#i've been thinking about this au for far too long now and i've written FAR too much about aurel w it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Request: wrong number au, Eddie texts Gareth something personal but puts in 1 wrong number & ends up texting Steve. The two of them hit it off & start chatting & then when they meet IRL they are completely head over heels in love & its cute as fuck

MY LOVE MY LOVE MY LOVE!!! LOVE A GOOD WRONG NUMBER AU!!! I can't believe I've never written it before now. I also had to actually include Gareth because I am actually obsessed with him lately, and I just think it's really neat that we can make these characters our own. This was such a fun and cute request! I didn't do the inappropriate route because I thought this was hilarious so sorry about that. I made up for it with something else! - Mickala ❤️

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GARE BEAR! You won’t believe it but i dropped my phone in a sewer. Lost everything.

He had never been so happy about having his closest friends’ numbers memorized. His phone was somewhere under the streets of Chicago, floating through dirty water and sewage, dying a slow and painful death.

He texted everyone else one at a time, let them know he had a new number and to completely delete the old one because it would never be recovered.

They were used to things like this happening; He lost his phone annually at this point and it was cheaper just to get a new number than transfer everything to a new one.

He went to dial Wayne, the old school part of him insisting on phone calls instead of texts still, when Gareth’s name popped up with a new text.

Not sure who Gare Bear is, but sorry about your phone. That’s shitty.

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

did you mean to make a pun?

Did it make you laugh?

yes

Then yes.

Eddie sat down on a bench, entirely focused on his conversation with this stranger.

Did you find your Gare Bear yet?

Not yet but i think i’m pretty happy talking to you for now

Smooth, Eddie.

Admittedly, he was in a hell of a dry spell.

Going on almost two years, actually.

A little flirting with a stranger never hurt anybody, not when he clearly needed some practice.

Not sure if your Gare Bear would like it very much though

Wait, what?

Eddie stared at his phone, trying to comprehend what that could mean. Why would Gareth not want him talking to a stranger?

I hope you find your partner though!

Oh.

Oh!

Eddie hit the call button in the corner before he could even register what he was doing.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he sounded hot.

“Hi. So, Gareth is very much not my partner. He probably actually wishes I would really forget his number,” Eddie rushed out.

“Um. Okay?”

“He’s been my best friend for ten years and he thinks I’m a mess. Not a partner,” Eddie further clarified.

“Got it. Not a partner.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Eddie coughed.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Steve. Sorry about your phone, seriously that sucks,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, like he personally threw Eddie’s phone in the sewer.

“Oh, no big deal. I lose my phone more often than I go out with someone,” Eddie said.

Why did he say that?

Steve let out a laugh and it was like music.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile taking over his face at his laugh, already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let this guy go without learning more about him.

“So you’re, what? Celibate?” Steve asked.

“Far from it. Well, maybe not far from it. Temporarily, maybe. It’s been a while,” Eddie admitted.

“How long?” Steve asked, a loud bang coming from his end of the phone. “Sorry, I had to go outside for some privacy.”

Eddie wasn’t going to read into that. He wasn’t.

“Two years give or take. I mean I’m not counting shitty dates that ended before they got worse. So, yeah. Two years.”

“Been a year for me, but. Yeah, I get it. My last relationship didn’t end on the best terms. She decided I was too in love with her I guess,” Steve sighed, voice sounding pained.

She.

Steve was probably straight.

There was no way he’d be lucky enough for Steve to like men.

Or for Steve to like him.

“I can’t really imagine breaking up with someone because they loved me too much. I’m usually the one who falls too hard,” Eddie admitted.

“Yeah, well, same here,” Steve sounded sad, a bit withdrawn.

Eddie wanted to hear him laugh again.

“I doubt either of us have ever fallen as hard as my phone did down a drain,” Eddie said sadly.

Steve let out a loud laugh and Eddie smiled.

“This might sound crazy, but I’m kind of glad your phone decided to live in the sewers,” Steve said when he finally calmed down. “And maybe a little too happy that you typed your friend’s number wrong.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Was this flirting? Was he successfully having a flirtatious conversation with a potentially very hot guy?

“So I can be bold and ask if you maybe wanted to meet up somewhere?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“So you’re in Chicago?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“For the last five years, yeah.”

“You busy tonight?”

Eddie’s heart stopped.

He was really going to meet up with a stranger just because he liked his laugh and hoped he was hot.

He’d done more with less.

“Yeah, actually. I’m getting dinner with this guy I accidentally texted,” Eddie smirked, looking down at his feet.

“Dinner? What a lucky guy. Where are you going?” Steve sounded amused.

“Well, it depends on what he likes. I’ve been craving some pierogies. Ever been to Staropolska?” Eddie asked.

Gareth’s family owned it, and he used to eat there two or three times a week while they were in college, usually working off his bill in the kitchen doing dishes after.

He hadn’t been in a couple months, work keeping him busy and his budget being pretty tight when he moved into a studio apartment by himself.

He had enough to treat himself tonight though.

“The one on Milwaukee? Yeah. One of my favorite places to get devolay,” Steve sounded surprised that he knew it.

“You won’t believe this, but the friend I was trying to text when I got you, his family owns that place.”

“No way! Then we have to. We owe it to the guy who has almost my exact phone number,” Steve responded.

“Meet you there at seven?” Eddie asked, suddenly more nervous.

“Seven sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggled. Eddie fell in love.

“We should probably hang up.”

“Should we?” Eddie asked, not wanting to stop talking to him yet.

“Yes, I have to do my hair. Gotta impress the guy who drops his phone in the sewer and texts strangers about it.”

“He sounds like a loser. Don’t put too much effort in,” Eddie sighed. “But okay. See you at seven.”

“See you then.”

They both stayed on the line for a minute.

“Okay. For real. Bye,” Steve laughed.

“Bye, Stevie.”

He hung up before he could convince himself to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.

He breathed out a loud sigh, smiling as he realized he had a date.

He dialed Gareth’s real number immediately.

“Gareth, I have a date!”

“What is this number, Eddie?”

“Oh, I dropped my phone in the sewers. Not important. I have a date!”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. Come over then.”

—-----------------------------------

Gareth had been his pre-date hype man since high school, though he wasn’t very good at it.

Mostly he calmed Eddie’s nerves and helped make sure his hair didn’t look like he just woke up, which was often its unfortunate state of being.

“So, you don’t know this guy,” Gareth said from his bed.

“No.”

“And you talked for like two seconds and decided you’re in love with him,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“And you think this is totally normal and sane?”

“I didn’t say that. But we just…I dunno. We clicked. I haven’t been that at ease with someone in a long time. It felt natural,” Eddie fell back on his bed, starfishing so his arm and leg hit Gareth’s legs.

“Dude, I’m not discouraging it. I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t as easy when you meet,” Gareth said softly.

“Yeah, thanks. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Tell babcia I’m coming by tomorrow for lunch.”

Eddie sat up and gave Gareth a quick hug.

“Thanks Gare Bear!”

—-------------------------------------------

He arrived 20 minutes early so he could sneak in the back to say hi to Gareth’s grandmother, who still insisted on getting her hands on the food every day for a couple of hours despite being nearly 80 years old.

“Babcia!”

“Eddie! My kochany! You forget to visit and I forget what you look like!” she rushed over, flour and oil stains all over her apron.

He should have kept some distance so his shirt didn’t get ruined, but he ignored the part of his brain telling him to look perfect for his date so he could get a hug.

“You know I have to watch my money,” he said against her shoulder.

“And you know I feed you for free if you clean up after yourself. No excuse,” she pulled away and looked him over. “You look handsome. Why?”

Eddie put his hands on his hips.

“What? Don’t I always look handsome?”

“Of course, but this is different. Your hair is smooth and you smell like the perfume store,” she smirked. “Is it a girl? Or a boy? Or a someone?”

“It’s a boy. We’ve never met in person, so I wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted.

“Oh! How lovely! What’s his name?” She was back to kneading dough, but kept her eyes on him.

“Steve. He actually has been here before, loves the devolay?”

Babcia froze.

“Steve? Oh goodness.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands, muttering under her breath about something.

Eddie’s heart sank. Babcia didn’t seem happy about this.

“What’s wrong? You know him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he not a good guy? Has he been mean to you? I’ll call and cancel right now,” he insisted, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He is a very sweet boy. He got broken up with in this restaurant a few months back. Tore me to pieces. He just sat here for hours crying. I moved him to a corner booth for his privacy and he left me a $100 tip and ever since then when he comes in I make sure to give him as many szarlotka as he wants.” She touched Eddie’s shoulder. “You be good to him. He has a nice heart.”

Eddie’s mind raced.

Why had Steve agreed to come here for a date if this is where he’d been broken up with? Why did he even bother coming back if it held such bad memories?

What if he didn’t see this as a date?

The front door chimed and he heard the employee at the front welcome someone.

“He will be good for you, drogi.”

Eddie nodded before making his way to the front, stopping in his tracks when he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen standing at the podium, talking to the employee with a smile.

“That’s him,” Babcia said from behind him. “Go get him.”

She shoved him forward, nearly making him trip, which caught the attention of Steve.

He looked over with a curious smile, and then realization seemed to hit him.

“Steve?” Eddie managed to ask, loud enough to be heard over the few full tables in the restaurant.

“Eddie?” he asked back, hesitantly moving towards him.

“I, um,” Eddie started, then cleared his throat. “I usually sit by the window, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Steve nodded.

It was cliche, like the room around them closed into just them existing together, like the stars had aligned exactly right for this moment to happen.

They sat down at the table Eddie usually sat at, staring across the table at each other in slight awe.

Eddie really hoped that Steve was having the same feelings he was.

But one thing was stopping Eddie from being completely enraptured.

“Is this a date?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Steve seemed surprised by his question. “I mean, yeah. I’d like it to be. I thought it was.”

Eddie nodded once, but remained quiet, thinking.

“Oh God, it wasn’t, was it? You were just being nice. What is it with this restaurant? If I didn’t love the food so much or babcia, I would never step foot here again, I swear-”

Eddie put his hand on Steve’s to calm him down, frown on his face.

“Woah. What?”

“I just. I don’t have the best history with dates here and I guess I didn’t learn the first time something bad happened, and now I’m being too much too fast again in this place and-”

Eddie pulled Steve’s hand up to his face, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Stevie, calm down. This is a date. I’ll have as many dates here as you want to to get rid of whatever negative stuff you associate with this place. Babcia would hate that I ruined this place for you,” he said quietly.

Steve seemed to relax at his words.

And if you wanna tell me about what happened, you can. If it’ll help,” Eddie offered.

Before Steve could reply, Gareth’s cousin, Ben, came to take their order.

It was a quick order, both knowing exactly what they wanted, and then Steve looked back at him.

“It’s just. My last girlfriend, who I was with for almost three years, dumped me here. It was kind of out of the blue for me, and I had a really hard time that night.”

Eddie felt his heart break.

How could someone do that to Steve? He didn’t need to know him better to know that he didn’t deserve that, especially not if babcia had taken him under her wing so quickly.

“She must be awful to have let you go like that,” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand in his, resisting the urge to go to his side of the table and hold him.

Steve shrugged and looked down at their hands.

“I mean, I should have known. She was never much for romance or spending time together that didn’t involve work or school. I was looking at engagement rings and she was looking at apartments to get away from me. I was just…really blinded by what I thought was love,” Steve smiled sadly at him.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, it may have been a type of love. It was more comfort than anything. She was kind of all I had for the first year we were together, and I think I just ignored how unhealthy that was for both of us. And then I met Robin in college, and she was like the opposite of Nancy in every way. A few months before Nancy broke up with me, I told her that Robin’s parents kicked her out when she came out to them and that she needed a place to stay until we graduated. She agreed, then never made any attempt at getting to know her. And I didn’t read into it, Nancy isn’t like, super talkative with people she isn’t already close with, and Robin just kinda stayed to herself when Nancy was home.” Steve took a shaky breath. “But it turns out she didn’t bother getting to know her because she already knew she was gonna break up with me and leave the apartment to me and Robin, so.she just. Didn’t bother. Robin warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Eddie wanted to cry.

Steve’s voice was full of pain, but not in a way that told him he still loved her, or still hoped they would get back together. More that she broke a part of him that he still hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

“Was she jealous?” Eddie asked, trying so hard to understand what could have happened.

“I dunno. I mean, Robin’s a lesbian, and I definitely never had feelings for her anyway. Nancy was always so sure of herself, I can’t imagine she’d be jealous.”

“It sounds like she didn’t appreciate you very much.”

“What do you mean?” Steve didn’t sound mad, just curious.

“Well, she didn’t even make an effort to get to know your best friend, right? And it sounds like she was too busy focusing on her future to even think about what you looked like in it, and instead of trying to plan it with you, she made a future for her. She sounds a bit selfish,” Eddie shrugged.

Instead of being upset, Steve laughed.

God, Eddie loved that laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just that you sound exactly like Robin. You’d probably be two peas in a pod.”

“Tell me about her,” Eddie genuinely wanted to know more about the person who kept Steve going.

Their food arrived in the middle of the story of how Steve and Robin met, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

Eddie listened with a fond smile, filling in Steve’s gaps of silence as he chewed a bite of food with questions or something related to what he’d been talking about.

It was easy.

It was fun.

Halfway through the meal, Steve’s foot rested against one of his and it felt like electricity shooting through his bones.

Eddie told him about Gareth, and his family who had pretty much adopted him when they both moved here from a small town in Indiana. He talked about his uncle who raised him for most of his life, who visited every Christmas despite being on a really tight budget.

Time passed quickly, but not at all.

They hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there until babcia came out without her apron to hand deliver an apple tart.

“You boys enjoy. I’ll see you both soon!” she said as she smacked a kiss on top of each of their heads.

Both of them blushed, but tried to cover it up with a bite of food.

As they finished, Steve looked outside to see how dark it was, how few people were left walking the streets.

“Guess we should head out,” he muttered, sounding like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Would you wanna come to my place? We don’t have to do anything except talk, I promise. I just don’t really want this to end yet,” Eddie suggested.

“Really? I haven’t bored you?” Steve asked, just a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

Eddie shook his head.

“Not at all. I’d really like to get a chance to love you the way you deserve,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Eddie should back up, should say something less intense.

But if this ruined it, then at least he said what he was thinking.

“You think you could love me?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“I think I already do a little,” Eddie admitted.

Steve blinked at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

“I need to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Now? Here?” Eddie smiled.

“Now. Here.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Steve stood from the table and stood in front of Eddie, placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down.

Their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss, softer than Eddie expected.

Steve stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, and Eddie couldn’t help the words tumbling from him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

If someone had said it to him, he would think they were just trying to get him into their bed, but that wasn’t the case here and he hoped Steve knew that.

“People used to call me a charmer, but I don’t think I’m half as good at it as you,” Steve whispered, his breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips.

“Just honest.”

“Take me home,” Steve said, opening his eyes and staring at Eddie, his eyes glowing with something close to love.

—-------------------------------------

They stayed up all night, never doing more than kissing and mapping out patterns on each others’ skin.

They talked about everything, even the painful parts of life, even the parts that they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

It didn’t make any sense that someone who had been a stranger not even 24 hours ago could already mean so much.

When the sun started to shine through the curtains of Eddie’s apartment, Steve sighed and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I have to go to work,” though he burrowed his entire body further into the bed and Eddie’s side.

“You could call in sick,” Eddie suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Robin would kill me.”

He and Robin worked together as team teachers at an elementary school. When one of them missed, it left the other with 34 kids alone.

Plus, Steve loved his job, worked hard to be a teacher, and hated missing a day if he didn’t need to.

“Maybe you could bring Robin here after work? I can make dinner?” Eddie’s job was pretty easy, marketing for an Indie record label based out of New York remotely really kept him busy for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time was spent writing his own music.

Steve sat up and looked down at him, his hair ruffled from Eddie running his fingers through it for the last eight hours.

“You’d wanna meet Robin?”

“Yeah, if you want me to. She sounds like fun.”

Steve started crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry. Good job, Munson, already ruined something good,” Eddie was reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and emotional. And just. It means a lot that you’d wanna meet her,” Steve said between gasps for air as he continued to cry.

“Of course I do. I could even invite Gareth over, too, if you want. He won’t believe that our date went well,” Eddie joked, brushing the tears away from Steve’s cheeks.

“I’d love to meet him,” Steve said, sniffling.

“When can you guys get here?”

“Usually we’re done by four, but sometimes we stay later to finish grading stuff. Maybe we should say six?”

“Got it. Any allergies?”

“Robin is allergic to shellfish. She says she is. I think she just doesn’t like them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No shellfish, got it. Any preferences, my love?”

Steve blushed at the term of endearment, looking down before he leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

“Anything you make will be great.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes for work?” Eddie asked.

“Do you have any business casual stuff?”

Eddie gagged.

“Unfortunately, it’s required for the job sometimes. Far left of the closet should have something,” he nodded towards the small closet by the bathroom.

Eddie watched as Steve walked over and picked out his only pair of khaki pants and a navy button down. Steve looked back at him and winked before he nodded towards the bathroom.

“Could use some help working the shower if you’re willing to,” he smirked.

Eddie jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, ignoring the way Steve was laughing.

“The hot water is tricky sometimes. I should probably get in there too to make sure it stays hot,” Eddie said as he stripped off his pants.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want me to get cold,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “Kiss me?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue brush along his lips just to get a taste.

“Okay?” Eddie checked in.

“Yeah. You remember what you said last night? About loving me like I deserve?”

Eddie nodded.

“I want you to. And I want to love you back.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #gareth emerson #wrong number au #modern au #ficlet #request #getting together

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theyoungeragrippina · 5 months

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✨ 15 gentlebeard fic recs ✨

i have spent the last month trawling the pages of ao3 for you, dear reader, to find the best ofmd fics. all the works on this list:

are longer-form (generally 40k+)

have no steddyhands (simply not my thing)

are generally, all around brilliant (well-written, had me kicking my feet and giggling, laughing, or crying)

are complete!

part 2 and part 3

A Heart Unsated by roughwinds

48k, explicit

"Stede Bonnet has just moved into Orange Crescent. There’s a house on the corner, opposite Stede’s own, with a garden full of flowers and a gleaming motorbike on the driveway. He’s forgotten to buy sugar.

Edward Teach has his morning disturbed by his new neighbour. Enamoured at first sight, he invites Stede round for a chat, and then another, and then another.

This is the story of them."

man i normally avoid fics with lots of alma and louis in them because its just not for me, but literally every second of the family bonding in this was so wholesome i was forced to change my entire mind.

all you left me was a pearl by @sightofsea

88k, mature

"1717. The Golden Age of Piracy. Stede Bonnet sets about wooing the love of his life through any means necessary.

Things do not go as planned."

every day i wish for a precise memory erasing potion to be invented so i can read this again for the first time. i would devour like 2000k more words of this if it was offered to me. brilliant.

forgive & forget by @fool-for-luv

44k, mature

"It hits him then, like a wave breaking on sand, loud as thunder when it crashes, then trickling away into little rivulets flowing back home, murmuring one word over and over and over. Ed.

The problem is, Stede doesn’t recall ever having met anyone named Ed."

so sweet and wonderful, and i wish there was more.

#gentlebeard is trending! by regional_catastrophe

41k, teen

"In which Stede accidentally convinces the pirating world that Gentlebeard (or Blackbonnet or Stedward; there's a poll) is canon, reunites his crew, and gets his boyfriend back."

hilarious & silly & great, but also the most compelling notes of any fic i've ever read. a proper learning experience.

if music be the food of love (then darling, you're a feast) by @fool-for-luv

107k, unrated

"“Hey, so, those two, right, they get together in the end?” Ed asks.

“I would protest spoiling it, but I think it's rather obvious, isn't it?” Stede says. His nose wrinkles as he smiles. “The tension is certainly there from the beginning. It just takes them a while to get there.”

“Good. Would have been a shit story otherwise.""

i love sassy stede and i love ed who is a grump and i love that they share one single braincell at any given time.

If You Were Mine to Keep by @mysterybees

162k, explicit

"Caught between the gallows and the end of an English sword, Ed accepts the Act of Grace: marry into the aristocracy, leave the English ships alone, and live to sail another day. But who in their right mind would ever agree to marry the mad devil pirate Blackbeard?"

Worth every second of tiredness I felt after pulling an all nighter to finish reading.

It's Only Right by hexuponye

53k, explicit

"A modern AU based on Imagine Me & You, in which Edward is a florist who does the flowers for Stede's wedding."

mary gets to be a little silly sometimes too as a treat.

pliocene by unfortunatelyobsessed

75k, mature

""man, it's just ocean for miles.” Ed motions out to the waves, where there is no sign of any sort of ship, their small dinghy pulled far up on the sand. “I told you when the clouds look like seagulls you take fuckin' cover. Goddamn ocean mutinied me.”"

william golding wishes he did something this brilliant and significant when he wrote Lord of the Flies. the best deserted island story.

quite a career shift by @stedesparasol

157k, explicit

"Stede's been posting book reviews on Youtube for two months now. It's taken him that long to finally get a comment, and the person it comes from is rather unexpected."

rip stede you would've LOVED booktube. furious i can never really watch his content.

Semaphore by komodobits

124k, explicit

"Talking things through as a crew is easier said than done, and honest communication has never really been Stede’s strong suit. When it comes to Ed, he is willing to try."

so good that i was properly and truly laughing and gasping and 'oh no-ing' out loud while i read it.

Such Joie de Vivre by @louciferish

94k, explicit

"Professional thief Edward Teach is tired of hole in the wall apartments, shitty pub food, and skipping town every few months to keep the cops off their tail. He’s well past the age he meant to flee the country and retire, and all he needs is One Last Job to set him up for life. When he hears that some rich bastard outside of town has just the sort of treasure he’d trade his good knee for, Ed sets out in disguise to get the lay of the land."

i (so so foolishly) avoided reading this for a while because i simply didn't think i was one for nanny aus. i was so, terribly wrong. don't make the same mistakes i did. showstopping. incredible stuff.

The Chains of Flowers are Fragile Things by @grandmastattoo

62k, explicit

"Stede can't see the shop he's inherited from his late father as anything other than a burden, another insult added to a life that's going nowhere fast. Then he meets the charismatic man who owns the tattoo studio next door, and Stede finds himself forced to consider the idea of home."

maybe i love tattoo shop owner ed fics, sue me. i love this stede and i love his embarrassing mistake tattoo.

The Love Experiment by karawrites

65k, mature

a married at first sight (aus) au. i didn't know i needed it until i read it.

Water/line by @the-gentleman-mermaid

60k, teen

"During a raid on a smuggler ship, Ed finds a merman named Stede locked in the hold."

So good that I would actually pay the author real person money to do a similar story but where Ed is the mermaid.

Where the Daylight Begins by @xoxoemynn

116k words, explicit

"Modern day AU slow burn featuring a pining Ed, a clueless Stede, found family, roughly a million animals, and a very magical house."

This one sort of gave me House on the Cerulean Sea vibes; it was so much fun and genuinely necessitates a proper use of the word whimsical.

#i will add more as i keep reading!!#pls send me recs too i have brainrot so all the media i consume has to be about pirates rn #hopefully there is at least one thing in here you haven't read before!#thanks for listening #if your fic is on this list know that i love you #our flag means death #ofmd #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fic recs #gentlebeard fanfic #blackbonnet #blackbonnet fic recs #blackbonnet fanfic

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yeoosaangg · 6 months

Text

Love Me Harder || Kinktober - Day 30

pairing ▸ choi yeonjun × choi beomgyu × f!reader

now playing ▸ love me harder - ariana grande, the weeknd

⤷ ❝if you know about me and choose to stay, then take this pleasure and take it with the pain.❞

genre ▸ non-idol au, smut

warnings ▸ bondage, daddy kink, voyeurism, spanking, free use, throat fucking, gagging, praise, fingering, breeding, dumbification

--------

You are a young reporter that was assigned to do a story on bondage and BDSM, so you've agreed to be a bondage slave for a week to see what it's really like.

So far, you've read and signed three different contracts: one for consent, another for safety, and a third listing different kinks that you've modified to your liking.

Yeonjun: Before we start, I have some things to go over with you.

Beomgyu: Me too.

You smile at both men, thinking they look great together. There's so much love between them, it makes you wonder why they accepted the offer.

Yeonjun: I'll be giving you a rundown of the seven days you'll be living here and what to expect to avoid accidentally triggering you.

That's very considerate of him.

Beomgyu: But before that, I wanted you to know that it's been a while since I've let my dominant side take over. I may take it too far, so I want to let you know in advance that using the safety cues we've established is very much encouraged.

You nod slowly, registering the information in your head. You can tell he's genuine and truly does not want to scare or hurt you at all.

Beomgyu: I've been with Yeonjun for a long time, but he's a true dom while I'm a switch. It's difficult to navigate around it because there are days where I'm feeling particularly dominant myself but have no way to release it.

Yeonjun: It's true. Those days it's hard to figure out if he's just resisting to be a bratty sub or if he's just not feeling particularly submissive.

Beomgyu: Those days I have to call out the safe word so he knows not to push me. So when we saw your advertisement online, we thought it'd be a step in figuring out if a polyamorous relationship is what's needed.

That's a lot to take in, but it at least gives you insight to why they accepted this arrangement.

You hope one day they'll be able to establish a system that coincides with their needs. This makes good coverage for your article as well.

Yeonjun: Monday will be your trial run. You'll get to sit back and watch how Beomgyu and I navigate our relationship with each other. This is the only day we won't be sexual with you.

Sounds fair.

Yeonjun: The two days following, you'll be splitting chores and wearing matching clothes with Beomgyu. This is when I get to play with both of you sexually. But it'll start off lightly as to not push your limits.

You nod.

You read the contracts and it was clear they did, too. You trust them to treat you well.

Beomgyu: The following three days, you'll be my personal human fuckdoll. I get to dress you, feed you, and bathe you - basically take care of you as I wish whether it's sexual or not. Yeonjun will not be joining us until the very last day.

Wow, okay.

The room was suddenly getting hot.

Yeonjun: And for your last day, we'll both be fucking you. You will be ours to use however we see fit. This will possibly be the most extreme we'll be, so make sure to remember you have options to opt out.

Y/n: I understand.

Yeonjun: Great. We've already got your room situated. It's late, so we'll let you get some sleep.

Y/n: Thank you.

You stand up and bow before heading upstairs to the guest room. Your name was written on a white board, which hangs off a hook.

You have to remind yourself that this is for your job, nothing more.

Monday:

Beomgyu knocks on your door at 7AM on the dot. You were already showered and dressed in the clothes labeled for the day.

They definitely prepared everything in advance, which must've taken a lot of work.

Beomgyu: Good morning, Miss Y/n.

He giggles as he shows off his pink dress.

He had his hair in pigtails with pick ribbon wrapped around the band.

He looks adorable.

Y/n: You look pretty, Beomgyu.

Beomgyu: Thank you, Miss Y/n. And please, call me Beomie.

You nod while smiling.

Y/n: Well, Beomie, let's go eat breakfast.

He intertwines your hands together and walks with you down the stairs.

You both are greeted with the smell of pancakes and a shirtless Yeonjun. He was wearing grey sweats and an apron.

Yeonjun: Good morning, Y/n. I see my princess has grown attached to you already.

Beomgyu: Miss Y/n called me pretty.

Yeonjun: And she's right. Come give Daddy a kiss.

Beomgyu skips to his boyfriend and gives him a deep kiss, bodies pressed up against each other.

Yeonjun: Sit down with Y/n so she's not lonely.

Breakfast was comfortable to say the least. They included you in the conversation and kept you entertained until Yeonjun inevitably left for work.

You spent the next few hours watching Beomgyu clean the house and do the laundry. He did everything with a smile on his face, almost like he enjoyed being a housewife.

Beomgyu: Miss Y/n, would you like to watch some movies with me?

Y/n: Of course I would.

He let you choose what to watch and loved every single one.

He got a few texts from Yeonjun, mostly to check up on him.

Beomgyu thought it'd be fun to rile him up, so he asked you to take pictures of him in very provocative poses to send.

And Yeonjun's response got Beomgyu all hot and horny.

He was advised not to touch himself, but that only made the younger want to do it even more. And now that you're here, maybe he won't get as bad of a punishment.

So he spreads his legs open, holding his panties to the side as he works himself open. You only watched and filmed him, sending the videos when he asks.

So when nighttime comes and Yeonjun gets back home, he's got his boyfriend bent over the couch with his cock deep inside him.

This was after a series of intense belt whoopings.

Yeonjun: Such a fucking brat. Think Y/n's gonna stop me from fucking you stupid? Of course not.

You just watch them from the other end of the couch. Beomgyu was bent over the arm rest, dress still on as he gets drilled from behind.

Yeonjun didn't even strip down, work pants open enough for his cock to spring free.

You can see drool falling out of Beomgyu's mouth as Yeonjun slams his hips harder against his ass.

Yeonjun: Look at you, a whimpering mess for my cock. You like the idea of being watched by Y/n, don't you.

Beomgyu nods, looking up at you. This only make his back arch more. Yeonjun's cock hits his prostate, making the younger scream.

Yeonjun: Gonna cum for me, princess?

Beomgyu: Yes, Daddy.

Yeonjun chuckles and reaches around to pump his boyfriend's aching cock until he dirties the couch. He cums deep inside Beomgyu not too long after.

Beomgyu: I love you, Daddy.

Yeonjun: I know, baby. Sorry if I was too rough on you.

Beomgyu: S'Okay. I love when you fuck me like a slut.

They both clean each other up, getting ready for bed. You dismiss yourself and spend the rest of the night masturbating.

All of that riled you up more than you thought possible. You can't wait for what tomorrow will bring.

Tuesday:

Beomgyu once again knocks on your door right on the dot. But this time, both of you were wearing matching blue dresses with blue ribbons in your hair.

Beomgyu: You look pretty, Y/n.

You giggle and give him a spin. A fond smile pulls at his lips.

Y/n: Thank you, Beomie.

Beomgyu once again holds your hand as you walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Yeonjun greets both of you with a kiss on the forehead.

Yeonjun: Good morning, my little doves. I'll be working from home today.

Beomgyu: Really?!

Yeonjun: Yes, my precious baby. That means I get to be with you two all day.

Y/n: Sounds wonderful, Mr. Yeonjun.

You guys sit down and eat the eggs and sausage he's prepared. After finishing, you and Beomgyu wash the dishes; he rinses and you dry.

Halfway through, you feel Yeonjun press up against you from behind. His cock was out, rubbing in between your thighs.

Yeonjun: Look at you, being a good girl and washing the dishes.

Beomgyu giggles next to you. He can see you getting shy and needy.

Yeonjun bends you over the sink just enough so you can still dry the dishes. He pulls your panties to the side so his cock slides up and down your folds.

He slaps your ass, watching it bounce back.

Yeonjun: Want me to fuck you, darling?

You grab the plate from Beomgyu's hands and try your best to dry it. But you just feel so good.

Y/n: Yes, Mr. Yeonjun.

And who is he to deny you?

Yeonjun: Princess, why don't you stop for a second to kiss my darling? I bet you want to drink up all her moans as Daddy pounds into her cunt.

Beomgyu dries his hands before pressing his chest into your side. He pulls your face closer to him and kisses you at the same time Yeonjun shoves his cock inside you.

You moan into Beomgyu's mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of your warm mouth.

Yeonjun pulls your dress underneath your braless tits, squeezing them. He lightly smacks your nipples, moaning against your ear.

Yeonjun: Play with her pussy, baby.

Beomgyu's right hand travels down to your clit, swallowing a whine that slipped out from the back of your throat. The stimulation from both men was sending you over the edge.

Yeonjun: I think she wants to cum, princess. Let me hear her beg.

Beomgyu steps back from you, hand still rubbing your pussy.

Y/n: Can I please cum, Mr. Yeonjun. Feels so good.

Yeonjun: What do you think, Beoms? Does Y/n deserve to cum yet?

Beomgyu: She does, Daddy. She's been good.

Yeonjun: You're right, baby, she has. Go ahead, darling. Cum all over my big dick.

Beomgyu presses his finger against your clit to help you cum while Yeonjun rams his cock along your gummy walls. The knot in your stomach undoes itself, leaking around the thick cock inside you.

Yeonjun pulls out of you and has you fall to your knees in front of him. He pumps his cock a few times before cumming on your tongue.

Yeonjun: Swallow it.

You gulp down everything, showing him a clean mouth.

Yeonjun: Good girl.

You get up and get back to doing the dishes.

Beomgyu easily continues his task while Yeonjun fucks him. This must be a regular occurrence on the days Yeonjun stays home.

Beomgyu walks around with Yeonjun's cum leaking down his legs as you both split the chores. You're on laundry duty while Beomgyu cleans the bathroom.

Yeonjun sits in his office doing paperwork for his company. He honestly doesn't have to be there all the time given that he's the CEO.

Both you and Beomgyu come together to make Yeonjun lunch.

He has you two ride him when the stress gets to him. You both cum on him, leaving him a gasping mess. He still has to finish work, but he wants more of you two.

Yeonjun: Princess, please help Y/n into some rope. I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes. You two better be on your knees when I get down there.

Beomgyu: Yes, Daddy.

Beomgyu grabs your hand and leads you down to their basement.

Y/n: What's downstairs?

Beomgyu: Daddy's Red Room. He built it himself.

You tilt your head, following behind him until your socked feet land on soft material. He switches the light on and the sight shocks you.

It was a BDSM sex dungeon with all sorts of thing.

Beomgyu: What color of rope would you like?

You look at the four options in his hands and decide to keep the theme of the day: blue.

He takes both of your clothes off, his touch lingering on your body as he takes in your fully naked body for the first time.

He can't wait until his turn with you.

He starts wrapping the rope around your body. He obviously knows how to make sure it's tight enough to stay on your body, but loose enough to not cut your blood circulation.

Beomgyu: You look beautiful, Y/n.

You smile shyly, looking away slightly.

He helps you onto the very comfortable bed, sitting you on your knees. You watch him tie some rope around himself, kneeling right next to you.

Yeonjun's footsteps eventually echo down the stairs until he makes it to the bottom.

He takes in the sight of you two pliantly waiting for him. You walks over and pulls Beomgyu into his chest by the ropes.

Yeonjun: Suck my cock.

His boyfriend kneels down, immediately taking his cock and deep throating him.

Yeonjun: Come here, darling.

You walk over to him and gasp when he bends you over Beomgyu's head. His fingers work you open, knuckles deep inside your swollen pussy.

Yeonjun reaches down with the other hand and pushes Beomgyu's head all the way down, tip hitting the back of his throat. You can hear him gag while you squirt on Yeonjun's fingers.

Y/n: Feels so food, Mr. Yeonjun.

He smacks your ass twice before making you stand properly. He cums down Beomgyu's throat, pulling him up by his throat.

Yeonjun: Both of you get on the bed, on all fours.

You two immediately do as he says, backs arched for him to see your holes.

He grabs two different hooks, and brings them down to both of you.

Yeonjun: This might be uncomfortable. Feel free to say the safe word if it's a no-go.

It was an anal hook.

He covers your hole in lube, using his fingers to work you open. He doesn't stop until you're gaping.

Beomgyu watches as his boyfriend slowly inserts the hook, your hole closing in around the end.

Yeonjun: God, that's so beautiful.

Beomgyu: So perfect.

You whine at the new feeling. Yeonjun presses a button, the chain rattling as it suspends your lower half in the air. You let out whimpers of pain, worrying both men.

Beomgyu: Are you okay? Should we take it off?

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip.

Y/n: Feels good.

Yeonjun massages your ass to soothe your aching pain.

He suspends Beomgyu by the ropes, ass hanging in the air. He reaches over to hold your hand.

To keep you grounded!

Because he saw the glazed look in your eyes.

At least that's what he told himself.

Yeonjun takes turns in fucking both of you to exhaustion, watching slump down while he fucks you two dumb.

Yeonjun: Should I breed the new pet, princess? Watch my cum spill out of her hole then fuck it back into her womb? Or should I spill it into your greedy asshole?

Beomgyu whines, Yeonjun's cock repeatedly hitting his prostate.

Beomgyu: Breed the angel.

Yeonjun: You like the idea of me fucking my babies into someone else?

Beomgyu: Yes, Daddy.

Yeonjun: Then cum for me so I can fill her pussy with my seed.

Beomgyu tiredly reaches for his own cock and uses Yeonjun's thrusts to spill his cum all over the satin sheets. He just slumps, Yeonjun unhooking him.

You scream when he suddenly slams his cock into you. His balls hit your clit, hips stuttering when he feels you squeeze around him.

Yeonjun: Can't even make sounds anymore, too far gone to even move. But your cunt is still hungry for my cock, darling. Why don't you cum for me, hm?

It was an automatic response, pussy squirting on his big and veiny cock. He spills inside you, fucking it as deep as he could.

You don't even register when he frees you from the hook, cleaning both you and Beomgyu up with a towel.

He carries you both upstairs to the main bathroom where the tub was big enough for both of you.

Beomgyu was coherent enough to help wash you up, but you were out of it. Everything felt fuzzy and tingles ran up your arms.

Your entire body hurts, but mostly your lower half. If you're already this far gone, how the hell were you going to survive the rest of the week?

---

a/n: decided to make this a two parter since i'm sleep deprived. it'll be out in november! thanks for reading ‹𝟹

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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

Text

The Coronado Story - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Your marriage to Bradley was fraught with issues -- you married far too young to a man who was far too immature. Several years have passed, and now, you're engaged to the perfect gentleman. Everything is going wonderfully in the days leading up to your wedding - until Bradley reappears into your life.

A/N: this is an AU fic I've been wanting to write for a really long time, based loosely on the plot of one of my all-time favourite movies, The Philadelphia Story. I was really nervous about this one because it's the longest fic I've ever written, and it's completely self-indulgent, but I love it.

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader / Bob Floyd x Reader / Bradley Bradshaw x Reader / Bob Floyd x OC (sort of?)

warnings/content: divorce, mentions of children, affairs/cheating (briefly mentioned), Bradley being a shitty husband, heartbreak, angst, fluff, love triangles, female reader but no description (I think?), named side OC side characters.

word count: 9.2k

The time to make up your mind about people is never.

As the morning sunlight poured in through the bay window of your bedroom, you squinted and groaned, covering your eyes with your comforter, refusing to get up and out of bed at this hour. Turning to face your alarm clock, you were dismayed to see that it was only just 7 AM, far too early for any normal person to be awake and functioning as of yet. You knew that your definition of normal was skewed - you were sheltered your whole life, the only controversy you’d ever faced was your divorce from your ex-husband, Bradley Bradshaw that took place eight years prior, and even then, it was only scandalous for the reasoning behind it.

You and Bradley were simply young, dumb and in love - the biggest mistake anyone could make, in your mind. No sane person would get married under those circumstances, you were sure of it, and certainly not when they’ve only known their spouse for six months - but you and Bradley were anything but sane when it came to one another.

Smitten and head over heels in love, unable to focus on anything outside of one another - you were crazy for him, and he was crazy for you. However, the romance was fleeting, and no sooner than it had burned strong and bright, did the fire fizzle out on you both. Your marriage lasted all of 12 months, no children produced as a result, and nothing to show for it other than a piece of paper and a simple surname change on your part.

In fact, children were one of the sore spots in your relationship - while you wanted them, sooner rather than later, Bradley was unconvinced. Having been orphaned by his sixteenth birthday, and now serving as an aviator in the US Navy, Bradley wasn’t sure how to be a parent. He was barely sure about marriage for that matter. He wanted it - he wanted it with you more than anything, he thought - but when it came down to it, he got scared. Terrified of leaving behind a family the same way his dad had when he was a toddler.

Bradley hadn’t even been toilet trained when his father died - his memories of him were whatever was relayed to him through stories from his mother and his father’s friends, news clippings from his time in the Navy and his medals and ribbons received during his service. Otherwise? The man was a stranger to him, and that was something that scared Bradley more than anything. However much you loved him, you couldn’t stay in a marriage that had no future, and Bradley felt the same. Bradley had enjoyed partying and having fun far more than being a husband, and it showed.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you held your breath, hoping and praying it was just a text message that you could easily ignore and respond to later. However, it continued to ring, spasming against the hard wooden top of the table, causing more noise than necessary. You sleepily extended your arm out to grab it, cursing under your breath at whoever in their right mind would call you this early in the morning. That was, until you saw the caller ID, and realized it was your new beau, Jake.

“Good mornin’ beautiful!” Jake drawled out, his Texan accent thick and velvety smooth as he spoke.

“Good morning,” you hummed sleepily, rubbing your eye with one of your hands before letting out a yawn and sighing.

“Sorry, honey, did I wake you?”

“Mhmm? No, no, I was already getting up.”

“Listen, baby, I just wanted to call and say I can’t wait to marry you. You’re the love of my life, you know that?”

“I think you may have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Good, I’m not gonna stop mentioning it to you.”

You shook your head and giggled softly, a happy sigh escaping your lips as you thought about your upcoming nuptials to Jake. You were going to be Mrs. Jake Seresin in a matter of days - hours in fact - and you were excited to finally move on from your time as Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw, a chapter of your life that you tried desperately to hide.

You’d hoped that moving back to your family home in California would help you escape it - your family’s sprawling beachfront home in Coronado, dating back to the 1920s, complete with all the historic art deco era charms and graces, was welcoming and inviting when you returned from your failed marriage in Virginia.

No sooner than you had moved home did Jake cross your path. Another aviator - a type you’d apparently developed without realizing it - but this time, confident and cocksure, not needing a reminder of your existence, or forgetting how to be in love, never wavering on his stance on your future, or the idea of having children - Jake was, well, perfect. Or as close to perfect as a person could be, anyways.

With his broad shoulders, Southern charm, piercing green eyes and perfectly styled golden blonde hair, Jake was maybe the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Sure, Bradley was gorgeous - a stark contrast to Jake’s perfect appearance, with dark curly hair, sunkissed with honey coloured highlights scattered throughout, amber coloured eyes that changed depending on his mood, and a neatly trimmed mustache that looked fresh out of 1984 - but he was no Jake. No one was Jake.

“I’ll be home from this mission soon enough, ok darlin’? Then I’ll come runnin’ right over there to marry your pretty little self.” “I expect nothing less, Lieutenant Seresin. In full dress whites, too, I hope.”

“Of course, nothing but the best for my girl.”

My girl. The way he said it felt so melodic, so beautiful. Bradley had called you that once in a while, and at first when Jake did, it stung. You’d almost convinced yourself not to let him use it as his term of affection for you because of it, yet, the way he said it was so different. You felt compelled to let him continue using it. Now, it only made you think of Bradley occasionally, a slight twinge of melancholy when you heard it, but nothing enough to trigger an unwanted memory or feeling of longing for your ex- husband.

After your conversation with Jake, you took your time getting dressed, paying special attention to your hair as you got ready for the day. You wanted everything to be perfect - your wedding wasn’t for another two days, but you couldn’t help but stress over every minute detail. If you didn’t take care of preserving your hair’s silky smooth feeling today, you’d run the risk of compromising it’s styling ability in two days - a risk you couldn’t afford to take. Not when your wedding had become somewhat of a mild celebration in the San Diego Bay area.

Your family was wealthy, to put it incredibly mildly. Your father had started his own investment firm back in the 1980s, just before meeting your mother, and his success had grown exponentially over the years. He now stood as one of the richest men in the country, and since you were one of only two children - you’d become quite the celebrity as soon as you turned 16. Your sweet sixteen party rivaled those seen on MTV - you’d declined any prodding from your friends to televise your party, your father had assured you that only families who were insecure about their financial situation felt the need to flaunt it so tastelessly on television.

When you’d met Bradley, he had no idea. You’d moved out to Virginia to get away from your life in California, having been accepted into Old Dominon University, entering into their Journalism studies program. You were looking for something, anything to give you some semblance of normalcy in your early twenties, desperate to feel the same way your friends from high school did about going off to start their higher education and studies. You didn’t like being left out, and college life was no exception.

It was your second year when Bradley wandered into your life. You opted to hit the beach with a couple of friends, making the half-hour drive out to Virginia Beach to sunbathe and enjoy the seasonably warm spring that had descended upon you. There, he caught your eye.

He was tall and lean, broad shouldered and wearing tight-fitting denim shorts that sat low on his hips, showing off his sleek, toned abdomen. His skin was olive-toned, you could tell he spent a lot of time at the beach, and without a shirt. He looked to be a few years older than you, but it was almost impossible to tell, he looked like an adonis of sorts. Aviator sunglasses perched just slightly askew on a slightly crooked nose - the signature bump to his nose a tell-tale sign of a previous break, yet somehow, you found it made him even more attractive. A rogue volleyball sent him your way - and his charming smile and sense of humour had you ready to exchange your phone number with him within a matter of seconds.

Bradley had been stationed at NAS Norfolk, and, like most people, wanted to enjoy his day off away from work. He and a couple of his naval buddies had headed to the beach for the day, similarly to you, and the rest was history. To a 21 year old, the prospect of dating a 32 year old seemed so appealing - so rebellious and thrilling. Bradley was immature for his age, a side effect of growing up way too quickly as a young teenager, needing to care for his mother when she became sick, and doing so until her unfortunate passing four years later. He was only fifteen at the time, and suddenly was left relatively on his own - moving in with his grandmother while he finished high school, but venturing out on his own by the time he reached his eighteenth birthday.

Your thoughts of your time with Bradley would come and go, especially now as your wedding to Jake approached. It made sense to you, the reminders of a failed marriage encroaching in on you as you prepared for another marriage to begin. You just continued to push them aside, reminding yourself that Jake was not Bradley, and Bradley would never be Jake. They were two completely opposite people - Jake was better at treating you like a princess, the way you were always accustomed to growing up, while Bradley was better at the silly little things, the affectionate kisses stolen whenever no one was around to see, a protective hand on your hip at all times. Jake excelled where Bradley had lacked, but the same could be said the other way around too. Not that you wanted to even think about that. Bradley was the last thing you wanted to think about.

You bounded down the winding staircase to find your parents seated at the breakfast table, your younger sister, Kylie tucking into a bowl of cereal as she sat next to your empty seat. Your father’s stern expression as he read the paper, something you tried to tell him that no one did anymore since the advent of tablets and e-readers, was a sign to you that he too was stressed. You knew he worried about your marriage to Jake being another waste of money and resources, but this time you were sure, you told yourself. You assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself.

“Good morning, darling,” your mother’s voice rang out in a sing-song fashion, “have a good conversation with Jake this morning?”

“We heard you gushing to him over the phone up there,” Kylie quipped, grinning as she spooned some more cereal into her mouth.

“I wasn’t gushing. I was simply returning the affection he was giving.”

“You and Jake make me sick,” Kylie scoffed, shaking her head, “I don’t remember Bradley being this nauseating.”

“Bradley,” you snapped, “wasn’t good at anything when it came to matters of the heart. All he cared about was flying planes and having a good time. What kind of a husband is that?”

“A fun one,” Kylie muttered as she avoided your mother’s death glare.

“Jake’s wonderful to your sister, Kylie. You know that. He’s just wonderful.”

“Yeah, yeah, the sun shines out of his ass and everything,” your fifteen year old sister piped up, grinning.

“Mom, please tell me why you decided to give me a sibling when I was 15. I didn’t need it. I was fine being an only child.”

“Will you two just cut it out? You both sound like incessant children,” Your father grumbled as he finished the last dregs of coffee from his cup.

“I gotta go,” Kylie said before standing abruptly and dropping her bowl into the sink with a thud, “Meeting my friends at the ferry port. We’re going shopping for the day.”

Your father nodded his head in approval, an incoherent mumble coming from his direction as he continued to read the paper. Your mother waved Kylie off, smiling as she sent her on her way, as if she’d just dropped her off at school for her first day of kindergarten. The attention then turned back to you, something you were dreading, because it felt like all anyone in your family wanted to talk about anymore to you was…

“I want to talk about Bradley, darling.”

Shit.

“What about him?”

“You should know, we saw him the other day.”

“Oh? How lovely for you.”

“He’s grown into quite the responsible young man.”

“That’s fantastic, mother. Is that why Kylie’s so in love? Tell her to wait three years, I’m sure he’d be open to dating her when she turns eighteen.”

Your mother scolded you almost immediately for your comment, and you had to admit, as soon as it left your mouth, you regretted saying it. In fact, Bradley had been so nervous about the eleven year gap that you and him had shared, that you were almost positive he’d never date someone under thirty now.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”

“Well, Jake’ll be home soon enough.”

“On our wedding day, yeah. I’ll see him then.”

“Exactly! Bradley wished you well. He said he’s glad you’re happy now.”

“I’m sure he is, Mom.”

You shook your head in disbelief before getting up, setting your unused plate and cup in the sink out of habit. You sighed and grabbed your purse from the hook where it sat by the door, slipping into your shoes.

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.”

“Alright, when you come home we’ll finalize your seating arrangements and the minor details for Saturday!”

You hurried out the door and sighed, taking in a deep breath of the salty ocean breeze as you tried to find some clarity. You hated knowing that Bradley was this close to you, but you knew the odds of seeing him again were close to zero. San Diego was a huge city, and he could be stationed at any number of bases in the area, or none at all. He could be visiting for all you knew. You resolved to not worry about it - whatever Bradley did hadn’t been your business for nearly a decade. He might have been remarried with children by now for all you knew.

As you headed down the street towards Orange Ave. to check out the shopping district for some retail therapy, you furrowed your brow. Something just didn’t feel right. You couldn’t describe what it was, but something was definitely off.

Now settled into a booth at the coffee shop in the heart of Coronado, you flipped through your Instagram feed, scrolling past selfie after selfie, accomplishments of your high school and college peers on display with no discretion as to what was shared. So-and-so’s son took their first bowel movement on the potty? It was posted as vital information for anyone interested in her life to know. Your college roommate’s brother’s dog died? Documented for everyone who followed her to see.

You looked up from your phone when you heard a familiar voice. The voice of someone from your past. You knew that voice anywhere.

“I’m telling you, she still lives here. I know she does. I checked her social media. If they want me to document her wedding to this poor bastard, I’m going to do it. I’m just going to hate every second of it when I do.”

Bob Floyd, in the flesh.

Bob had been a classmate of yours at Old Dominion - he was one of the few who entered into the realm of Journalism. His drive and passion for telling the truth was admirable, a quality he always strove to make his best-known trait throughout the four years you’d spent at school together. Bob was sweet towards you, understanding and sympathetic towards your craving for normalcy in a life that was, by most people’s standards, anything but normal. He’d supported your need for an escape from your life in California at the time, which was something you were always grateful to him for.

“Who lives here?” You piped up, your interest piqued as you overheard Bob’s conversation with his female companion.

“Hey! Just the gal I was looking for. How have you been?”

“Fine,” you responded bitterly as you sipped your drink, the ice in the plastic cup rattling as your hand moved.

“I s’pose you overheard all that?”

“I did indeed. I didn’t realize my wedding to Jake was worthy of your attention.”

“It’s not that - I write for a magazine, they sent me here to cover it.”

“They sent you? Despite the fact I’ve requested no media coverage?”

“Your request for no coverage just made a target for you - now everyone wants to cover it. They’re fighting left right and center out there for a chance to even get near the venue. I only got out here because I know the area from when I came to visit that time. And because I follow you on your Instagram. Did you know your posts aren’t all privated?”

“Forgive me for assuming that there was some human decency to be had out there.”

“You studied Journalism. You know better than anyone else that it’s a dying art form.”

“What do you want, Bob?”

“An exclusive story centering on you and your new husband to be, and the luxury of being the only one to cover your wedding. Trust me, I’m the reporter you’d want covering it. I know you already and know how exactly to portray you. And how to avoid a lawsuit for slander or libel, which just becomes messy later down the line.”

You sighed, looking at your cup for a moment before meeting his gaze once again.

“Fine. But only if your little friend here keeps her mouth shut about it outside of a professional scope.”

“Deal,” the brunette standing beside him replied, smiling politely as she nodded her head. You couldn’t help but get the sense that there was more to it than just wanting to advance his career, but you didn’t have time to think about that, or even to care, really.

An hour later, Bob and his female friend, whose name you’d already forgotten, were following you up the marble steps of your family home. You had every intention of living with Jake, as soon as he returned from his deployment. You technically did live with him, but with this most recent shipment out and the memories of your previous marriage flooding back to you, you knew it was in your best interest to stay with your parents for a while, at least until Jake returned home.

As you headed inside, you heard Kylie babbling from the other room. You could just barely make out the sound of the person she was talking to, the distinct baritone sounds and unique lilt something you know you’ve heard before. Something you’d hoped you’d never have to hear again.

Bradley.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You spat out angrily, your eyes darting between Kylie and Bradley for some sort of explanation.

“Your sister invited me,” Bradley shrugged, as if the invitation extended to him by his teenage ex-sister in law was enough of a reason to intrude.

“Kylie, why the fuck did you invite him?”

“He’s your ex-husband. I thought he should see who you’re marrying now.”

“That’s not how this works, Ky.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, maybe he’d like to meet Jake. Besides, are we really gonna ignore the random guy standing behind you looking like some kind of Clark Kent knockoff?” Kylie quipped, making a vague gesture in Bob’s direction.

“This is Robert Floyd, we went to college together. He’s here to cover the wedding. And…,” you began, once again blanking on the name of his colleague who awkwardly stood in your kitchen, observing the impromptu, uncomfortable reunion.

“Meghan.” She nodded, offering a polite wave, the only non-hostile look currently being exchanged in the room.

“Right, sorry. Meghan is his colleague. She does the video and photography component to his writing.”

Kylie raised a skeptic eyebrow as she looked Bob up and down, the lack of trust towards him evident on her face. To Meghan, she gave a sidewards glance, almost as if she was challenging her to ruin the wedding in some way, while also delivering it in the form of an unspoken threat. Bradley cleared his throat as he glanced at you, his amber coloured eyes widened with shock and surprise as he realized what was unfolding in front of him.

“Can I talk to you? In private?” His voice was sheepish and shy as he spoke, a far cry from the Bradley you’d once been married to.

“If you must.”

Bradley excused himself from the group circle that had now formed in your kitchen before politely escorting you into the backyard of your family home. It wasn’t exactly away from prying eyes and eavesdropping friends and sisters, but it offered enough of a shield that Kylie couldn’t interject her own opinions and thoughts into the conversation, as she so often liked to do.

“What’s his name?”

“Jake.”

“Last name?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Just answer.”

“No?”

“Is it Seresin?”

“Why, Bradley? So what if it is?”

Bradley lets out an exhausted sigh, a hint of something that you’d swear was disappointment if you didn’t know any better was evident on his face as he shook his head.

“I know him.”

“Ok, and?”

“You don’t understand. I’m his commanding.”

“Ok…and?”

“So, every time he gets sent off somewhere, you’re going to have one more reason to hate me.”

“I don’t need any more reasons, Bradley. Believe me, our one year of marriage provided me with plenty.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, shaking his head with another sigh before looking up towards the sky. The southern Californian sunshine cascading down on him, creating a halo-like glow over his sun-kissed face. His hair had the slightest hint of age to it, the odd whitish-grey hair scattered throughout his curls, which were considerably less noticeable than they once were. A handful of scars dotted his face, a couple of varying slashes across his chin, neck and cheek, as well as one on his nose, just below the characteristic bump that you’d noticed that first day you met him. He’d aged remarkably well for someone that was fast approaching his fortieth birthday at the end of the month.

“I never wanted you to hate me, ok?”

“Oh? You did it without even trying then, congratulations.”

“Look, can’t I just be supportive of you and happy for you without an ulterior motive?”

“No. I don’t believe you can.”

You shook your head furiously before laughing in pure disbelief at what was taking place. Your wedding was in approximately thirty-six hours now, and you felt as though with the return of both Bob and Bradley into your life, everything was beginning to unravel around you, coming undone with every passing second.

“Honey! I’m home!”

Jake’s cheerful Texas drawl echoed throughout the house. You rounded the staircase, running so fast down the stairs that you were sure you’d fall and land on your ass on your way down if you weren’t careful. You practically leapt into his arms, enveloping him in a hug as he held you tightly, hugging you close. You smiled as you breathed in his scent, using Jake’s presence to drown out any memory or feeling you may have felt for Bradley come creeping back on you.

“You’re early!”

“I managed to get home a little sooner than anticipated. I still expect you to stay put right here though. Bad luck to see my bride on the wedding day, you know.”

“Please, no one believes in that anymore.”

“I sure do! I’m not taking any chances, darlin’,” Jake said as he gently pressed his lips to your cheek, his kiss soft and sweet as his lips lingered on your skin.

Bob emerged from the living room, a broad smile on his face as he pushed his glasses up further on his nose, a pen tucked behind his ear neatly. His baby blue polo shirt was perfectly pressed, paired with a neat pair of khaki coloured pants, a look that screamed professional, but also golf course appropriate. He essentially fit in perfect with the other non-military men on Coronado - the wealthy, put-together, business men who spent Fridays out of the home office and out on the golf course, forwarding their calls to an answering machine or their secretary.

“You must be the infamous Lieutenant Seresin, I’m Bob, I’ve been sent by StarGaze to cover the wedding. It’s basically all anyone on social media is talking about,” Bob extended his hand to Jake, offering a firm handshake as he introduced himself.

“Please, call me Jake. I’m only Lieutenant Seresin if I’m in trouble for somethin’, I’m Jacob even less often, my mama only calls me that if I’ve well and truly fucked up. I’ve been Jake my entire life.”

“Right, Jake. Got it.”

“You two know one another already?” Jake quizzed, raising an eyebrow at how at ease you were around Bob, and at the fact Bob was already in your parents’ house, getting to know your wedding and it’s surrounding background information.

“We went to Old Dominon together.”

“Oh, classmates! Got it. Listen, you don’t mind if I steal her for a sec, do ya? You see, Bob, I haven’t seen my girl here in close to three months. I missed her.”

“Of course not,” Bob offered his hands up in reassurance, “I completely understand. I have some more questions for the bride’s family anyways. Nice meeting you.”

“Nice to meet ya too!” Jake nodded as Bob walked off, gesturing behind him towards Bob with his thumb, “He seems nice, babe.”

“I don’t trust his motives.”

“Now, how come? Not everyone’s out to ruin the big day, darlin’. Maybe just Kylie, but I think her heart’s in the right place. She just doesn’t think I’m good enough for her big sister. And I don’t blame her. I don’t think I’m good enough for her big sister either. But thank the good Lord, Kylie and I are wrong, right?”

“Right,” you agreed with a half-hearted chuckle.

“That’s my girl.”

This time, when Jake called you his girl, you didn’t get the butterflies in your stomach like you usually did. You felt a sting of sadness come over you, as if you were disappointed that you were his girl. Or at least, that part of you was. You tried your best to shove those thoughts aside, chalking it up to the trauma response of seeing Bradley again for the first time in eight years, the whole event sending you into some kind of mental tailspin that you were struggling to pull yourself out of.

The morning carried on as usual - breakfast at the table as a family, now joined by Jake, Bob and Meghan, with awkward, uncomfortable shifting glances whenever Bradley was mentioned by name. You noticed that Meghan continued to gaze at Bob, long after he’d finished a thought, as if she hung on every syllable of each word that came out of him. You observed how she stole glances at him every few seconds, a look of loving, longingness in her eyes. You could tell that to her, Bob was the only thing that mattered.

In the garden, after breakfast, you took it upon yourself to head to the venue of your wedding - Hotel Del Coronado, one of the most historic, iconic landmarks in the area, and arguably, in the Southern half of the state. Your entourage of sorts - your mother, Kylie, Bob, Meghan and Jake, followed along with you, each planning to take on a different role when you arrived there. You and Jake planned to oversee the layout of the chairs for the seating plan, ensuring everything was in the correct place, while your mother followed behinded with placecards, neatly folded with each guest’s name embossed in golden script on off-white cardstock.

Bob made a few notes on his phone, typing furiously whenever he saw something that piqued his interest, while Meghan snapped photos of varying aspects of the day - photos of you and Jake, photos of the placecards, the decorations, the seating plan - anything and everything that could be of use. At this point you almost wondered why your parents were paying for a photographer at all, when Meghan was clearly going to fit the bill without payment from your parents - all for a magazine spread that would go on for a maximum of six pages.

You furrowed your brow as you noticed Kylie approaching Bob, speaking in hushed tones as she looked in your direction, as if she wanted to make you nervous. You didn’t trust your younger sister to stop meddling in your relationships - you were happy with Jake. You were comfortable with Jake. You didn’t want to even entertain the idea of someone else at this point. Jake was it. He was your end game. You were sure of it.

That was, until, Bradley had wandered back into your life yesterday. As much as you hated him, loathed him, in fact, something kept nagging at you. Almost as if it was some part of you trying to reel you back into him. Demanding you to leave Jake before you married him, telling you to give Bradley another chance. You scoffed at the notion - there was no way in hell you’d give Bradley Bradshaw a second chance. He didn’t deserve it.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to refocus your attention back to the wedding plans that were underway. Jake gave you a soft smile of reassurance, as if he sensed some sort of apprehension on your face as he watched you. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze - God, his hands were able to practically swallow yours whole, making you feel an overwhelming sense of protection - Jake led you towards the head table. He turned you to face the rest of the room, the way you’ll be seated in just 24 hours.

“Well, Darlin’, does this look alright to you?” He pondered, his accent thick as honey as he spoke.

“Yeah, looks good to me,” you started, before something at the back corner of the room caught your eye.

Jake approached Bradley, his eyebrows raised in a mixture of surprise and delight, almost honored that his commanding officer had come to wish him well the day before his impending nuptials. Jake’s grin broadened as he approached, his arms spread wide in a gesture of pleased disbelief as he saw him.

“Captain Bradshaw? What are you doing here, sir?”

Captain?

“Oh, I just wanted to come by and wish you all well,” Bradley started, a hint of anxiety in his normally calm, cool and collected composure.

“Well, thank you, sir, we appreciate it!” Jake said as a smile broader than the San Diego Bay appeared on his face, “Where are my manners? This is my beautiful fiancée, and darlin’, this is Captain Bradley Bradshaw, callsign,”

“Rooster,” you interrupted, finishing Jake’s sentence.

“Y’all know each other already?”

“Sort of, yeah. Only met briefly a few times. We lived near one another in Virginia, partied in similar circles, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Bradley said, trying not to appear crestfallen as you brushed your history together off so easily.

Jake, ever the crowd-pleaser, but not always the most perceptive of men, smiled, seemingly unaware of the awkward tension that now brewed between you and Bradley. Bob, noticing Bradley’s presence, approached, offering a polite smile, as if he was certain there was no way your ex would possibly remember him, trying to provide gentle distraction from the uncomfortable atmosphere that was now brewing.

“Lieutenant Seresin, could I steal you for a minute? I have a few questions for you about the wedding and would like to get them out of the way now before things become too…chaotic, so to speak.”

“Of course, you alright with that, honey?” Jake said, looking to you for approval.

“Mhmm, go ahead, I’ll be here.”

“I’ll keep her company,” Bradley nodded simply, trying to mask any excitement he might have at the prospect of spending time alone with you.

Once Jake and Bob had disappeared from earshot, you noticed that your mother and Kylie had gone outside for a coffee break, while Meghan was preoccupied with finding the perfect lighting to capture the romance of the room, fiddling with the drapery and curtains just so to find the balance of sunlight she wanted. You let out a sharp exhale before grabbing Bradley by the collar of his khaki coloured uniform, dragging him off to a secluded corner. Bradley’s eyebrows raised as he smirked at you, giving an uncomfortable chuckle as he watched your cheeks burn red in frustration.

“You’re still cute when you’re frustrated, you know.”

“Shut up. Why the hell are you here, Bradshaw?”

“I wanted to wish Jake good luck on being married to you. Believe me, he’ll need it,” Bradley fired back, a wicked grin forming from his plump lips, “Although, clearly he has no idea.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Captain, actually. I got two promotions while we were apart. I actually could be aiming for Rear Admiral by the end of the year the way I’m going.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations. Should I be dropping my panties for you now?”

“Actually, I-”

“I was being sarcastic. You can get fucked, Bradley. Get lost.”

“If you’d let me finish-”

“Funny, I seem to remember you doing that in about three seconds before. Surprised you haven’t finished yet.”

“You’re such a stubborn bitch, you know that?” Bradley quipped, shaking his head as he threw his hands up in exasperation at you.

“Fuck you.”

“Listen, I came to say I was sorry.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I owe you an apology for how I was as a husband. I hope Jake treats you better than I did.”

“He does, thank you.”

“Kylie told me he wasn’t right for you, I was worried you were going to get yourself hurt again. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Why the fuck are you listening to anything my fifteen year old sister has to say?”

“Because, like it or not, she was sort of the little sister I never had. You seem to forget I was an only child who was orphaned by the time I was her age. You and your family were the only thing closest to a family I’ve ever had, and I fucked it up.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, at least we have that we can agree on.”

Bradley shook his head in frustration and heaved a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. In this moment, you didn’t see the asshole of an ex-husband that you hated for treating you like an afterthought at every moment. Instead in his place stood the vulnerable aviator you’d fallen in love with - sweet and sensitive, trying to find humour in an otherwise awful situation. His caramel toned eyes looked to you as if asking for forgiveness, but there was something else about the way he looked at you.

It was the same way Jake did. Full of love and adoration, admiring everything he saw before him in you. You held your hand up against Bradley’s chest to create space between you both. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t break Jake’s heart like this, and you couldn’t let anything grow between you and Bradley - there was no way. Bradley’s heartbroken stare was all it took for you to leave the room in a hurry, fighting off the tears that now threatened to fall from your eyes.

You ran out of the hotel, making it to the solace and serenity of the beach. You sat on the sand, hugging your knees to your chest as you sobbed, unable to hold up the front you’d created anymore. You couldn’t bear it any longer. Jake was perfect. He was everything you’d ever wanted Bradley to be. But Bradley was Bradley.

Bradley was that perfectly imperfect, impossible to live with because he drove you crazy, asshole. You hated that you still loved him, but you knew part of why you hated him was because you never stopped. Part of you always hoped he’d come after you when you filed for divorce, trying to win you over and get you to call it off. It never happened, but you could only hope that it didn’t happen because you’d made it clear to him that you didn’t want him - a lie that you told yourself to feel better about your world coming crashing down when you were still so young.

“Are you ok? You ran out of there like your ass was on fire.”

You quickly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and looked up to see Bob standing beside you. He sat down next to you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder as he sighed softly. His sapphire-blue eyes looked at you, full of concern and worry for the person he once considered his close friend.

“Bradley left just about as fast as you did. Thankfully I’m the only one who saw. Other than maybe Meghan.”

“God, I just, I’m so, stupid. What am I doing?”

“You mean why are you marrying Jake when Bradley’s clearly still in love with you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“On Bradley’s part? Absolutely. Jake’s not too smart if he hasn’t figured that one out yet.”

“He won’t say anything even if he has. He’s too nice. He’s…he’s perfect.”

“You’re saying that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It might be? I mean, I think he expects me to be perfect. I think he thinks I’m some angel who’s been Heaven sent to him. I don’t think he knows anything about me.”

“Is that his fault though?”

“No. I haven’t been entirely…honest?”

“You mean he doesn’t know you were married before?”

“Well, he thinks it was an engagement. Doesn’t know it was Bradley.”

“Right,” Bob sighed, shaking his head, “And you think Jake would be upset if he found out?”

“I think he’d pretend he was fine and just let it go but it would always eat away at him.”

“And you think he wouldn’t love you anymore if you told him the truth?”

“I think…I think he would struggle through it.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Please,” you nodded slowly, sniffling as you hoped Bob could provide you with the sense of clarity you so desperately needed right now.

“If you’re that worried about it, Jake isn’t right for you. He’d love you anyways. Unconditionally. Isn’t that what this whole marriage thing is about anyway?”

You sat silently as your mind raced, going over what Bob had just shared with you. You shook your head adamantly and sighed.

“I can’t break his heart.”

“Then you need to break Bradley’s. You can’t let Bradley keep coming back in.”

“It really has to be one or the other, doesn’t it?”

“‘Fraid so, unless you want the unexpected third option.”

“The what?”, you blinked slowly at Bob, the confusion evident on your face as you slowly raised your eyebrows, “Oh God, not you too, Bob.”

Bob sheepishly laughed, raising his hand in a wave of surrender towards you.

“Seriously?”

“Since college, yeah. I was over it, but then when I saw you again yesterday, it all came flooding back, and…I mean, I know all there is to know about you, and it didn’t scare me off. That counts for something, right?”

“Bobby, I can’t.”

Bob shook his head and sighed softly, He looked behind him, ensuring no one was around to see before placing his hand on your cheek. He gently brushed your hair back off your shoulder, stroking your soft skin as he spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

“You’re wonderful. You know that? You might be a stubborn pain in the ass who can’t make up her mind about what she wants in life, and you might be in the perfect position to break three men’s hearts tomorrow morning, but I think you’re wonderful anyway.”

Bob’s words were enough to make your head spin, trying to wrap itself around the idea of Bob being unconditionally in love with you. You weren’t sure what you were going to do at this point. That was, until you felt Bob’s lips press against yours in the gentlest, most tender kiss you’d ever received. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him, returning the sweet gentleness he’d given to you. As he pulled away, you bit your bottom lip and shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, threatening to cascade over your cheeks.

“Bobby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he shook his head, laughing slightly to himself as he looked up at you, his deep blue eyes now wet with his own tears. “It was worth a shot, right?”

“You know, I know someone who’d probably be over the moon if you kissed her the way you just kissed me. I can tell by the way she looks at you, it’s…it’s as if you’re the only person in the world who matters.”

“Who?”

“Meghan. She hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you since I met her yesterday. Every time I see her, she’s stealing glances at you and looking to you, hanging on your every word as if you’re the most important person in the world. I think you’d make her really happy. And, I think she’d make you really happy too.”

Bob nodded slowly, looking back towards the hotel. He let out another sigh and raised his eyebrow, chuckling to himself.

“How do we end up in situations like this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Bob rose to his feet, offering you his hand as he helped you stand up again. He smiled at you again - a genuine, caring smile.

“For what it’s worth, I think Bradley really does still love you. I don’t think he’s dumb enough to make the same mistake twice, if that’s your only reason. On the other hand though, anyone with eyes can tell Jake’s crazy about you. I don’t think he’d turn his back on you if you told him the truth about you and Bradley, but he might put in for a transfer to another base. I know I’d want to if my wife’s ex-husband was my supervisor, you know?”

“Fuck, I wish there was an easy solution to this.”

“There is, isn’t there?”

“What? No matter what I do, someone gets hurt.”

“What solution makes you happiest though? That’s your answer.”

Bob headed back up the sandy beach towards the hotel, leaving you to sit alone with your thoughts, stewing over them as you watched the waves crashing onto the shoreline. You hated this. You hated that you let yourself fall into a position where someone would be devastated by a choice you made, and you hated yourself for still feeling something for Bradley, when you so desperately wanted to feel nothing. You hated how despite how passionately Jake loved you, how deeply and madly infatuated he was with you, you couldn’t help but think that he didn’t love you. He simply loved the idea of you. He loved what he saw you as, what he wanted you to be in his heart of hearts, but not the real person behind it all. You couldn’t help but feel torn as you agonized over the right thing to do.

On one hand, if you choose Jake, life would run smoothly for your family and friends, you and Jake would own a beautiful house somewhere, funded almost entirely by the generous wedding gift from your parents, and you’d raise an army of kids, likely all with Jake’s golden blonde hair and bright, piercing green eyes. Jake would be happy. He’d be ecstatic. You’d be happy too, you were sure of it, even if it didn’t come right away to you.

On the other hand, there was Bradley. Bradley was complicated. He was wild and fun, and he made you feel things you never felt before. He was careless and reckless at times, immature and unable to act the part of the adult he was supposed to be, but you could tell he’d grown into the man you wanted him to be over the last eight years. He’d become the man you needed, whether intentionally or not. You could see yourself giving Bradley another chance, trying this marriage thing all over again with him, despite any fears of history repeating itself. Bradley may not want a family, but you could see yourself being happy even without that now. You knew Bradley had the ability to make you happy, and to love you in a way that no one else could, despite all your fears about being with him again.

You checked your phone, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you noticed the time. In eighteen hours, you were expected to walk down the aisle and marry somebody. And until today, you were so sure of who that somebody was. Now, you were sure of just one thing. You needed to talk.

Inside, you found Jake, who was throwing his jacket on, a harried expression on his face vanishing when he saw you again. He breathed a sigh of relief, as he pulled you in for a hug.

“I was worried about you, Meghan said you ran out? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I just need to talk to you about something.”

Jake’s smile fell as he quietly guided you over to the side of the room, his touch gentle as he grasped at your arm, still gently holding on to your elbow as he waited for you to begin explaining everything.

“Jake,” you started, trying to avoid eye contact with him, knowing for sure that one look into those sea green eyes of his would be enough to make you go back on everything you’d decided.

“You don’t want to marry me anymore, do you?” He said defeatedly, looking at you for a moment, “God, if you’re going to call it off, please have the decency to look me in the eye when you do it.”

“Jake, it’s not like that, I swear.”

“What’s it like then? Because all I’m seeing is my fiancée calling off our wedding hours before it happens.”

“Look, I’m not the girl you think I am, ok?”

“Is this about Bradley?”

“What?”

“I know about Bradley.”

“You do?”

“He told me everything. Why didn’t you tell me he was your ex? And why did you tell me that nothing happened with you two? You told me you and your ex never made it down the aisle - you were married to Bradley for a full year.”

“I know, I know. I got scared, ok?” You snapped back, shaking your head as hot tears rolled down your face.

“Scared of what?!”

“I was scared you wouldn’t love me anymore if you found out! I was scared you’d leave me and that I’d get my heart broken twice because of Bradley.”

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t love you? Do you hear yourself? Do you even know me at all?”

“Jake, please!” You pleaded, knowing it was no use. You couldn’t blame him for being hurt. He knew all too well what was coming, and he had every right to be upset by it all.

“Jake, I am not the perfect woman you thought I am. I can’t be her. You and I can have the dream house, and adorable children and the perfect wedding, but we’ll never be truly happy. You deserve to be happy. I can’t be the one to do it for you though.”

“So this is it, huh?” Jake sighed, shaking his head as he looked away, wiping his eye with his finger to try and hide his tears.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could get out of you.

“Me too,” Jake said as he nodded his head sadly. “I’ll put in for a transfer in the morning. I can’t be here. Not under him anyways.”

As Jake headed for the door, he turned back to you, tears in his now bloodshot eyes.

“I hope he makes you happy. I really do. You deserve it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be it for you.”

With that, the door shut behind Jake. You slumped down into a chair in the empty reception hall, crying heavily as you put your head in your hands, shaking it as you admonished yourself for ruining everything, potentially for a man who might not even love you still after all. As you sat there and cursed yourself for your shortcomings as a prospective wife and human being, you heard the voice of someone behind you.

“Now I hope you don’t mean all that. You and I both know, it wasn’t your fault our marriage fell apart.”

You lifted your head up to see Bradley pulling up a seat beside you. He reached out and swiped a couple of teardrops off of your cheek, stroking your face gently with his thumb in an effort to comfort you. He pulled you in tightly for a hug, holding you close as you fell apart in his arms. You felt Bradley’s hand caressing your hair, his fingers tangling themselves in it with a level of care you never expected to feel from him again. He held you as you cried into his uniform, shaking your head against the fabric of his shirt, a mixture of tears and snot now dampening his shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’m here,” Bradley soothed, nodding his head as he pressed his lips to your forehead, “I’m right here.”

“Bradley, I ruined my life.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You just refused to settle in an unhappy marriage. It’s admirable really. You know what you want out of life, and you don’t settle for less. It’s why you left me, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t unhappy.”

“You were, but that’s ok. I was a shitty husband. I didn’t know how to be a good one. I didn’t have much to go off of.”

“I expected too much of you.”

“No,” Bradley asserted, shaking his head. “I didn’t give you what you deserved. I wasn’t man enough to be a good husband to you, and even worse, I wasn’t man enough to admit when I fucked it up. I made you feel like you were less than perfect, and it wasn’t true.”

“I’m not perfect though, Bradley.”

“You’re perfect for me. You always have been.”

Bradley’s hand guided your face upwards to look at him. His warm caramel coloured eyes met your gaze, and for the first time in the last couple of days, you felt home. You felt at peace for the first time in a long time, because you knew it wasn’t forced. You weren’t forcing yourself to be happy and comfortable and relaxed because you were with someone everyone told you was perfect. You were happy and comfortable and relaxed because you knew you were with someone who was perfect, in his own imperfect little way.

Bradley’s lips crashed into yours, locking you into a passionate kiss, the kind that sweeps you off your feet, tingles in your toes and sends butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was electrifying as he held you close, his hand resting on the back of your head as he continued to kiss you with a fervor and passion you hadn’t felt in a long time. When you finally broke apart, coming up for air after what felt like a blissful eternity, your eyes met once again, and Bradley couldn’t help but laugh.

“I swear to you, if you let me remarry you tomorrow, I will do everything I can, I’ll move fucking mountains and Heaven and Earth and all that shit just to prove to you that I can be the husband you need me to be. You want kids? Honey, I’ll give you as many of my babies as you want. You want me to retire from the Navy? I’ll give my notice in immediately after the wedding. Name it and it’s yours, baby girl. Just tell me what I gotta do.”

Your heart swelled at the sound of Bradley’s voice, hearing him offer everything he had and then some in order to make you happy was all you needed. You threw your arms around his neck, smiling to yourself through your tear stained cheeks as you felt Bradley’s hands firmly grip your waist.

“Nothing. I don’t need anything. I’d give all that up if it meant I could have you.”

“Really? All of it, huh? Listen, I just really want you to know how serious I am about this. I’m not about to make the same dumbass mistake twice. I’m not going to let you go again. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to be happy. I promise.”

“I know you will. That’s all I need.”

“I, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, take thee, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. This is my solemn vow.”

“Now, by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As Bradley's lips pressed against yours, every doubt and worry seemed to melt away. His embrace felt like home, a place where you belonged completely. In his arms, you found comfort and peace from the tumultuous journey that led you both back to each other. The years of separation and heartache faded into insignificance as you surrendered to the overwhelming love that now enveloped you both. You knew this time would be different, that together you could conquer any obstacle that came your way, that Bradley adored you and loved you with all of his heart, and that he planned on never letting a second go by where you thought otherwise. With renewed faith in your love, you were ready to embrace the future, hand in hand with Bradley, knowing that this time, nothing could tear you apart.

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mssonepiece · 4 months

Text

🩷High School Sweetheart🩷

🩷Chapter 1🩷

The Text?

Megumi Fushiguro x fem!Reader; Modern AU, no curses, cursed spirits or possession of cursed techniques; Reader and other characters are in college.

1.3k+ Words

Next Chapter

Dear Megumi, we've been friends since middle school and I've been thinking maybe it'd be nice to know if you feel the same way that I do about you.. I hope I don't regret this... I feel more close to you than any of our other friends and lately I can't stop myself from wanting to be around you all the time, it's okay if you don't feel the same. I love being your friend and I'm so scared to lose that because of this.

Looking at the message you typed out on your phone five minutes before you think of how this is the corniest text you've ever written up in your life. It would be utterly embarrassing to send this message just to be left on read or be told that your feelings are not reciprocated, making things awkward between the two of you. But you've felt as though you've had this crush on Megumi for so long that it's either shoot your shot and try to be something more or force yourself to stop hanging out with him in hopes to lose all romantic feelings toward him. Will that ever happen though? Would you be able to lose feelings even if you did ignore him? The more you think about the situation the more you feel like the text is a bad idea. Is it a good idea to ruin this friendship for the chance of something... more. Ding

~After The FaceTime With Maki~

You and Maki talked on the phone for a good hour and a half before you had to end it short for a bit of grocery shopping. You should have done it much earlier in the week, then you could have stayed on the phone longer. If you don't go today though then you will have nothing to eat tonight. On the way there you think back about what Maki told you over the phone. She of course had more to say about Mai, they've been living together for a year now in an apartment their parents pay for but Maki is the only one doing the daily chores around their house. You think that if you were her, you would have made Mai do more or move out way sooner. Maki of all people is surprisingly patient with her though.. at times.. It seems like she's also having the usual problems with her father too. They always seem to have some sort of dispute going on but today was particularly bad. He doesn't accept what college she has chosen to go to and is trying to have her drop out and transfer to the same college that Mai attends. Mai goes to a more high-league school but Maki has no interest in going to a school that is only to help her family's public image... It's that bad. Well her father called again pestering her this morning and when she declined for the hundredth time, he called the college board saying that Maki was very interested in transferring soon, even asking for her transcript. He's taking things too far, you can't help but feel bad for her. Wishing you could have talked to her more on the phone and carried on walking the short way to your local market.

The sun is setting, casting a beautiful blend of colors across the cloudless sky. On the side of the sky where the sun has already subsided, stars are starting to appear. Your feet slowly stop moving forward as you crane your neck up, getting a better view of the whole night sky. You could look at it forever but the awkward feeling of standing in the middle of a sidewalk was creeping up on you, making you take slow steps towards the market again. It's a silent walk other than the cars and people passing by. It's peaceful. Well until the sudden thought of wanting to share this moment with Megumi. Leading to a slideshow of thoughts. Your head felt like it was spinning and full of so much information that it just wanted to drop on the hard concrete ground.

The market doors seem to appear in front of you out of nowhere, arms instinctively reaching out to pull the handles. Maybe you've been a little in your head lately because of this whole Megumi thing but none of the choices of action are appealing. If you were to end up ruining your friendship with Megumi over some high school crush then you’re sure you could never forgive yourself. He’s always been there, mentally and physically. Ever since you first became close in middle school he has been the first friend you would choose to hang out with, even though he can be a bit of a bore sometimes he is good company. You could be sitting in silence together for hours, him reading a book and you playing a video game, watching a show, or sometimes reading along with him and neither of you would have anything to complain about. But if you carry on feeling like this without ever telling him then it would soon be too hard to even be around him anyway. It’s slowly becoming a comfort to have him just hanging around whenever you have something you need to do. You would have even asked him to come along shopping with you if you had not felt embarrassed by the whole text you wrote up earlier, and didn’t even send. The urge to text him now is strong but what to say isn’t coming to mind. You’re better off getting what you need from the market and going back home. Maybe then you'll be able to think of something to send him.

Setting the few bags of grocery’s down on your dining room table you finally take a deep breath for the first time in what seems like hours. Reaching back for your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you open the messages app.

After updating Kirara and texting Maki again about your crush situation, you decide it’s best to put your phone away for a bit while you make dinner. Choosing to ignore the fact that you told both of your friends you were going to text Megumi. But also sending a text to Nobara that will catch her attention, riling up her pho mo.

Your kitchen isn't very big, only having a small one bedroom apartment often doesn't come with much foot space. You still try to make it look nice with decor and furniture. Plants really have helped with brightening up your home, bringing different greens and yellows throughout your house. It makes you feel like your apartment is 'homey' and more livable. Everywhere you've lived before here never really felt like your own. Going from your family home, to a year long roommate situation, and finally now you rent your own apartment off-campus. It's such a different feeling knowing that you have the place to yourself and of course the responsibility of the bills will definitely make you feel that difference too. It's close to campus, just a short five minute walk. You're even able to stop by Starbucks everyday, you don't.. but you could. You basically live in the center of town so you can walk to most places with ease, making rent much more tolerable too when not having to pay for a car. You'll have to deal with your college loans later in life, but that's the least of your current worries.

Dinner is as boring as usual, chicken and rice. Anything that is quick and easy to make so that you can relax sooner. It doesn't take long to make the rice and start on the chicken. You start to feel like it would have been better to order food but it's all worth it when you get to sit on the couch with a steaming bowl of chicken and rice. Situating a pillow in your lap, then the bowl of food on top. You use your right hand to hold the bowl in place on your lap and the other to reach for the tv remote now that you're comfortable, turning on the television to Netflix most recent watches. Episode 13 of "Orange is The New Black" brightens the display from the dark loading screen previously there. You raise your hand to the spoon sitting in the white glass bowl and take a bite from it as the show starts. You hear a faint ringing of an iPhone from the kitchen but choose to ignore it til the end of the episode.

Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

Tag List~ @m00nglad3-mp3 @we-loveebony

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #maki zenin #kirara hoshi

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promptthebear · 8 months

Note

🐰 Edmund Pevensie #14 please

Edmund Pevensie x Reader- "Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Part 1/2 <- ***UP NOW!!!!***

Summary: Soulmate AU. Set during the "Golden Age", Edmund thinks he's doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. Until his fated match appears in the most unlikely of places. 2nd person, reader is written as "you"

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I've been go so long. Part two for this is literally being written right now and will hopefully be up very soon. I just thought I should give y'all SOMETHING to end the dry spell. Enjoy!

TW: None that I know of, but please message me if you need something tagged.

Rain was falling in sheets outside his study window, and the sound of the drops against the panes had soothed Edmund into a light doze. It was late, most likely past midnight, and his candles had burned down to almost stubs in their holders. He’d been reading for hours, lost in tomes of Narnian history and retrospects on ancient magic traditions. As fascinated as he’d been, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from growing heavy, and the blue velvet chair felt almost like a lover’s embrace.

Not that Edmund would have any idea what that actually felt like, though he could muster up a pretty good guess. Over the years, he’d watched his brothers and sisters find partners, wed, and have children of their own. Even little Lucy had been married last summer, leaving Edmund as the last bachelor among the family. That was one of the many reasons he’d been taking solace in his study over the last few weeks. He was plenty used to being alone, but there were only so many nights in a cold bed one could take before it started driving him a little mad.

Another man may have sought out comfort in the village pubs, but the idea of a hot, stuffy room and the press of drunken, sweaty bodies held about as much appeal to Edmund as driving straws under his fingernails. So, instead, he filled his waking hours in the company of books, often choosing to fall asleep among them than make the long, solitary walk back to his dark and empty chambers. This would be the third night in a row he’d spend here, and regardless of how Susan chided him that sleeping in his chair would ruin his back, Edmund also knew it wouldn’t be the last either.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door startled the young king from his near stupor. With a snort and a grumble, he rose from his chair, rubbing at his stiff muscles and silently cursing whoever chose to disturb him at this hour.

The hallway felt far too bright after the dim, golden light in the library, and for a moment after he opened the door, Edmund stood there, dazzled and blinking away stars from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the face of one of the city guards. The young man seemed nervous, shifting from side to side and not quite able to meet Edmund’s gaze. Aside from the familiar uniform, the young man was little more than a stranger to him, and Edmund wondered why the captain would have sent someone so young to speak with one of the high kings.

“Your majesty. I beg forgiveness at the disturbance, would this matter have waited until morning I assure you I would not be here now.”

His voice betrayed his age, confirming Edmund’s suspicions that he was a new recruit, barely older than sixteen and almost twelve years his junior.

“Speak your piece and be on your way,” he replied, running a hand over his face to try and clear away any drowsiness that still clung on “It is far too late for either of us to be away from our beds”

The guard jumped at the sound of Edmund’s voice, and did some sort of half nod, half bow that made him look like a fish jerking around in a net.

“Again, my most sincere apologies your majesty. Once more, if it were not for the urgency of the situation I would not have caused you upset. My captain insisted that you be spoken with directly and that this message reach no ears but your own. I tried to tell him you’d be abed by now but-”

“Out with it, lad. The longer you speak, the longer the hour grows and the more weary I become.”

The edge to his words almost made Edmund wince. He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with the boy, but Susan had been right. Spending nights in his chair had made him incredibly sore, and had kept him from having a decent rest for far too long. The combination of both was not providing him with an overabundance of courtesy.

“We caught a pick pocket, your majesty. In the market, earlier this evening.”

Edmund reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ease the throbbing that was starting to grow behind his eyes.

“Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Yes, Edmund acted as the King’s Justice and presided over all cases brought into court, even trifling ones like pick-pocketing. However, as far as he could tell, there was no reason something that simple would bring a guard to his door in the middle of the night.

“It is, your majesty”

“And? Have you all suddenly forgotten how to do your jobs? The thief can spend the night in lockup with your other petty criminals, and I’ll be there to preside over their trial in the morning. If that’s all you came to tell me, then I suggest you be on your way before I take it upon myself to serve you with a demerit and suspend you from service for the next week.”

The door was halfway closed when the young guard’s boot wedged itself between the door and the wall. Edmund stared down at it for a moment, trying to process the sheer gall of this otherwise seemingly placid young man. Nobody, in his recent memory, had ever kept him from closing a door when he wished. If he wasn’t contemplating sending this man to scrub out the barracks privvies for the rest of his natural life, he almost would’ve been impressed at his tenacity.

“Alright, that does it, I’m giving you until the count of three to get out of my sight and if you aren’t gone by two then so help me-”

“She has the mark, your Majesty”

It felt as though someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water upon Edmund’s head. For a moment he stood, still as a statue while his mind raced at frantic speeds to try and make sense of what he was hearing. The lad had to be joking, there simply was no other explanation. This was all part of an elaborate prank someone was pulling on him, like Peter maybe, and Edmund would walk all the way down to the dungeons only to find a sow or donkey painted with a mark that matched his own rather than the girl he’d been promised.

He opened his mouth to tell the young guard he was a liar, along with a few other choice phrases, only to find his voice had left him. What was the worst that could happen, if he followed this boy? Experience told Edmund that he could end up being the kingdom laughingstock the next morning, but what of it? Most of his subjects, noble and common alike, either ridiculed him behind closed doors or pitied him to his face, which was somehow worse. The Lonely King, they called him. A solitary man in a world where everyone was fated to find their perfect match at some point or another. Would a lifetime of isolation be truly worth avoiding a few moments of ridicule?

The carved animals in the wooden door stared blankly back at Edmund, and though the flickering candlelight made their faces seem to dance and move among the shadows, they had no more answers for him than the young King had for himself. With a sigh, he clasped the edge of the door and pulled it open. It creaked loudly, a sound made louder still by the otherwise hushed air in the sleeping castle. The young guard waiting beyond started at the noise, and took a step back towards the far wall as though he expected Edmund to leap out and bite him.

Now standing in the full light of the hall, Edmund saw in earnest how young the guard really was. He may have been a youth of sixteen, but he had the face of a twelve or eleven year old, making him look like a squire rather than the soldier he was. A light dusting of fuzz across the boy’s cheeks, a hint of a beard, was the only thing to suggest he was near manhood and it made Edmund feel all the more guilty for being so hard on him.

“Come on,” he said, clapping a friendly hand down on the guard’s soldier as he moved past him “Let’s get this over with.”

#easter askbox event #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x you #edmund pevensie #narnia fic #narnia imagines

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selarina · 9 months

Text

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.

Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Highly Suggestive, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12: Aquarium Date

Written Portion

Apart from the bustling traffic outside, it's rather quiet inside the car, the soft tune from the radio barely reaching your ear.

"You look pretty," Suna's voice breaks the silence. You turn and notice that his eyes still remain focused on the slew of cars in front of him

He's wearing something of a pseudo suit, a soft blue shirt donning his figure as he continues to drive. His hair was a bit combed, a stark contrast from his usual mussed self. "Likewise," you reply, your gaze soon drawing back to the road ahead.

"So, how did you know?" You continue to add, "About the aquarium, I mean."

"Oikawa told me," he reveals plainly.

Your eyebrows arch in surprise, "When did you start talking to him?"

"Just recently. Just texted him while I was searching for places," he explained.

A subtle disquiet settles in, prompting a dramatic sigh from you. "This is bad news for me."

The car comes to a halt; your glance shifts upward, catching sight of the red traffic signal. You turn your head to him and find that his eyes are already fixed on you, "And why's that, baby?"

"Well," you pout. "He has a lot of shit on me."

He smiles, leaning down to leave a soft kiss to shoo away the pout.

"Are they together now or something?" He asks.

"Yeah, Iwa asked him out on Twitter like a moron. Oikawa's never going to let him live that down."

"Poor guy," he muses in response.

"So, since it's our first date as a couple and all." You ask, curious. "How are we feeling?"

"How are you feeling?" he deflects. "I did plan this for you, you know."

A smile tugs at your lips, "I feel good so far. So long as the glasses on the aquarium don't break, I think it might be the best first date ever."

"First best date ever? My my, aren't you setting the standards too high?"

"Never with you, baby."

A soft smile etches itself onto his lips as he revs up the engine, the car gliding through the traffic as the traffic signal turns green.

—

“Suna, look! That's Bioluminescent Jellyfish. I've always wanted to see one," you exclaim, your voice filled with wonder.

He joins you, positioning himself behind you to see where you're pointing. “Where exactly?”

With a soft chuckle leaves your lips, you playfully nudge him. "You don't have to stand right behind me, you know."

He tilts his head, his expression genuinely intrigued. "I really can't see it."

With an amused smile, you step back to his side and gently guide his gaze with your hand, directing his attention to the delicate corals at the bottom of the expansive tank. "See those white fish?"

He lets out a contemplative hum, focusing on the area you're indicating. "Yes."

"Right next to them," you say as you turn, watching his feigned squinting turning into a smirk he couldn't fully withhold.

You move back, tilting your head, as he continues to smirk. "Always a game huh, Suna Rintaro?"

He grins, a silent affirmation as his hands come to pull you in front of him. He rests his chin on your shoulders as the two of you watch in silence.

"They're pretty though, aren't they?" You speak up.

"Not as pretty as you," he replies, leaving a soft peck on your cheeks.

The two of you spend the rest of the evening, flitting through from one side of the tank to the other, moving onto different tanks, and soon as the hours dissolve the two of you start heading to the exit.

You gaze upon the tank one last time and turn to find Suna but as you do, you find Suna with his phone up, discreetly attempting to take a photo of you.

"Have you been taking pictures of me, Suna Rintaro?"

"Just the one," he says, showing you the result. "Can I post it?"

Fun Fact:

When they were 14, Y/N told Oikawa that her ideal date would be a trip to the local aquarium. He has been trying to take her on a friendship date ever since, but something has always come up. He's just glad Suna could give her the perfect date he always wanted to give her.

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @the-moonandthehermit @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf @reveusecherie @tkooooop @k0z3me @riiceandsoup @weird0o0 @toomanygoldfish @seiamor @thebrownemo @breakmyheartlater @xbl00dy-r0s3x @linmabbe

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girlfailure-smut-hour · 8 months

Text

Your New Roommate Asmo

Nsfw content MDNI

Characters: Asmodeus X GN!Reader Earth!AU

CW: Nipple play, Oral (Giving and receiving,) Penetration (Receiving,) Reader's gender is not mentioned, ambiguous genitals.

A/N: It's been a while since I've written Asmo. He's still my fave, even though I have more of an appreciation for the others now. I missed him. <3 It's another kinda long one with a lot of buildup. Asmodeus is MC's new roommate and he's simply too pretty (and shirtless.) ~3400 Words

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

It was the day that your new roommate was moving in. You'd found him on an app and he seemed to be a good match. He was polite, tidy, and he took good care of himself. What more could you want?

When he knocked on your door that day there was no way you could have expected how dazzling, and blush-inducingly beautiful he was. The photos did him no justice at all. You were looking at a supermodel.

"I'm Asmodeus," he says with a huge, charming smile. "Your new roommate! I'm going to start moving my things in if that's okay."

"Yeah," you reply, trying to string together a thought about anything but how beautiful he is. "That's… yeah that's, uh, okay." You want to sink into a hole with how obviously nervous you are, but he doesn't seem to notice, or at least mind. He’s probably used to this kind of behavior. "Do you want any help?"

"I appreciate it," he says, "but I'll be fine. I don't have much."

"If you say so," you reply, "I'll prepare dinner tonight then."

"That would be lovely!" He beams.

It was true that he had very little to move. You watch him carry things to his room from the kitchen, trying to ignore the strong arms he carried them with, and the gently glistening sweat on his brow.

Over dinner the two of you take some time to get to know each other better. You tell him a bit about your job and he tells you about his. He says that he’s into social media as a side job, and shows you a few pictures. To your surprise, a few of them are a little saucy. Nothing too risque, but when he’s that beautiful, shirtless pictures at the beach and gym are all you need. His slender, yet toned chest and abs were irresistible; mouthwatering even. You couldn't help but shift your legs as you looked at him across the table and imagined him without a shirt. Maybe his pants would be sitting a little low so you could see that delicious "v" that leads to his crotch. You can barely resist biting your lip in arousal.

After cleaning up from dinner he goes to take a shower and you try not to think about how he's naked in there, just feet away from you. You just sit on the couch watching TV, trying to drone out your lewd thoughts.

You hear the bathroom door latch and shortly after, Asmo says, "That's a nice water heater," from behind you. You turn around on the couch just in time to see Asmodeus step out in only a towel, rubbing moisturizer on his face.

You blush, immediately turning around. With a nervous laugh you say, "Oh, uh. Y-yeah, it's, uh, got a good capacity." You want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Having such a casual conversation while he’s standing there half-dressed and heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Your heart is pounding. You saw so much more of him than you expected. His body looks far better in person than in the photos. His abs, more clearly defined, and those lines that lead to his crotch… they're so inviting. You imagine running your tongue down them to get to his cock.

No! You think, shaking your head. I've got to get those thoughts out of my head.

It's too late though. Asmo has an iron grip on your mind, and all you can think about is him and his delicious body. And maybe he wants it that way. It's hard to interpret his actions as anything but showing off.

He comes into the living room and sits on the couch. "I thought we could bond over face masks," he says, holding out a container for you to inspect.

"That would be nice," you say. "I… should wash my face first though." You get up and rush to your room. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Why did he have to be so beautiful? And nice!?

You splash some cold water on your face to hopefully cool you down, but it does very little to clear your head. After a quick wash, you feel as ready as you'll ever be to go back out there.

You step out of your room and sit on the couch next to Asmodeus. "Ready darling?" He asks.

"Yeah," you say. expecting him to hand you the container.

"Tilt your head back," he says. "Unless you'd rather lay down."

You nearly ask him 'What?' But you know exactly what he said. Should I turn him down? Tell him I'll put it on myself?

Almost unwillingly, you lay down on the couch as he dips his hand in, leans over and smooths the cold gel onto your face. You're paralyzed in excitement. Your eyes drift to that one little corner of the towel that's tucked around his waist. What if it were to slip out? He'd be leaning over you, fully nude. The thought alone is enough to drive you wild.

"You have amazing skin," he says in his softest voice.

"Thank you," you mumble nervously.

His fingers feel amazing against your skin. Just being touched by him is enough to send tingling pleasure down between your thighs, but the gentleness with which he applies the mask, and the way he looks at you with delicate adoration makes you feel like you're going to explode in excitement.

"All done!" He declares as he finishes up.

You sit up and say, "Thank you."

"Would you do mine?" He asks, holding out the container. You nod, but your heart is pounding. He lays down, and you lean over him, scooping some mask out to rub on his face.

It's hard to ignore his body from this position. It's perfectly sculpted, with not a single flaw on his skin. Your eyes drift down to the towel again. With him laying down you think you can see his bulge, but you're not sure. You press the face mask onto his skin and he twitches a little. "Cold, huh?" You ask.

He giggles and says, "Yeah."

You're blown away by how soft his skin is. It feels like silk or something. You've never touched anything like it before. By mistake your fingers brush his lips and he shudders. Did I cause that shiver? You wonder. He half-bites his lips before seemingly stopping himself.

"Okay," you say. "I think I'm done." He sits up and beams a smile at you. "I think I got a little on your lip."

He wipes it off and says, "That's alright, sweetie."

The tension is palpable as you sit across from each other, the memory of each other's fingers still fresh on your skin.

"So you're really into skin care and stuff?" You ask.

"It keeps me looking beautiful," He says. "Different brands send me products all the time for my social media. You can try anything you like."

"That's really nice of you," you say.

"Don't even think of it."

You just want to reach out and touch his chest. It's so enticing being so close. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him, stealing glances against your own will whenever you can.

A timer on his phone sounds off shortly, and he says, “Are you ready to take them off?”

You nod and he sits up to reach over and peel your mask off. His slender fingers tug at the mask, slowly pulling it away. He sets it on a nearby table and closes his eyes as you remove his. Touching him like this, even as innocent as it is, it’s hard to control your breath. It comes out in nervous bursts, almost as though you were panting. You can only hope he doesn’t notice.

As the last part of his mask pops free, you quickly snatch the other face mask from the table and say “I’m gonna throw these away and go to bed.”

“Alright, darling,” Asmo replies. “Good night, and sleep well.”

“You too,” You reply, running off to your room.

As the door shuts behind you, you think I don’t know if I can do this. You take a few deep breaths and splash more cold water on the face to relax, but still as you lay down, you can’t stop thinking about him. All you can do now is just try to cool down and hope it’s better in the morning.

~~~~

It’s not better in the morning. As soon as you walk out of the room, you see him walking through the living room in only his boxers, and is that his bulge you can see? You immediately go back into your room and close the door. Defeated, you sit on the bed. Perhaps he was a bad fit after all. There’s not much to do, just try your best to avoid him.

And you do just that for the next couple of days, sneaking out of your room when you think he’s not around to eat or leave for work. It’s maddening, feeling trapped in your own home like this, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

One day as you get home from work, Asmo is sitting in the living room, actually dressed this time. “Hey darling,” He says cheerfully.

“Hey,” You say, trying to avoid looking at him as you walk to your room. He stands and walks after you.

"Is everything alright?" He asks. "I feel like you've been avoiding me. We had such a lovely first night together."

"No," you say. "I mean yes. Everything's alright. Don't worry about it." You try to walk away, but he stops you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

He places a finger under your chin and tilts your head up. "You can tell me the truth." He takes a step forward, bringing you closer together and your breath hitches.

"I'm… not sure what to say," you tell him. "I should go."

"If I've done something to offend you…" He begins.

"It's not that," you say, stepping back to get some breathing room.

"Then what is it?"

You sigh and decide that it's now or never. "It's just that you're so beautiful, and-and just very half-naked all the time and, you know, like, I just don't know if I can keep resisting you if I keep having to see you like this and-"

"Then why resist?" He interrupts, stepping closer still. Subconsciously you take a step back, pressing up against the wall. You gulp as he sets a hand on the wall, and twists a lock of your hair with the other, staring into your eyes with his hypnotic, confident gaze. You feel like you can't breathe.

He leans in. You can smell his rose perfume, overloading your senses and driving your already frantic mind even wilder. His lips are nearly touching yours. "Say that you want me," He says. "I need you to tell me."

"I want you," you reply, nearly melting into a puddle on the spot. He places a hand on your cheek and locks lips with you. Your heart is pounding and your brain is swirling. His lips are so soft, and he kisses with such a gentle delicacy, it actually sets you at ease. The tension melts away and it’s just the two of you in the hall, and not a thought in your head. The apartment is quiet and the air is still. Finally, you can breathe.

As his sweet lips depart from yours, you feel tingling all through your body. Still holding your cheek, he looks into your eyes and the two of you share a silent gaze. Your chest is heaving in excited panting, but he looks so calm and beautiful.

He takes your hand and guides you to his room. As he opens the door he asks, “Is this alright?”

You nod and he walks in with you behind. His room is somewhat plain, but feels romantic in spite of that. The bed is draped in silky sheets and the lights are dim, ebbing and flowing like a candle. He walks you to the bed and sits you down. Sitting next to you, he brushes some hair away from your face with the back of his hand, which he then trails down your cheek.

“Oh darling,” He says. “You’re so gorgeous. How was I so lucky to wind up here with you?” It sounds absurd coming from the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but when you look into his eyes, they look so genuine and awe-struck, it’s hard to disbelieve him.

He pulls you into another kiss. You take the opportunity to finally get to touch his chest, feeling his beautiful body through his shirt. He does the same, running his hands up and down your body, soaking you in. You feel him tug at the bottom of your shirt so you lift your arms and let him. As it comes off, you blush, turning your eyes away. He tilts your head up and says, “There’s no need to be embarrassed sweetie. You look amazing.”

“You’re so sweet,” You say, pulling his shirt off. Your hands trembling in excitement, you run your fingers down his chest and stomach, feeling his flawless body and perfectly smooth skin for the first time. He gives you time to explore his body, sensing how badly you’ve wanted to touch him. As your fingers trace the faint lines of his abs, you feel a slight shudder out of him. Your finger wanders a little lower, playing with the button of his pants. You feel an intense tingling excitement between your legs as you reach down with your other hand to pop the button free. Your heart pounding, you pull the zipper down. He helps you remove his pants and underwear, revealing his cock. It’s already hard, twitching in excitement.

You reach down to grab it, looking up at him for approval. He smiles faintly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. You stroke it gently. It’s warm, and incredibly hard already. You start to lean down, so he swings his legs up on the bed and lays down.

Now, between his legs, his cock in your hand, you bring your mouth down to it with a shuddering breath and, looking up at him, kiss the tip before circling it with your tongue. Finally, you envelop it with your lips and press down until his length fills your mouth completely.

His moans are so sweet and irresistible. His already soft and seductive voice further enhances the intense allure of his moans.

Sucking him in, you do your best not to gag, but as he gyrates his hips in pleasure, it’s hard not to when he presses the back of your throat. He puts a hand on your cheek, brushing some of the hair out of your face as he does. You look up at him and for a moment your eyes meet. He gives you a seductive look that only makes you want to keep going, but he taps your shoulder, signaling you to stop.

As you pop his cock out of your mouth, he sits up and pulls you into a kiss, wrapping his arms around you. Intense, clingy hands run all over your body as he begins to pull you down to lay with him. With a desire that feels deeply instinctual and nearly feral, the two of you roll around on the bed, giggling and kissing. He finally reaches for your pants, and undoing them, pulls them off.

His movements now are growing frantic and desperate as he flips you on your back and starts to kiss down your neck. Shuddering, anticipatory breaths pass his lips, as he moves down your body. Now onto your chest, he places sloppy, wet kisses around your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. With his other hand, he rubs the neglected other nipple, gently and playfully pinching it.

He moves on from your chest and down to your tummy, spending no small amount of time kissing each and every inch of you. As impatient as you can sense that he is, he cherishes your body, and every facet of it.

Eventually he does move to your legs, placing little teasing kisses all up and down them, watching with twisted pleasure as you writhe in impatience. "P-please…" you beg. "Please go down on me." You see him smirk from between your legs. "I can't take any more Asmo. Please." He smiles and grants your request, burying his head between your thighs with delight. You moan out as the overwhelming rush of all of that teasing comes crashing down on you at once.

He's incredible with his mouth, sending waves and waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you panting and clutching the sheets after mere seconds. His tongue and soft lips glide so smoothly across you as he devours you with animalistic desire. You can't help but shriek in pleasure.

When you can't take it anymore, you grab his hair and grind your hips onto his face. He looks up at you with delight, seeing you overtaken by the same lustful urges he feels. You barely have time to register that though before his tongue sends you over the edge and an intense orgasm crashes onto you as you writhe in violent convulsions. He’s sure to help you ride your orgasm as long as possible, with slow strokes that seem to align with the waves of pleasure.

"Oh my god Asmo that was amazing," you say as he climbs up on top of you.

He looks down on you with feral, desiderative eyes that burn into you. He wastes no time pressing his cock right against your entrance. He asks, "Are you ready?" And waits for you to nod before pressing into you. You both shudder and moan as he slowly pushes his hard cock inside of you.

"Oh my god you feel so good," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes further in until the base of his cock sits firmly inside you. He starts to pull out, and with each thrust push in a little harder. It's not long before he's fucking you with his full strength, thrusting his hard length all the way into you every time as he moans your name.

You wrap your legs around his waist and subconsciously move your hips too, bringing them to his to make each thrust that much deeper and harder. He looks so beautiful holding himself over you, your faces so close to each other as your breathy moans fill the air. You clasp his face between your hands, then wrap them around his neck again. When that's not enough, you wrap them around his back and clutch tightly to him. Though you don't mean to, you dig your nails into his back, feeling some primal instinct take over.

Feeling him thrust against your walls repeatedly like this, you feel like you could cum any minute now. You keep rocking your hips as he fucks you until you feel the orgasm coming on. "I think I'm going to cum," you squeak out.

"Cum for me, darling," He says, thrusting even harder for you. As you cling to him and groan in his ear, he never stops fucking you, or even slows down.

"Fuuuuck," you mumble, losing coherence by the minute. He's showing no signs of getting tired and at your second orgasm already you're not sure how much more you can take. Thankfully you hear his moans growing higher in pitch.

It’s not long before he moans, "I'm gonna cum.”

"Please cum inside me," you beg. "Please I can't take it anymore. I need-"

He interrupts you with a kiss, as you clutch tighter to his torso. You feel him thrust more slowly and deliberately before stopping altogether. His cock begins to twitch and throb inside of you spilling out cum with each pulse. You moan loudly as you feel his cum filling you up and another orgasm washes over you in intense, primal waves.

As the two of you finish cumming, he climbs off of you and flops onto the bed, kissing you on the cheek. "That was amazing darling!" He says.

"Yeah," you reply, your vocabulary being hindered by the several orgasms you just endured.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go shower and maybe we can do it again."

"I don't know if I can stand," You laugh.

"That's okay, darling," He says. "I'll help you."

#obey me smut #obey me Asmodeus X Reader #obey me Asmodeus smut #Asmodeus smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #om! Asmodeus #obey me Asmodeus #Asmodeus x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me asmo smut #obey me asmo x reader

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barb-l · 5 months

Note

Isn't a writer question but was curious; How does wenclair different from other ships you've enjoyed?

Is it solely due to having been a lifelong Wednesday Addams fan, or is it specifically the Netflix's Addams world that you find intriguing?

I ask mainly because I recall you once saying that your wenclair comics--specifically the Next Gen Au I believe--are written and made with a lot of intention in regards to dialog and the discussions had between characters.

Is this due to a greater insight into the characters or simply a mark of growth in writing comprehension?

I like to think I put as much thought in all ships I've been hyperfixated on tbh. Wenclair isn't even the one I've been obsessed with the longest. So far it's actually Trimberly, for which and I was hyperfixated with for like 3 years.

But yeah ok I get ur point lol The intensity this time feels different, I suppose.

I think it's a mix of both being a long time Wednesday Addams fan and how cute of a ship Wenclair is both in concept and the canon execution of their dynamics.

As some of you are aware, I've been a fan of The Addams for a while now. All incarnations of them are great in their own way, but one of the many reasons why the animated 2019 movie is my favorite is because it didn't give Wednesday a bland ass male love interest. I don't think the B/W series did it(because Wed was like six in that) but the 90's movies, musical, and netflix series for some reason found it necessary to give Wednesday male love interests so painfully boring and i hate it. This isn't even about making Wednesday attracted to boys. I personally headcanon her bi, as the ol' stereotype that all grumpy/angsty female characters must be lesbian isn't my cup of tea, and also because I like to think all Addamses just don't give a shit about gender when it comes to romance. I woulda been fine with her getting a boyfriend so long as they're not boring af and goddddd canon incarnations still haven't delivered. Joel was sweet but he was too much of a wimp, not even Gomez is that pathetic. Lucas' thing with Wednesday was just portrayed in such an icky way in the musical that I couldn't finish watching by the time their sexually charged duet came on, and don't even get me started on the boys Netflix gave her. I expected better of Gough and Millar...(unless the blandness was on purpose like it was with Lana Lang--)

Anyways, because of all said canon love interests, I've been desperate for Wednesday to have a love interest that is both not painfully het or boring for once. Crossover shipping with Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice the Musical was fun but was ultimately a very niche fandom. I could only draw and write for an audience of twenty or so people for so long. Parker from the animated movie would've been great, but the cop out with her mom dating Fester just made it too weird for me to be fully on board with the ship.

So when Enid Sinclair was introduced as a character I was absolutely ecstatic. On paper alone she already seemed great. She has a very distinct appearance (even if her "design" was inspired by Harlequin and it shows) that goes so well when she stands next to Wednesday, whether it's in the actual show, fan arts, or even in official merch. Her being Wednesday's complete opposite in so many ways makes her being paired with Wednesday so dang interesting too.

And I don't just mean aesthetic or personality wise. I'm talking about how one of Wednesday's struggle stems from having too much smothering love from her family as someone who gets overwhelmed too easily, and Enid's loneliness and insecurity coming from her own family's lack of love and attention where it matters most. Or how Wednesday's just girl who, deep inside worries about being an actual cruel monster like the very bigots she hates, while Enid is a supposed beast who resents herself for only being a scared little girl. Even the fact that Wednesday is an older sister to a soft-hearted younger brother while Enid is the youngest daughter to a bunch of rough-housing older brothers feels very on purpose.

Everything about Enid feels deliberate. Like she IS supposed to be paired with Wednesday, platonically or romantically. She's the best person to stand beside Wednesday as a character because they have enough differences and similarities to have interesting conflicts but also significant character growths sparked by each other. She's not bland or boring like the canon love interests because even without her attachment to Wednesday, Enid is still such a compelling character. The mere fact that she's as popular as she is despite an eight-episode series being her debut in a franchise that's been iconic to generations is already pretty amazing, and only a character as impressive deserves to smooch somebody as iconic as Wednesday Addams.

And their on screen chemistry is just *chef's kiss*

#asks #wenclair #wednesday netflix #the way i wax poetic about this show you think it's a masterpiece #lmfaooo #god istg if wenclair were on purpose it'd be the best love story ever #but alas

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billlydear · 1 year

Text

pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501

summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look

this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)

Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.

“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.

“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”

“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.

“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”

Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.

“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.

Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.

“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”

“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”

Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.

“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.

He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.

Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.

“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”

The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.

He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.

It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.

“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”

Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.

“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.

Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.

“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”

El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”

“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”

“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”

She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”

“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself.

Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.

His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.

They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.

“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”

“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”

“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.

“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”

“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”

As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.

They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.

“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.

“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.

“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”

She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”

“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”

She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin.

“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”

Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.

Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.

“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”

“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.

“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”

Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.

“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.

The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.

“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”

“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”

Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him.

What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.

El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.

“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”

El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.

Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.

Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today.

Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.

He has a very important choice to make.

He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.

He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.

“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”

“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”

Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.

“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”

“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”

“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”

He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.

“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”

“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”

“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.

“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”

Billy has another choice to make.

Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.

This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.

“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.

“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”

“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”

Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.

He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.

“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”

The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”

El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”

“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”

“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”

He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.

When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”

Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.

“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”

“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”

“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”

“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”

“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”

“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?”

“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.

“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.

“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip.

“Bags?”

“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”

“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”

What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.

“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.

“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”

“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”

“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”

The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.

There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.

Billy,

Happy birthday. Enjoy California.

- Steve

P.S: I wasn’t kidding. You look good in pink.

Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.

“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls in wait of the California sun.

“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.

Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fanfiction #billy x steve #billy hargrove #billy and el #billy and max #billy and hopper

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rouiyan · 9 months

Text

𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 ; 𝘛𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ RELEASED — READ FULL FIC HERE ⧐

marks manages to land himself in a forty-two hour drive across the country with his archaeology major ex-girlfriend in the passenger seat. but for the duration of the whole ride, the only thing he can think about is that one twitter meme that states that “a majority of archeologists are women due to their natural ability to dig up the past.”

✧ photographer!mark lee x (fem.) archaeology major!reader ✧ exes to lovers, road trip au, referenced college au ✧ fluff/angst, hurt/comfort

✧ full fic w/c : 25.2k ✧ teaser w/c : 828 ✧ teaser disclaimers : food tw, knife tw, profanity

author's note — uhh.. well this is kinda awkward. i know i haven't posted content in a long ass time... sadly, this is by no means an official return to writing, but instead a piece that i've written on and off for over two years! now that i've been given a window of unoccupied time to finish it to my liking, i hope you look forward to it! i've missed you all btw

「 DAY 00, 01:42 PM 」— CUPID DABBLES IN BURNT TOAST

"oh, come on. i thought you were nicer than that!"

it's at times like these where mark is led to think that haechan only considers him as his very best friend for three things. his toaster, his car, and then of course, how easy it is to torment him.

he’s experienced enough to know that the guilt he feels is really only a direct result of haechan's guilt-tripping antics. and so he responds sarcastically, "yeah, nice enough to save a girl from a week of being in close proximity to the person she hates most in the world."

the toaster dings and haechan catches the two pieces of toast in their flight. he sticks one in his mouth, breaking off a bite, whilst turning to toss the other onto his friend's plate. chewing roughly, he leans back onto the counter opposite of mark, watching in contempt as the latter spreads jam across the burnt slice of bread.

haechan points a finger and juts it in his direction, offhandedly commenting, "i'm starting to think that it's you who hates her," a fact that both friends know isn't true. and because of that, mark doesn't make a big deal of denying it. "i don't hate her. i'm just..." he trails off and haechan takes the opportunity to craftily stage his intervention.

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

a passage of silence elapses as mark sets the butter knife aside in exchange for his orange juice. gulping it down, he gets through two thirds of the glass before haechan perks up again. "actually, i think she still has a thing for you."

mark sputters, barely swallowing his drink before it could hurl out his disbelieving mouth. trying to smooth over his show of defiance, mark recovers a nonchalant expression as he deadpans, "there's no way. you know better than i do that she fucking hates me."

haechan takes another bite, aware but indifferent at how the crumbs have been gathering at his feet. his eyes trail absentmindedly to the clock on the wall behind mark, but only briefly for the hands are far past where he'd expected them to be. shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rushes to gather his belongings whilst uttering to his bewildered company, "shit, i'm gonna be late. pack it up."

obediently downing the rest of his orange juice, mark grabs his half-eaten, jam-slathered, burnt-to-a-crisp toast in one hand as the other reaches for his car keys on the way out. the unbearably hot sun of an early summer afternoon only hurries mark further along to his car, his wishes that he had worn shorts instead of jeans already too late to come true. but once both car doors have been shut and seat belts have been strapped, haechan carries on with his agenda without missing a beat.

"just give her the ride, mark. she'll keep you company and, i don't know, make sure you're not falling asleep at the wheel. and plus, she said she'll split the toll and gas fees."

mark shoves the last bite of toast into his mouth, the charred-ness of it procuring a nice crunch. even after he swallows, it takes him a second to respond. and though his answer is still far from budging, it sounds more like a justification, as if he needs convincing of his own opinion. "tell her it's cheaper to just catch a flight. and faster too."

exasperated, haechan retorts under his breath, "that's the same thing i told you," to which mark gives a raised brow, not catching what he said. instead of repeating, haechan only says, "just take her. you guys need to make up anyways."

that renders mark quiet for the rest of the ride as he tosses the thought over in his head. it's a thought that he knows he's been pushing away for far too long, hoping one day it'll become redundant enough to simply forget about. unknowingly, mark begins to speed a little, his turns become a little tighter, and when the traffic light signals red, the nose of his car is pulled daringly close to the car in front.

mark parallel parks shoddily in front of the archeology department building four minutes earlier than google maps had estimated. his best friend looks over at him expectantly and that in itself is enough to squeeze the reluctant words right out of him. "fine, i'll think about it."

haechan's face lights with a satisfied glow as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, making his way out of the car as quickly as he can. and just before mark can think to wish him good luck on his last exam of the spring semester, haechan blurts out the one crucial detail he had neglected to bring up until now.

"thank god, because i already told her you said yes."

#nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct mark #mark x reader #mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #mark lee fluff

112 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 11 months

Note

A drabble with jungkook, smut 87 and angst 12 / 99, tysm 💘💘💘💘

I think this is like the first time I've written something on here that doesn't have a happy ending? Oop, beware

The Bane of Your Existence | jjk

☆pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader, mentions of Kim Taehyung x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (contains smut, minors DNI)

☆genre: college!au, smut, angst

☆warnings: unedited, mentions of getting ghosted by a friend, mentions of bullying, curses, alcohol, explicit content: nipple play, clit play, oral sex (female receiving), protected penetrative sex, hickey

☆word count: 2.6k

☆angst prompt 12: "You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that."

☆angst prompt 99: "It could've been worse. We could've fallen in love."

☆smut prompt 87: "It's hot when you talk back."

☆The smut prompt is from this list and the angst prompts are from this one!

☆☆☆☆☆

If there is a thing that is true about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he was born to be the bane of your existence. You’ve never liked him, he’s never liked you. All through high school, you hated each other. And when you got to college and had to attend the same one, the hate only grew.

It’s not that Jungkook is a bad person. He’s just always irked you, in all the worst ways. His presence annoys you, his dumb smiles and stupid smirks make you want to punch him. His explicit jokes and cocky remarks make you roll your eyes to the back of your head and, frankly, you really hate him. Abhor him, and all the worst words in the dictionary somehow apply to him.

It’s even worse when he’s assigned to be your partner in a project in one of your elective classes that he ended up taking too even though your majors have nothing in common. Because now you’ve suffered through hours of his annoying personality, and you’ve also just learned that he slept with your best friend last year, before she suddenly ghosted you.

She’s moved colleges now, and you’ve long moved on. But the reminder makes you see red, in that little study room where you’ve been for the last hour and a half.

“Fuck off,” you tell him, because some part of you refuse to accept it.

He smirks, tilts his head to the side. “What? Too hard to accept that some girls want to fuck me?”

You laugh, but it’s entirely devoid of joy. “With you? All of them are just stupid.”

“Right.” He still sports the annoying smirk and you really feel like punching him for it.

But you have a project to focus on, so you do that even though he keeps looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat. He’s surprisingly intelligent though, and his insights on what to do are mostly good, so at least you get to advance on the project a lot.

You’re dreaming of your dorm bed, of hiding under the covers only to resurface when Jungkook will be gone from your life when a trio of girls open the door of your little study room, saying that they have reserved it for the next two hours.

Your eyes slide to Jungkook. “I thought you had booked it,” you tell him.

“I couldn’t, it was already booked,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m done anyway, we can finish some other time.”

You clench your jaw. “I’d really like to finish today, Jungkook. We’re almost done.”

“Then come over to my dorm,” he suggests, and he’s got a smirk on his lips when you offer him a glare as you’re putting your laptop in your backpack.

“Fuck off, I’m not going to go over to your dorm,” you tell him, slightly shaking your head in disapproval.

“I can go to yours if you prefer,” he suggests.

You really don’t, but your wish to finish the project is stronger. You know your roommate won’t be there – ever since she started dating someone that has an apartment not too far from campus, she’s been spending most of her time over at their place. So that’s how you find yourself sitting cross-legged on your bed while Jungkook is at your desk, shooting ideas as if you’ve never really hated each other after all.

You form a better team with him than you ever expected you would.

“What about this?” Jungkook suggests.

He sends you a link from an article he was reading, and you quickly skim over it. “It says the opposite of what we’re trying to explain.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. He sighs, picking up his laptop to move to your bed.

The sudden closeness makes you stiffen, a frown moving on your features, but he’s entirely immune to it as he points at a line on the screen.

He recites it, before adding, “See, it would be perfect”.

“You did not just find a single sentence that can be used?”

He furrows his brows as he meets your gaze. “Yes?”

You laugh, and it’s a little cold. “If the TA looks at the sources he’ll fail us.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes this time. He leans closer, which in turn makes you lean back. You’re very aware all of a sudden that one of his knees is brushing your leg, and your mouth slightly parts as if in anticipation.

“No TAs actually look at sources,” he says, head cocking to the side. “Especially not Namjoon.”

Right. Your TA is one of Jungkook’s friends anyway, which you reckon might be the reason why Jungkook took the class in the first place.

He sits back in his spot, and you take a deep breath as you straighten. “Right.”

He looks as if he was expecting you to talk back, but as you return to focusing on the project, so does he. You don’t see the time go, but at a certain point a loud rumble coming from Jungkook’s stomach has you ordering burritos. You’re almost done eating, surprisingly able to converse with Jungkook about high school without feeling like murdering him. He finishes his burrito first, and then he says, “Your teeth looked so weird when I met you”.

You cock an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Before you got your braces,” he says. “People made fun of you all of the time about it.”

You frown. “By people you mean you?”

He offers you a sweet, innocent smile as if he wasn’t your bully for years. “Yeah.”

It kills the conversation as you just stare at him, holding his gaze for a while. Your burrito is long forgotten in your hands when you blink, as if breaking out of a reverie.

“You were the worst person I knew, back then,” you tell him a little pensively.

“I was just teasing you! You always got worked up over nothing.”

You scoff. “You really were the worst thing to happen to me,” you tell him a little pensively. “I mean that.”

He looks insulted, somehow, as if he believes he’s the best thing to ever happen to everyone around him. You reckon he might actually believe that, with the size of his ego.

“That’s a bit excessive,” he says, a frown taking over his features. “It wasn’t like you were any better.”

“I treated you the way you treated me,” you drawl. “Didn’t like it?”

“I just thought…” he trails off, scoffing. “I just thought it was funny.”

“In what kind of sick and twisted world is bullying someone funny?” you ask.

He doesn’t reply. He just stares at a vague spot next to you, looking so conflicted you want to push him out of your dorm.

“I wasn’t bullying you,” he finally says, voice small.

“Fuck off, Jungkook, you were,” you snicker, a cold laugh falling from your mouth.

He meets your gaze then, and he looks so angry your eyes widen. “I didn’t realize that I was. What the fuck do you want me to do about it now?”

Your burrito suddenly catches your attention, because you’re too much of a coward to hold his gaze. “Maybe stop being an asshole?”

He chuckles bitterly. “I’m not an asshole. You’re literally the only person I know that thinks I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe because that’s the way you act with me, Jungkook! You’re always on my back.”

You see him rolling his eyes as you look up, your anger giving you enough courage to be able to hold his gaze.

He says your name like it’s an insult. “You’re the one that takes every opportunity you get to insult me,” he points out. “To call me a man-whore because I sleep around. What’s so wrong with having a little fun?”

“You rub it into everyone’s face!” you burst. “That’s what’s wrong.” You pause, and it’s your turn to chuckle bitterly. “And you fucked Nabi and she ghosted me.”

He purses his lips, glancing down at your chest. You’re wearing a turtleneck, so you know he’s not looking at your breasts. He’s just avoiding your eyes, and he suddenly seems extremely guilty.

“Not my fault,” he grumbles.

“Not your fault my ass!” You shake your head in disbelief. “What the fuck did you tell her to convince her to ghost me?”

“I called her by your name,” he admits, and he meets your gaze then. It’s a little intense, a little dark, and your heart misses a beat in your chest.

“You called her by my name? You’re so fucking weird.”

As you were speaking, Jungkook’s gaze trailed to your mouth. So he’s looking at your lips when he says, “It’s so hot when you talk back”.

You were about to insult him even more, but all you manage to choke out is, “What?”

His big doe eyes look up to meet your gaze, before dropping to your lips once more. “Every time we fight, I have to physically refrain from grabbing your face and kissing you stupid.”

You have no idea how the conversation got here. Only that it makes the very bottom of your stomach warm up. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he says, drawing out every syllable. “I’ve had a crush on you my whole fucking life.”

You want to punch him, to tell him he’s even more of an asshole than you always thought he was. All you can do is put your burrito to the side and jump on him, grabbing his face and clashing your mouth on his.

It’s so hard you taste a little blood, but as soon as your lips connect you lose sense of everything else. There’s just him and his lips and his large hands moving on every inch of your body, caressing you over your clothes before he feels emboldened and rids you of your shirt.

His mouth drops to your erect nipple then, and he murmurs that you’re beautiful as he sucks on it lightly, tongue flicking at it right as he pinches the other one. You moan, one hand going to his hair, pulling at the long strands.

He takes that as a cue to kiss you again and so he does, his tongue parting your lips until it’s lapping at your own. He swallows the sounds you make as his fingers move between your legs, blindly looking for your clit through the fabric.

He pulls away, letting out a frustrated grunt, and he tears his shirt off before helping you out of your pants and panties.

In less than five minutes you’ve found yourself entirely naked with the bane of your existence which, you reckon, feels way too good.

He’s quick after that. Quick to bury his face between your legs and pull an orgasm out of you. Quick to take off his pants as you watch his erection spring free. Quick to put on the condom he finds in his wallet, and quick to kneel between your legs.

He watches you as you rub your clit mindlessly, before pushing in in one powerful thrust, bottoming out when there’s still some of him left. You cry out, grabbing onto his thighs as he starts fucking you, quick and hard, and it’s no wonder you come again as he angles his dick to hit a sweet spot inside of you.

He comes into the condom as your walls pulsate around his cock, teeth digging in his bottom lip so hard you think he’s going to draw blood. He only relaxes his features once his dick stops twitching inside of you, and he’s quick to pull out.

And that’s how you start having sex with Jeon Jungkook. It’s an irregular schedule, with exams and part time jobs and parties and friends keeping you away from each other, but somehow you still find Jungkook buried deep inside of you a couple of times each month. You still hate him, hate the effect that he has on you, hate how he’s able to make you beg for it.

It all culminates on a late February evening, when he arrives to your dorm two hours after he said he would with a bright red hickey on his neck.

“What the fuck is this, Jungkook?” you ask him, pointing at the proof he was with someone else. “You’re still fucking other people?”

“Are you not?” he asks, rubbing his neck. “You keep insisting that it’s just sex. Why do you even care?”

You fold your arms on your chest, taking a few steps away from him. “It’s just weird. When did you fuck her?”

You hear him scoff. “I didn’t fuck her. We just made out.”

“As if that makes it any better,” you drawl.

“You’re so fucking confusing,” he complains, with an edge to his voice. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, surprising yourself when you realize it’s true. “I’m done with you.”

“Fuck off,” he spits. “You’re just throwing a little jealousy fit because you can’t admit to yourself that you care about me.”

You laugh, a joyless sound that feels like nails on a blackboard. “The funny thing is I really don’t. I don’t give a fuck who’s under you, Jungkook. As long as it’s not me anymore.”

“What? You’re just going to end things like this?”

You nod, finally turning to look at him. He’s scowling, eyes burning with unhinged anger.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Leave, Jungkook. The project was last semester, this has lasted for way longer than it should have.”

“Alright,” he snickers. “Suit yourself.”

And then he’s gone, not once looking back at you. It hurts to watch him go, somehow, and you curse yourself, force yourself to forget about him. It works – you barely even see him on campus to begin with anyway. So much so that, eight months later, you’re dating Kim Taehyung, an exchange student from Korea, when you actually run into Jungkook for the first time again, at a bar you don’t usually go to.

You’re at the bar, ordering drinks for you and Taehyung who went to the bathroom when Jungkook approaches you.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he drawls, leaning on the bar. “What’s bringing you here?”

“A date,” you reply truthfully. “If you even know what that is.”

He furrows his brows, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t changed.”

“Okay, Jungkook.”

He remains silent for a time, and then his expression relaxes. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, doe eyes turning nostalgic. Especially not as he says, “I wish we had ended things on better terms”.

You chuckle bitterly. “Sorry, Jungkook.” You pause, looking towards the bathroom as you see Taehyung walking out. You direct your gaze back to Jungkook before speaking again. “It could’ve been worse. We could’ve fallen in love.”

And then you’re receiving your cocktail and Taehyung’s beer, so you walk away, not once looking back towards Jungkook.

Little do you know that Jungkook fell in love, all those months ago. Tried to forget it with someone else, only to have it backfire in his face because of that stupid hickey. So, he watches you go, feeling sick to his stomach, then figures that getting drunk and fucking a stranger should help him forget.

He knows it never does, but it’s all that he knows how to do.

244 notes · View notes

obitohno · 2 years

Text

friend-zoned

hanma, draken, taiju, kazutora, sanzu, ran, rindou, nahoya, kokonoi, izana

synopsis ⤸

after two long years of being stuck in the friend-zone, you decide that you’ve had enough.

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, smut, friends to lovers, mutual pining, nipple play, inverted nipples, reader with small breasts, rough sex, creampies, cowgirl, the dragon, size kink, size difference, first kiss, first time

word count ⤸

4.8k (unedited)

a/n ⤸

so, this is my first ever tokyo revengers au, yayay! i've only ever written in second person once before (for ao3), but i really wanted to give it another try bc i want to create more x reader fics, as they're my favourites to read... i hope that i did an okay job this time, n i really hope that you guys enjoy the read! tbh, although this can apply to any of those listed above, when i was writing, i actually had one character in mind, so it'd be interesting if you guys can guess which one :')

reblogs are appreciated ~

the friend-zone is a place reserved for those poor, pathetically unfortunate souls that are either pitied or ridiculed by their peers, and it is a place that he’d never thought that he’d ever fall victim to. but, on the day that he met what he can only describe as both the light and the bane of his existence—yes, you—the world had clearly decided that it was high time that he should be humbled for the first time in his life. and, so, for the past two years, the friend-zone is the place of which he’s been subject to, much to his chagrin, and one that he’s yet to escape. at first, he thought that you were just utterly clueless to the effect that you have on him, and he even went as far as to blame it on the fact that it’s just been fucking forever since he last got laid. but the more comfortable you grew around him, the less and less you seemed to view him as a man. and he was loathe to admit that that thought had sucker-punched his ego straight into next year. didn’t you know just how crazy you drove him whenever you greeted him at the door of your apartment, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a scrap of fabric that he thinks is supposed to pass off as some sort a crop top? and surely you aren’t that oblivious to his gaze burning into the surface of your skin when he follows you inside, to the slow bobbing of the lump in his throat as he breathes in the scent of your home—of you—to the lazy crawl of the lopsided smirk that tilts the corner of his mouth every time you greet him?

no, he surmises. you must be doing it on purpose.

right now, the two of you are lounging in the living room after inhaling a hot bowl of soup, one that he’d reluctantly consumed after you’d insisted that it’d be good to for him because it’s cold outside when he’d turned his nose up when you told him what was on the menu for tonight. it most definitely wasn’t because he’d weakened at the sight of the downward tilt of your lips, for fuck’s sake, who the fuck did you think he was? still, his stomach is now warm with the heat of the spice that you’d used to season the broth, and he won’t admit it aloud, but you were right; it was good for him.

you’re rambling away next to him, something about sarah-the-office-bitch-from-work, but, truthfully, he’s not listening to a word, having already zoned out a good ten minutes ago. he’s too busy staring at your mouth, offering a low hum here and there whenever you pause to check for his reaction, his eyelids heavy as they slowly blink down toward the shadow of your collarbone.

‘you’re not listening,�� he hears the mild annoyed bite in your accusation. he manages a grin.

‘sorry, doll,’ he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all, far too tired to conjure a lie to placate you. you huff something undecipherable under your breath, shifting to cross your arms over your chest, which only serves to amplify the curve of your small bust as the modest-sized mounds are pushed upward. he’s not even trying to hide the way he stares at you—and for once, you take notice of the tense clenching of his jaw, a low breath exhaling from his nose.

his name is whispered between the small gap between you, and fuck, when had he leaned closer? his mouth is dry, despite him swallowing once, twice, thrice, for fuck’s sake, he needs a drink or something. but just as he’s leaning out of reach and making to stand from the settee, your hand catches the curve of his wrist, holding him still. his eyes meet yours, and to his absolute bafflement, the colour of your irises have darkened significantly. your cheeks are a little flushed, but he can’t tell if it’s from the spice in the soup, or if it’s because you’ve some kind of epiphany and finally realised that you want him just as much as he wants you.

god, he fucking hopes that it’s the latter.

and for a long, painfully quiet moment, you both stare at one another. your tongue darts out to parch your dry lips, and he’s almost embarrassed by how quickly his eyes snap to follow the motion before the muscle disappears from view once more.

neither of you are sure of who moves first.

his mouth is following after that tongue of yours, and when you next inhale, your breath is shared with his. the kiss is anything but sweet; it’s a feverish battle that has you moaning down his throat when his tongue presses against yours. he responds just as eagerly, long fingers tangling into the tresses of your hair, and tugging you closer until you’re panting against his lips. he’s just as breathless as you are, and once again, he’s humbled by the strain that his work trousers are suddenly subject to. but, he’s too busy with his mouth to feel embarrassed by how quickly his cock hardens between his legs—that, and he’s also too fucking horny to find it in him to actually give a shit.

at some point, he’s so distracted by the taste of the inside of your mouth that he fails to realise that your hands are slowly pressing to the meat of his thighs and eagerly gliding toward that spot that is rapidly warming with each heated sigh and gasp that is shared between the both of you. it isn’t until the palm of your hand actually slides over the bulge hidden under a thin layer of finely stitch linen that your lips part. he sucks in a sharp breath, and it is with every drop of self-restraint—and a tad sprinkle of regret—that he summons the strength to clasp your hand to halt your movements.

he doesn’t miss the grimace that dances across your face as you withdraw enough so that he can look at your face properly.

‘you don’t wanna do that, doll,’ he warns, voice hoarse as he shifts his left leg, daring to shoot a pitiful glare down at his own crotch. he hears you huff a short laugh, sounding everything other than amused. it’s a laugh that he already associates with the familiarity of your irritation. when his eyes drag over your features, it takes everything within him to avoid staring at your kiss-swollen lips. your gaze, although half hidden behind heavy eyelids that have dropped with the weight of his kisses, are ablaze with what he can only see as poorly veiled anger. in turn, the pettier sider of him can’t help but react with the same level of annoyance that is aimed towards him. ‘what you fuckin’ poutin’ for?’

somehow, your scowl deepens, marring the pretty features on your face.

‘just when i thought that you’d finally grown a pair.’

the words are viciously spat into the space between you, but before he fully processes what in the flying fuck you’d just said to him, you’re already jumping up from the settee. dumbly, he gawks as you snatch your empty bowls from the coffee table, pointedly ignoring him as you march from the room. his body is already moving before his brain catches up, and he’s following you into the kitchen. ‘the fuck d’you mean?’

it doesn’t take much to suspect that part of your anger is aimed toward the notion of being rejected. and if he wasn’t so pissed by your bratty attitude, he’d take you right back to that settee—or, more preferably, your bed—and finish what he’d started.

‘nothing,’ your tone is cold, your answer contradicted by the sound of you practically throwing the dishes into the sink. the ceramics clash together in a way that makes his teeth grit, followed by the distinct sound of something breaking once it hits the bottom of the sink.

‘nothin’?’ he grunts, repeating your answer. ‘sure don’t look like nothin’ to me.’

it’s the wrong thing to say.

you whirl on him, and you swipe a tea-towel from the kitchen surface and launch it across the room so roughly that it actually smacks him square in the face. he allows the offending fabric to drop unceremoniously to the ground and your eyes widen as his eyes slide shut, the corners of his mouth curling up into a vicious smile. the sight of it should make you feel even just a smidge of fear, but it only serves to cause your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, heat warming the inside of your underwear.

in truth, you had fallen for him almost immediately after your friendship began.

your meeting as an accidental romance-story-gone-wrong.

two years ago, you were rushing to work after in fear of being late after your train being held up that morning. and you’d ran into what you’d initially thought to be the most intimidating man you’d ever met, quite literally, head first. his coffee had actually left you with a minor burn scar on the inside of your thigh, and after he’d insisted on offering to replace your beverage-stained blouse, despite not falling in love and living happily-ever-after, the two of you somehow stayed in contact. it didn’t take long for you to fall for his charm that very few are accustomed to, and you like to think that you are now one of the few select people that are blessed with with a side of him that no others get to see.

and it wasn’t long before you began to notice him showing signs of mutual interest. at first, you’d been delighted whenever you noticed his heavy stare fixated onto you, and you only. you’d been shy, but hopeful when you’d catch his gaze lingering on the curve of your lips when you smiled at him, or when he humoured you enough to wrap his arms across your shoulders each time he left your apartment, despite him grumbling about his reputation every time he indulges you. and whilst you were happy, even if it meant that you’d never breach past the friendship stage, you also couldn’t help the disappointment that sunk deep down in your stomach every time he left without kissing you.

so when his lips had finally pressed against yours, when his hands had clung to you desperately, when your tongue had desperately tasted him just enough to engrave it deep within your tastebuds, when your fingers had felt just how much he wanted you; well, you were ecstatic.

except, you hadn’t expected to finally receive the attention that you’d been craving for the past two years, only to be rejected within the same breath. you must’ve done something truly horrific in a past life, you’d fumed as you’d marched your way into the kitchen, because you didn’t understand how you could be this unlucky.

yet, now, as you watch him exhale a long, low breath, before his eyes slowly peel open to stare down at you, you can’t help but hope that you’ve finally pushed him enough to snap.

and snap, he does.

he steps over the abandoned tea-towel, eyes glinting with something darker as they watch you swallow thickly. he chuckles, and then he says, ‘was tryna be nice to you, doll… makin’ sure you don’t do somethin’ you’ll regret.’

his eyes narrow down at you and he leans into your personal space, towering over your smaller frame until the countertop digs into the small of your back and you have to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

‘’m done playin’ nice.’

this is the only warning that you receive before two large hands are curling around the back of your thighs and you’re hoisted into the air so roughly that you can’t stop the shrill shriek that bursts past your lips when your abdomen meets the point of his shoulder. your heart lurches so rapidly that it feels like it’s thrumming inside your throat, but upside down like this, you are privy to an appealing eyeful of his toned backside. the jet black material of his trousers have evidently been tailored made to fit him snugly, and you certainly aren’t complaining about the view.

the ground moves below you, and as the tiled kitchen flooring gives away to a light beige carpet, you realise that he’s carried you into your bedroom. your stomach twists with anticipation, thighs clenched tightly together as you watch him kick the door shut behind him. suddenly, you’re falling, body bouncing on the mattress of your bed as you’re roughly deposited onto it. the motion makes your head spin, but you don’t have time to process it, as he’s suddenly on top of you, mouth claiming yours for the second time this evening. the weight of him pressing you into the mattress feels delicious and your fingers grip his hair, as you kiss him with everything you’ve got. pride fills you when his groan is bitten into your bottom lip, his hips jutting forward once, twice, clearly testing your boundaries. only when your legs widen to accommodate him, knees bending to curl your calves against his lower back, does he repeat the action, drawing a breath gasp from your mouth, which he’s quick to swallow down.

the last two years of back-and-forth, what-if’s and what he’d thought to be unrequited feelings, is quickly destroyed with each brush of your clothed cunt, and he relishes in the way his name is shakily whispered into the curve of his ear. your breath is hot on the side of his face, the sound of each broken breath forced from your lips making his cock throb so painfully that he wishes that you’d both undressed before he’d kissed you. with this thought, he places one short kiss on the curve of your cheek, and pulls away so suddenly that you flinch at the loss of his weight pressing you down into the mattress. his thumb drags across the hem of your shorts before his hand pulls away.

‘take ‘em off.’

he waits until you’ve pushed yourself upright before he climbs from the bed, hands already rushing to pull open the buttoning of his dress shirt. you move to stand before him, your movements not as rushed as his appear to be, but it’s mostly because your eyes are distracted, greedily taking in every inch of skin that is exposed to you. he’s almost naked by the time you gather enough wit about yourself to do as he’d told you. nerves and self-consciousness have you avoiding his gaze until you’re clad in nothing but the skin that you were born with.

when you look at him, he’s already sat at the edge of your bed, and your gaze zeros in on the fingers that are currently fisting his cock in a lazy upwards stroke as he watches you from where he sits. the lean muscles in his abdomen flex, and in turn, so do the inner muscles of your thighs as you press them together. once he realises that your attention is focused on the reddened tip that is leaking slick arousal down the ridges of his fingers, his bottom lips drags between his teeth and he beckons you over.

‘c’mere.’

you have to gall to look hesitant as you make your way over to him, hands making to reach up and cover your breasts in a pathetic attempt to protect your modesty. he scoffs at you, his free hand reaching out to tug your arms away, baring your entire body to his heated stare. he can’t help dragging his eyes over every inch of your body; he’s wanted this for a long time, and he’s sure as hell is going to make sure he makes the most of it whilst it lasts. and with this thought, his eyes roam over the gentle curves of your lithe form, hips narrower and breasts smaller than what society would deem as ‘attractive’, and yet the sight of the lightning streaks of your stretch marks, your puffy areola that surrounds two nipples—both of which are, to his pleasant surprise—inverted, make him ache for you. he sucks in a deep breath at the sight of them, cock twitching, hard against his abdomen. his fingers reach to trace the surface of your stomach, the corner of his mouth quirking when you breathe in sharply when he tickles your ribs. his fingers trace the shape of your left breast, watching as your chest begins to rise and fall a little faster.

with arousal, or anxiety, he’s unsure.

when his thumb brushes over your nipple, he’s taken aback by the lack of reaction. it must’ve shown on his face, because your expression drops into one of apprehension, and you lean back so that he’s no longer touching you.

‘they don’t…’ you trail off, looking down at your own chest, expression twisting into one that is a mixture of both self-loathing and disappointment. he doesn’t like that look on your face. but before he can voice it so, you clear your throat, ‘um… they’re inverted. but there’s not much sensation in them, so touching them doesn’t really do anything—’

he interrupts, ‘much sensation?’ you blink at him, allowing him to touch your skin again if only to appease his curiosity. ‘so you feel some stuff, right?’

you’re flustered, ‘well, yes. but like i said, touching them doesn’t do much, so it’s really not worth—’

he’ll decide what is or isn’t worth his time, thanks.

his lips are already curling around your nipple before you can finish your sentence. your words are cut off with a sharp intake of breath, and you shiver when hot air is exhaled from his nostrils, his tongue probing at your nipple. it tickles, but it isn’t until his teeth pinch where his tongue had traced, when you actually feel a dull throb of arousal from his ministrations. he hears the quiet moan that slips past your lips, and when he glances at your face, your eyes are closed, lips parted, a soft redness blessing your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

his moan is deep, low, and it vibrates across your breast, and you can’t help but moan along with him. his teeth are careful as they tug on your nipple, and with his attentions, the tip starts to protrude outwards. of course, having experimented by yourself before, this isn’t new to you. but when he eventually releases the abused skin, revealing a faint bruise that is starting to form, you allow him to indulge in his own smugness before he turns his attention to the other nipple. whilst doing so, his fingers tease the newly raised nub and your toes curl into the carpet, another moan echoed by the very man who is causing them.

by the time that you deem that he must be satisfied with his handiwork, you’re left a breathless mess, and you lean back so that your nipple pulls from between his lips with a wet pop! your eyes lower to where his fingers are curled around the base of his cock, and for the second time today, he watches as your tongue darts out to lick your lips. the girth is a little daunting, but considering how much bigger he is compared to you, you shouldn’t really be surprised that his cock is on the thicker side. still, despite the size, your mouth salivates at the sight of the vein that traces the entire length, disappearing under the swollen tip, just beneath the bundle of nerves that you’re itching to trace with your tongue.

but, as if he can read your thoughts, he chuckles from where his lips are pressing to the gap between your breasts. ‘not today, doll.’

and then, before you can protest, or even attempt to convince him to let you have just a taste, he’s pulling you onto his lap, his mouth dropping open when his cock slips between the dripping folds of your slit. you’re positive that he must feel the way your clit throbs for him, because in response, his length jerks and his hips cant upwards, his hands pressing you down to grind against you. his eyelids droop, heavy with wanton need, ‘so fuckin’ wet f’me.’

you keen, pressing your nose into the curve of his neck, grinding your hips in time with his thrusts. ‘a-all for you,’ you pant into his ear, and he’s holding you so tightly that you suspect that you’ll wake with bruises tomorrow. every ridge of his cock drags over your cunt, which drips messily all over him, a puddle already soaking the trimmed patch of dark hair that rests at the base of his erection. you would be embarrassed if he didn’t voice his approval in the form of a grunt, tongue lapping at your skin as he licks and sucks his way up the length of your neck. a particularly harsh bite to your collarbone has you yelping, and it almost ruins the blissful moment when he finally presses into you.

he enters in one, long stroke, his entire length gliding into your heat with ease, and he’s so dazed with the feeling of you that he belatedly remembers that he probably should’ve stretched you out with his fingers first. but you don’t seem to care, because you’re crying out as you rise up onto your knees, before dropping your hips back down, forcing him to empty and fill you over and over again. the stretch of his girth makes your insides ache, but it burns in a way that makes your toes curl with bliss.

‘f-fuck,’ he croons, one hand pressing to the mattress for balance, and the other, weaselling its way to your clit, rubbing tight fast circles in a bid to feel your gummy walls twitch and flutter and squeeze around him. ‘that’s it, baby, use my cock—hng, fuck—make this cock yours.’

‘m-mine,’ you whimper above him, nails digging into his shoulder blades as you cling onto him.

‘’s’right, babydoll, all fuckin’ yours,’ he agrees, moaning loudly when one harsh thrust has him stuttering on his own breath. ‘c-can you feel it, huh? look how hard i am—look what you do t’me.’ you feel him twitch inside you, the warmth of him pulsing from deep within your heat. your clit is caught between his thumb and the texture of his public hair, and you throb for him, already well on your way towards your release.

it is at this point that he decides that you’ve had enough of your fun, his hands holding tight to keep your hips still, before his thighs flex lower and his entire length springs free from the wet cavern of your cunt. your hole clenches, now empty, and a thick gloop of slick drips from between your legs. your orgasm is ruined, and you whine at the loss.

‘look at you,’ he coos, awed.

and then, he’s moving your body, positioning you so that you’re now laying with your stomach pressed to the sheets, your legs spread wide. you wait for him to press in above you, the heavy weight of him carefully lowered to your back. he rests on his forearms, but his entire body covers yours, and suddenly, you feel very small. the size difference is staggeringly obvious, and if the hitching of his breath is of any indicator, you’d say that he likes it just as much as you do. you mewl his name, and two, long fingers come to tuck under your chin, tilting your head toward your shoulder so that he can kiss you again.

it’s harder to kiss from this position, and your tongues battle messily, but soon enough, he’s entering you again, and you sob as he leaves no time for you to adjust before he sets a punishing pace. the room is soon filled with the wet sound of his pelvis repeatedly colliding with the soft meat of your backside, and you don’t have to look to know that your arousal is already soaking the sheets.

he’s loud like this, you quickly realise, and he’s moaning, babbling promises of what’s more to come in the future, praising the fact that your pretty little hole is made just for him. his cock batters your cunt and your dripping walls welcome him in with each thrust, and before long, your orgasm is gaining a powerful momentum. he chants your name like its his lifeline, and it’s with this that you realise he’s fast approaching his own peak, too.

long fingers curl a fistful of of your hair, tight enough that your scalp protests weakly as your neck stretches, baring itself for him to clamp his teeth onto the skin to mark you yet again. his thrusts become heavier, sloppier, faster, and the squelching clap of his balls slapping against your clit, and just like that, just like that, yes, yes, yes, gods, yes—!

you white out.

only for a second or two, but when you regain consciousness, it’s to the sound of his guttural shout of unfiltered, pure pleasure that ripples its way across his entire body and enters your cunt, painting it white with ropes of seed that spills on and on and on, until he collapses against your back with a strained murmur of your name. he nuzzles the crook where your shoulder meets your neck, and you lay there, struggling to catch your breath. your pussy is still throbbing with the aftermaths of your orgasm, and you can already feel the slow trickle of cum starting to spill from your hole, despite the fact that his length still claims its home within your inner walls.

it takes a good few minutes for the thrumming in your veins to quieten to a dull hum, and another five for him to move just enough to brush an open-mouthed kiss to your temple as you reach back to push the dampened strands of his hair back from his forehead. there’s a satisfied ache settling into your limbs and it forces a yawn out of your mouth. at this, he hums, pressing his lips to the crest of your cheek, and you squint at him from the corner of your eye when he manages to huff out a short, tired laugh.

‘you better not be fallin’ ‘sleep on me, doll,’ he warns, though his own voice betrays him, thickened with exhaustion. you turn to peek at him, your index finger tracing down the slope of his nose, a light dusting of pink staining the bridge. his eyes glaze over for a moment or two, before he blinks back to the present, and then the gentlest smile that you’ve ever seen graces his lips and the sight makes your stomach twist, pulse racing within your veins.

eventually, when you trust yourself to speak clearly, you tease your fingers between his own until they’re snaked together, and you say softly, ‘of course not.’

your answer makes something flash in his eyes, but you’re unable to decipher the meaning behind it, because suddenly, his girth slips free, along with the gush of your release that has mixed with his. he pushes his weight from your prone form, and as much as you enjoy having him crush you into the mattress, the relief on your back is instant. when you muster the energy to roll onto your side, his eyes are glued to the space between your legs, and if not for that tiny smile that softens his entire face, mortification would have made you blush from head-to-toe.

when you ignore the aching of your thighs to sit up properly, his hand shoots out to curl around your ankle, holding you in place. ‘where’d’ya think you’re goin’?’

he’s sat on his haunches, but he’s leaning over you again, easily reminding you of the size difference that turns you on more than you care to admit. his eyes are dark as they skim over your freshly-fucked body, previously unmarred skin now littered with new bruises and hickeys that you know will take all week to disappear. his smirk widens, but you can see that he’s not entirely unaffected, the pink blush still present, along with the hardened prick that bobs between his legs, yet to soften. he leans in close enough for his lips to steal another kiss from yours and you allow him to take you into his arms, whispering, ‘nowhere. i’m not going anywhere.’

something akin to contentment settles over him, but his fingers are already dancing across the slant of your waist, and you shiver at the unspoken promise of what’s to come next.

#♡ jordy is writing ♡#tr x reader #tr smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #hanma x reader #hanma smut #draken x reader #draken smut #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran smut #haitani rindo x reader #haitani rindou smut #sanzu x reader #sanzu smut #kazutora x reader #izana x reader #taiju smut

771 notes · View notes

be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year

Note

The fact that nobody has thought of a fastfood au where Spider is this neglected teenager working at McDonald's so that he can save up to like move out and get away from Qauritch (he's so desperate to get out that college isn't even on his radar atm) and Neteyam is this popular boy at their school who's is a year younger than him and comes in to McDonald's with his little sister frequently and Spider doesn't think he even knows his name but one day on their way out Neteyam turns to him and says "have a good day Spider" or some shit like that and the romance only grows from there with Neteyam figuring out his problems and trying to help him/get him into a good collage and I mean honestly people the fic just writes itself.

UGH I LOVE IT, I am simply shocked no one has written me personally a nocorro fic yet. A nice long one with all the pain and drama we've been describing but I want the COMFORT TOO PLEASE.

But anyways, you've brought up something I've been mulling over for a while now for one of my headcanon posts. Part of Neteyam's pressure and expectations come from him being the next Olo'eyktan. I can't figure out how to translate this into a modern au. Most of the time it'd be easy to make him the heir to a big company or the son of a politician in a weird Young Royals way, but clown couple Jake and Neytiri Sully simply do NOT have the vibes for that, nor does it fit their characters. I've thought about maybe Neytiri's family running a large non-profit that Neteyam is somewhat expected to take over, or perhaps something like the free clinic in my other au.

Either way, the reason I bring it up is because I love the idea of them both having similar but fundamentally different problems to bond over. This is what I mean, bear with me:

-Spider works at McDonalds to save money like you said. He's barely got any friends because he just moved there from another one of his dads deployments, and he's so busy picking up every possible shift he can that he can. He needs the money. He opens before school and closes most nights.

-Neteyam picks up Tuk from ballet practice at night on Wednesday's, because it is his parents Date Night. He gets his sister McDonalds one night because he stayed up way too late studying for an exam last night and he's far too tired to cook. The drive through is manned by the prettiest boy ever.

-By the third Wednesday Tuk is suspicious, but he keeps buying her McDonalds as a bribe to keep her mouth SHUT about it. At least, she keeps her mouth shut to the family. She won't stop talking to him about it. It's always "Neteyam, did you see McDonalds Guy today? I think he goes to your school, he has to. Neteyam, if we go to McDonalds tomorrow will he be there too? Does he only work Wednesdays?" She's like his inner thoughts because he wants to know all those things too.

-I mean, it's only a matter of time before Tuk opens her big fat mouth TO Spider. She rattles off personal questions like she's the goddamn census, and Neteyam wants to die.

-But, he learns quickly that Spider is a military brat and he wants nothing more than not to be in the military. It sparks something for Neteyam, because he wants nothing more than to be like his parents, and do what they do and do it just as well. It's the same sort of long shadow, just a different tactic for getting out from under it.

-Tuk is sick the next Wednesday mysteriously, but Neteyam is still craving McDonalds.

-It becomes a regular thing, but not on Wednesdays. Wednesdays he starts sometimes bringing Tuk home for a regular adult meal. But Thursday's he spends at McDonalds, and he brings Spider real food in Tupperware containers marked with the name Sully like Spider has other Tupperware to mix it up with.

-Somehow it becomes almost every night. Doing his homework in a booth, Spider joining him when he's free, sliding in and out. Neteyam's full attention on him every time he has a free second.

-One night Neteyam invites him over. Neteyam stayed until closing time and suddenly can't bear the thought of Spider going home, to no one if he's lucky and his dad if he isn't. Spider refuses and after that they don't speak for a couple days, silence in the booth. No one says anything but Neteyam still shows and brings Tupperware, and Spider still slides in to join him when he has a free moment.

-Eventually Spider agrees, and Neteyam is forced to show up at close to nine pm with a stranger that he has never mentioned but Tuk is DELIGHTED to see.

-Jake and Neytiri are confused but can recognize a tired, fairly neglected kid when they see one so they offer up the basement couch with no fanfare at all.

-Neteyam is slightly peeved because he was going to have Spider share his bed, it's a king it's plenty big enough, but Neytiri wasn't born yesterday lol. Even Jake is like nah nah, you've been gay since we watched the first Percy Jackson movie kid. Go have a sleepover with Tsireya or something.

-I think Jake Sully has a fairly excellent gaydar, honed from time in the military. You gotta know which guys to fuck. @dinas-bracelet this is the bi Jake Sully agenda.

This is a bonus because this is already FAR too long:

-Neteyam gets increasingly exasperated because no matter how many nights Spider is there or how long into their relationship it gets, Spider downright refuses to move from the basement couch. He will cling to it like a cat if Neteyam tries to move him. He goes boneless and becomes a dead weight.

-Finally Neteyam just sleeps down there one night. This concept has clearly never occured to Spider, who upon realizing there is no moving Neteyam (he can go boneless too, damnit), lays there stiff as a board mummy-wrapped in blankets to keep Neteyam's hands off of him. When he falls asleep though, Neteyam gets in there. Spider is unconsciously tactile, and basically spoons him the entire night.

-The next morning Neytiri walks into the basement to check that Spider is awake for work, turns around and goes back to the top of the stairs, and then walks down again really loudly to alert them to her presence.

#this is fairly all over the place but oh well #it simply JUMPED out of me #sometimes the headcanons hit me at the right moment and the right vibe #and i love matchmaker evil child sibling tuk who loves spider and loves torturing neteyam #this basically became a neteyam character study #him pining for spider from afar #you can't tell me neteyam isn't PEAK i can fix him vibes #he so thinks he can fix him #every fight they have in this theoretical fic would be either spider being bad at sharing feelings or neteyam trying to fix spiders #problems for him #that is our mans toxic trait #neteyam sully #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #nocorro #tuktirey sully #jake sully #neytiri sully #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa on avatar (cameron)#melissa's asks #we are mindmelding get in #modern au (wheelchair jake! edition)#modern au (jake legs! edition)

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yaderyngoch · 8 months

Text

I made a comment a while ago about a JayTim Tailor AU, and then the brainworms wouldn't stop so now I've actually written it.

Disclaimer that I'm super new to the fandom so this is my first time writing for it, and I also written one little fanfic in the past 3 years for a different fandom so I am Rusty and they're probably very OOC lol.

Tailor’s shops, Tim had found, were rather soothing places. Quiet and smelling faintly of amber and cedar. His chosen shop was an octagonal room lined with built-in shelves and racks of suits and armoires of darkly stained mahogany. A table in the centre of the room housed a swatch book of different types of wool and lining silks that Tim liked to flip through just to feel the delicately woven fabrics.

On one side of the shop window, there was a mannequin dressed in a half-finished suit, one side left without the facing so onlookers could see the canvas and careful stitching that gave the suit its structure. On the other there was an old treadle sewing machine, though Tim doubted it was still functional. Nevertheless it helped add to the timeless sort of atmosphere of the shop, something that felt so far removed from all the computers and cold artificial displays Tim usually worked with.

He’d been coming to this tailor for a few years now. Bruce had recommended him, and Tim had been coming ever since. There was something calming about the familiarity. Coming in and greeting the salesman who recommended a few suits for him to try on, settling on one that he thought looked best before the salesperson called the tailor out to him. It was always the same tailor, an elderly man with small, quick hands and soft eyes by the name of Lucius Fox.

Tim waited for him now, dressed in a neat blue suit the salesperson had chosen off the rack for Tim. The shop did offer entirely bespoke suits, but Tim had always found that to be much more elaborate than he felt he needed. As long as he looked neat and presentable, it worked for him.

He flipped through that fabric swatch book, tracing fingertips along the pinked edges of soft blue wool and reading the sticker on the back of the previous swatch as though he had any idea what any of it meant. Camel hair, it said. Tim didn’t think the fur of a camel would be particularly soft or good for suitmaking but evidently he was wrong.

“Mr. Drake?” Called a voice from the door to the tailor’s workshop itself, a voice lower and smoother than Tim had been expecting.

Tim looked up to see a man walking towards him, tall and broad with a streak of white through dark hair, a ruler and chalk in one hand and a pincushion secured to the other wrist with a band of black elastic. He’d forgone the jacket of his three-piece suit, the sleeves of his dress shirt neatly rolled up to his elbows, a tape measure draped around his neck. The suit was fitted just enough to display a figure far sturdier than Tim would’ve expected for a tailor, just hints of a broad chest and arms that filled out the sleeves far better than most.

His face was just as chiselled, with sharp green eyes that seemed to shimmer with amusement, the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly.

It took Tim far too long to realise he’d been staring, and he quite quickly flicked his eyes back down to the book before him, feeling warmth rise on his cheeks. “Yes, that’s- uhm.” He cleared his throat. “That’s me.” He looked back up at the Tailor. “Sorry, I just was expecting someone… else.”

The Tailor smiled in something between understanding and amusement. “Yes, Mr. Fox is out for the week so he’s left me to handle the shop. I’ll be taking care of you today.” The blush rose higher on Tim’s cheeks, and if he didn’t know better he’d assume the Tailor was doing that on purpose, with that honeyed voice of his and those smoothly spoken words. “My name is Jason.”

“Tim,” he answered, picking at the band of his watch.

“A pleasure to meet you, Tim,” answered Jason, and Tim was almost irritated at how well such a simple and common name rolled off Jason’s tongue. Jason gestured towards the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror, a platform just a little bit above the ground that made fittings easier, evidently. “Stand up there and face the mirror,” said Jason, tone polite and professional despite the command.

Tim nodded, trying not to follow Jason’s order too quickly and trying even harder not to fidget. He’d gotten better at it over the years. At his first fitting, Mr. Fox had smacked him upside the head with a ruler and told him to sit still. Now though, he had a feeling he’d find it just as difficult to behave as he had back then.

Jason came to stand close behind Tim, and it was with another small amount of irritation that Tim noticed even atop the pedestal, Jason was still slightly taller than him. “Tell me a little more about how you like your suits to fit.” His voice was softer now that they stood closer together, a gentle sound rather close to Tim’s ear. Tim couldn’t tell if he could feel the body heat radiating off of Jason, or if it was his own body that was warming up.

“Well… I’m not really sure I have much of a preference. Mr. Fox just fixed whatever he thought looked bad.” Tim wasn’t particularly meticulous when it came to fashion.

Jason hummed in understanding, stepping back just slightly to sweep his eyes over Tim, analysing the way the suit fit him with a careful, sharp stare. “Well, Mr. Fox is very good at what he does, but between you and I? He's also ancient and tends to prefer older, boxier styles, which I don’t think particularly suit you.” Tim felt rather like a blank canvas, where Jason could see the vision of the finished piece and Tim couldn’t. “You have a much narrower waist than most of the men I see. I think you’d look far better in something that showed that off a little more.”

Tim tugged at the hem of the jacket, trying to see what it was that Jason saw, but as far as he was concerned a suit was a suit and as long as it fit he wasn’t sure the cut of it made much of a difference. It was something to wear to a formal event and want to take off as soon as he got home. As far as he knew, the one he had on already fit fairly well for the most part.

“Here, I’ll show you what I mean and you can see what you think,” Jason continued, stepping closer to Tim again, standing right behind him so that in the mirror he could see his own silhouette overshadowed by Jason’s. Jason stroked gentle fingers up Tim’s spine, a featherlight touch to smooth out the wrinkle at the base of his neck. Tim suppressed a shiver as Jason leaned in close to place a pin to mark where the extra fabric near the collar needed to be taken in.

“Generally, off the rack suits were designed to fit men with far worse posture than you,” Jason explained, moving on to pin the sides of the suit. He sounded… appreciative, nearly praising despite the aforementioned posture making more work for him.

Tim could definitely feel his body heat now, attention narrowed down to where he could feel the delicate brush of skilled fingers along his waist, sliding a pin through the fabric with ease and precision Tim wouldn’t have associated with larger, stronger hands, far less wrinkled than Mr. Fox.

Tim could feel the warmth of Jason’s breath, could see him leaning in close in the reflection of the mirror. Now that Jason wasn’t looking at Tim’s face, Tim couldn’t help but stare at Jason’s, at the piercing, intense gaze, careful and precise in his work. He was much younger than Tim assumed most tailors were, likely only a few years older than Tim himself.

Jason moved to the other side, momentarily placing a hand on Tim’s waist to pull away the fabric needed. Tim wondered what he was thinking, so focused and diligent, fingers so much more skilled than Tim would’ve expected. It was an art, really, and there was beauty in simply watching the way Jason worked, in feeling each gentle brush of fingertips along the fabric, light and delicate and telling of so much skill in those hands. Some part within Tim desperately wanted to ask for more, for a taste of what those feathery sweeping touches promised.

“How does that feel?” Tim snapped his eyes away from Jason’s face and back to his own reflection, reminded quite quickly that Jason was a professional only doing his job and Tim desperately needed to get it together. Jason was reminding Tim that he desperately needed a few things.

“Uh… what?” Tim asked, feeling suddenly rather silly and realising he hadn’t been paying any attention at all to any of the things he was supposed to be paying attention to.

Fortunately, instead of the irritation Tim had been expecting, Jason simply laughed, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. “The suit. Does it feel too tight? Too loose?” Oh- right. That was why Tim was here.

He looked at his silhouette in the mirror again, this time actually looking at himself instead of at Jason, and found he quite immediately knew what Jason had been talking about before. More than just fitting him better, Tim felt like he looked more… like himself. Not someone putting on a costume to go play the character of some high-society heir. He looked… really good, and good in a way he hadn’t expected to see in himself.

“Well?” Jason asked, smirk tugging at his lips again. “You seem quite easy to leave speechless, but I would appreciate at least some feedback.”

“Oh- sorry. It feels good. Thank you,” Tim answered, looking back at Jason in time to see his satisfied smile.

“Good,” said Jason, stepping closer again. “Now for the sleeves, I think they’re a little long for you, hmm?”

Tim nodded, knowing at least that much needed to be fixed. The hem of the sleeve was barely above his knuckles. Jason leaned in, left shoulder brushing Tim’s right as he slid one hand past Tim’s hip, one hand on either side of Tim’s.

Tim’s breath hitched, trying to calm the way his heart raced at their proximity. He knew this was part of the fitting, that this was the easiest way for a tailor to roll up his sleeve. Mr. Fox had done it too, but when Jason touched him, it was… different. No- Jason was just doing his job. He was a professional, Tim shouldn’t be thinking these things.

Jason’s index finger brushed Tim’s palm as he started to roll the sleeve up, tucking the excess fabric inward so it looked more like what the finished product might be. He slid two fingers beneath the sleeve to help smooth out the folded edge, the backs of them brushing along the sensitive skin of Tim’s wrist. Tim would be surprised if Jason couldn’t feel his racing heartbeat like this, but if he did, he didn’t say anything of it, simply curling his fingers and bringing them down slightly to bring the sleeve down just a little.

“How’s that?” Jason asked, voice hardly above a whisper now that he was practically speaking in Tim’s ear, their faces only a few inches apart. He slid his fingers out of the sleeve, pulling away again so Tim could examine the length for himself.

“Yeah,” Tim answered breathlessly. “Yeah, I like that.” He realised now that Jason had pulled away, he very nearly felt cold. But at least the distance gave Tim room to catch his breath and chase away those creeping thoughts.

Then, Jason stepped in front of Tim, between him and the mirror, and Tim’s heart stuttered in his chest. Tim had nearly forgotten about how Tailors marked the second sleeve, and he was swiftly reminded when Jason dropped to his knees in front of him.

Tim immediately held his breath, staring directly forward and absolutely refusing to look down.

“You know, I can’t do this if you don’t relax,” Jason teased. It was then that Tim realised he’d balled his hands into fists, and then that he knew that Jason definitely knew what he was doing. He released the breath he’d been holding, unclenching his fists and relaxing his arms at his sides.

Jason hummed in satisfaction, and Tim felt that gentle brush of warm fingers against his own as Jason held the ruler up to measure the new length of the sleeve from the tip of his thumb, sliding a pin into place before repeating the process with the other sleeve. Tim was trying not to tremble, trying to ignore what he could see of Jason in his peripheral vision, trying not to wonder what it might be like if he used that tape measure for something other than its intended purpose.

Finally, Jason stood again, face so close to Tim’s that Tim could make out the different shades of green and blue in his eyes.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Now, if you’d please remove the jacket, it’s time to mark the pants.”

Tim was going to die in this tailor’s shop.

#jaytim #jaytim fic #my fic #my writing #*wordvomits 2k of technical sewing jargon* lick it up baby #I highly doubt there is actual interest in this but that's Okay because I am my own target audience

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