him?” Trent asked Y/n on their way.

“Not a single text or call during the game,” Y/n scrolled her phone as they walked, an Instagram notification popping up, “Shit.”

Higgins looked over, “What?”

Y/n stopped midway to their destination, hitting play on the video.

“Hello, how are you?” Zava spoke, dressed in casual wear, “I’m just - I have to share something with you, my friends. You are not my followers. You are my believers.”

Trent and Higgins came to stand beside Y/n, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“And so it— I have to tell you,” the man paused, “Zava has played his last match. I will now dedicate all of my time and all of my energy to my family and my avocado farm.”

The rest of whatever utter nonsense Zava had to spew, Y/n didn’t listen. She was infuriated, partially because of his actions, and partially because they’d all allowed themselves to think it was ever a good idea to hire him. He’d fed the Greyhounds to the wolves with no regret and it affected all of AFC Richmond.

When the video ended, Trent, Y/n and Higgins shared a hopeless look.

“We’ve got to tell the boys,” Higgins finally spoke, shrugging slightly.

The three of them made their way down the rest of the hall where the locker room door hung open. The scene inside was dismal, each of the men sat on the benches with their heads hung.

“Hey, guys,” Higgins greeted in an attempt to stay positive, “Good effort today.”

“Mr. Higgins,” Colin spoke up from his seat, “Is it true about Zava?”

Y/n cast her gaze downwards, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

“I’m afraid so,” Higgins replied.

Dani, cradling a towel to his face, began to weep into the fabric.

“Maybe some tissues for Dani,” Higgins muttered quietly.

“Hey, hey, guys,” Sam stood with his phone in hand, “Zava just posted a video.”

“Oh gosh,” Y/n grumbled under her breath as the Greyhounds circled up. Everyone except Jamie, who remained sat on the floor.

The boys watched the video, clinging to every last word at the start, and walking away with mumbled curses and shakes of the head. Any love or respect they had for their former teammate had been lost within thirty virtual seconds.

Y/n snuck a glance over at Jamie, expecting to see him struggle to keep his joy under wraps. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Even he was in shock.

“Gentlemen,” Ted said as he entered, quickly noticing Y/n’s presence, “And lady. That was a tough one tonight. Okay? Man City has still got our number. That’s all right. We gonna get another crack at ‘em later in the season. Uh-huh,” Ted looked to Beard, “Coach? No practice tomorrow.”

Beard nodded, “That’s right.”

“Okay,” Ted looked back to the team, “Well, I’ll see y’all on Monday.”

While the rest of the team began to talk amongst themselves, Sam looked up confusedly at Ted. “Hey, hey. Hey, Coach,” he called till the manager stopped in his tracks, “What about Zava?”

Ted glanced over at Zava’s multiple lockers, his empty chair.

“He quit the team,” Sam stated, as if it unheard news.

“I mean, technically he retired from the whole sport,” Ted clarified, “Which makes it feel a little less personal, yeah? You know, like if your girlfriend runs off with some dude and it turns out they were soulmates.”

The Greyhounds replied quietly in agreement.

“But look, look, look, look,” Ted redirected their focus back, “I hear you, okay? Zava is gone. And you know what? I think it’s a good thing.”

The boys began to argue back in shock.

“Well, I do. Okay, look,” Ted spoke over his players, “Do I wanna win? Heck yeah. But I also wanna do it with folks that wanna be here. It’s not like we could handcuff him to his locker and make him love us.”

“We could have tried,” a desperate Dani replied.

As the initial surprised faded, Y/n was beginning to match Ted’s opinion. Zava may have taken them for a temporary ride to the top, but this ultimate insult had shown that his heart was next in Richmond.

“Hey, guys. Guys, look,” Ted held up a hand, “We got a good thing going here. All right?” Ted’s eyes fell to his left, meeting Jamie’s, “We didn’t need Zava. Yeah?”

No one dared disturb the silence as the truth washed over each of them, including those who weren’t players.

“Yeah,” Ted said quietly, “All we need to win are the fellas in this room, right now,” he pointed to the men on the benches, “And all you fellas need to do is believe it.”

No sooner than when Ted had uttered the last two words did the bright yellow ‘Believe’ sign hanging over his head split itself down the middle. The Greyhounds jumped to their feet and cried out to various degrees. Even Y/n gasped a little, having learned of its significance.

“It��s a sign,” Bumbercatch called out.

“That’s it,” Colin held up his hands, accepting fate, “We’re doomed.”

As the locker room grew louder, Ted held up his hands and attempted to settle things down.

“Now hold on. Hey, knock it off, okay? We’re not doomed. No one is doomed. But Bumbercatch, yes, you’re right. It is a sign. I agree, Yeah.”

Ted turned around and removed both halves of his handiwork, folding them together. “In fact this, it’s just a sign.”

Without any hesitation, Ted tore the paper into four pieces, sending the locker room into chaos again.

“All right, guys, listen to me,” Ted commanded the room, “Belief doesn’t just happen ‘cause you hang something up on a wall. All right? It comes from in here,” he touched his chest, “You know? And up here,” he touched his temple before hitting his stomach, “Down here. Only problem is, we all got so much junk floating through us, a lot of times, we end up getting in our own way.”

Y/n had yet to be present for any of Ted’s locker room speeches, as she had no reason to be. But immediately, like some spiritual presence moving through the room, she felt his words take hold of her.

“You know, crap like envy or fear, shame,” Ted continued, seemingly speaking to himself as well, “I don’t wanna mess around with that shit anymore. You know what I mean? Do you?”

He wasn’t speaking to her, but the question still penetrated Y/n all the same. She could feel a familiar ball of anxiety beginning to build in her stomach.

“No, me neither,” Ted shook his head after the boys answered back, “Hell no. Well, you know what I wanna mess around with? The belief that I matter, you know? Regardless of what I do or don’t achieve.”

One blade inserted itself into Y/n’s gut, the omnipresent pain causing her heart rate to speed up.

“Or the belief that we all deserve to be loved,” Ted went on, “Whether we’ve been hurt or maybe we’ve hurt somebody else.”

A second blade settled in Y/n’s chest, this one causing the muscles to contract. She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep the rising emotions at bay.

“Or what about the belief of hope?” Ted asked, “Yeah? That’s what I wanna mess with. Believing that things can get better. That I can get better. That we will get better.”

Better, Y/n thought on the word. Better. Did things ever get better? Or did ‘bad’ just shapeshift into something else? Did it just wait along the road in the shadows, waiting for ‘better’ to come merrily on its way?

“Oh, man,” Ted sighed, “To believe in yourself. To believe in one another. Man, that’s fundamental to being alive. And look. Yo, hey. If you can do that,” he pointed to each player in the room, “If each of your can truly do that-“

Ted made one more rip down the sign’s tatters, walking to the center of the room. “Can’t nobody rip that apart.”

As the remains of the sign slapped against the metal bench, Y/n’s anxiety reached its brim. She placed a near shaking hand on Higgins’ shoulder to signal she was leaving before slipping out the back door. Blearily, she made it down the hall and outside, the fresh air of the parking lot slamming into her.

Once in the safety of her car, she allowed herself to weep.

Zava was the furthest thing from her mind. The incoming headlines, another loss on the scoreboard…all of it. She couldn’t have cared less if she’d tried. All she could feel was the crippling ache in her chest, the sting of her tears, the overwhelming feeling that came with being utterly alone. When a person became aware of just how much bigger the world around them was and how infinitely small they really were. The pain that could be remedied with a simple hug or a comforting word.

Y/n let out a silent sob, the familiar ache of all she wanted having taken a new form, once again. It would certainly kill her to allow herself her basic needs, to walk back in and hurt with the people inside. And it would break her all the same to continue hiding.

————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities

#ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #keeley jones x reader #rebecca welton x reader #heartfirst

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nneogram · 1 year

Text

HIT ME UP

[URGENT; 11/23] PALESTINE.

PAIRING. wonwoo x reader (f)

GENRE. fluff, college!au

WORDCOUNT. 1k

WARNINGS. i think there’s one (1) expletive, wonwoo is not good at speaking on the phone

A/N. happy holidays and long time (loooong long time) no see! i can’t believe how quickly time has passed and i don’t know how long i’ll be back (though as always i have multiple works-in-progress rn) but for now enjoy this spur-of-the-moment piece i wrote while avoiding studying for my final that’s today. this is unedited! there could be typos and grammatical errors >.<

LISTEN TO. “hit me up” by omar apollo, dominic fike, & kenny beats.

Wonwoo knew it wasn’t a good idea to mention you to his roommate. Because now all Soonyoung wants to do is force Wonwoo to make the first move, something that A) wouldn’t end well and B) will never happen in the first place. Wonwoo would rather suffer an untimely death than be the one to initiate anything. And that’s saying something considering this final paper he was working on right now felt pretty much like death.

“Just call her. Hit her up and go, ‘I’m in love with you, please go out with me or else I’ll throw myself out the window.’” Soonyoung purposely pitches his voice up an octave.

“One,” Wonwoo types away on his laptop, paying no attention to his meddling roommate, “My voice sounds nothing like that. And two, throwing myself out the window isn’t as grave of a repercussion when you remember we live on the first floor.”

Soonyoung sighs. “Okay, how about starting small? Ask her out to dinner or something. Something simple and easy.”

Wonwoo fakes a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that’s easy. There’s nothing easy about calling the girl you like and asking her on a date.”

“You don’t even have to do the first part. I can call her, and all you have to do is ask her out.”

Soonyoung’s offer gets ignored as Wonwoo continues to stare at the half-empty word document on his laptop screen. Knowing his roommate won’t let up until he acquiesces in some way, Wonwoo absentmindedly agrees, saying something like, “Sure. Do whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Wonwoo echoes his roommate and the room descends into silence. Ah, peace and quiet. Something that almost never happens with Soonyoung in the room-

It’s too quiet.

The gravity of the situation doesn’t sink in until he spots Soonyoung a few steps away, Wonwoo’s phone in hand, your contact name pulled up. And Soonyoung’s ring-adorned finger hovering over the “Call” button.

Wonwoo fumbles for the phone, but Soonyoung yanks it out of reach. Wonwoo can only stand in frozen terror as his roommate presses the button for speakerphone and the ringing drones on.

He’s further cemented to his spot when you actually pick up.

“Hello? Wonwoo?” The line crackles as your voice fills the room. Your voice sounds different on the phone - a little deeper, a little more hushed as though this was a private conversation. It was supposed to be a private conversation.

Wonwoo’s stunned silence would have continued if it were not for Soonyoung swatting at his shoulder. Talk to her, his roommate mouths. “Uhm, yeah, hi.” His voice threatens to crack at the end of his sentence, and he clears his throat.

“Hey.” There’s a hint of bemusement in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry for the call, I usually don’t do that, -“

“-Yeah, I got a little confused,” you confess with a breathy laugh. “I wasn’t sure if something was wrong, and even if so I would’ve expected a cryptic text first.”

God, he loves your sense of humor. Wonwoo forces a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. So, uh. What’s up?”

There’s a beat of silence from you. He can hear your amusement when you echo back his question. “‘What’s up?’”

Soonyoung facepalms. But he’s at least brought Wonwoo’s phone down to an attainable level now, so Wonwoo takes the opportunity to retrieve it.

He immediately presses the button to remove you from the speakerphone and brings the phone to his ear. “Sorry, sorry, I got sidetracked. This is why I send my cryptic texts.” Your laugh on the other end affirms Wonwoo in his defusing of the situation, and so he continues. “When did you say you were heading back home again?”

“Saturday afternoon. Why, what’s up?”

Fuck it, here goes nothing. Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “The reason why I was calling you is because I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat before you leave to celebrate the end of finals but if you aren’t able to that’s okay.”

Wonwoo ignores the way Soonyoung is staring him down with an incredulous look on his face. Wonwoo is pretty sure he’s red in the face right now.

Once again, more silence on your end. Wonwoo thinks maybe the call has disconnected (or maybe you were so offended by his proposal that you hung up), and he’s about to bring the phone away from his face to check his screen when you finally respond.

“That’s the most I’ve heard you say in one go.” Once again, you’re laughing, and Wonwoo’s worries dissipate. He’s still nervous, of course, especially considering you haven’t actually answered to his offering yet, but something about your laidback nature really puts him at ease. It almost makes him think that even if you said no, he’d be okay-

“I’d love to grab food with you. Did you want to do Friday night or Saturday morning?”

What.

Wonwoo’s roommate has since crept closer to him, head leaning in on the other side of the phone to listen in on the conversation. Soonyoung is just as shell-shocked as Wonwoo is when you say yes.

“Mm, uh,” Wonwoo clears his throat, “Friday night works for me. I’ll be free from my last final by then.”

“Sick! Me too. I can’t wait to be free from the grips of biochem after Friday afternoon.” There’s rustling on your end, likely you getting up and moving around. “I have to head back to studying right now, but we can text as it gets closer to figure out specifics?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Wonwoo’s throat has gone dry.

Soonyoung has decided at this point that his job is done, and he walks away from Wonwoo with a fist pumping in the air as though his favorite soccer team just won the World Cup.

Wonwoo returns his full attention to you. He can hear your grin when you say, “Great. Oh, and Wonwoo?”

He expects there to be a caveat, a “but” at the end of your acceptance. “Hm?”

“You should call me more often.”

#jeon wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo svt #jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fic #wonwoo svt #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fic #svt fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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youaintnothinbuta · 21 days

Note

if you don't mind do you think you can do some Elvis angst I really enjoy them but I haven't found any and they don't have to be about anything in specific just as long as it has some angst a little fluff and smut you don't have to if you don't want to but I'll appreciate it!!! 🙏 If you want something to base it off it can be about Elvis affairs or y/n affairs and they get into fights or something and then make up but not until one of them makes it clear that they will leave one another if they don't stop (sorry if it doesn't make sense or sounds stupid😭)

I hope this covers all bases!! <3

“Come home, baby, please.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: You and elvis are fighting about him never being around because he’s ‘too busy’ but being seen with all these girls in the newspapers constantly, when you decide you’ve had it and leave for your parents house. After days and days go by and his guilt growing, he comes and gets you and you have make up sex in the car

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angsty, argument, yelling, SMUT, 18+, car sex, make up sex, unprotected sex, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re never here, Elvis, never,” You yelled, throwing the newspapers at his feet, “and how is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

The headlines, yet again, in big, bold text, wrote about another woman spotted with him, mocking you with every word.

Elvis looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I am busy, Y/N, you know that, providing for you and every other god damn person I know. I have responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Is that what you’re calling it?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Flirting with every girl who bats her eyelashes at you? Is that your responsibility too?”

He stood up abruptly, towering over you, “You know it ain’t like that, baby. Those girls mean nothing to me.”

“Then why do see these headlines every day, Elvis? Every. Damn. Day.” you retorted, your arms crossing over your chest in defiance. He leant down, picking up the newspapers you were standing on. He tore them to shreds, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.

“I don’t write these goddamn headlines, Y/N. What the hell do you want me to do about it?” His voice rose, surprising even himself with the aggression in his tone. “They ain’t mean nothin’ to me.”

“I want to believe you, Elvis, I really do,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger. “But I can’t keep living like this. I won’t be second best in your life.”

He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away.

“I mean it, Elvis. If this doesn’t stop, we’re over. Call me when you’re ready to start acting like a man,” you declared, your voice firm with resolve. With that, you grabbed your car keys from the bench and stormed out.

“Don’t you dare spe—“ Elvis shouted, but the door slamming shut behind you interrupted him before he could finish.

Elvis stood there, watching you go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and regret. Huffing in frustration, he stared down at the shredded remnants of the newspapers scattered across the floor, the headlines mocking him with their accusations.

He expected you to come back that night, like you always did after a fight, but as the hours passed, and you didn’t return, he began to worry. Days went by, each one dragging on in agonising slowness as he waited for you to walk back through the door. He missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your eyes, the way you always knew how to soothe his mind.

One night he went out, and as per usual, he was met with the eager attention of adoring fans and all the girls who would swarm him, but it felt different this time. While he always swore it meant nothing, and it did, this time he felt sick with guilt, so much so he was headed home by midnight.

He sat alone on his side of the bed, the weight of his actions finally hit him. He realised that he couldn’t live without you, that he needed you in his life more than anything. Hesitating, he finally picked up his telephone. Unsure of where exactly you were, his best guess was your parent’s house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited hoped for you to pick up. Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer, he was momentarily stunned when he heard your voice say ‘hello?’

You asked again, ‘hello?’

“Come home, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. There was silence as you replayed the sound of his voice in your mind.

“Alright, darlin’, you win,” he continued, “You’re my number one. It’s killing me going to bed without you,” he confessed.

“Come pick me up then,” you demanded, your voice softening slightly.

Without hesitation, Elvis agreed, relief flooding through him at the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m leaving right now,” he promised, the urgency in his voice evident. He really wasn’t kidding, you heard his keys jangling in his hands through the line.

You hung up, feeling a mix of emotions. You sat by the window in the living room, only a lamp on as your parents had gone to bed already, waiting for him to arrive. You didn’t know how to feel, only that you still loved him, despite everything.

It was a long drive to your parents, about 40 minutes, but he was there as soon as he could’ve been. Finally, he arrived, the headlights of his car casting long shadows across the familiar driveway. With a sigh of relief, he killed the engine and stepped out into the cool night air.

As he approached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. But before he could make a sound and wake your family, the door swung open, and there you stood, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. For a fleeting moment, Elvis was struck by the sight of you, how pretty you looked in the pale light.

You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted to give him the silent treatment and make him work for forgiveness but the second you saw his beautiful face, you couldn’t help but smile. Without a word, you stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind you. Elvis met your gaze, his expression filled with remorse.

He opened your door for you, making his way around to the driver’s side once you were in. You looked over at him as he sat, his eyes already on you.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, his voice low and sincere, “don’t ever run away on me like that to me again.”

You turn to face him, your expression softening. “Don't ever make me feel like I have to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't,” he promises, reaching out to take your hand, his lips grazing over your knuckles. “I swear.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and you can't help but believe him, even if it might be against your better judgment. You lean over and press your lips to his, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. You glance down, noticing the way his muscles tense under his shirt. You missed him. You really did. You’d never tell him that, though.

Without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. His sucks in a surprised breath at your unexpected movement. You can feel his erection grow as you kiss him, the size of him putting pressure on your clit. You waste no time in releasing his cock from his pants, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted as he deftly maneuvered your panties aside, his fingers tracing patterns of anticipation along the delicate curve of your thigh. You push his hand out the way, gently lowering yourself down onto him, your jaw hung open at the feeling.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as you bottomed out, the raw intensity of the moment leaving you both reeling. You began to move, a steady rhythm building between you as the car filled with the heady scent of arousal, the windows fogging over with the heat of you both. Elvis' hands roam over your body, touching you wherever he could as he whispered apologies and words of love.

He attempted to guide you to move up and down instead of back and forth, you took the hint, earning a series of raspy grunts from him. You could feel the tension building between you, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Elvis sensed it too, because his fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, your orgasm rippling through you like a shockwave. You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing something to hold onto as you lost control of your body. Your orgasm coated his cock with more wetness, “I’ve got you,” he murmured, still thrusting himself up into you. Elvis followed you over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his release.

As you come down from your high, Elvis chuckles, looking towards the window.

“Makeup sex right outside your parents' window, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” He teased, lightly squeezing your ass.

You playfully punched him in the chest, shushing him as you tried to catch your breath. “Be quiet,” you whispered, blush colouring your cheeks.

Elvis grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches his fingertip to the condensation on the window, drawing half a heart.

You smiled, reaching your hand over to finish the other half. “I love you too,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

You reluctantly pulled yourself off of Elvis' lap. He quickly adjusted his pants, tucking himself away before pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around you to keep you warm for the drive home.

“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice soft. He started the car, pulling away from the curb as you settled into the passenger seat. He rested his left hand on the steering wheel as he drove, his right arm wrapped around you holding you close to him. You leant into his body, feeling his warmth against you. You giggled, still feeling the aftershocks of earlier orgasm. He must’ve somehow known, because he leant down to press a kiss to your head.

“My girl,” he whispered. As you continued along the quiet road, the weight of the day and the events of the week began to catch up with you, exhaustion settling heavy upon your shoulders.

Elvis sensed your weariness, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer, cocooning you in the safety of his embrace. “You can sleep,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. You let yourself drift off, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

When you finally arrived back at his house, Elvis woke you gently, his touch a gentle caress against your skin as he guided you inside, still wrapped in his jacket. With his help, you changed into one of your nighties.

You brushed your teeth together, your eyes meeting, making you laugh in the mirror as you both rinsed.

As you climbed into bed, Elvis pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, snuggling closer to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby as you drifted off to sleep, finally back in his.

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lalachat · 6 months

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"And there you were..."

Author's note: HI! This is my very first fan fiction, along with my first time writing. I do not expect anyone to read this, nor do i expect this to blow up. This is simply just a thought i had in my head that I wanted to write down. If you are reading this I will and fully apologize for any grammar issues or typos. Again, I have a lot of learning to do so if this lacks flow or has too much filler let me know... KINDLY!!! Emphasis on K I N D L Y! I love and appreciate anyone who is planning on reading this silly lil story i wrote. I do plan on writing more chapters for this... hopefully some smut later on if this gets enough attention👀 ANYWAYS, I will be quiet now :)

Summary: Your mating bond had snapped for you as soon as you saw the shadowsinger, but he was too busy pinning after the second eldest Archeron sister to notice the bond. After watching them pin for one another, you decided Az would be happier with Elain. However, Mor has an idea to get Az to notice you. A night at Rita's with a scheme made by Mor goes south when you catch the sight of someone you haven't seen in years.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: um none? basically filler bc i'm a newbie at writing:) use of some profanity, alludes to sexual theme

Word Count: around 3,200

Chapter 1: "DID YOU JUST BITE ME?"

Lucien POV:

And there you were... standing next to the High Lord of the Night Court, drink in hand as your head tilted back in laughter. You looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. The only difference now is that he had found his mate, but he could not help the bubbling of old feelings trying to resurface themselves. Cauldron burn him because he was damned, and he knew it. As soon as his gaze met yours, he knew he was ruined.

Y/N POV:

You were completely unaware he was here. You were too preoccupied with nursing your wine and talking with your favorite high lord to notice his lingering eyes on you. Mor had sent you on a secret mission tonight. It was your sole purpose while being here at Rita’s. The dress Mor gave you hugged your curves in all the right places, showing enough skin but keeping some left to the imagination for others. The plan was simple enough, try to get the attention of your mate and make him jealous. It sounds terrible, but it was the only way to get his attention on you. However, as soon as you got there, his gaze never met yours. You saw Az off in the corner, eyes strictly on Elain as she talked with him. Completely blinded by her beauty, Azriel's bond never snapped for him. This was your last ploy before letting him be happy with Elain. You knew Az would never see you in the light that he saw Elain in. You figured he would be much happier with a female like her anyways. Luckily, Rhysand had spotted you before you could turn away and called you over next to him at the bar.

“Ah well if it isn’t the lovely y/n showing up late as always,” Rhys said smirking handing you a glass of your favorite fae wine.

“For your information, Rhysand, Mor came to my room at the last minute with a complete wardrobe change. Where is she anyways?” you said as you glanced around the room taking the wine from Rhys’ hand with a smile.

“Well, I must say she has fabulous style. You look stunning y/n, but as of Mor’s location... I lost her to the dance floor as soon as we walked in. You know how she is.” Rhys rolled his eyes playfully as he sipped his own drink.

“I should have suspected that answer” you laughed. “I am assuming the rest of the group is somewhere on the floor too? Should we go join them and show them our horrendous dancing my high lord?” you teased with a smile and bow. Rhys gasped and placed a hand on his heart.

“Oh y/n, how you offend me! My dancing is quite fabulous if I say so myself!”

“Yes Rhysand, your white girl dance moves are fabulous. However, mine put yours to shame, and you know it!” you say as you down the rest of your wine and offer him your hand. Rhysand’s eyes twinkle as he finishes his drink and takes your hand before leading you to the dance floor. He spots Feyre with the rest of the inner circle on the floor, near the corner where Az was with Elain. Feyre’s face lights up as she sees you.

“Y/N!!!! There you are! We have been wondering when you would show up! Even got my mate out on the dance floor. I applaud you!” as she gives you the biggest hug. “You look exquisite!” Feyre says as she leaves to see her mate.

Mor hears Feyre say your name, and she instantly runs over to you. “Look at you!!! I knew that dress would be perfect for you! SO worth the last-minute change because you look fucking hot!” She spins you around and pulls you closer. She lowers her voice to where only you can hear. “He has been glued to her side all night, but it is nothing we cannot fix, hm?” she says with a hint of playfulness. You look behind her to see Nesta and Cassian dancing alongside Rhysand and Feyre. Your heart falters at the sight of both mates enjoying one another’s company with laughter and smiles. How you yearned for something like that. They were both cauldron blessed. Mor followed your gaze and sensed your uneasiness. She smiled at you.

“Do not falter y/n! We have a mission, and it is now on! Let us go be the badass babes we are and have some fun” as she takes you over to the rest of the group to dance. She positions you purposefully close to Az and Elain. You are both giggling as you twirl one another around to the music, tipsy off the amount of alcohol you both consumed. Everyone was getting lost in the music. You and Mor could not stop laughing at each other. Throats and bellies feeling warm from the alcohol. You both began to forget about the reason you came tonight. Until your gaze left Mor’s and connected with burning amber eyes and bright red hair pulled up in a bun. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned towards Mor.

“Is that Lucien?”

“Yes, he’s only here to keep his eyes on his mate, and well because Feyre had forced him to come,” Mor said while looking at you. “Why do you ask? Do you know him?”

“I do. I just have not seen him in years. Him and I used to... um.... This feels weird to say aloud knowing he found his mate, but we were friends with benefits a LONG time ago”

“YALL WERE WHAT?!” You decide to grab her hand and go to the bathroom for more privacy. You do not want the entire inner circle hearing about your previous sexual partners. As soon as you shut the bathroom door you turn to her to finish the conversation.

“Mor you act like I am a virgin.”

“Y/n I know you are not a virgin, but out of all the people to hear you have had sex with, I was not expecting him! I did not even know you two knew each other!”

“Yeah, it was when I stayed in the spring court for a while. We met at a popular bar in town, and we instantly clicked. One drink led to another, and I took him back to my apartment. We were so infatuated with each other that it quickly became friends-with-benefits.”

“OH MY GOD AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME? Y/N this is positively perfect!” You were shocked she took the information so well that you could practically see the gears grinding in her head as she paced back and forth.

“Mor whatever you are thinking stop it now. I am concerned that you are this deep in thought while being tipsy.”

“Y/n there has been a slight change of plans” Mor said with full confidence.

“Should I be concerned?”

“That my love is up to you to decide, but this is what you are going to do. You are going to talk to Lucien and...” before she could finish her sentence you stopped her with a finger to her mouth.

“MOR ARE YOU CRAZY?! I must have had too much to drink because I could have sworn you said that I should talk to--” before you could finish Mor bit your finger and you yelped. “DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!”

“Yes, but that is beside the point. Y/n, you are here to make Az jealous over you, are you not?”

“Yes, but--”

She smirks as she says, “And what better way to do it than to flirt with Elain’s mate?”

Your mouth goes slack. “Elain is Lucien’s mate? Why has no one told me this?!”

“It is because you are off in your own little world sulking over Az. Besides, none of us even knew you knew Lucien. They don’t even act like mates let alone talk to each other, so we forget half the time. But Y/n this is your chance! Not only could you make Azriel jealous of you, but you could also make Elain jealous of Lucien! Like I said, it is positively perfect!”

“Mor I can't... this is becoming too much. I do not think I can do this.”

“GIRL you are drop-dead gorgeous! Any male who does not see that can go die in a hole! You are worth so much more than a mate who refuses to look at you y/n. You can and you will do this! I will not let you sit here and do nothing. You must fight for him y/n, and if the only way to do it is to play dirty, then you must play dirty!”

“Fine! I will talk to him, but nothing more and nothing less.”

“Yes! Let us get this new and improved mission going! I cannot believe you and Lucien did it” Mor said as she linked her arm in yours and strutted out the bathroom back to your group.

“And I cannot believe you BIT me!” Mor giggles as you stick out your tongue and rub your finger to sooth it. You find Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta at the bar getting more drinks.

Cassian boomed as he said, “There y’all are! We were beginning to think you both fell in!”

Nesta smacked his arm and said, “Not all of us thought that. Some of us have the mental capacity to know that it was for girl talk. And I must say, whatever it is I want in!” She smirks at the two of you.

“Oh, oh! Me too! Me too! I love gossip!” Cassian says as he swings an arm over Nesta to get closer to your conversation.

“Cas go be a busy body somewhere else!” Nesta said swatting away Cassian as you and Mor both giggle at their banter.

“We were just gossiping, it’s nothing important really,” you say hoping Nesta would catch that you really do not want to talk about you and Mor’s trip to the bathroom. Luckily, she seems to understand and gets up to lead Cass back to the dance floor. “Come on Cass, we can gossip with them later, I love this song!” as Cassian whisks her away to go dance. You can hear him faintly say “This is not over ladies; I have to know what it was!”

You laugh as Mor looks at you. “He's such a drama king. All right, the time is now! No better time than the present right?? Now go,” as she pushes you toward where Lucien was standing. You glare at her over your shoulder as you walk to Lucien. You can see her smirk before turning around to join Rhys and Feyre back at the bar.

“Mother above only you can save me now...” as you take a deep breath and finish walking over to Lucien. Your eyes meet, and for a brief second, all the memories come flooding back to you. You had forgotten how handsome he was. His fiery red hair, gorgeously tanned skin, and his burning stare that made you feel like the only girl in the world. You had to stop your mind from lingering too deep into the memories y’all shared because most of them were sexual. You would hate to finally talk with him again only for him to notice your scent.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here? It has been too long Lu!” you say, and you give him the most wholehearted smile that you could muster.

“Y/N! I was wondering when you would pop by. Always unable to resist me huh?” he says with a smirk, reaching to give your hand a chaste kiss. Your cheeks flush at the feeling of his lips on your skin. You can practically feel your skin burn from where his lips had just been.

“Still charming as always.” He chuckles at your comment, and it makes your heart flutter. You were treading extremely dangerous waters. You had not told Mor this, but your previous friends-with-benefits with Lucien had you harboring a secret crush on the male. If it were not for the fact you and he had mates, you were sure you both would not be sleeping alone tonight. “You look nice, Lu.”

“Thank you, as do you y/n. What are you even doing here at Rita’s? Last I remember you were still in the spring court.”

“I was, until I decided that I wanted to see the beauty of the other courts. I was nomadic for a while as I traveled, but that changed as soon as I saw the night court and met a certain High Lord everyone now knows and loves.” You giggle as you remember your first encounter with Rhysand. “I fell in love with Velaris and the inner court that I had decided to stay. The rest is history.” You gave Lucien a warm smile.

“If I had known you were here all this time, I would have come to see you! It's nice to have a friendly face around that’s not a part of the inner circle.” He says with a huff.

“I get a sense you don’t really like the inner circle all that much?”

“It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s more so that I don’t belong or fit into their group. Feyre tries to keep me in loop, and I love her to death for it, but it will not change the fact I am that group’s wall flower. The only reason I really stick along is for-” he catches himself. He doesn’t ever finish the sentence, but you knew what he was going to say. He was going to say, “for Elain.” You decided not to press the matter.

“Well Lucien, I think you are the prettiest wallflower!” you say with a smile and slightly push his shoulder. He smiles and dips his head as he says thank you. “Say, I could use some more wine and it looks like you could use another of what you were drinking, want to come with me to the bar?” as you batt your eyelashes at him. He smirks and you can see an emotion in his eyes, but you can't tell what it was.

“How could I say no to such a pretty lady offering me another drink.” He places his hand on your exposed lower back and guides you to the bar. His hand feels like fire on your skin. You almost sighed into his touch but remained stoic as you finally reached the bar. He removes his hand, and you find yourself missing the contact. He orders a refill of his drink along with another glass of wine for you. You were surprised when you took a sip of your wine, finding it to be the same as before. Funny, you don’t remember telling him the exact fae brand you were drinking.

“How did you know what to order for me? I don’t remember telling you what I was drinking.” you look mischievously at him as you take a sip.

“How you vex me! You think after all this time that I’ve known you that I can't tell that you’ve been drinking your favorite wine? Y/n I may not be the brightest flame in the world, but I sure as hell remember the smell of your favorite wine in your breath.” he says with a smirk, remembering all the heated kisses shared between you two. You try to hide the creeping blush from your cheeks, and you too remember those moments all too well. You put a hand to your mouth and breathe out. He was right, you can smell the wine you’ve been consuming.

“I didn’t think the smell would be that strong!” as your nose scrunches up at your breath.

He laughs at how silly you looked trying to smell your own breath. You could not help but laugh at this situation too. You had forgotten what it was like to be around Lucien. The warmth that radiated from him as he laughed had you weak at the knees. You can't help but think how lucky Elain was to have Lucien as her mate. You don’t understand what she doesn’t see in him, and that made you think about Az. He would never see you the way he sees Elain. Hell, he barely even looks at you. So how could you even compete against someone like her?Lucien could tell something was wrong as your face went from laughter to disappointment.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s that pretty little head thinking about?” Lucien had asked concerned, tilting his head to get a better look at you. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you couldn’t help but to ask.

“Lucien, do- do you have a mate?”

“Do I have a mate? Y/n are you okay? Why are you asking this?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry for even asking. I am overstepping my bounds. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” you take a big gulp of your wine. Lucien reaches out his hand and lowers your hand from your mouth.

“Hey! Don’t ever apologize to me for asking a simple question! I was just shocked by how random it was. One minute were laughing and now were on the subjects of mates. It was a very big jump, so I'm sorry for my reaction earlier. Yes, I have a mate, but she- she does not want me...”

“I am sorry Lu, she doesn’t know what she’s missing out on” you give him a faint smile.

“It’s alright. All this time I thought it would be someone else, but the mother had different plans, I guess. What about you? Surely the lovely y/n has found her mate.”

“I have, but it’s kind of complicated...” you look down at your glass as you start to twirl your wine.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how is it complicated?” he asks.

“He doesn’t know about the bond yet...”

“Y/n why doesn’t he know?” Lucien asks, and his eyes are so intense you have to look away. You catch yourself looking for Azriel among the crowd to see if he was looking your way and spy him in that same corner with Elain. Unlike the other times where they were talking, this time they were kissing. A gasp escapes your lips as your heart drops. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as you nearly fall out of your seat. If it wasn’t for Lucien bracing you, you would have. He studies your face for a moment before following and focusing his gaze on where you had just been looking. His grip around you tightens as he watches his mate with Azriel. You can see the realization hit him as soon as he makes eye contact with you again. He now knows... “How about we get out of here, get us a sweet treat, grab a bottle of your favorite wine, and go back to my place to decompress?” He asks rubbing your back.

“That sounds perfect.”

You both get up from the bar and walk toward the door, Lucien’s hand is still on your back. You can feel a gentle caress of your mental shields and you know it’s Rhysand. You lower your shields to let him know that you were leaving, that you would be safe, and that you would be back tomorrow. He doesn’t pry and trusts your judgement. However, that doesn't stop him from turning to his cousin and bombarding her with questions about what the hell was going on.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows

#lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #mor acotar #feyre acotar #rhys acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #elain archeron #acotar x reader #acotar

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riley-writes · 2 months

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Damaged Goods (Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader)

Hi! It’s been soooo long. Grad school will be the death of me. Enjoy this fic that I wrote instead of studying for an exam I’ll take in less than 36 hours that determines whether I graduate or not. This was more fun though. Please excuse any typos I proofread this once and now I have to go study to prove that I can be a professional at hearing people's worst memories while helping them be okay

Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader

You’ve accepted your fate on a planet you don’t even know the name of after being left behind. The last person you expect to see is your ex-friend’s best enemy.

Notes: So reader is gender neutral but there’s a throwaway line that more aligns with the queer/trans experience, but could probably read as anyone who is an outsider or struggled to feel accepted. Enjoy babes!

Warnings: Reference to torture, brief SI language but no followthrough, angst, abandonment. The works.

This certainly wasn’t the way you’d expected to die. Well, that might not be exactly true. You had expected some kind of trouble that you and the fam got into would end in your demise, but foolishly you’d thought that maybe it would be quick.

This was not quick.

While on some godforsaken planet that you couldn’t remember the name of, the Doctor had managed to piss off another alien race, leading to you all fleeing to the TARDIS under heavy fire. And only you hadn’t made it on time.

At first, you’d been confident that the Doctor would come back and rescue you. But the first day passed, and then the second, and then the third, and then before you knew it, you’d been being tortured for… well, you didn’t know anymore. Hard to keep track when you have no clue how long you’ve been passed out for after getting the shit beaten out of you for not knowing where the Doctor had run off to.

You weren’t really sure when you’d started resenting her for it–for leaving you behind. She and the fam had taken you in when no one else was there for you, when no one would accept you for who you were. You had no one back on Earth. And now you had no one period. It hurt. To be left behind and forgotten like a toy that had been broken and discarded.

And that’s what you were. Broken. You’d held onto your spirit for so long, but as you heard the barred door down the hall swing open, you realized that you just wanted it all to end. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t look up as the door to your cell opened and someone was shoved to the ground, followed by the door slamming shut and locking once more.

“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun!” said a familiar voice, causing your blood to run cold. You snuck a quick glance, and confirmed– yes, the Master had just been thrown into your cell. Unfortunately, your movement didn’t go unnoticed, and his head snapped in your direction. You quickly diverted your eyes, but the damage was done. You heard him tut and wander towards you, and your entire body tensed.

“Now what is one of the Doctor’s little pets doing in a place like this? Lost, love?” he asked cruelly. You didn’t respond or look up, still curled in on yourself. He stepped closer and your body got impossibly more tense. Your lack of response encouraged him. “Waiting on your precious Doctor to come and save you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet scoff at that, which egged him on further. “How long has she left you here to rot?” He made an irritated sound when you didn’t respond. “I asked you a ques–,” you saw him reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, vaulting yourself away from him across the cell. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate, breaths coming quicker and quicker. Yep, this was it. You were dying. The Master was frozen in place, an unreadable look on his face.

The only sound was your quick breathing. He took a step forward, and you pushed yourself into the corner as far as you could.

“Don’t…” you sobbed, terrified. The Master held his hands up and took another step forward as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Please,” you whispered.” He hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a moment. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn’t quite place– though that was reasonable, being that you hadn’t been in contact with anyone that had shown you anything but disgust and anger. Still, you didn’t relax.

“You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out. You humans are pathetic like that, only having one respiratory system,” he said with jest, and you let out a short laugh in shock. He took this as a good sign, because he slowly approached and knelt down next to you. He seemed to not quite know what to do, but settled on a gentle hand on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“Now. I’m going to go destroy every other being on this planet, and then we’ll leave. Consider this my good deed of this regeneration. Can’t be ruining my reputation now, can I?” he said quietly. You looked up in surprise, and were met with an intense gaze. You nodded, throwing your trust to someone who’d never shown you anything but disdain up until this moment. What did you have to lose?

And as you got on the Master’s TARDIS, you couldn’t help but wonder what life had in store for you next.

#dhawan!master #doctor who #dhawan!master x reader #gn!reader #hurt/comfort #angst #please tell me I did a good job #did I do a good job?#the master x reader

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vendettaparker · 1 year

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I Don’t Care

summary: just a silly, harmless tiktok prank on peter... right?

warnings: very very slight angst (like so little idk if this should even be a warning), possible typos

word count: 718

a/n: i wrote this before my hiatus and didn’t like it that much, but then i recently reread it and i liked it so here it is :)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tiktok pranks. It was simple; you loved them, Peter hated them, and everyone at least got some sort of entertainment from them.

Of course, with a boyfriend as sensitive as Peter, there were times when the pranks may have been a bit much or went a little too far. Like the time you “broke up” with him using a Tiktok audio. Or the time you held pasta in your mouth and then asked him to crack your back—that one scarred him. He thought he’d broken your back or something and it only took all of ten seconds of you laying limp on the ground for him to burst into tears and call Bruce.

And then of course there was today. The trend was simple, and you’d learned your mistake from the pasta incident, so it was by no means as harsh of a trend. All you had to do was say “I don’t care” at any point in your conversation with Peter to see how he would react. Simple enough, right?

You weren’t even sure what you expected. Maybe you expected him to just be confused or to get slightly annoyed. You definitely could not have predicted what actually happened though.

“I’m not sure about the new suit design,” Peter said as he looked over the holograms. The two of you were in the lab, looking over upgrades for suits that your dad had set up for you to confirm, “If I go back to spandex, I’ll keep getting wedgies when I’m on patrol and I hated that. But the nanotech is glitchy sometimes—it doesn’t run as smooth.”

Peter was rambling, possibly to himself, as you looked at your phone. To him, it looked as though you were looking at emails or scrolling through social media, but really you were recording.

“I also don’t like the new colors. I like the classic red and blue, don’t you? I feel like it’s friendly and just the right amount of childish and it’s just what people expect. Like there’s no way I could go out there in black—”

“I don’t care,” you cut Peter off, not even bothering to look up from your phone, really making you look disinterested in what he had to say.

“Oh,” Peter said quietly, “sorry.”

He pursed his lips and continued to look over his holograms in silence. A few moments when by and Peter didn’t say anything else, so you decided to just stop recording, ready to just apologize and fess up to it being a joke.

You set your phone down and looked up at Peter, now noticing the way his nose was twitching. He even sniffled a little, but quickly hid it under a cough.

“Pete?” You frowned, walking over to him.

“Yeah?” he said sadly, not looking up from his suit designs.

“I’m just messing with you, baby,” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders, “I’m sorry, I do care, I promise.”

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t,” Peter sniffled, “like when you play all these mean pranks on me.”

“Aw, Peter,” you cooed, feeling bad now for even thinking that this would be fun to do. Terrorizing Peter may be fun for you, but he wasn’t fun for him and that was something you hadn’t thought about, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. I really do care about you, you know that, right?”

“I guess,” Peter shrugged, but tears began to spring in his eyes anyways, “I just don’t really think I want to be in a relationship with someone who makes me feel so sad all the time.”

“Peter,” you took his hand, “please, I-I’m sorry, I won’t do any more pranks. I didn’t think it through and I didn’t realize how hard it must be to be on the other end of these pranks. I really do love you, please.”

Peter pulled his hand away and blinked, causing some tears to roll down his cheek, “you didn’t realize how hard it must be?” he asked, looking at you with tears in his eyes.

Now you had tears on your own. You shook your head, “I’m really sorry.”

“Well,” Peter wiped his eyes, “now you know how it feels,” he said as his lips curled into a smile.

“What?” you sniffled.

“Gotcha, babe,” Peter smirked.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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✧tags & moots✧ PERM

@ptergwen @princessofguineapigs @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @hollandcrush @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @loveaffaire @angelmavmurdock @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeelin @slut-for-steve-rogers @kitkatt18-blog @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @prancerrparkerr @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue-blog @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya-blog @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @rqmanoff @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa-blog @freds-slut @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @spider-man-stiles-gubler @wildholland @demirunner @marvelobsessedteen @lolooo22 @moniffazictress11 @sleepybesson @sweetpeterparker @bradtomlovesya @teenwishes08 @hogwartsmarvelmommy @dracoswhore007 @elishi03 @beth-gallagher22 @hunnybunimdun @badbatch-simp24 @raajali3 @vibezayn91 @heyyitsreign @iamsherloki-wholocked @itscaminow @blankspaceblankday @denkisclown @spideysloverera @minejungwoo @dirtytissuebox @princessnnylzays @demirunner @lucypevensie111-blog @dottirose @tiaamberxx @wh0re4zaynmalik @luvwanda @kinlie-l @cevans-winchester @wondergal2001 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @belovedholland @randomstufflol29 @t-lostinworlds @kaitieskidmore1 @milkiane @pandaxnienke @onceuponameli @ju1cyang3l @maximoffbarnesprotectionsquad @indouloureux @d22malfoys @chaoticevilbakugo @princessnnylzays @edgycatx @seolaseoul @evermoresilk @uwiuwi @meghanmhill1 @esposamultifandom @princessatoru @evanstanwhore @AlohaStitch0626 @f-ergj @lovesanimals0000 @eichenhouseproperty @1-800-imagines @aslutformarauders @s-we-e-t-t-ea @queeniequinn @totheblood @liltimmyst @zendayassimp @lnmp89 @chxosunbound @kazbekkarluvbot @bath1lda @gypsytraveler86-blog @madsttx @bitch616 @alicjaalaki @fishingirl12 @tom-hollands-wifey @mymultiveres @alina02 @lastwandastan @olsensnpm @indigocantcosplay @hollandweather @hehehehannahthings @alexxavicry @tomspidertingle

✧ tags & moots✧ PETER PARKER

@hollandlover19 @ietss @fuckingbloodyhello @spencereidshoe @idli-dosa @ghostlyspiderversebeautyfire @heartshapedparker @say-urie @fitzfiles-blog @marvelobsessedsworld @honeyspidey @bangtansighs @blueclouds66 @ariverse616 @procrastimari @peterbenjiparker @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @dnovastark @yappydoo @carmomo18 @ctznlvrgirl @v1rg1nvodkasprite

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spiderman x you #spiderman smut #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman angst

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