#iris count your days
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scuffed test with the ctc cast
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pretty
Summary: Your good friend Harry Styles might just be the hottest, most gentleman-liest guy you‘ve ever laid eyes on, so it really is a shame that you‘re not his type. featuring lotsss of pining, insecurities on both sides and a hefty crying sesh (it‘s all a bit pathetic and cheesy really😭)
Pairing: uni-student!y/n + uni-student!harry
Word Count: 6.2k
—
“You’re beautiful, y’know that?”
He was impossibly close, nose mere inches away from hers, and held this expression that could easily make her cry if only she looked at it long enough. Y/N couldn’t handle the pressure of the moment, his intense eyes on hers. It was something out of a romance movie.
And she was left so speechless that all she could say to him was: “uh, t-thanks. Thanks. You too.” It wasn‘t like she disagreed with him, but the sheer intensity, the closeness with which he delivered his compliment made her weak at the knees.
He smiled at her like he’d known she would cower away and brushed some stray hairs away from her eyes. “James doesn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”
In full transparency, Y/N had forgotten all about James. She’d forgotten the reason for her tears the moment Harry had shown up at her flat to give her that long hug she’d been needing.
The only reason James had stumbled into her life at all was Harry anyway. Call it a distraction, a means to numb the jealousy she felt whenever she saw Harry out with another girl.
“I get it, though. I should’ve known he’d be that way, people warned me before going out with him. That he only takes out cheerleaders. Should’ve known he did it for a laugh.”
Harry was similar to James in that regard— he had a type and everyone knew it. Y/N didn’t fall under his category of ‘girls to date’. She often wondered why she always went for guys who would never even look in her direction— a bit of self hatred, maybe. A will to punish herself.
“Hey, stop that. You’re beautiful. Don’t find excuses for his behavior.”
“I’m not, I just… I should’ve seen it coming, is all.”
“No, what we’re not going to do is blame ourselves for other people’s mistakes. James fucked up. He did. And that’s it. You move on, you come back stronger and show him he didn’t leave even a tiny scratch.”
“You’re right. Of course.”
He smiled, “do you feel better?”
“A bit,” Y/N nodded with a sturdy exhale, “thanks for being there for me always. I really appreciate it.”
“What are best friend for, ey?”
It never felt less unnerving to hear those words coming out of his mouth. And really, she knew that realistically they were nothing more, but sometimes, especially late at night when no one was around and all of her uni stress had been shoved into a closet for the day, Y/N let herself believe it was real. That he liked her back. She needed to get a grip and open her eyes to the cold harsh truth; that a friend was all she would ever be in his eyes.
She swallowed a lump in her throat and averted her eyes towards her interlinked fingers. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
Y/N had long mastered the art of feigning a smile, so it came easily for her to flash her teeth at Harry in this moment.
“Course. Let’s make some dinner, I’m hungry.”
—
“Hey, it’s Y/N right?”
Y/N had seen this girl around before. She remembered because every time she would pass by on campus, Y/N had to admire her beauty; how her makeup always seemed effortless and her clothes complimented her perfect figure in just the right way, how her hair was always in a wave that Y/N could never perfectly recreate and her walk never droopy or tired, perfected by an angelic touch.
Y/N didn’t know this girl, but she’d always wanted to be like her.
“Yeah, hi.” Despite the inherent intimidation, Y/N smiled at her, “can I help you?”
Y/N felt ugly standing in front of her. She’d had to rush out of bed this morning for her analysis class, forgotten mascara and her staple lip balm. She looked monstrously unwell.
“My name’s Iris, I was wondering… god, this is a bit embarrassing, but you’re good friends with Harry, right?”
Y/N saw where this was going off of the jump. It happened way too often for her not to.
And her heart broke just a little more then, because so far, it’d been random girls she knew stood no chance with Harry. But Iris was just perfectly crafted for him, cookie cutter pretty and impressively confident. She had everything Y/N was still hastily working on.
“Uh, yeah.”
“I was wondering if you could give him my number? I saw him at the party last night and we chatted for a bit, but I forgot to write it down for him.”
Y/N had been at that party too, she just didn’t see that. Harry had barely even left her side. Must’ve been when she‘d gone to the bathroom.
“Oh, sure.”
“Great! Thank you so much.”
Iris handed her a little post it with her digits written along with a lovely note about having had a fun time.
Y/N walked to her 8am analysis class with a crucial feeling of hatred for the world and everything in it bubbling in her chest.
—
“Hi, babe.” Harry pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek like it was normal before finding his reserved seat next to her, surprising both her and their friends. If Kacy was all too shocked, though, she didn‘t show it, simply widening her grin in response to Harry‘s presence. “Hi, guys.”
“You finally showed up!” Kacy exclaimed, drawing the attention on him with her loud voice. Harry was so busy that he could be hard to track down, which made him an easy target for the occasional jab. In all fairness, he’d seen Y/N almost every day, just not his other friends— and in full honesty, that was enough for him.
“Yeah, sorry, finals week.”
“Y/N found the time,” Sebastian chimed in, tone laced with a tinge of earnestness, although Y/N and Harry could tell he was only teasing.
Harry retorted fairly quickly, “cause she has no other social life.”
At Harry’s words Y/N turned her head at him, mouth dropping open in genuine offense. She couldn’t do anything other than laugh, but really she should’ve hit him for saying that. “So you’re a whore and a backstabber!”
Harry cackled, that beautiful laugh escaping his mouth and blessing her ears, pulling her into his side and hugging around her frame. “I’m only joking!”
“Whatever. I’m not speaking to you the rest of the night.”
“Sure. You try that and we’ll see how that works out for you, babe.”
Everyone but them saw what their future could look like if they both stopped being stubborn and admitted their feelings for one another. Even sitting here, Kacy could see the way Y/N’s lips molded into a smile at Harry’s touch and the way he beamed whenever she played into his antics. Their bond was effortless in the way many couples wished theirs to be— it looked so easy for them to mesh together. Their friends knew they could be happy together and it frustrated them to see no progress being done.
By the end of the night, Y/N and Harry were blubbering drunk messes leaving the bar together. Y/N had taken it upon herself to call the uber back to his for the night.
“God, that was sooo fun,” Harry slurred out, “shame they’re closing soon.”
“You should come more often, we do this every week!”
Both Y/N and Harry were all smiles, looking at each other with excitement radiating from their bodies. It’d been long since they really let go.
“I’m so happy you’re here with me, you know that?”
Her heart rate plummeted.
Sometimes Harry said things drunk that wouldn’t pass as ‘normal’ when sober. He was close, grinning at her like a puppy in love and spoke with such confidence that Y/N was sure he couldn’t have not meant it.
“I’m happy you’re here, too, H.”
“No, like seriously though. You’re the best person I know.”
Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. He was really testing her waters here.
“Oi, shut it. What do you want from me? Why’re you buttering me up?”
Harry shrugged, “nothin’. You really are. Just accept the compliment.”
“Fine,” Y/N smiled in a bashful manner, “thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Y/N stared at her boots, grinning to herself. Comfortable silence went on for a few short minutes, just the sound of the wind wafting by and quiet, calm breathing. Occasionally a car they looked up to to check it wasn’t their ride.
It was such a nice atmosphere.
Y/N was sure nothing could ruin this night for her. She was so happy, so careless in the way uni had long prohibited her from being. She wanted to exist in her little snug bubble forever, a place to hide from the real world with the person she admired most. She‘d sacrifice anything if she could keep this feeling for a bit longer.
And then, as if god disagreed with Y/N‘s pursuit of happiness, a needle set out to burst her bubble.
That needle was Harry, and outside of the bubble, it was cold.
“Can I kiss you?”
The ground beneath her shattered at his words.
Was he… serious?
Because this was her dream. If he‘d been serious, then her dreams came true in exactly the worst way.
Y/N had wanted a kiss from Harry since they became friends all those years ago, but not like this. Not drunk. Not on some stupid impulse. Not when they would wake up and realize it had been a mistake in a few hours. If she’d been willing to risk their relationship because of one shortlived kiss, she would’ve done it a long time ago.
He couldn’t do this to her! He couldn’t do this because to her, this wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t a cute little memory to look back on. Oh remember when we got drunk and kissed? Wasn’t that so funny? No, to her this was more. It was her whole livelihood, the cruxes which her heart depended on.
So although it hurt more than anything she’d ever had to do, Y/N shook her head. Her head barely moved, like her brain was plotting against it as well as her heart, but it did shake just enough to give him an inkling.
“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He was quiet for a few seconds (although she could feel his eyes burning a hole into her) before eventually retorting with a weakened, “why not?”.
“You’re drunk.”
“Been wanting to for a long time, Y/N.”
“Harry,” she stressed, voice quivering. Her next words came out in a whisper, “shut up.”
This time, he surrendered.
They waited for their uber in complete silence and when it came for them to sleep, Harry chose to stay on the couch instead of sharing the bed with her. Although Y/N was excruciatingly tired, she couldn’t for the life of her close her eyes.
She’d fucked up so badly.
—
Y/N felt slightly out of place as she slid into Harry’s kitchen in the morning. She looked at him already sat at the breakfast table with an array of pastries waiting for her.
“Hey.”
Harry nodded, “hi, help yourself. Went to the bakery on my run.”
“Thanks,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself. She was too scared to look at him.
“I don’t want it to be awkward between us, so I’ll just cut to the chase: I’m sorry about last night. I know I was drunk and weird and it won’t happen again. You were right.”
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up just slightly, the sheer surprise evident on her features. He was really bringing it up now!
“… right about…?”
“Bout it not being a good idea. I’ve never… I was really out of it, you know? Wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”
Wow. Yes, obviously it would’ve been a mistake, Y/N knew that more than anyone. But his apology did more damage than good. It was like a knife was being pushed through her chest, agonizingly slow as to make it more painful. Harry had confirmed exactly how uninterested he was in trying anything more with her and it just about devastated her. And yes, in all fairness, it was unjust because she’d been the one to reject him last night but a tiny sliver of hope that he would reach out his arms and say ‘I still feel the same, I still want to kiss you!’ still possessed her delusional mind all night.
“Oh, that. Yeah.”
Harry tried to catch her eyes, “so are we cool?”
“We’re cool.”
Y/N was barely floating now. She didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to exist.
It hurt too much to exist sometimes.
“Y/N?”
She snapped out of it. “Hm? yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. You just reminded me of this girl I met yesterday, Iris,“ her shaking hand slid into her pocket to find the little note she‘d kept stored and handed it to him without making eye contact. Her body was on fire.
“Oh.”
“She wanted me to give you her number, said something about a party where you lot met.”
Y/N watched as realization dawned on him, probably a fleeting memory of Iris now soberly imprinted on his mind. She could imagine all the ways in which he thought about somebody like Iris, somebody who would be so perfect for him.
“Right. Thank you.”
“No problem. I should probably head out to mine and get a few uni things done before I get too lazy.”
Unprompted, Harry ignored her statement. She had a feeling he didn’t even want to hear her. “I didn’t want to text her. Completely forgot about her, actually.”
Y/N couldn’t find the answer as to why.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I didn’t… I don’t really like her like that.”
“Really? Iris was under the impression that… I mean, maybe she’s mistaken, but she told me about your little hangout sesh and it seemed nice, you know?” Harry’s eyes held something a little different— confusion, curiosity and a bit of sadness. It drove Y/N crazy deciphering him. “And Iris seems exactly like the type of girl you’d like.”
Then his eyebrows drew together, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
Y/N shrugged, body sinking and slowly becoming one with the chair, “just… pretty, is all.”
“A lot of girls are pretty, Y/N, doesn’t mean I automatically wanna date them when I talk to them once.”
“Yeah, but… Iris is your kind of pretty. She’s confident and I’m sure she’s funny.”
“My kind of pretty? What are you implying?”
“Nothing! Jesus, Harry, I just think Iris would be a good fit for you. She’s your type, is all.”
Harry scoffed like he took offense to Y/N’s reply, “and I’m sure you know exactly what my type is, huh? Cause I’m so surface level that I’m only into the same girl, yeah? What, blonde and tall?”
“Harry, that’s not—“
“Then what do you mean to say by that?”
“I just—“
“You’re boxing me together with that dickhead James!”
“No, Harry, I’m not— and if you would just listen to me, you’d understand that!” Y/N finally broke, raising her voice by a few notches so Harry would hear her over his loud accusations. “I’m not implying to you, by thinking you might be into her, that you’re surface level. I’m just saying, Iris seems like she would be your type because in the past, you’ve gone for girls like her. That isn’t bad, okay? I’m not criticizing, just pointing out. You’re into pretty girls.”
“Prettiness is subjective, Y/N, and what you’re doing right now is putting me in a box. What does that even mean, pretty girls? Clearly you’re implying I only date girls that are conventionally attractive because that’s my definition of pretty.”
“So what if it is? I didn’t say it’s anything bad,” Y/N leaned back in the chair, volume lowering as if she couldn’t argue with that statement. “Everybody’s allowed a type.”
“It’s just… you’re using the word type in a derogatory way.”
“How the fuck am I using the word type in a derogatory way?”
“Sounds like you’re saying I’m some dickhead who only goes off of looks. Only goes for tall blonde girls cause they’re tall blonde girls and not because they’re nice people.”
“When did I say that?!” Y/N was bewildered by this. She hadn’t meant anything bad by it! “I have a type too, you know that! And that’s okay!”
“Oh yeah fucking tell me about your type, Y/N, go on.”
“What is your problem?”
“My problem is that you were just crying about James only dating cheerleaders a week ago and now you’re here putting the same thing on me!” Y/N breathed out in distress, finding less ways of deescalating the situation. “Be honest, then, what do you really think of me?”
“What are you even… I love you, H, I’m your best friend, I would never dream of insulting you. I was just saying that you seem to have a type, which there is nothing with!”
“So then what does pretty mean?”
“Just… pretty, okay? Don’t read too much into it.”
“No, I want to hear it. Describe pretty to me.” The word pretty had been spoken out so many times in such vain, that its meaning had became trivial at best.
“I don’t know, H, Girls like Jess, Angelina, Diana, Elle… which, if you were to write out their characteristics; they’re all blonde, tall, skinny girls. I’m not saying that you go off of looks, but I do think you have preferences, and that’s fine. That’s healthy, even.”
Then he scoffed again, but significantly quieter this time around. “Right, you brought the fucking receipts to the table, didn’t you? Do you usually think so lowly of me everywhere you go?”
It hurt to have this distance between her and Harry. They’d always gotten along so well before, so why did this have to become what it had? It had all come out of nowhere and Y/N didn’t have the strength or the energy to lose the one thing she constantly depended on to be okay.
“I don’t… Harry, I don’t think lowly of you. I just thought that you might like Iris.”
“I’m sure you did then.”
“Harry,” she sighed, “please, I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“I didn’t, got it perfectly clear. So one question though, am I allowed to like brunettes? Or is that too daring?”
“Harry, stop. Why are you being such a dickhead?”
“I’m being a dickhead?”
“Yes, you are.”
“At least I have history with girls for you to come to that conclusion yourself, right? Maybe when you find the courage to actually talk to a guy I’ll be able to find out what your kind of pretty is.”
And it wasn’t meant to be a jab, surely, at least not a terribly painful one, but it hit Y/N stronger than she would have liked. Who was he, making fun of her dating life? This wasn’t the Harry who reassured her after every pathetic bad date, who convinced her that it would be okay if she didn’t find her man straight away as long as she was happy. She’d loved Harry for a year now and there was something so liberating in exploring unknown territory, in partaking in the so called ‘chase’ (maybe somewhat masochistic, liking the torment of the unknown) but that feeling came to a full stop now that it had become clear that Harry didn’t love her back. Before, it had been speculation— now, it was real. And although she’d expected pain, this was cold blooded torture.
Harry didn’t look regretful, but that was because he had no idea what his words actually meant for her. Sometimes she wondered how the people she loved most could hurt her so much as to kick her down to the floor and repeatedly stomp on her body.
Without a word, Y/N stiffened her shoulders in an attempt to seem stronger and stood up from the table with a low intake of breath.
“Y/N.”
“Fuck you, Harry,” she muttered quietly but defiantly as she slipped on her shoes and opened the door out.
She didn’t have anywhere to go, but she knew anywhere else would suffice better than here.
—
Y/N wasn’t even surprised when she saw Harry and Iris arriving at the party together with the biggest smiles on their faces. Kacy turned to her and widened her eyes, motioning to the couple by the door with a questioning stare. Y/N simply shrugged.
She’d been hurting by herself, cramped away in her flat with a bottle of wine and three boxes of tissues and hoping for a little break when Kacy had asked her out tonight— but here he was, ready to ruin her minute of relief.
“She gave him her number through me last week… guess he finally called her.” Y/N explained, lowering her voice. “We haven’t talked since that morning after the bar.”
Kacy’s eyes widened again, because the last time Y/N had spent so much time away from Harry had been Christmas— and even then, they’d called each other every day.
“Why?”
Y/N simply shook her head, unwilling to elaborate. All Kacy could do was pull her into a tight hug and ask her what she wanted to do next.
“I just…” Y/N’s breaths shook, “I’m so tired, Kace.”
And although Y/N had never brought up the topic of Harry, Kacy knew exactly what she was referring to and her heart broke for her friend.
“Let’s go to one of the bedrooms.”
Y/N gave a stuffy nod and followed as Kacy lead the way upstairs.
Once they’d sat down, Y/N began to open her mouth. Her arms hugged around her own frame and tears were building in her eyes.
“Talk to me, Y/N. What happened?”
“He… I don’t know, Kace, he just got so mad at me. I was giving him Iris’ number and he said that he didn’t like her. I told him he should probably call her because I think she’d be good for him— I think I said ‘she’s your type’ or something like that, which is a normal thing to say! And then he went ballistic on me.” Y/N sniffed her nose, “I was just trying to be nice. He started accusing me of finding him surface level even though I implied no such thing.“
“Oh, honey,” it was through Kacy’s pitiful expression that Y/N noticed the ugly tears cascading down her swollen cheeks. “I don’t wanna make you feel worse, babe, but that doesn’t sound like Harry. Maybe you worded something wrong? Or he just heard you wrong?”
“No, I tried multiple times to clear it up, but he kept the attitude.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, I said that he likes pretty girls and he said what do you mean pretty girls? and so I described what I thought his type was, which is tall blondes, you know? And I even said that having preferences is healthy and that I don’t mind but he thought I was boxing him in. But don’t you agree? Isn’t that his type?” Kacy took too long to answer, making Y/N grow insecure, “Come on, he only dates tall blondes!”
“That’s not even true, Y/N. What about Vanessa?”
She rolled her eyes, “fine, one tall redhead.”
“It’s not that, it’s just… I think he was offended because he thought you were calling him some kind of jerk who only goes off of looks.”
“But he’s… he’s great, Kace, really, and I love him, but he does always date attractive supermodel type girls. I mean, good for him, but you know? And I don’t at all think I’m ugly, I think I’m pretty, but not his kind of pretty.”
“Okay, but… okay, what were you talking about before the whole Iris thing?”
“It’s a long story,” Y/N groaned, head falling into her hands, “when we were drunk he asked me if he could kiss me. I said no.”
“What?! Why would you say no?”
“Because we were drunk! And then the next morning he said I was right, that it would’ve been a mistake and we would’ve regretted it.”
Kacy’s mouth was kind of wide open, “and then you brought up Iris?”
“Yes, because I needed a change of topic.”
“But right after that he said he didn’t like Iris.”
“Yes.”
“And then you accused him of being surface level and he got mad?”
“Kacy, I literally didn’t! I—“ Y/N stopped defending herself because she knew she couldn’t cheat her way out of it. “Yes, maybe, okay? So what?”
“So he totally loves you.”
At that point Y/N started laughing— a genuine laugh made its way out of her mouth and she started shaking her head. Her laugh simmered down to a little chuckle and then she got tears in her eyes again. A rollercoaster of emotions.
“Right, sure. Hope you stretched before you took that reach! He said right before that he’d never have asked if he was sober.”
“He was saving face because you refused to kiss him.”
“Kacy, no,” she sighed, “don’t feed me that bullshit. You’re going to give me hope and I can’t take any more of that, okay?”
“He got mad you think he only likes blondes because he loves you and you don’t even see it,” Kacy elaborated even further, which bothered Y/N on so many levels. She’d told her to stop.
“I can’t, Kace,” Y/N cried, covering her eyes with her palms and letting the tears flow out, “I’m so fucking tired of feeling unwanted and like I’m not enough. Like whatever I do, there’s still some other girl who gets his attention. I can’t go on loving him and being his second girl every day. He goes on bad sex dates and comes home to me, goes to parties where he does body shots off of other girls, and then cuddles me in bed. I just can’t do it. One day he’ll get married and expect me to be his best man and that’s way more than I can take.”
“Look, I understand, but all you need to do is talk to him.”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to lose him.”
“Isn’t it better to lose him now than to feel like this every day and lose him in a few years when you’ve physically broken yourself down over it? Isn’t it better to know? I know you won’t lose him because I see the way he looks at you and I see how he treats you. And he’d be stupid not to like you back. But if I‘m wrong, wouldn‘t it still be better to know?“
“No. I can do without knowing. If he knows and he doesn’t feel the same it’ll be weird and I can’t lose him. I can’t, Kace, he’s the only thing holding me together. Look at me, I’m such a fucking mess.”
“Y/N, eyes up,” Kacy ordered, taking ahold of Y/N’s forearm and forcing her to look at her, “you’re allowed little moments of weakness. Love does crazy things sometimes. You need to tell him or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
Y/N’s eyes stung hard.
The door opened in that moment, forcing the sound of the music into the otherwise quiet room with a force. Both girls looked up to find Harry by the door, his eyebrows drew together in concern at the sight of his teary eyed best friend. It didn’t matter what they were going through, their bond was strong enough for him to know something was seriously wrong.
“Are you okay?”
It was then that Kacy took her cue to leave, to Y/N’s dismay, and stood up from the chair to let Harry take her place. She closed the door behind her to give the two of them privacy.
“Y/N, you okay?”
“Yeah,” she tried to smile, though due to the tears it was clear as day that she was perpetually telling him lies whenever he asked her that question. “I’m okay.”
“Hey, come on,” he whispered into the quiet, inching closer to trap her chin between his fingers, “tell me what’s wrong. Did some asshole hurt you?”
“Yeah,” she nodded with a small sniffle. The asshole is you. “I’m just… having boy trouble. It’s okay. You should go back to the party.”
“Fuck the party. Who hurt you? I hope you mean your feelings, not physically…” He’d started raking over her body to check for bruises, a tick in his jaw.
“No! God, no, just my feelings. And I’ll get over it.” I couldn’t ever get over you. “Isn’t Iris waiting for you? I saw you arrive together.”
“Oh,” his features hardened for a split second. Y/N blinked and it was gone. “No, we ran into each other outside and talked for a bit. She asked me out, so… I think I’m going to go.”
It was like he was testing her, staring into her eyes to capture the exact moment she crumbled. But she didn’t. She held her head high and gave a subtle nod. “Sounds good.”
He sighed. It was quiet and could almost be classified as a simple exhale, but she knew it wasn’t.
“So who’s the guy?”
Sometimes he could be so oblivious that Y/N wondered how he’d made it so far in life. Surely he was only playing the part, right?
“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N shrugged. She was starting to cry again. “He’s insignificant.” You could never be insignificant to me.
“Should I talk to him?”
Yeah, that would be good. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just… get over him.”
“Well I don’t like seeing you hurt, baby,” he tilted his head, cupping over her jaw and brushing over her skin delicately. The room was dimly lit to make it all the more romantic, but Y/N couldn’t fully be immersed in it. “No guy is worth your tears. You’re beautiful and brave and so so funny. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Y/N. You’re the most perfect girl there ever was and if he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t speak of her the way she always wished he would speak of her, but not mean it. It showed her what he was capable of— loving her, paying her attention the right way. She was left shattered.
“See, you say that, but you…” Y/N broke down in tears, “but nobody ever means it.”
He tilted her head up so he could stare deeply into her eyes and utter his next words in full honesty, “I mean it. I promise you, Y/N, I mean what I said with everything I have in my body. I mean it every time I say it when I’m drunk and I mean it when I’m sober. I mean it when you’ve just woken up and I mean it when we’re studying together at night. I mean it and I will always mean it.”
Instead of making her happy, his words made her cry even more.
“Harry,” she cried, bending her neck forward so the top of her head rested on his chin, “it hurts so much.”
“Come on, baby, it’s not worth it.” Then he started kissing the crown of her head, moving down to her temple and rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s not worth it.”
But he was worth it. He clouded her vision and made her feel lightheaded. He had the power to make her cry and the power to make her so unbelievably happy that she couldn’t imagine having ever been unhappy. He made her wonder how she could’ve lived such a mediocre, painful life before he entered it— that was the kind of power he possessed.
Y/N didn’t have to think twice about kissing him, she just did. She looked up at Harry and inched closer to rest her lips on his, and it caused emotions in her body she didn’t even know were possible. Harry seemed surprised but he caught on fairly quickly, letting her take the lead in the kiss until it’d been a few seconds and he felt her deepening it.
He pulled away, eyes finally opening.
She was startled. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
He shook his head gently, letting a reassuring smile sit on his lips, “no, but I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this when you’re crying over another guy, you know? I don’t want to be your numbing medication.”
“You’re… not,” her eyebrows drew together.
“You didn’t want to kiss me last week. It’s seeming like an ‘I miss another guy so I’ll hook up with you to numb the pain’ situation and I just… I don’t want either of us to regret it.”
He was trying to be nice— and he was, really was, but the sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach worsened.
“That’s because we were drunk last week.”
“You’re hurting over another person, Y/N.”
“He’s not important, I just want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. Okay? Because I want to, not because I’m into some other dickhead.”
Harry seemed to have trouble believing her, “I can’t.”
“Okay, whatever. It’s fine.” Y/N stood up from her chair, creating some distance between her and Harry and started walking away from him. He held onto her hand though, preventing her from moving too far.
“Y/N, come on.”
“No, genuinely, I don’t want to coerce you into having sex with me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She was being honest. She didn’t want Harry to feel like she was using him under false pretenses.
But having him think that was still better than confessing.
“I didn’t think you were coercing me into doing anything, Y/N, I just don’t want you to regret it.”
“Yeah,” tears built in her eyes again and she bit her lip to hold them in, “you’re a really good guy, Harry.”
When he stood up to offer her comfort, she immediately took a step back and held her hand in front of her in an effort to force him away. “Please don’t.”
“Y/N…” He looked pained and thoroughly confused at her cold behavior. Harry knew she tended to close off whenever she felt bad about herself, but that had applied mostly to other people. Harry, on the other hand, had always been successful in finding a way to pull back her in.
“No, I’m embarrassed. Jesus, I’m such a mess! I was talking about this with Kacy, I‘m just… I‘m all over the place.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re hurting, that’s normal.”
“I just asked you to fuck me, that’s… who the fuck does that? Since when am I like this?”
“Since you’ve been hurt,” he countered, “love makes you do weird things. God knows I get a bit crazy too when I’m in love.”
“No you don’t,” she said to him, voice hoarse and uncomfortable, “you’re fucking Mr. Perfect. Everyone loves you and you’re hot and you’ve got the brilliant mind. You can’t do anything wrong.”
“Everyone doesn’t love me,” he replied with a leveled tone, “if everyone loved me, I’d be with the girl of my dreams right now. But I’m not, so… not everyone.”
“Can’t fucking imagine that,” Y/N muttered, wiping under her eyes. “You probably just communicate badly and she doesn’t know you love her.”
“Same with you.”
Y/N’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest.
“He’s way out of my league.”
“Who is this guy anyway? You’re gonna hype him up to me and not even let me know who it is?”
“He’s, uh…” Y/N walked further away from him and sat down at the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands, “he’s from uni. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, sometimes glasses. He’s really nice but dates girls who are the complete opposite of me—you know, really model type girls. And I just… whenever I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of just how unattractive I am compared to them— and don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with me but they’re just better. I can’t keep up with it. And god, I feel so pathetic talking about myself like this but he’s just… he‘s so perfect and I love him and I don’t want to lose him. He makes me doubt myself sometimes, you know?“
At the latest he must’ve known now. Y/N could hear his brain professing that information, double and triple checking all possibilities until it dawned on him that she was talking about him.
He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “So he’s… where do you know him from again?”
A short pause before committing to the method, “we met at the fresher’s party three years ago.”
“And you see each other a lot, I assume.”
Y/N was still not looking at him, head buried in her hands.
“We… yeah. We hang out every day. He’s mad at me right now though.”
“So you… you love me.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. She’d given up, left it all to fate; if he would turn her away and never talk to her again or ask to continue being friends. It all became obsolete.
“I’m sorry,” she muffled into the palms of her hands.
“D’you wanna hear about the girl I’m in love with? Have been in love with for a year now?” Y/N wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t, so he continued. “She’s from uni too, spends about three nights a week at my flat even though hers is bigger. She can be really distant, but when she gives you attention it’s like the whole world healed. She’s so sweet and considerate and brings me little gifts sometimes and even though she’s damn near perfect, she gets really insecure about things, especially when it comes to her looks and stupid dicks.” Y/N had started looking up at his words, spotting Harry closer to her but not sharing any of her own emotions. He was taking the piss, wasn‘t he? “Locks herself away in her room until she feels ready to leave the flat. She’s selfless, gives me other girls’ numbers even though she’s in love with me— even makes me go on dates even though I’m sure it hurts her feelings whenever I do.”
“You love me?” she sniffled, “I’m not joking about this.”
“I love you, Y/N. I do. S’why I got so mad last week, wanted you to realize that I’m more than some shallow asshole. Didn’t know you felt the same, though.”
“How could you not? I literally get so weird around you these days.”
“Thought it was just stress or something,” he cupped her cheek, thumbing away some tears, “I’m sorry you cried about me, should’ve just said it like a normal person. Just didn’t want to ruin us.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m going to kiss you, okay?”
This kiss was a thousand times better than the last one. Y/N felt giddy as his lips ghosted over hers, as he pulled her up from her seat and sat back down to have her climb over his lap. She breathed into his mouth, ground against his crotch like she was a horny 16 year old girl being touched for the first time. There was no heavy feeling weighing down on her chest, she could just be free of concerns.
After a few minutes of making out, Y/N laughed. She damn near cackled into his mouth and when he questioned her with a confused stare and a cute laugh of his own, she shook her head.
“Remind me to thank Kacy later.”
—
disclaimer: this is NOT meant to offend anyone based on their looks— it‘s just a depiction of a girl feeling insecure because she thinks the guy she loves doesn’t see her the way she wants him to. The description i used of his ‘type’ and the inevitable perception of what Y/N looks like in this story was completely random and is completely up to you. I hope it doesn’t come across as anything other than that!
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles angst#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles
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Currently thinking about switch reader and switch toru, where reader would be riding him while he’s a crying whining mess, maybe even tying his hands up, but as soon as she gets off of him he’s ripped the binds on his wrists and is flipping her over to give her the same treatment
-🍭
Silk
Characters: Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader
Warnings: Bindage, silk ropes, choking, smut dirty talk, switch!gojo, switch!reader
Word Count: 1,119
A/N: F-Feral, submissive, whinning Gojo is one of my favorite Gojo’s!! 🫣
Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It was something everyone said, including himself. Yes, your boyfriend was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Which meant he got sent on missions a lot, which you didn't mind. He always came back home to you, cocky and ready for a sweet treat as a prize for himself.
What people didn't know was that when Gojo came back from a long or tedious mission, he needed you. Satoru needed you in a way that he never, ever let other people even know about. Because what would that into his reputation? What would happen if people knew Gojo Satoru wasn't always the strongest in bed?
Sure, Gojo loved fucking you into the mattress. But days after two week-long missions, he wanted to sit back and let you take the reins. He was beginning to regret his choice to let you do what you wanted now.
“A-Ah, holy fuck!” Gojo’s eyes flooded with tears, his blue eyes watching his cock disappear into your pussy as he slowly, and he fucking meant, slowly bounced up and down on him. “Y/N babe, please!” He cried out, choking on a sob as you clamped down on his oversensitive cock. “P-Please, move faster!”
“I'm sorry; I thought you told me to enjoy myself, Toru.”
“I-I did! But I-I need more.”
You stopped moving altogether, sitting on his lap, cockwarming his throbbing cock. He whined in protest, struggling against the blue rope binding his wrists together. There was something about seeing him like this. Gojo was so needy and desperate that it had your pussy twitching with need. Feral horny Satoru was fun, but this submissive Satoru hit a different kind of button inside of you.
His hips weakly tried rocking up into you, but you hummed, slowly pulling up off him until he was an inch from popping out. “N-No, wait, what are you doing?! Please, please don't!” With a sneer, you slammed yourself back down onto his length, taking all of him in one go. “HAA!” Blue iris’ were the size of pin pricks as you repeated the same pattern, over and over, until he was choking on moans.
“Look at you~ such a good boy, Satoru~” Your boyfriend's chest heaved, eyes shut tight as you leaned forward, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “Are you my good boy~?”
Satoru bucked his hips cock throbbing as he shook his head. “I-I’m not a fucking sub.” A sadistic smile crossed over your face as he bounced faster, moaning as you felt the coil in your tummy tightening.
“Ooh~? Is that why you're blushing like a whore~? Do you want me to stop?” he shakes his head, “I asked you a question.” Fingers tightened around his throat, and you savored the way he cried out. “So answer it; are you a good boy?”
The way you spoke the degrading tone, made everything feel better. It was like he was in his domain, and everything was much more intense. His balls clenched, and a strangled cry overcame him as the first waves of his orgasm rolled over him.
His hands fought against the silk ribbon you so cruelly bound him with. “I-I’m a good boy! I'm a good boy!” Crying out, Satoru threw his head back, cumming inside of your pussy as you bounced harder, faster before slamming down on him completely, cumming with him.
Heavy breathing flooded the room as your heart rate began to slow. Only when you were positive you weren't going to pass out from pure orgasmic bliss your gaze fell on your boyfriend's face. Satoru’s bangs hung over his eyes; his ivory-perfect skin flushed red.
He looked so fucked out of his, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. His chest was moving rapidly; his stomach muscles clenched underneath you. God, he looked so delicious like this, but at the same time, he seemed out of it. A little too out of it.
“Satoru?” He didn't respond. “I'll go get you some water.” Inching yourself off Satoru’s semi-hard cock, you gasped as the tip popped out. With jelly legs, you got off him, standing up slowly. “Baby, I'll be rig-” Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with stunning blue eyes. “T-Toru?”
In one swift movement, Satoru yanked his wrists apart, ripping the blue silk bindings. Large hands gripped your hips, throwing you down on the mattress. The fluidity of his actions left you breathless, his hips pressing against yours. His hard cock throbbed before plunging inside of you.
“Nnngh! Fuck!” Satoru growled, hearing your cries of pleasure. One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises later. “T-Toru!”
“You thought it was cute tying me up like that?” His voice was dark, lips on your neck, breathless words tickling your ear. “Oh, you got nothing to say now?” he thrust deeper, his cock hitting your cervix head-on. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” His free hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Not so funny now that you're in my position, is it?”
You couldn't find the words to respond other than ‘fuck’. Satoru was fucking your brains out. Literally rendering your use of human language useless. All you were capable of doing was crying out his name as his cock slammed against your g-spot and your cervix with each thrust.
“Ah! Mnnngh T-Toru!” He chuckled, the hand in his hips moving, rubbing your clit in circles, his other hand squeezing around your wrists tightened, making your eyes roll back.
“Who's my good girl?”
“Haah, ah~!”
“Answer the question Y/N! Who's my good girl?!”
“M-Me! I am!”
Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, picking up the pace of his sensual movements. “Then be a good girl and cum on my fat cock!” His eyes shut tight as you obeyed him, jerking and screaming, your orgasm bringing him over the edge of his second one. “That’s right, good girl~ good fucking girl~!”
The warmth from your lingering orgasm and Satoru’s body laid over you. Satoru’s bare chest hummed with a satisfied groan before trailing kisses up your neck all the way to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of adoration, his strong hands cupping your face. Before he collapsed next to you, his arms dropped over you, pulling you close.
“Next time, you'll be the one tied up.” He whispered over the back of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squirmed. “And baby, that's a fucking promise I intend to keep.”
#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk reader smut#jjk y/n#jjk#jjk reader insert#jjk gojo smut#jjk men#jjk gojo x reader#reader jjk#jjk drabbles#jjk imagines#jjk gojo#gojo imagine#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#reader x satoru#gojou satoru x y/n#satoru x reader#jujutsu satoru#jjk satoru#satoru smut
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jackie and wilson.
previous | next series masterlist.
summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.
paring: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader
word count: 4k
content: luke is still a moody teenager, reader is still the fly he cant get rid of. does he really want to, though?
notes: these first two parts feel very introductory but it gets juicy as we dive a little further in the next parts hehe. also who do we think readers godly parent is?
PART II — and lord, she found me just in time
For a hotshot lawyer, your mom couldn’t lie for the life of her. Every time you brought it up, she’d always quip that she didn’t need to be a good liar to be a good lawyer, since all new evidence is legally required to be disclosed to both parties before they are presented in court. Therefore, there is no lying, only brief twisting of the truth. She was good at that — clearly.
“You said you didn’t want me to leave you!”
The wooden floor of Chiron’s office wasn’t the most comfortable of lounging places, but you’d accidentally kicked the radiator after tripping over a horseshoe and Mr. D — who had escorted you there when you’d asked about speaking to your mom — had just sighed and told you to use the mist currently spraying from it as a form of communication. The whole Iris Message thing was still unusual to you, but at the same time, you’d tripped over a horseshoe because the owner of the office was half-horse. Does it get weirder than that? Probably not.
You leaned back on your haunches, disbelief written all over your face at the scene you…walked in on? Called in on? Iris Messaged in on? Whatever — you were more worried about what you were looking at than the right terminology to describe it.
“Oh — sweetie!” Your mom was quick to hop down from the kitchen counter, pushing the man who had been standing between her legs away from her so forcefully he fell back into the living room.
“What was that?” You heard him ask from afar. Your mom chuckled, buttoning up her blouse.
“The answering machine.” She excused, “I completely forgot I was supposed to call back my daughter. Would you give me a minute?”
The man agreed with a huff and your mom pushed the kitchen door closed with a click before looking at you, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “I didn’t. I sure do now!”
“I’ve been gone for, like, two days!” You exclaimed, “And you’re already inviting your boyfriend over? How old are you?”
“Oh, let it go.” The woman chastised, shaking her head and attempting to push down her amused smile. “I was bored.”
“Bored.” You chuckled, “Of course.”
“But I miss you.” She said then, smiling sweetly and leaning her hip on the island, “How’s camp?”
“It’s great.” You grinned, “The people are great, the food is great. Turns out, I am super with a spear.”
“A spear, huh?” Your mom nodded, “No surprise there, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”
You hummed excitedly, the previous event long forgotten as you filled her in on your first few days at camp, “One of my friends in cabin nine offered to make me a personal one.” Your mom furrowed her brows, “Children of Hephaestus. Blacksmith guy.”
“Right.” She nodded with a click of her tongue. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” You smirked cheekily, ignoring the scoff and evil look she sent you in response.
“Alright. I best go.” She interrupted just as you went to make another comment about her guest, “I will see you at the end of summer. Okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
Truthfully, you were happy to spend the rest of the day talking to your mom — it was so hot that morning that you’d thought about sacrificing your breakfast to Apollo in hopes that he’d ease up a little. You decided against it and just sent your prayers to each of them in general, hoping maybe your dad could fess up to actually being your dad.
Clarisse had suspected you would soon join her in the Ares Cabin — something about your skills with a spear and the swift right hook you sent Chris when he made one too many comments on your form during your training session with her. You weren’t even sure why he’d been there, but you could probably fathom a guess if you judged by the looks he sent her whenever she wasn’t looking.
After the exciting discovery that yes, you were good at something, Mr. D had come by to say you could either call your mom now or never. You chose the former option, obviously, and you only regretted it slightly as you heaved yourself up from the ground — already missing the sound of her voice.
You didn’t let it linger, instead you pushed the creaky door of the Big House open as gently as you could, even though it still swung back against the wall, and nodded at the pair sitting on the porch, currently in a heated card game you couldn’t recognise. They didn’t look at you for long, Chiron muttering something about meeting the Demeter kids by the fields to test your gardening skills before putting down a card that made Mr. D grumble in his seat.
You were trudging through the grass, huffing when the longer bits tickled your legs and made you go all itchy, when you spotted a body sat by the hearth in the horseshoe of cabins. You lit up, changing course and jogging over to them, “JoJo!”
Luke looked up at you, frowning, “What?”
His curls fell over his eyes and he shook them away, only to squint at the sun that shone into them. You sidestepped, your shadow proving ample shade so he could focus on you, and you stammered a bit when his face fell into focus. He was pretty.
You let out a breathless chuckle, folding your arms, “From Horton Hears a Who.” He shows no signs of recognition, “You’ve never seen it?” Again, his face did little to answer you, so you shrugged, “Whatever. I’ll get an answer out of you one day, I’m sure. We’ve made steady progress.”
“Have we?” He hummed, picking at the worn sleeve of his hoodie.
“Of course we have, ya’ nutmegger.” You quipped with a short chuckle, grinning when his eyes snapped back to yours.
“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”
You tutted, “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta find out.”
He huffed, “Whatever.”
Since his outburst about New England the day before, Luke had done a considerable job at avoiding you. Well, you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose — he just wasn’t obligated to spend time with you anymore now that you were cleared to roam camp on your own. You’d seen him at breakfast, perched silently on the end of the bench and staring sadly at his soggy oatmeal, but then Clarisse had whisked you off to the training fields with Chris hot on her tail and you hadn’t seen him since.
You weren’t completely sure why you were so determined to break his shell. Maybe it was because you knew he never used to be this way — that underneath the deep frowns and annoyed huffs, was a happy boy who would spend days in the sun with his teeth bared in a wide grin — and you yearned to get a peek of who Luke Castellan used to be. To bear your eyes on the side of him he kept away and to find out why he did so, to understand him on a level deeper than anyone around you did, or even deeper than you understood yourself.
Or maybe because he’s hot.
Either way, you weren’t letting him slide away that easily. No sir. You straightened your back, “Going to the gardens.”
No reply, as usual.
A huff, “Mind walking me? I don’t wanna get lost.”
He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and standing, “Fine.”
You grinned then, wide and sunny, “Great.”
You knew where the gardens were — hell, you could see them from where you stood, the two teenage sons of Dionysus chasing each other with sticks while the Demeter kids scowled at them. But you were new, and Luke was ‘the guy’ for all the new campers, so really he wasn’t allowed to say no.
You were desperate to know more about him; his favourite sport, movie, colour. Anything irrelevant that you could see in public and think: Luke. You just didn’t know where to start — he could shut down at any given moment, so which question was more fitting to ask before he built up his walls and fucked off?
You settled for something easy — something subtle that wouldn’t hint towards you asking about him. An easy question that any reasonable tour guide would have to answer.
“So, do you guys host any…mortal activities?” Looking up at him in question, brows raised as he once again made no indication that he’d even heard you speak.
But he had, “Not usually. Sometimes on weekends we’ll play volleyball on the beach, and I think Lee Fletcher has a soccer ball he kicks around but…” He shrugged, “No. Not really.”
You hummed, “You said we. Do you play volleyball?”
Nice one.
Luke stiffened a little, sort of appalled that you’d swerved the question on him so easily, but he answered with a grumble, “Not anymore.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, “Grew out of it.”
“Huh.” You said then, facing forward with a nod and continuing your trek through the long grass, occasionally reaching down to scratch your calves, “I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of baseball.”
Come on, Castellan, take the bait.
“Baseball?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed, a little too excitedly for it to be a simple answer to a simple question. You lowered your volume and gave a more collected nod, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve played since I was old enough…little league.” You let out a weak chuckle, suddenly shy about the subject.
Luke nodded at you, “First base?”
“Left field.” You corrected with a proud smile, “I got legs.”
“Oh.” He replied, a little caught off guard at that. Although, he was also caught off guard when you said you played baseball.
You were debating whether or not to press when a gangly blonde boy with dark purple eyes jogged up to you and held out a wicker basket, “You’re the new kid right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting the basket to your chest, “I’m Pollux. We’re picking strawberries, c’mon, I’ll show you the best way to get ‘em.”
You weren’t sure there was a specific tactic to picking strawberries, but you stepped to follow him anyway. Turning your head to send a thankful smile to Luke for walking you down, you spotted him looking between you and Pollux with furrowed brows — then he noticed your stare and swallowed, nodding, “Uh, see you later.”
“Bye.” You replied, slightly starstruck. He walked off, but he did it slowly as if he was unsure of where to go next. You were positive he had somewhere to be — big shot counsellor and all — but as you stood, one foot in front of the other, face turned back to watch him go, he seemed to stutter in his steps at the top of the hill, deciding where to turn. His beaten converse led him west, and Pollux yelled you out of your stupor so you could help him and his brother pick strawberries.
As suspected, your strawberry-picking skills were pretty much the same as everyone else’s — really, how can one person be any better at picking strawberries than another? It’s a very simple task. Either way, Castor and Pollux didn’t envision you as their long lost sister, and the Demeter kids apparently couldn’t smell it on you that you were one of them, whatever that meant, so you were back to your search for daddy dearest — at this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to find out anymore. All this hassle and for what? It’s not as if he was going to attend the daddy-daughter dance with you, no matter which god he might be.
“So, do you, like, know Luke or something?”
Henry Furstatt was a Demeter kid a couple of years younger than you, who had been set the task of walking you to the lake where you would rejoin the Hermes cabin on their canoe lesson. He wasn’t very talkative until you’d put some distance between yourselves and the strawberry fields, where he posed his question.
You glanced at him with a thoughtful frown, “I mean, he’s been showing me around the past couple days, so…I guess —“
“I meant like,” He swallowed, waving his hands around, “from before. Did you know each other before you came to camp?”
“Oh.” You responded, tucking a loose hair that had fallen in front of your face away, “No. Why’d you think that?”
Henry shrugged, his loose-fitting camp shirt doing wonders to hide the movements, “Dunno. He just hasn’t talked to many people since he got back from his quest…but he’s talking to you.”
“Well.” You were suddenly a little sheepish — were you pushing Luke too much? Was your constant questioning making him uncomfortable? You were only on a mission to find out more about him because he interested you, but did you interest him, or was he ready to boot you as far as you’d fly? “He has to, doesn’t he? He’s still a counsellor, even if he does hate everyone here.”
“True.” He settled with a nod, fiddling with a daisy he’d picked while you were walking.
You breathed a content sigh when you finally stepped out of the grass — the summer blooming made it slightly unbearable to walk through, tickling at your legs the whole afternoon. The beating sun didn’t make you feel any nicer, but you just wafted your shirt a little as you walked past the Hermes cabin and towards the dock.
Camp was always noisy; something you’d grown accustomed to the longer you stayed there. You never really noticed it until you were alone, but the chatter of the kids filled the air the whole day and only really faded out when they all went to sleep. It was slightly unnerving to sit in the silence, and the loud murmurs often comforted you — made you feel less suffocated as the new kid. Less eyes on you, the better.
You were so used to the noise, in fact, that you almost completely brushed past the argument that was brewing outside the Ares cabin just a few metres away. Fortunately, Henry spotted the commotion, and pulled you to a halt in favour of staring at the ever-growing crowd.
You followed his eyeline and spotted a burly looking boy with black hair — when he moved his head and the sun hit the right spots, you could see dark red highlights swimming in his locks. You thought that was a little bit much, but you forfeited commenting on it considering the giant machaira that hung on his back.
The boy in question was sneering at someone in front of him, but the corners of his mouth were perked up in an amused smile that made you think he wasn’t angry yet, but he sure was getting there. You couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as Henry ventured closer, you were forced to follow and eventually his words reached your ears.
“—big shot golden boy finally got himself a quest and doesn’t fancy sharing the details.” He laughed, deep and low in his throat.
Henry patted someone on the shoulder, and they stepped aside to let him into the circle. You stayed behind him, watching over his head and finally checking out the opponent. Your eyes stopped on the familiar figure, and his familiar curls that hung over his eyes — eyes that were glaring daggers in the Ares kid’s direction, casting shadows over his cheekbones and making his scar look a little menacing.
The boy continued after Luke showed no signs of replying, “We get it, Castellan. You failed, but that doesn’t mean you get to gatekeep the whole thing.”
“Dean, man.” You finally noticed Chris, standing off to the side of Luke and glancing at his brother in apprehension at the boy's words. “Back off.”
Dean just snorted, “Don’t defend him, Rodriguez. We let him mope, now it’s time for him to spill the beans.” He took a step closer to Luke, “What happened on your quest?”
You had only known Luke for two days. You weren’t sure if he was the type to fly off the handle, swing before reasoning, but you suddenly became aware that neither did anyone else. Sure, these people had known him for years — but you’d heard it from enough people to know that he was a different person these days. After his quest a couple of weeks ago, people had been walking on eggshells around the boy. Maybe a month ago, he would’ve calmly walked away and let Dean simmer in his anger. But now? Nobody could be sure, but judging by the look in his eyes, darkening by the second, you might be able to fathom a guess as to what he’s going to do with his hands now that they were rolled into fists.
“I mean, is this about glory? Because you won’t exactly be sharing it — ya’ can’t share what you don’t have.” Dean let out a chortle at his own joke, looking between his friends around him and grinning with them.
Luke stepped forward. And — you couldn’t blame anyone, really. After that last comment, you were all expecting fists to be swung. It was only reasonable. Maybe the old Luke wouldn’t have done it, but this new Luke was looking increasingly more angry at the world as the days went by, so when he took one measly step forward, the crowd around him let out a collective woah! and put their hands out to stop him from lunging. Including yourself.
Only he wasn’t about to punch Dean. His hand stayed dormant at his side, the only clear movement was the single step closer he’d taken to match the one the Ares boy had made earlier. He was only really stepping forward so his next words would hit harder — that’s all it was, words. They died on his lips when he realised the implications of his actions, looking between the outstretched arms and tense faces.
He looked at Dean, “We can discuss quests when you get your own.”
Then he walked off, past the crowd that didn’t bother stopping him. Looking around, you saw the looks on their faces — shame, from assuming Luke would evoke such violence off the sparring mat. You definitely felt it, but you didn’t stick around long enough to confirm that with anyone else. Instead, you left Chris to berate Dean in place of the head counsellor and followed the boy in question as he huffed up the hill towards the edge of the woods.
“Hey!” You said, breathless (you were not an uphill climber). “Hey, Luke!”
He hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. His head twitched a little, like he wanted to look but was holding himself back, but you simply rounded him until you were face to face. The anger had long since dissolved from his expression, replaced with soft confusion.
“Hi.” You huffed, still recovering from that incline, “Are you okay? That guy’s a dick.”
“I know.” He replied, short as usual.
You licked your lips, still catching your breath, and nodded. He remained silent, looking around you like he was just waiting for you to leave. You decided to take the hint, muttering lowly, “Okay, sorry for bothering you.”
But his hand reached out, circling your wrist just as you passed him. You looked at Luke, raising your eyebrows, watching as he stammered on his words, “I, uh, you aren’t bothering me. I just…”
He let go of you and you stepped back to your precious spot. Behind him, the crowd had dissipated, Dean long gone. Chris remained, staring up at the pair of you on top of the hill. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he seemed to hesitate before turning his back. You looked up at Luke.
“Why did you…come after me?”
You scoffed a laugh, “What? Anyone would’ve, it’s like…common decency.”
He twisted his expression, looking amused and devastated all at the same time, “But they didn’t.”
He was right; before you’d set off up the hill, everyone had just been watching him walk off. It seemed a little out of character, but then again, you didn’t know these people as well as you thought. Luke let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head, “Everyone’s sorta given up on me now that I’m…”
“Moody and depressed?” You finished, raising a single brow. You smiled at him, and it lifted into a grin when he smiled back, albeit only slightly. But you’d take it. “I just think that they’re a little unsure.”
“They’re scared, is what they are.” He said firmly, staring at the ground in mirth, “Their precious golden boy won’t clean up all of their messes anymore and they’re scared that they’ll have to start looking after themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” You said, even if you didn’t believe it. How could you? You didn’t know these people, Luke did. “They’re just worried about you.”
He scoffed, finally moving his head up and meeting your eyes. He went to say something, presumably another quip about the campers, but stopped himself. Backtracked. Instead he said, “Aren’t you angry that you haven’t been claimed yet?”
That was a deep question. You sat on it for a couple of seconds, reeling at the sudden shift of conversation, until you finally let out a low puff of air and shrugged, “I don’t really know how I feel. Why? Should I be?”
“This camp, it’s —“ He huffed, “It helps you, sure. But it also forces you to…mould yourself into the perfect kid for — for a parent who doesn’t care enough to watch you grow up. Help you live, use their divine powers when a dragon is clawing your fucking face off!”
He’d stepped closer to you, unknowingly, that final shout making you wince a little at the volume. He stopped then, evening his breaths and stepping back with an apologetic expression. You brushed it off.
“A dragon clawed your face off?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled weakly, “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”
You smiled at him, shamefully admiring his face. Now that he wasn’t glaring in anger, and his face was more relaxed, you could see the whites of his eyes. His lashes, unreasonably long, and his lips that were so plush you were close to asking him if he took a trip to see Dr Miami while he was on his quest.
“Gods.” You murmured under your breath, “You’re so pretty it sorta pisses me off.”
Luke laughed then — a genuine chortle that shook his chest and made passers by glance in his direction. His grin was uncharacteristically wide and for a second, a brief moment, you saw it. Luke Castellan, the one everyone looks up to. The one they turn to in times of peril, the one they giggle and gossip about under the shade of the fir trees.
Then you knew your answer to Luke’s question. No — you weren’t angry that you hadn’t been claimed. In fact, you didn’t think you’d care even if you were so long as he was smiling at you like that.
He calmed down, catching his breath, his face relaxing back into that cool expression he’s always got on. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were sure he looked a little less tense than before. He nodded, waving a hand, “Alright, Sunny. Let’s go canoeing.”
“Sunny?” You asked, walking alongside him.
He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you, “If Apollo won’t claim you as a child of the sun, then I will.”
“Alright.” You smiled softly, looking forward so he wouldn’t see it and run off. You picked at your nails, “So long as I can call you JoJo.”
“Let’s watch that silly movie it’s from and I’ll decide if you can call me that.”
“Deal.”
🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons (comment to be added/removed!)
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Too Much
Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader
Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Oral (female receiving), Kuru/Queue Play, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Cumming Untouched
Word Count: 2K
A/N: I wrote this entire thing today and I'm a little delirious right now so if you see mistakes - no you don't
Summary: Neteyam licks your pussy while you lick his kuru
Translations:
Kuru/Neural Queue - Used to bond with animals and other Na'vi
Yawne - Beloved
Tewng - Loincloth
Neteyam’s golden eyes are dazed and hooded as he gazes up at you from his spot between your thighs. His pupils are blown wide, so large they practically swallow up the entire iris, leaving just a thin ring of yellow around the edges. If you look hard enough, you can see your own reflection mirrored in them - mouth open and gasping for air, hands tangled in your hair just to have something to hold onto as Neteyam devours your puffy pussy like his most favorite meal.
His face is wet as he presses harder against you, mouth and chin glistening in the sunlight from where your wetness coats them. His flat nose bumps your clit as his tongue presses deeper inside of you, your soaked hole clenching around his invading tongue. He moans at the feel of you tightening around him, hot breath fanning over your pussy as he licks you deeper.
He looks drunk already, drunk on you and the taste of your juices on his taste buds. His ears flick at each and every moan and shaky sigh that escapes your lips, intent on catching them all as he eats you out, eager to earn more of your pretty noises. He’s made you cum on his tongue once already, back arching and crying loudly, your shouts of pleasure echoing through the little meadow he has you spread out in as he growled into your cunt.
When you came down from your high, he didn’t stop. His dark honey eyes narrowed at you, as if daring you to try to move away from him as his hands readjusted their grip on your thighs. Your legs shook in his grip as he redoubled his efforts, spitting and sucking on your sensitive pussy like you had somehow deprived him of it for years instead of him going on a three day long hunting trip away from you.
Your squeals of overstimulation quickly turned back into wanton moans of pleasure as he worked you back up towards that point of bliss.
His tongue pulls from inside you, licking greedily up your puffy slit before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. Your back arches against the moss underneath you as he sucks on the aching bud, a high pitched whine tearing from your throat as one of your hands untangles from your hair and clutches at the back of his head.
Your legs spasm in his hold, thighs clenching around his head as your second orgasm shatters through you. You cry as your pussy clenches around nothing, the need to be filled up by Neteyam’s thick cock overwhelming as tears of pleasure drip from your eyes and cling to your lashes. You want him to fuck you so badly, want to feel him inside you, pounding your cunt and bruising your cervix with his powerful thrusts until your too dumb and cockdrunk to even remember your own name.
But he won’t. He’s so mean, leaving you for days, all alone without your mate to fill you up like you deserve. And then he comes home, gorgeous and loving and desperate for you, and he still won’t give it to you.
And he’s not done with you either.
He works you through the end of your orgasm - plush, sinful lips letting go of your still pulsing clit in favor of pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh. He allows you a moment of respite this time, letting you try to regain your breath, sucking in as much air into your lungs as you can from what the oxygen tubes in your nose provide. But he’s still holding your thighs open, fingers gripping into the delicate flesh as his kisses along your skin get more heated.
“You can give me another one, won’t you?” He mumbles, voice raspy and deep with a need he still hasn’t quenched. Your hole clenches again from the sound of it despite itself.
“Teyam,” You whimper, your hand on his head trying in vain to keep his wandering kisses away from your oversensitive core. “T-too much. Can’t,”
“Yes, you can,” He says, pressing a feather light kiss to your clit. “Just one more. I swear.”
He dives back in again, soaked face suffocating itself as he presses tightly against your center. His tongue laves over your sticky cunt, pressing flat as he licks up your abused slit. Your eyes squeeze shut as his rough tongue swipes against your raw clit, shocks of a glorious combination of pleasure and pain shooting up your spine and frying your brain as you cry out underneath him.
Your hand claws at the back of his head, torn between wanting to shove his head away and keeping it pressed against your core as he drowns himself in your juices. Your hand pushes through his hair, the smaller braids moving and caressing against your smaller fingers as they subconsciously find the thick braid at the back of his skull. Your fingers wrap around the braid as best as they can, gripping onto the base of his kuru, using your hold on the most intimate part of him as leverage as your body decides to keep him where he is.
Neteyam groans against your clit when you accidentally squeeze tighter, hand closing around the neural queue with a vice-like grip. It’s so much louder than normal, the guttural groan echoing through the meadow. Your head snaps up, hand immediately loosening its hold on the braid, worried that you’ve hurt him.
“Shit, Tayem. Are you–”
But he whines at the loss of contact, one of his hands untangling itself from its grip on your thigh to grab yours and replace it back at the base of his kuru.
Your fingers wrap around it again, giving another experimental squeeze and watching as Neteyam grunts, eyes fluttering shut at the pressure, and wrapping his lips around your clit again, sucking harshly in retaliation. The suction on your aching clit makes you squeeze tighter, twin whines of pain mixed with pleasure echoing from both of your mouths at the rough treatment on your sensitive parts.
Your legs tremble, hips bucking into Neteyam’s mouth as he uses his iron grip on your thighs to keep your hips pressed against the moss covered ground. To distract yourself from Neteyam’s torture on your cunt, your fingers trail down the length of his kuru, gentle fingers stroking the glossy hair braided around the queue as you pull it over his shoulder.
Neteyam purrs and the vibrations on your cunt only serve to make you wetter. You can feel yourself dripping down your asscheeks - strings of your own wetness, cum, and Neteyam’s spit curving over your bottom and dripping onto the forest floor beneath you. Movement from Neteyam’s lower half catches your attention as his hips hump slowly against the ground. His golden eyes glare up at you, flicking between your own and the image of his most sacred body part held vulnerable in your hand. His mouth is full, and he doesn’t seem to be willing to part with your drenched core for even a second to say what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have to - his eyes say it all, daring you to do what you’ve always wanted.
Play with me, yawne. Do it.
Your breathing is shaky as you slide your hand down to the tip, fingers curling around the thinner end of his kuru before twisting your wrist and encouraging the tips of his hair to fall apart, exposing the glowing pink tendrils that are housed inside. Neteyam’s tongue swipes frantically up and down along your slit, a testament to how restless he is as he watches you examine the exposed bits of his nervous system.
The tendrils writhe under your gaze, just as restless and excited as their owner as they wriggle around helplessly in your grip. They seem like they’re reaching for you, twisting and leaning towards you as far as they can stretch. You’ve always wanted to touch them, wanted to feel what they would feel like on your fingers. They would wrap around you so tight, but at the same time so delicate, just like they twine around each other when Neteyam bonds with the Spirit Tree.
Your free hand reaches up, fingers just a breath away from finally touching those pink tendrils. They reach back for you, stretching towards your outstretched fingers, desperate for something to bond with. Neteyam stops his assault on your cunt, heavy breath fanning over you as he stares up at you in awe, waiting with bated breath for the moment your tiny fingers make contact with them.
But the look on his face has you feral, and the thought that he’s tormented you with this tongue all afternoon has you dropping your hand away from the pink, wiggly tendrils and replacing them with your tongue instead. Neteyam cries out at the first touch of your tongue, eyes rolling back into his head as his upper body shoots up, one of his hands slamming against the ground as full bodied shivers wrack his body. The tendrils feel electric on your tongue, writhing and frantic as you slowly drag your tongue over them. They try to grip onto the wet muscle, but they can’t find purchase as it glides against them. They slide off your tongue when you reach the tips, squirming in the air before you bring them to your tongue again, loving the way they try to attach to you but can do nothing but twitch and wiggle under your devious torment.
Neteyam collapses back into the cradle of your thighs, momentarily forgetting about your cunt as his head rolls to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he digs his face into the inside of your thigh, whimpering like he’s being tortured. Good, you think, grinning as you continue to tongue at the sensitive nerves. Payback’s a bitch.
But as soon as the thought materializes, his mouth is back on you again, hot and insistent on your clit as he glares up at you again like he can hear what you’re thinking. He shakes his face against your pussy, animalistic growls vibrating into your cunt as his fingers dig into the fat of your hips. You squeal, moaning loudly against the tendrils sitting on your tongue and Neteyam lets out a low whine, hips once again humping into the ground underneath him, faster and more desperate as he grinds his aching cock against the moss. You’ve never seen his eyes so hazy before. Somehow he’s with you - here, in this moment - and also someplace far away at the exact same time. He licks your clit with a renewed vigor, pleasure shooting through your body with each perfect swipe of his tongue, and you make sure to reward each and every one of his licks with a lick of your own against his tendrils.
Another orgasm rushes towards you, relentless and damning as the coil in your belly tightens past the point of no return. It threatens to tear you apart when it hits, washing over you in a mixture of overstimulation and pure bliss, and you cum on Neteyam’s tongue for the third time today - shaking and moaning with the tendrils still wrapping eagerly around your tongue.
When you come back to yourself, Neteyam is climbing over you, still panting as he holds himself up with one arm. He gently grabs the top of his kuru with one hand, fingers curling around your smaller ones where the braid stops before the visible nerves peek out. With a deep shaky breath, he pulls his kuru back, slowly dragging the glowing tendrils from their found happy place along your tongue. They separate, held only together by a thin strand of saliva before that breaks away too, and you can feel yourself mourn the loss already.
“You’re a bad girl, yawne,” He says, cupping your cheek tenderly. “Abusing something so sacred like that.”
“And you’re a bad boy,” You reply, smirking as your eyes fall to the large wet patch now visible in his loincloth. “Good boys don’t cum in their tewngs untouched like that.”
Neteyam hums, leaning down to nip playfully at your chin. “You definitely touched me, that’s for sure,”
You giggle, a teasing hand gently caressing the painstakingly braided cord still handing over his shoulder. “Can I touch it again?”
Neteyam’s smile is blinding as he leans down to kiss you.
Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11
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The Art of Noticing | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Summary: In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it.
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Word count: ~6.1K
Warnings: This one is full on corn with plot; plus lots of emotions. No specific age gap mentioned. References to loss, grief, death and sadness. Reader almost gets her throat slit, until Joel saves the day. I mean, canon-typical violence. Joel is an asshole in the beginning. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Lots of hatred towards a bird lol. Lots of film/photography references. Ellie is a gem, as per usual. Size kink. Reference to a gun/knife. Alcohol. Use of pet names (darlin', baby, good girl, sweetheart, etc.). Unprotected P in V. Oral (M and F receiving). There's a titty fuck. Grinding/dry humping. Fingering. Nipple play. There are no physical descriptions of the reader except that she has hair long enough to whip over her shoulder. Please let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: This one has been in my WIPs for months. It started off as an entirely different story, but after going through and re-reading what I originally wrote, I hated it. I have all the feels about this one. Special thank you to @sydneyinacoma for being my emotional sexy support blanket and holding my balls on this one, as per usual. And to @papipascalispunk for originally editing the first version of this story, although it looks totally different now. Iris, you're a gem. Thanks for believing in me even before I did. I hope I make you proud with this one.
Masterlist | Read on AO3
Tumbling at the edge
Of disaster,
This is how I lived.
Oh see how the chrysanthemums
Are dry now,
Yet still beautiful.
~ Noelle Kocot
In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Your mother had always told you there was beauty in capturing the poetry in the often-ignored details, and she made sure you were given the tools you needed to do so. She was kind like that. Sometimes it's as if her presence still lingers vividly in your viewfinder, her radiant smile eternally illuminating your memories.
Your film helps you to hold on to the details that no one else is around to remember anymore, details you might one day forget; details like the color of your best friend's eyes, the warm hue of orange of your grandfather’s favorite recliner, and even the nearly lime green color of the fresh green tomatoes from your garden.
In a place where the larger story has faded, you still revel in the tiny tales—the vines reclaiming forgotten streets, sunlight gently embracing relics of the past, and the murmurs of tales etched into the decay. You think about the scratches carved into the dining room table of your childhood home and often wish you could once again find your seat around it.
But that reality is gone.
No longer is the girl who liked to swim or play with dolls. No longer is the girl who fought with her sister for stealing clothes from her closet, or her brother for hitting too hard.
Like many others, she’s gone. They’re gone.
She was whisked away to make room for the woman you are today; the person you’ve had to become to survive.
Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness.
That was until it almost got you killed.
And Joel Miller hates you for it.
++++
Months after your patrol that went wrong, you bump into Joel outside the Tipsy Bison, giving him a cursory glance before turning around.
The idea of saying sorry crosses your mind, but for whatever reason, you don't. Your kindness, once a vibrant tapestry, is now a threadbare token. Besides, it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have been standing so close to the doorway. If anything, he should be apologizing to you.
You’re in a rather grumpy mood this evening, having wasted the last of your film only to overexpose the prints earlier in the day. Every single one – ruined. Sure, before the outbreak, this might not have bothered you as much, but now, finding film is like striking gold, and your stash is dwindling at an alarming rate. The frustration hangs over your head like a cloudy day. All you want to do is go home and sulk – forget about the mistake – at least if you were at home crying over your photographs, you wouldn’t be subject to prying eyes.
“Watch it,” Joel says, voice low and even, a sharp hint of annoyance behind his tone.
You stop in your tracks. You know you should walk away from this. But your temper is already on edge, sensitivity on hyperdrive, and something about the sneer of Joel’s voice gets under your skin. You spin around in a huff and toss your hair with annoyance. “Maybe next time don’t block the door,” you bark.
Joel retorts, red-hot at your audacity. “‘Scuse me? Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?
The pet name is patronizing; you’re a real stick in his craw.
"You heard me," you snap back, punctuating your annoyance by crossing your arms over one another across your chest.
Joel turns around and takes a large stride toward you, closing the gap between your bodies so he’s nearly chest-to-chest with yours, his imposing figure towering over you, and his eyes narrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, hmm?” Joel asks, voice dripping with sarcasm and void of any genuine concern.
“You” you say, “you’re always so fucki–” before you can continue your sentence, Joel stops you by placing his large index finger onto your lips to hush you. "You've got one helluva smart mouth, darlin’," he says, voice low, almost menacing.
You freeze, looking up at him unsure of what to say as he brings his face inches from yours, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. The flecks of amber that dance around the edges of his irises catch your attention. As you swallow, your eyes momentarily flicker down to the thin line of his lips. Abruptly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an echo of intensity lingering in the suspended moment.
He isn’t particularly nice, but you have to admit, he is fucking hot. Since his arrival in town, he's been a magnetic force, his somber aura unmistakable to even the most casual of onlookers. A silhouette of brooding intensity, with shoulders that carve the space around him and biceps that speak of strength. His voice, a rasp in the wind, adds another layer to his already large presence.
“I’ve been told,” you pause. “Just – just get out of my way,” you say firmly, walking away as your shoulders brush against him.
"What's got your panties in a twist?" you scoff in your best imitation of his voice. You exhale sharply, fully aware of the true reason behind the agitation. You haven’t been fucked in years, and the heat that Joel stirs low in your belly is an incredibly frustrating feeling, knowing you’ll never get to do anything about it.
God damn infuriating man.
++++
As you lay in bed that night, you can't help but replay your encounters with Joel, the scenes repeat like an annoying commercial that won't leave your mind. Memories of your patrol with him keep playing on a loop, embedding themselves in your thoughts, refusing to fade away in the darkness of the night.
"You could’a been killed," Joel's words still ring in your ears, the weight of his tone and the intensity in his eyes seared into your memory. You remember the sounds – the bone-crushing crunch and the grim, wet thud as Joel swiftly dealt with the raider who tried to slit your throat for your backpack, all while you were innocently looking through the lens of your camera, attempting to take a picture of a bird on a tree branch.
“I told you to follow my instructions, to listen, and you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” he said, trying to get you to see his point of view. Of course, you’ve apologized. Profusely, even, but it falls on deaf ears.
Ever since that moment, Joel hasn’t looked at you the same. You're certain all he sees is a stupid little girl, unable to protect herself. Nothing but a burden. Dead weight on his already sore shoulders.
Just go to sleep and forget about it, forget about him, you think to yourself, stirring in the scratchy fabric of your sheets.
As you drift off, you wonder what the bird saw that day.
++++
With a grunt, Joel manages to kick off his boots in the entryway, and they land with a loud thud against the floor. The worn wooden stairs creak beneath his weight as he ascends the steps, the dim hallway leading to Ellie's room. Pushing the door ajar, he finds her peacefully asleep. A small smile tugs at his lips, grateful to see her warm and safe.
Retreating to his room, Joel sheds the remnants of the day – his jacket, the weight of exhaustion, and the lingering sensation of your soft lips under his finger. As he settles into bed, the worn mattress groaning beneath him, he remembers the sound of your sweet voice; your puffy, teary eyes looking up at him as you apologized; and the sticky feeling of the blood on his hands from the man who tried to hurt you.
He wishes he would have pulled you close; and held you in the safe embrace of his arms.
He’ll never admit it, but he forgave you almost immediately, and it terrifies him more than anything in this new world ever could.
He’s already lost so much, and he’s not sure how much more he can take.
Surely it’s easier to hate you, rather than admit the truth, rather than lose you.
“Fuckin’ bird,” he mumbles before drifting off to sleep.
++++
"Come on, you've gotta be there! It's gonna be a total snooze without you," Ellie pleads, practically begging you to join her at the annual community holiday gathering.
Whereas Joel mostly acts like a grade-A jerk, Ellie is like a breath of fresh air. From the moment you met her, you’ve had a connection – you taught her the ropes of film exposure, and she's good company in a world where friends are a rare commodity. Despite your initial reluctance, you eventually cave. It’s not really your thing, but it’s a taste of normalcy, or what passes for it in this broken world, that you crave; plus, you convince yourself that you might even get a few good photos out of it.
Standing alone at the bar, you try to relax. You fiddle with the strap of your camera that rests on the bartop as you reminisce about how before the world turned to shit, you would have been quick to capitalize on an opportunity like this – to meet a nice guy, maybe have a drink or two and then end the night between the sheets.
You close your eyes and try to recall the last time you were touched, but it’s fruitless. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the gentle caress of a man or anyone for that matter.
You huff your residual irritation at the thought as you notice Joel talking with Tess in the distance. Tess. She’s rather new to town. You’ve only spoken once or twice, but you’ve gathered that she is a formidable woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, but still somehow kind.
Plus she can hunt, a welcome skill around here. As she converses with Joel, you take the time to drink in the details about her that you hadn’t noticed before. You guess she’s in her mid-40s, her hair is a mousey shade of brown with small shiny threads of gray in the mix, but she wears it well. Her complexion is soft, and her smile is nice. She’s pretty. You try not to color yourself too hard in the various shades of green as you wonder if Joel thinks the same.
“Another,” you signal to the bartender, and he fills your glass with amber liquid.
Maybe it’s the booze or the thick air from the crowded room causing your brain to go fuzzy, but you find yourself lost living out an alternate reality in your mind – one where Joel doesn’t hate you. One where he calls you a good girl, voice thick like honey, as he fucks you within an inch of your life.
Ellie’s voice calls you back to reality as she yells your name, signaling you to join her at the other end of the room. Downing the last of your drink, appreciating the subtle warmth it brings to your insides, you carefully place the glass on the bartop, shooting a subtle nod of appreciation to the bartender as you do; you grab your camera and place the strap around your neck. As you navigate the space toward Ellie, your keen awareness catches Joel breaking from his conversation with Tess, his gaze searing into you as you walk past both of them. His face is unreadable, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from quickening under his attention.
++++
After hours of socializing, all you crave is the comfort of your bed. Exhausted, you stumble out of the building, your balance betraying you on the gravel beneath your feet. Shit. You stand up, brushing off the lingering dirt from your knees, inadvertently smearing a small fleck of blood into your skin in the process. Of course, the one night you decide to wear a dress, the only one you own, you would end up injured.
“Really don’t have much spatial awareness, do ya, Darlin’?” Joel says, appearing out of the darkness, his dark and husky voice rings in your ears. It comes out a little harsher than he intended.
You shoot him a glare, half-hoping your eyes could actually launch daggers and finish him off right then and there. "Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. “I’ve already apologized as much as I can, it’s fine if you don’t like me, but you could at least be cordial,” you say, voice defeated.
His mouth opens like he has something to say, but he doesn’t respond. "Right. Screw this, I'm going home,” you sigh as you walk away, thoroughly done with whatever messed-up game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing.
Joel watches you walk away, wishing he dared to go after you.
++++
Months go by, and despite the shifting atmosphere, as the crisp embrace of autumn gradually succumbs to the biting chill of winter; the air between you and Joel remains unchanged. His indifference is as unyielding as the encroaching winter snow.
“Tommy, please don’t make me go,” you beg. “He doesn’t even like me,” you cry, hoping he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.
“Sweetheart, he doesn’t like anyone. ‘M sorry, but it’s gotta be you two this time, ” Tommy replies, the sentiment of his voice echoing that there is no other option.
As you’re packing your backpack, you consider taking your camera but decide against it. Joel’s words pierce through you once more, “you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” You stash it in your dresser drawer, exchange it for a beanie and gloves, and walk out of the room to head to the stables.
Underneath the dappled morning sunlight filtering through the trees, you tread the familiar path to the barn, a soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots. The earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of horses create a tranquil backdrop. As you approach the stables, your gaze catches Joel's silhouette – he stands, a rugged figure, in a weathered leather jacket and denim jeans with a knife sheathed at his side and a gun slung casually over his shoulder.
"Hey," you utter, your voice a gentle cadence, drawing closer to him. His gaze assesses you with a measured scrutiny, and with a subtle nod, he responds in a low murmur, "Ready?" The acknowledgment of your greeting remains absent.
Once inside the barn, you see the stable attendant readying your ride.
“‘M sorry, but you two are gonna have to share a horse,” he says, matter of fact. “Good ole bessy here has a lame foot that we gotta take care of before she’s back in commission,” he adds, patting the horse on the side. “And every other horse already has a rider for the day,” he adds. You think you hear Joel groan, but you can’t be sure.
You give the horse a friendly greeting, running your hand along its sturdy neck, a silent bond of understanding. Climbing onto its back, you settle in comfortably. Joel, without a word, positions himself behind you. The feeling of his thick chest pressed up against your back causes your breathing to hitch in your throat. Your eyes flutter closed as Joel reaches around you to grab the reins and he gently nudges the horse to go.
The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the path fills the air as you and Joel ride in tandem, a shared silence enveloping the space between you. The warmth of your body pressed against him, and the faint scent of your strawberry shampoo mingled with the earthy aroma of the trail, causes Joel to stiffen behind you. He adjusts his hips, subtly pulling them back, so you don’t notice.
You ride like that for what seems like an hour or more, until Joel breaks the silence, "So what’s the deal with the camera,” he asks as the horses continue their steady pace. His question throws you off. Is he being friendly?
“Oh, uh – well, my mom gave it to me when I was a little girl,” you say. Your voice goes an octave higher as you continue, “It’s all I have left of her now. All I have left of anyone, really,” you say. You bring your gloved hand up to wipe away the bead of snot that has gathered at the tip of your nose, sensitive from the cold, as you wait for his response.
“Hmm,” he adds, sensing the sadness, the grief behind your words; a hard truth almost everyone left alive has had to live. His heart hurts for you, hell, it hurts for him, too.
“Must be hard, reckon there’s not much worth takin’ a photo of these days,” he says, his head scanning from right to left to look out for any potential threats.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you pause.
“When I was younger, I used to think the sound of thunder was just the sound of god rearranging the furniture,” you say, slightly angling your head back to look at him, “it’s all about perception, Joel.”
He peers down at you, a furrow forming on his brow as he considers your words, his eyes tracking down to linger on your lips. Before you can say anything more, your attention flickers upward to the sky, the clear blue sky has been replaced by dark, ominous-looking clouds, and a raindrop falls to your cheek.
++++
By the time you find shelter, far from the comforts of Jackson, you’re both completely drenched.
“Stay here,” Joel says, hopping off the horse and swinging the rifle over his shoulders into his thick hands. You brush away the beads of water collecting on your lashes as you watch him enter the home to make sure it’s safe. He’s gone for what feels like forever, and after he returns, the rifle is slung over his shoulder again. It’s safe.
“Alright, darlin’ – all clear, let’s get outta this mess,” he says, offering his hand to help you get off the animal. Once steady, he takes the horse by the reins to lead him into the garage for shelter.
The rain-soaked chill clings to your skin as you and Joel step into the abandoned home, seeking refuge from the biting cold. Droplets cascade from your clothes, leaving a small puddle beneath your feet. The air inside is still, the only sound is the soft creaking of the dilapidated structure, the percussion of the raindrops falling on the roof, and the whip of the wind beating against the siding of the house.
Without a word, you both start shedding your damp layers, your shivers becoming more pronounced in the cool silence. You stand in the dusty living room, clad in only your bra and underwear, as you hold your arms crossed over your chest partially to warm yourself but also to shield yourself from Joel’s eyes, slightly self-conscious.
Joel briefly walks off before he returns from the bedroom off the side of the living room, having managed to find an old blanket among the remnants of the forgotten lives of the people who once lived in the home. He holds it open wide to you, an offering, and you turn your body so he can drape it around your shoulders. Once secured, you find a little bit of relief in its thick fibers.
You turn around to face him, and he stands there, rubbing his hands together in front of him in an attempt to warm himself.
“Joel, you’re freezing,” you say, slightly taking the blanket off of your shoulders as if to offer it to him. “‘M fine, Darlin’ – I’ll be fine, keep it, you need to get warm,” he says, but you see the way his body shakes as he says it, his tender curls plastered to his forehead; weighed down by the water collecting in them.
At that moment, you witness a fracture in Joel's stoic facade, the rugged exterior showing hairline cracks. The formidable walls he's meticulously built begin to crumble.
"Joel, seriously, we can share – come here," you insist, extending the blanket open with one arm, inviting him into the cocoon of warmth. The gesture carries an unspoken understanding, a truce. You might hate me, but I don’t hate you.
Joel hesitates for a second, his eyes tracing over your skin; as if he’s committing the sight of your hard nipples and damp skin to memory.
At last, he acquiesces, closing the gap between your bodies. His hands encircle your waist, drawing you close as he wraps both arms around you. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, and the blanket falls around both of your bodies. With him this close, you notice the subtle scent he carries with him, a touch of rain, a dash of cinnamon, and a hint of sweat. You’re not sure how, but he smells good.
With a long exhale, he tightens his hold on you, enfolding you against the sturdy warmth of his body. You melt into him, your cheek resting on the soft skin of his chest, and your breathing returns to a steady rhythm. You both pause there, letting the warmth swallow you up; eventually, the goosebumps that once littered both your bodies, begin to fade.
Your stomach flips as you listen to the subtle pitter patterns of his heart and the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. You had forgotten how good it feels to just be held; to have another body pressed up against yours. You realize Joel must feel the same, your attention flickers to the hard stiffness pushing against your stomach.
Tilting your face up to meet his, your arms still entwined around his neck, you whisper "Joel," your voice suggestive and questioning at the same time. His name hangs in the charged air.
"Darlin'," he responds in a low murmur, and before you can formulate a response, his lips claim yours in an unexpected yet tender collision. Joel groans and forces his tongue into your mouth. The intensity surges, and he begins to pull you back towards the couch. Joel pauses when the back of his calves meet the edge of the cushions, and he deepens the kiss before sitting back, pulling you with him onto his lap, the blanket falling to the floor leaving you almost bare on top of him.
The air in the home is still cold, but you don’t care, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and your red-hot desire for him is more than enough to keep you warm. He’s as hard as a rock under his underwear, and you hum, noting how good his cock feels beneath you. You haven’t seen it yet, but you can tell he’s big.
“Are you sure you want this? What about Tess?” you ask, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts as he gropes both of your breasts with his hands, his lips meeting yours once more.
“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters, leaning back to look at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he says, his hands leaving your breasts to find your hips, and he pulls you down harder onto his clothed erection. “And Tess and I are just friends,” he adds, “You’re the one I haven’t been able to get outta my head.”
Joel closes his eyes, and his mouth hinges slightly open. It has been a while since you’ve been laid, but god were you glad to see you could still render a man speechless.
Joel’s long, firm fingers find their way up your back to the clasp of your bra. He begins to unhook it. “Take this off,” he says, and you do as he says, throwing the damp lace onto the floor, leaving yourself completely topless on top of him.
“God damn, Darlin’ –”, Joel responds to the sight of you.
“Like what you see?” you say, feeling confident, and less intimated now that Joel is beneath you. Of course, he could overpower you in a matter of seconds, but in this moment, you have the upper hand. You grasp his chin, admiring the feel of the coarse hair on your fingertips, and lean down to kiss him hard.
His cock throbs against you, and your pussy drips in response. You stay there, kissing him, grinding your clothed cunt into him, enjoying the desperate sounds he makes as you do. His firm body, soft tummy, and compact muscles spur you on. You grin as you trace your hands down his smooth chest, noting the scars -- from what, who, you can only imagine – until your hands eventually make their way down to the band of his underwear.
Joel stops you, firmly gripping your chin to look at him. He pauses there and then pulls your face towards his, firmly sucking your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. “Mmm, Joel,” you mutter, the words leaving your lips fumbled and sloppy. Joel intensely stares into your eyes for a moment, and you stare back, eyes wide in disbelief that this is happening.
“C’mere,” Joel says, breaking the silence with another kiss, as you rock your hips against him again, the movement sending sparks straight to your core. God, you’re so fucking wet for him – a dripping mess.
Joel presses his face against your chest and works his way to your pebbled nipple before daring his tongue out to lick it. You push a still slightly damp curl away from his forehead, before clenching his hair in your fist. His breath is almost desperate as he laps at your tender nipples, alternating between sucking and little flicks of his tongue. “Joel,” you moan, pulling his face into your chest.
He growls softly, and sucks at your nipple harder, then rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You make a little noise in response. He trails the flat of his tongue up the valley of your breasts and over your exposed throat before kissing it, his hips lifting to you a bit as he does. He can’t wait to be buried inside of you.
“Up, baby. There’s a bed in the back room,” he says, tapping your thigh. You shimmy off of him, and he rises to full height. It doesn't take long for his lips to find you again. Kissing in a way that’s almost as violent as he is, you walk backward this time, making your way to the bedroom with Joel’s guidance.
It isn’t much, just skeletal remains of what was once a sanctuary. A duvet rests on the creaky old bed, its once vibrant pattern lost to time and dust. The room is mostly bare apart from the bed and a half-falling apart nightstand. Joel sits down on the bed and you fall to your knees in front of him. Your fingers hook under the elastic of his underwear, and his hips cant up to help you pull the fabric down and off his legs.
The cock that springs free is thick and long. You’re intimidated only momentarily until the need to feel him overwhelms you.
You spit into your palm and take his heavy member in your hand, before beginning to jerk him off. You slide your thumb across his swollen and red tip, your other hand gripping the thick, dark coarse hair against the base of him.
Joel’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation of him in your soft palms. You bend forward and place his cock in the space between your breasts, you tilt your chin down and open your mouth so a long line of drool dribbles down to the cleft of your chest for lubrication, and then you squeeze the flesh around his length, rubbing up and down the entirety of him.
“Fuck nghh — that’s, ugh, that’s so good baby,” he grunts, his hands grabbing the nape of your neck.
And it is good. Almost too good.
“Darlin’, shit – ah, you gotta stop or I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice low.
“Maybe I want you to,” you purr, torn between making him coat your tits with come, or letting him fuck you first.
“No,” he says, voice more firm this time, “Gotta feel that perfect pussy before I do, baby girl,” he says, rising to full height, his arms wrapping under your armpits to bring you up with him. In one swift move, he has you turned and your back hits the mattress while a soft oof escapes your lungs.
Joel has a hazy, dark look in his eye as he hovers over you. His pupils are blown open wide with lust. You think he might fuck you then, but he looks down and notices that your pussy is still covered by the thin lace of your now-soiled panties. He kisses down your chest, your tummy, and his head eventually finds its place between your thighs. He plants a soft kiss on your mound, and he mutters how sweet he thinks you’re going to taste.
“Think we oughta find out,” he says, and he hooks his thumbs around the fabric and pulls them off your frame. Within seconds, his soft lips are on your wet folds.
"Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good. "Taste so sweet, Darlin’, knew you would," Joel breathes, his breath hot against you.
He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.
You pull at your nipple with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.
His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and he works to throw you over the cliff of your orgasm. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are primal and filthy.
“Be a good girl for me,” he demands, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me taste your sweet release.”
His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my god – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop" you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.
He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. “Kiss me, darlin’,” he says, and his lips find yours. You savor the way it tastes; a hint of tang, but just so. You reach your hand in between your bodies to grab his cock, and he takes the hint.
“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, lining the entrance of his cock, the tip of it weeping with pre-cum, up against your wet and waiting hole. He presses his hips forward gently, and you begin to relax and flutter around him, feeling the subtle sting of an unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, stretch.
“So big, feels so full, Joel,” you cry, “I know, baby. But I know she can handle it,” he coos, pressing impossibly deeper into you, until eventually he’s buried in you to the hilt. Underneath his solid frame, skin to skin, his cock firm inside of you, you feel your skin prickle hot and blood rushes through your ears. He fucks you equisitely, his chest crowding yours, but he bears the brunt of his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you too much.
He steadies like this for a while, before he eventually pushes himself up and grips the back of your knees. You follow his cue and pull them up, feet flat on the mattress beneath you. He folds them cross-cross onto your chest, obscenely stretching your needy hole around the girth of him.
You can’t breathe. He’s so big you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His cock drags in and out of you, making you shudder and your toes curl. The way he fucks you is so much – hard, deep, and passionate.
“You feel so good, Darlin’. Gripping me so fucking good, being such a good girl,” Joel moans.
“God, don’t stop, ugh I’m so close,” you say, eyes closing.
“Eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me while you come on my cock,” he says, as he takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, demanding your attention.
Something snaps inside you, and your whole body tenses, and then releases in a sweet gush. “Jesus,” his blunt nails dig into the flesh of your hips before his jaw falls slack. With one more thrust, he loses himself, buried deep inside of you, your walls coaxing his balls empty. “Fuck, baby,” he growls as he empties everything inside you, finishing his climax with a guttural groan.
Joel pulls out, and you sigh at the loss of being full of him. He bends forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling sharp breaths, before falling to your side on the mattress.
You sit up onto your forearms, and a dribble of his release comes out of you. You grin down at him, surveying the damage. Joel’s complexion is pink, and his eyes are closed – he’s successfully been fucked into oblivion.
“Cmere, darlin’,” he says, eyes still closed, opening one arm open to welcome you into the warmth of his chest. You lay there, once again listening to his heart and the sounds of the rain on the grimy window in the room. You trail your index finger down his sternum.
“You know, I thought you hated me,” you say, your voice a little sad, but you know you need to get this off your chest. “I know you had to kill that guy because I wasn’t paying attention, and I really am sor–” Joel once again silences your sentence by placing his finger on your lips.
“Never say sorry to me again, Darlin’,” he says “‘sides, I’m the one who should be apologizin’, I’ve been a real asshole to you,” his voice sincere. “I just – I don’t know what I would ha’ done if I didn’t get to that guy in time, I’d never forgive myself if I lost you and could have prevented it.” His head drops to the pillow and he stares at the ceiling; your head finds it’s place once again the crook of his arm, nuzzled up against his side body for warmth.
There’s still so much more he wants to say, but he knows that he’ll have the time to do it later. He stares at the rough texture above him for a moment longer, before he quickly gets up, as if to remember something.
“Be right back,” he says and walks into the other room. He returns with a pack and pulls from it a little black container. “Found this during a raid the other day – thought of you,” he says, handing it to you. You jiggle it up by your ear and smile.
Film.
Joel Miller may be an asshole.
But he’s an asshole that most definitely doesn’t hate you.
END
Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @untamedheart81 @darkheartgatita @endlessthxxghts @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @bastardmandennis @dins-riduur-anthe @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @nosesitter @pedroswife69 @morallyinept @milly-louise @toxicanonymity @javiscigarette @planet-marz1 @anavatazes @dugiioh As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag lists.xx
#joel miller the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller one shot#The last of us#enemies to lovers#pwp fics#pedro pascal character#joel miller#pedrohub#film photography
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intimacies ୨୧
cw: contains suggestive themes.
(bi-han x f.reader)
he enjoys spooning in the morning. and whatever he's in the mood for, sensually rutting or ploughing into you will result in an orgasm that'll take moments to recover from while he is invigorated anew; revitalised, having nourished his virility. clinging to him as the pleasured haze fades, pleading for him to remain.
"stay for a bit, please." your arm wraps around his bicep as you look up at him, attempting to change his mind
he looks away and grunts, "i have important things to attend to." yanking off your arm and rising from the bed to prepare for the day. the lack of post-coital affection stings. you think its something you'll never quite get used to.
when he enters the room with just a towel around his waist, you bite your lip while admiring his physique, which compels him to speak
"are you aware its rude to stare?"
you smile at him, then retort, "forgive me for being unable to resist your good looks."
your words halt his movements. he just stares at you, denying the thrill of a comment, then proceeds to don his uniform and accessories; the mask completing his ensemble.
"i'll see you later" he announces without casting another glance, leaving you with the early quietude
you'll forever be ignorant of the curve of his lips behind the mask. and that this brightened mood carries on throughout the day.
sometimes, he's all over you feverishly planting kisses everywhere, no inch of skin untouched. he's had a bad day, and needs to unwind, or he's feeling particularly affectionate—the lines are blurred. but one thing is certain: the thread of patience would snap any minute. you're pressed flush against him; impossibly close, to the point it feels suffocating as his hands roam around squeezing, groping, fondling you everywhere. the pleasurable onslaught is dizzying, causing your knees to slightly buckle. he palms your breasts, eliciting a whimper out of you, "bi-han," while trying to wriggle free. he pauses to look you in the eye, an annoyance swirling within his iris. "what is it?" he queries, but it sounds more like a chide. you didn't mean to put him off, ruin the mood, muttering a sheepish "nothing," savoring the few seconds of a breather. his cheeks are tinted red. the image of an uninhibited man before you. he moves to whisper, "then be quiet" directly in your ear; the words burrow into the canal. and resumes his ministrations. this time, you can't quite escape it.
even though he appears annoyed, he actually likes it when you bother him with silly questions.
"can cryomancy be taught?" you ask all of a sudden.
"no."
you gasp, beaming with innocence, "will our babies be cryomancers?"
or anything really,
"bi-han!" he frantically rushes into the room upon hearing your cry with concern etched on his features. "is something wrong? are you hurt?" he asks, examining your body for injury. "yes" you reply before patting your lips, "here."
he's a man in love so he'll indulge (just don't go overboard with it.)
when you invite him to rest his head on your lap, he obliges. you play with his hair while humming a melody that relaxes and lulls him to sleep. moments like this are his favourite; he feels completely at peace bathing in your warmth.
knit a vest? buy a hair tie? write a letter? whatever it is, its the thought that counts. he's filled with gratitude and cherishes it forever
if you're going to be away for extended periods of time, a lackey is assigned to ensure your protection. dark eyes and stealthy movements follow you about, all oblivious to you. he takes his responsibility to you seriously
loves to share meals with you, especially his. its just a really intimate activity to indulge in but if you tried to feed him, he'd refuse.
he is bashful if he walks in on you undressing or having a bath. regardless of how many times he's seen you in the nude, he murmurs an apology before turning away. the moments after are so awkward because he's ridden with guilt for being aroused by your figure, oscillating between respect and objectification. underneath his crude, tough as nails exterior lies a gentleman.
fun times with board games. if he doesn't know how to play, you teach him and vice-versa. this is when you notice his competitive streak.
asking for his opinions, particularly on changes to your appearance; a new hairstyle/color, outfit etc. he always seems unethused or negative about it but in actuality, it's the opposite and this reflects in his behaviour. he just wants the visual feast to himself; stave off wandering eyes and potential competition.
one of the very rare times you see him crack a laugh is when you blurt out random chinese. he's taken aback at first since what you said was gibberish, wondering where it came from; until you tell him you've been practicing to impress him. "don't embarrass yourself" he reprimands, though there's no real bite to it, then rewards your efforts with a baritone chuckle
#bi han x reader#sub zero x reader#bi han x you#sub zero x you#mortal kombat 1 sub zero#bi han sub zero#mortal kombat 1#mk1 sub zero x reader#mk1 bi han#bi han mk1
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SAGAU / Isekai Genshin:
You can still use your characters! ... as in possessing them 👻
(all art by me down below, hope its decent lol - did it for u guys and myself i mean what )
Edit 9/7/23: 1,500+ NOTES??? BRO WHAT!! THABK YOU <3
Edit 12/24/23 + 4/5/24:
☆
My dumbass forgot to put this here .-.
Anywya this is a full length fanfic now ;)
PART 1 (you're here!) / Part 2
So.
You got sucked into a video game.
Crazy, but it happens ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯
yknow how it issss
...you very quickly discover that unfortunately video game rules still apply...
which wouldn't normally be an issue! like, needing to use the bathroom in the middle of a fight? Nope! minor cuts and bruises like papercuts, only actual enemies or fall damage counting? hell yeah that'd be great (theoretically no chronic pains if you got that?? hmmmm unsure)
see the issue comes when you realize, you as a player, don't have a "character" that's all your own
there's aether/lumine yeah.. but bc the game's real now, they're their own people, and you didn't wake up to find yourself as a blonde twin...
the closest you can describe your form as is .. like a seelie?
or like the way ghosts look in game?
but a lot more "starry"
like your specterlike, but you look like you got filled up with stars and the milky way, maybe a reference of you being from another universe/world? (aether/lumine/dainsleif/khaenriah star symbol reference secret thEORY-)
but yah.
you also got just, white eyes.
like, not iris, not pupil. like your pupil and iris got erased
you gotta admit, at least you look really aesthetic now.
(u also got a little cape and hood on at all times, and you cant take it off to see your starrified hair >:/ ,very Blue Diamond-esque, look up Steven Universe, Blue Diamond if you dont know who im talking about)
so needless to say, as soon as you sort of glitched your way into existence you were HYPE
i mean ur ACTUALLY IN TEYVAT WITH THE BOYSSSS
...then you realize your a spooky-no-character-to-pilot-around-thus-no-character-model-body-for-you thingy
and that you cant touch stuff!! >:(
like wth!!!
thats just downright unfair.
so, you figure if you got no body to be.... you gotta find a new "character" to pilot >:)
...
I choose you, yellow fungi!
...
....
you're in the fucking woods (Sumeru somewhere obv, u knew that the moment you opened ur eyes),
what'd you expect?? an archon??
..wait a minute. can you possess an archon-
these kinda thoughts plague your first few days of irl genshin impact playing
a rishabold tiger? yep.
a sumpter beast? kinda slow and heavy feeling but yeah.
...you also try a ruin machine LOL
by far, the fungi and ruin machines are the best to possess, mostly because you can remain upright with those
(tho u did find some type of flying monkey that wasnt in game, but its like,, a real world and jungle now so that makes sense there'd be more complexity + stuff)
you do eventually think you should try and possess a person at this point... but ur kinda nervous 👉👈
its ur first time doin this okay nobody explained the basics to you youve been winging for a week now!
will your mind be replaced with theirs? it hasn't been so far with the creatures/bots
and as far as you can tell, they kinda just-
forget what happened or "wake up" after you possess them
(the tiger you were for a day looked confused as hell when it realized that there was a new pile of fruit next to it when it "woke up", it was your way of saying thank you to the animals of the jungle, u left them little piles of food you collected running around as them)
so THEORHETICALLY-
you should be good to go and possess a random poor eremite
... you figure you want to possess something human-like eventually even if you get a puppet body like wanderer/raiden so...
here goes nothing...
♤
so it's been 2 weeks since you've been forcefully yanked into teyvat, and by the second week, you were trying to possess eremites
which! worked out!
mostly..!
you kinda convinced the entirety of two eremite camps that a certain part one of sumeru's forests is hella haunted bc ppl keep "blacking out" and doing things they don't remember doing, yknow... like possesssion LMAO
they kinda ran off to escape you but, hey!
experiment #2: people possession, success!!
now you were kinda convinced of this when you realized no matter the angle the animals and machines of sumeru didnt react to you getting super close to them (you dont have to touch something to posses it, just look at it really, but you wanted to test limits, so you walked up to sumpter beasts and fungi and ruin machines)
but no one can see you.
you don't have a "character" most of the time, you can float and glide around the ground like scaramouche lol
you cant touch stuff bc of this, you cant smell stuff (u saw the eremites campfires & couldnt smell the smoke until you were them)
you cant eat stuff w/o a body, so.. it makes sense that the eremites and passing merchants, cant see you when you float around, trying to reorient yourself after 2 weeks of experimenting
:( ur only a lil sad about it... but mostly not bc lol u got possession powers so trade off u guess
the first time you see a vision-bearer you literally scream
LMAO
ur so lucky u cant be seen or heard
bc Collei would have def screamed back lol
needless to say u stalk the forest ranger- ALL DAY.
Collei goes on patrol around the woods? you go on a patrol.
collei goes to visit other forest rangers? you "visit" other forest rangers at base (lol u def possess a guy who was asleep on a bench nearby & wake up to go talk to Collei "in-person", poor guy was so worried he sleep walked/talked so hard he went to see Tighnari an hour later lmao)
welp, you decide this is your life now, follow Collei everywhere, talk one-sided to Collei until you can possess a forest ranger w/o it being suspicious (dont wanna turn the poor rangers into the terrified eremites from a week or two ago...)
then, after you get the courage and erase the paranoia that tighnari can just... somehow hear your ghostly bullshit-
u do the same to Tighnari (then Cyno when he visits! no u didnt squeal, so what, nobody can hear you- )
♧
Tighnari begins to get suspicious about 3 weeks into this routine.
he's been starting to collect and start a file on all the rangers or nearby villagers that've started randomly "blacking out/sleep walking" in the evenings usually
(u possess as close to nighttime as u can so it seems like sleepwalking)
So when Cyno comes back from a mission gone wrong,
having nearly been decapitated by a rogue flying ruin machine, only to black out and come to standing calmly 10 feet further than he remembered being 1 minute ago...
Tighnari's suspicions are confirmed, and he launches into researching this phenomenon.
his first thought is something like the aranara, but that doesn't account for the effect this thing is having on people
after all, what little forest spirit is strong enough to-
-control humans??
Tighnari begins to get the sense he's in over his head after he finds himself pushed into going into Sumeru City in order to collect more library books or ask around if the blackouts have spread to the city people
he answer is negative, on both accounts.
and he spends about one half of the day walking around, and the other reading up all he can on mythical creatures or ailments
Tighnari gives up for the day, and as he makes his way back to Ghandarvaville, he almost gets ambushed by some particularly nasty muggers
...and then he wakes up 20 feet away, his denro vision thrumming with power, full of worry and fondness for himself??, (just like Cyno said he felt happen to him..)
...Tighnari decides he needs reinforcements.
YOU GUYS-
UR LOCAL ZODIAC SIGN OBSESSED W/GENSHIN HIT A CHARACTER LIMIT ON A POST FINALLY. 😦
??? THIS WOULDVE BEEN LONGER BUT I BARELY GOT SPACE FOR THIS- I- EVEN THE QIQI POST DIDNT HIT LIMIT-
uh cya ig!!
Safe travels lmao,
💀♒️
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist @revonie / @hat-on-a-cat / @takottai / @sickly-falling (?) / @iruiji
(Sorry about the late tag! I forgot to update my taglist before i posted this 💀 my bad guys)
Also if the people who got put there who i couldnt find a blog for see this, idk what went wrong ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - maybe check and see if ur setting for "being able to be searched/looked up" is turned on?? Idk man
#yo this is crazy#u guys what#i thought the limit was like-#half a novel or some shit#ive never had that happen 💀#Aquarius art#my art#genshin imagines#genshin god reader#genshin sagau#genshin impact sagau#genshin x reader#genshin impact reverse harem#love u guys <3#thx for being patient w/me :)#genshin impact#standalone post#my writing posts#sagau#genshin sagau ideas#gender neutral reader#genshin isekai#<3#sagau art#black reader#poc reader#body neutral reader#chubby reader#going feral#genshin brainrot
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pink smoothies
alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader
summary: following date night, steve is wondering where you’ve run off to, until he spots you at the mall.
word count: 830
an: i wrote this in one sitting but i hope you enjoy this little ficlet to add more lore to this au. i’d like to make this a thing so please request haha. hope you enjoy :)
Steve didn’t consider himself a clingy person, he loved his friends, but he was also content with space, sometimes he needed it too.
This sentiment was soon discarded after you presented, feeling an urge to spend every moment with you. To his misery, you had seemingly vanished over the past few days, and Robin hadn’t cracked on revealing your location.
The last place he expected to see you was the newly rebuilt Hawkins Mall, wearing a flowing dress that ended at your mid thigh. Sipping the straw of a strawberry smoothie, you glanced around, not reaching his eyes.
Without thinking, he walked up, grabbing you by the upper arm and ignoring the way his dick twitched at your squeak in surprise.
“Steve?” You reply, breathless, after he shoved you both into a janitor's closet in the hallway beside the food court.
If looks could kill, you’d be a puddle on the ground. He towered over you, chest heavy with labored breaths as he took in your intimidated eyes as you set down your drink.
A game of cat and mouse was simple on paper, but when you’re chosen to be the prey, it is anything but.
“What’s new, honey?” He asks, hands brushing your elbows, putting you closer as your hands rested on his chest.
He thrived on the wavering gasp you expedited, fingers curling against his polo.
“I was waiting for someone.” You whisper, though the bustling walkways would mask any conversation.
Head cocking to the side, “Who, sweetheart?”
Gulping down your tempted responses, you felt your back touch the yellow wall.
“Trevor Johnson,” You mumble, watching the dark tone cover his once light iris’, “my parents found out I presented, Steve, they set me up on dates with alphas.”
Jealousy bubbling at the thought of you going on multiple dates, he let his hands trail down to your hips, feeling the elastic of your underwear through the thin cotton of your sundress.
“Oh really? And how’s that worked out?” He gawks with a condescending tone, already knowing that he could sense himself on you from across the cafeteria.
“They all say I smell like I’ve been claimed.” You reveal, toying with the silver chain around his neck.
“Oh, it’s because you have,” He chuckles, “I knotted in you. I could smell me from a mile away, omega.”
The biological title made your knees weak, clutching his shoulders as you felt yourself growing hot.
“Did you not want to see me?” He questions, partially playful as he can feel how flustered you are becoming, but needing reassurance.
“Yes! I just didn’t know if you wanted to see me, I didn’t want to lose you.” You blabber, his cheeky grin dropping at the emotion you’re exhibiting, “My parents wanted me to go on alpha dates because I didn't tell them you helped me, but I don’t like any of the other ones!”
Too flustered to comfort you immediately, Steve’s hand cupped your face before kissing you intensely, moaning at the familiarity of your taste.
His palms wander against your frame, pressing your front as close to his as he could.
“I missed you these past few days.” He confesses, rubbing his cheek against your face before nuzzling against the crook of your neck.
“I missed you so much, I don’t want you to leave.” Your lip quivers, making him look at you once more.
“I’ll go to your mom, wear a nice tux, bring her flowers, whatever. I need you.” He confirms, running his thumb against the apple of your cheek, returning the smile you gave him.
Lost in the moment, you were both startled by an unassuming janitor who went for his broom, and only rolled his eyes before ushering you both out.
Rushing out in hand, the pink drink in your spare hand, you catch a glimpse of Trevor across the way.
Guilt initially comes, but soon dissipates as you watch him flirt with a new omega. Feeling eyes on him, he looks to find you, standing straighter before mouth ‘it’s okay’ and lifting your laced fingers.
A cheesy thumbs up was sent your way before Steve pulled you from the building, going to his maroon BMW. After opening the door for you, he jogged to the driver's side, clicking the buckle.
“Alright, let’s go to my place so I can get my dress clothes, then off to yours.” He announces, taking your hand again once the car started.
Your nod is swift, “Okay, is that all we’re doing?”
A vibration shakes his chest as he laughs briefly, pulling out of the parking spot, “I fully intend on fucking you till you forget anyone else’s name beforehand, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
Covering your face in bashfulness, you giggled, already feeling yourself getting more excited. The radio turned on to a random pop station, the wind beginning to blow through his hair and against his sunglasses. You wonder if waiting to be home will be sufficient.
tagging mutuals! @andvys @lilacletter @lesservillain @corrodedcorpses @berryfairy444 @munsonsreputation
#elora writes#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington moodboard#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanart#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#alpha!steve harrington#a/b/o universe#a/b/o
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Pools of Sunlight
Cassian x reader
A/N: just a short piece, but I hope it gives some comfort :)
Word count: 753
Sunlight pushes through your lids, eyes scrunching as you pull yourself tighter beneath the blankets, curling closer to the bone-deep warmth of the duvet.
Shadow falls over you, and you manage to crack your eyes open drearily, sleep making your lids feel thick and heavy. Warm hazel is watching you quietly, the edges of his mouth softened, the morning light adding a honey-like quality to his eyes as he gazes at you. Your attention drifts up to where the shadow is mercifully coming from, his wing held slightly aloft in the air, shade from the sun.
Eyes return to bright but soft hazel, tan skin seemingly warmer with a morning flush, and you manage a sleepy smile, rolling closer. Thick, muscular arms wrap around your torso, dipping beneath your ribs as he shifts to his side, allowing you to press against the hot, bare skin of his chest.
Habitually, you’re pulling his scent deeper, memorising every new second with him, committing every moment to memory, precious time kept deep in the chambers of your mind for whenever cloudy days settle, or he’s taken away for longer than usual.
The pads of your fingers trace his skin, pulling over toughened scar tissue, a faint waxy sheen over the healed wound, and you press a kiss to its peak. His own broad palms begin to wander, one cupping the crown of your head, stroking your hair lethargically, thumb soothing over the notches of your spine further down.
“Morning,” he murmurs into the warm quiet, lips brushing over your skin with the hushed greeting. You hum pleasantly, nosing at his throat, settling deeper into the lines of his body like you might find a way to press entirely against him, so not a single part of you is detached. “Morning, Cass,” you mumble back, content to rest for a while more before making the journey out of bed. He must settle with your choice, as he makes no move to push back the covers, despite the sun already being up.
“What time is it?” You ask sleepily, a faint frown between your eyes.
“No idea,” he replies, inhaling softly, no doubt indulging in your own scent, one he tells you he would drink pure if he were able to liquefy it. Crisp and clean; soft and sweet.
“You have training this morning,” you manage to mumble, frown abating when his palm settles over your back, seemingly desiring contact as much as you do. “Az can manage for today,” he soothes, kissing the crown of your head. “Besides, I like to think I’m good company.”
A husky laugh tumbles from your lips, throat raspy from sleep, and you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Deep, swirling hazel, flecks of dusty greens making a circuit around the centre of his iris, held in by a ring of rich brown, like the piping liquid of freshly made tea. The laughter fades, and you regard each other quietly, mouths soft and alluring.
You meet in the middle, warm lips slanting against one another, sweet and tender as sunlight pools on the covers.
You pull away, palm splaying openly across his chest, the reassuring pulse of his heart echoing up fingertips and into your arms. “Taking the morning off?” You murmur hopefully, legs twining with his own. “If that’s what you’d like,” he replies, a faint trace of a chuckle in his deep, sleep-roughened voice. A smile tugs at your mouth, curling closer into him. “What about a day?” You ask, a tone of scandal entering your question.
He watches you for a little, before his features shift into a set of resignation, smiling faintly. “If that’s what you want.”
At his reply your frown, pulling away a little. “I want you to want to spend a day with me,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawn. He laughs lowly, the noise melting across your breast bone like butter and syrup.
“I want to spend the day with you,” he chuckles, wing curving over you, pulling you into the space that’s opened up. “I want to spend a lifetime with you.”
You relent, softening back into his arms, pushing into his heat, melding with his form. “Any lifetime?” You ask, and you can practically hear as he rolls his eyes, fingers skating up your sides ticklishly, making you laugh and squirm, before coming to a rest on your bare skin.
“My lifetime,” he murmurs, laughter brightening his smile, eyes twinkling. “Our lifetimes.”
general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy
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10.05 || Dr. Jung Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader
Word Count: 3.0k
Warnings: Sadism, Wax Play, Restraints, Impact Play, Rough Sex, Clit Play, Rough Sex, Sub!Reader, Afab, Raw Sex (No🫵🏼), Cream Pie, Dom!Wooyoung, Split Personality, Marking, If I Missed Anything.. Let Me Know🫣…
Kinktober Masterlist
Your stomach was doing flips all day, tonight was the night that Mr. Hyde had promised to surface. You loved Dr. Jung with all your heart but there was something indescribable about his counterpart, Mr. Hyde. Mr. Hyde made your mouth water, he made your lower half burn with need, you wanted him all the time. He was more wild, more careless, he fucked you like you were nothing but a cheap thrill and you enjoyed it, you always came back craving more.
“Dr. Jung..? Are you okay?” You say, observing him from behind. A sick crackling noise fills the room. It feels like he grew a couple inches. An odd cool breeze blows through the room blowing out some of the candles. His shadow stretches taller than his normal height. A small cackle leaves his voice. Turning his head slightly, looking at you from the side. You can clearly make out his Cheshire Cat like grin.
“Did you miss me, my sweet?” He said through a small cackle. Turning around, the crazed look in his eyes was enough to make your stomach do flips.
“Of course Mr. Hyde I always miss you.” You say with a voice as smooth as silk. You weren’t lying, as much as you loved playing around with Dr. Jung it was something but his other half Mr. Hyde that you craved. The care he provided was none, he treated you like you were a toy, a toy he wanted to break.
Making his way over to you with blown out eyes, pupils so big it took over his iris. It was still Dr. Jung’s body but when Mr. Hyde was present, it seemed like he grew in various ways. Slowly leaning back on the lab bench you wiggle slightly to get comfortable on the cool area. Letting out a small hissing noise he approaches the side of his work bench. Lowly lit candles illuminating the area, making his face more grimacing as he stalks around to get a good glimpse of you.
“Aren’t you forgetting something sweet?” He says through a laugh.
“I’m sorry sir!” You are quick to get up, quickly peeling off your lab coat, hustling to get out of your clothes, just as you are about to unclip your bra, his cool hand can be felt on your lower back. Causing you to halt any movements, hands frozen in place like his touch was made out of ice.
“Keep these on, I want to try something new.” He says matter of factly, like he was the actual scientist, like he was going to cure anything in this world. He always had a powerful tone, very different from Dr. Jung’s playful, foxy-like tone. Mr. Hyde demanded respect, he fed off power. As long as you were around Mr. Hyde would remain well fed. Slowly easing yourself back on the workbench, your almost naked body coming in contact with the cold sheet metal causes you to let out a small whimper. Immediately catching Mr. Hyde’s ears. His sickening smile took over his face, showing off all his perfect, porcelain teeth.
“Legs up in the stirrups, sweet.” Hiking your legs up in the cool metal, he locks your legs in place. Securing it tightly making sure you can’t move what’s so ever.
“Try to escape..” he whispers out, staring at your partially naked body in amazement. Both Dr. Jung and Mr. Hyde has seen your body numerous times, yet they always look at it, like it’s their very first time. It’s crazy how the same pair of eyes can look so different each time it looks amongst you. You try to move your legs slightly, not giving it any hard or rough movements. Clearly not satisfied, he brings his hand down, smacking your inner thigh hard enough to leave a welt. Causing your body to lurch forward with your mouth hung open, no sound leaving your throat. Fueling your need to get away you start frantically moving your legs.
Mr. Hyde gazes at you with nothing but pure raw lust. Eyes raking over every inch, every crevice, every single piece of your body. His cool hand touches the welt that is rising on your skin, fingers dancing along the outline. Hand lifting to smack over that same spot, causing your body to recoil at the sting, letting out a small yelp, your hands tighten into fists, knowing not to even think of touching him without your permission. Moving to stand at the side of the work bench, his clothed groin right by the side of your face, clearly bulging out the cloth of his pants. You turn your head to look at him, your lips brushing the fabric of his pants. Letting out a groan his hand lands harshly back down on the meat of your inner thigh, proceeding to make the welt even more present, opening your mouth letting out a gasp, you feel his clothed cock jump in his slacks, clearly getting off at the pain he’s inflicting on you, you’d be lying if you said your panties weren’t soaking thru.
Undoing the button on his pants, he digs his hands in them, gripping his cock hard, feeling the heartbeat of it in his hand. Throwing his head back he lets out a groan, squeezing the tip slightly while slowly fisting the rest of his length. The sight in front of you is one for a portrait, his blonde and black hair sweeping across his forehead, small beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face, a hand down his pants with his other palming the flesh of your thigh. You let out a small whine, clearly wanting attention. You wanted to get in on some of the fun he was having. Lowering his head he looks at you with your lip between your teeth, playing with the top of your panties, glassy eyes locking onto his. Letting out a huff he steps away from you, walking to the other side of the work area, grabbing a couple lit candles, walking slowly back with them, careful not to let the flame burn out. Placing the long sticks on the small plastic trays besides him, standing them up carefully. He looks down at your wet coated underwear. Snapping the fabric against your skin, causing you to let out a breathy groan. Your hands are still playing with the tops of your panties. Grabbing your hands he shoos them away.
“How bad do you want me?” He asks out loud, the room stills, you feel your cunt throbbing at his question. He knows how bad you want him, yet he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to fuel his God complex. Your lips part slightly, getting ready to answer, yet not fast enough for him. Gripping your other thigh, he jerks you down the bench, your legs not even moving a inch as they are still being held up by the metal contraption. Squishing your cheeks in his hand, sticking two fingers in your mouth, instantly making your gag reflex surface. Your eyes water, trying to calm your breathing as much as you can. His other hand slaps your other thigh with just as much force as the first two times. His cock now leaking precum from his excessive force. Your saliva is slicking up his fingers.
“P-please!” You choke out, mouth still stuffed with his fingers. Letting out a high pitched moan, he removes his soaked fingers, hand slapping your thigh in the same exact place as before. His soaked fingers dance over the cloth of your panties, adding extra moisture to the messy fabric. Picking up a candle he pulls your panties as far away from you as he can, holding the flame up to the crotch area, letting the fabric easily catch a blaze. Your eyes grow huge, things like this were never taboo with Mr. Hyde yet he never failed to surprise you each time.
You could feel the heat from the flame on your wet core, anybody with a sane mind would've been scared, but this did nothing but turn you on even more. Your juices leaking down your thighs, dripping onto the metal table below you, causing your ass to become wet with your own arousal. The twinkle in Mr. Hyde’s eye from the flame is enticing. His eyes scream he’s a loose cannon. Just as the flame starts to travel closer to the fabric on your hips, he grips it, putting it out with his palm, the crackling of the flame dies out, gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles turn white. The crackling of his skin doesn’t even phase him. His eyes are to busy burning a hole at your dripping cunt.
“Is this…all mine?” You know it’s a rhetorical question, you are Dr. Jungs, yet as much as you are his is just as much as you are Mr. Hyde’s. Nodding your head, panting slight, you lick your bottom lip at the sight in front of you. Cock twitching in his slacks, he shimmies them down, letting his boxers be in full view, a large wet patch of precum coating his boxers.
“Yes Mr. Hyde, I’m all yours.” Your voice sounds like sexy nothing but dirty, down right filthy sex in his ears. Letting out a small growl, he strikes your thigh with his hand again, this time jiggling the meat of it after the slap. Pulling down his boxers, letting his cock spring free he looks at his throbbing lever, then at your wet core. Pulling you further down the workbench so your cunt grazes the tip of his head. Sliding the tip of his cock between your folds, slicking himself up so he can slide into you with ease. He was a mad man, but he still had some manners.
“God…this pussy is so wet..” he says out loud, his thoughts leaving his own mouth. You try your best to bite back a smile. You know he doesn’t want the power going to your head yet it does. The sloshing noise echos in the room, his eyes twinkle with satisfaction at the way your slick covers him. Easing inside of your wet hole, he grips one of your bra covered breasts, pulling the fabric down so he can have a handful of you. Pinching the nipple between his thumb and finger. Your body shutters at the stinging feeling, he’s not easing up tonight which makes you even more hot and bothered. A slow and steady pace as he rocks his hips back and forth, he’s savoring the feeling of your wet walls being wrapped around him. His other hand gripping the workbench for dear life. Mr. Jung just be right below the surface trying to teach Mr. Hyde any type of restrain.
“Plea-“ you sentence gets cut off by the slap to your breast, your nipple hardening from the impact. You let out a breathy moan. He goes back to pinching your nipple, the stinging pain only moistening your cunt. Rocking your hips as best as you can, trying to cause friction between you both. Your legs in the stirrups were of no help, limiting your movements. His hand cracks down on your breast again, a loud groan leaves your mouth, your waterline brimming with tears now. No one could fuck you like Mr. Hyde, not even Mr. Jung.
“Please Mr. Hyde fuck me, please, please.” Tears slowly pour down your face. His mouth makes a clicking noise. If you didn’t know him well enough you would have thought you annoyed him, yet you knew him all too well. You knew that he loved when you begged for him. Slapping your slightly swollen breast again, jiggling it around in his hand afterwards, clearly amused at your pathetic pleas. He picks up his speed, knocking the air out of you instantly. His fast deep strokes were having you see stars, if not for your legs being tied up, you guarantee you’d would’ve levitated off of the bench. The sloppy sounds of your pussy are filling his head, slapping your breast again makes his cock harder. You can feel it twitch inside of your hole. With every slap to your chest he lets out a small whimper, clearly getting off at the pain he’s inflicting on you.
As he slams away at you, your face is wet with tears, every moan is being caught in your throat, eyes rolling back at the constant sting of where his hand meets the fleshy swoll area of your breast, along with the way he’s hitting deep inside of you, while his hips move at a inhumane pace. In your head all you hear is white noise, it feels like a billion bees are stinging you all over, the feeling is numbing your brain from any coherent thought. A deep growl breaks you out of your dopey state, looking down you can see his dark, feline-like eyes hawking you down like he’s going to eat you alive, his hips never wavering. Licking his lips he cracks you a smile. Dr. Jung is no longer on the surface so Mr. Hyde can do as he pleases with no restraints.
“Look at you crying, is my cock that good you cry over it? He can’t fuck you like I can, can he?” You nod fiercely, your voice getting stuck in your throat. A grin spreads across his face, just when you thought he couldn’t fuck your any harder he does. Your lower stomach twisting in knots, tears dripping off your face.
“Miste-Mister please.” You stutter out trying to get a grip on reality as your high is approaching. His tongue rolling out of his mouth, hips still pistoning in and out of you, reaching over here grabs one of the lit candles holding it over your stomach, tipping it over letting the hot wax hit your skin. The temperature difference makes you let out a loud cry.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” He growls out, eyes clouded over with a new need to see you beg for the hot wax to be dripped onto your body. Your legs buckle from the authority in his voice. Clawing at the bench below you, your eyes snap to his, your chest heaving for air.
“I need it so fucking bad, please, please, pl- oh my god!” You moan out loudly, cutting your sentence off from the sensation of the hot wax hitting the swell of your breast, the wax running down glazing over your hardened nipple. Letting out a hissing noise, you feel his cock twitch. Moving the candle he lets more of the wax drip on your welted thigh. The hot temperature of the wax, mixing with the warmness of your skin, has you clenching around him. His hips buck into yours, trying to get as deep as he possibly can in you. Leaving your mouth is consistent babbles, and pleads for him to use you anyway he sees fit. The once hot wax hardening up on your skin. The steady speed at which he’s fucking you has you ready to cum, the wax is just an added on bonus.
“Spread your lips for me, sweet.” He says out of breath, you can tell he’s right on the tipping point, squelching noises are heard from how sopping wet you are, while he pounds into you. Moving your hand quickly you spread your lips, exposing your full bare pussy to him. Tipping the candle the wax hits all over your lips, the hotness spreads to your core, causing you to clench.
“Spread them more for me sweet, I’m about to fucking cum.” Mr. Hyde grits out through clenched teeth. Trying to prolong his orgasm as long as he can, knowing if he cums Dr. Jung will resurface, and you won’t get your own orgasm. You spread your cunt more open for him, exposing your neglected clit to him. Tipping the candle, the wax hits your puffy cunt, hitting directly on your clit. Instantly tossing you into an orgasm, not moving the candle a constant stream of hot wax is oozing all over your cunt, aiding you in riding out your orgasm. The constant stimulation mixed with the temperature difference on your clit has your legs jolting in the stirrups. Pulling the candle back some, Mr. Hyde lets the hot wax pour on his soaking cock that’s still striking in and out of you, letting out a hiss at the temperature. Tossing the candle carelessly on the concrete floor, he leans over, gripping your throat, pulling you in for a messy kiss, his teeth bump against yours, it’s all tongue and spit. Nipping at your bottom lip, he pants into your mouth.
“Remember who fucks you this good sweet.” Licking a stripe up your neck, nipping at the skin right below your ear, you clench involuntarily on his cock sending him into orgasm, tossing his head back he lets out a choked out yell. One hand gripping your breast while the other stabilizes himself. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead, deep breathes are flowing out of his mouth.
When he goes back into Dr. Jung it always turned you on, you see the personality difference between the two. Dr. Jung was much more caring about your well being, Mr. Hyde fucked you like you were an easy and accessible hole for him. Coming to Dr. Jung blinks himself into reality. Looking down at your caged up legs, the hardened wax covering your cunt, and your torso.
“Oh my Y/n!” He shrieks, pulling his flaccid cock out of you. Quickly undoing the stirrups, your legs drop down, a small hiss leaves your throat from your legs being hiked up for so long. Picking the hardened wax off your body, your head feels fuzzy. While Dr. Jung is freaking out you are trying to figure out when Mr. Hyde will resurface.
“I don’t know why he gets like this. Look at you! You have two hand prints marking your thighs. A handprint on your breast and you are covered in hardened wax! Why do you let him do this to you Y/n?” You try your best to bite back a smile, rolling your eyes at Dr. Jung’s fusing. Looking at him trying to peel as much of the wax off as he can. You and him both knew exactly why you let Mr. Hyde use you like this but you would never say it out loud.
Taglist: @abby-grace @petsuccube @maximofftrash @tunaasan @whatudowhennooneseesyou @seonghwasslytherin @pearltinyy @bubblegumbird @araknoid @mingtina @oreoqueen @dani-is-tired @8tinytings @sunwoosbaby @acetruepunk @alliecoady98 @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @mixling-blog @staytinyinmybpack @starryskiesthings @horanghaezone @realviviboss
GIF and Divider by @justaaveragereader
DO NOT REPOST.
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#ateez kinktober#ateez smut#dom! ateez smut#ateez x reader#jung wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung x reader#wooyoung smut#ateez hard thoughts#ateez hard hours#wooyoung x reader
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comfortember day sixteen: coffee/tea break
aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader
aaron takes a holiday from work and comes back with a beard, leading to something neither of you would have expected.
word count: 1.6k
warnings/content: minor injury (burns), mentions of being shot, kissing, one use of Y/N,, idk what else.
comfortember masterlist here!
also on ao3!
beards and burns
You sigh at the computer in front of you, feeling exhaustion beginning to weigh you down. Looking around the bullpen and seeing similar expressions across your co-worker's faces, you stand up and ask, “Does anyone want any coffee?” The chorus of yeses and pleases makes you laugh as you begin walking toward the kitchenette. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“Our saviour!” Emily calls after you.
Derek laughs as he gestures toward you. “The true hero of the BAU.”
You roll your eyes and begin making the coffee, scrolling through your phone as it heats up. As you laugh at a funny post from your friend, you hear a few collective gasps fill the room and glance up to see your team all talking in hushed voices. Raising your eyebrow, you wonder to yourself what they’re up to as you grab the finished coffee pot and your mug.
“Good to see you again, Y/N,” a voice from behind you says, startling you and making you jump. “Oh, sorry.”
Recognising the voice as Aaron, your boss, who’s been on holiday for almost two months (everyone was as surprised as you when he announced his break from work), you turn around to greet him with a smile. However, at the sight of him, the words die in your throat and all you get out is an embarrassing noise of shock. And if that’s not embarrassing enough, the coffee pot–both fresh and boiling to the touch–falls out of your grip and smashes to the ground.
Aaron is quick to run over to you, his face dropping into deep concern as you flinch back and hold your hand with a pained sound. It’s almost too much, his soft brown eyes looking over your face, one hand on your shoulder and the other hovering over your burnt hand, and the beard.
God, he has a beard.
An actual beard.
One that frames his face so perfectly and makes him look ten times more attractive, something you were sure couldn’t be possible and it has your mind reeling. Your face feels as if it’s been engulfed in flames as you stare at him, his mouth moving to words you’re too unfocused to hear.
He moves you over to the sink and runs the water on the coldest setting, testing the temperature on his hand before putting yours under the tap and shaking off his own. Embarrassment courses through you.
“Sorry,” you mutter, taking a step away from him and looking at the shattered glass on the floor. “I don’t know what happened there.”
You can feel everyone in the office staring at you and you wish the floor would simply swallow you up. Derek cackles to himself, trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably, and you make a note to yourself to smack him over the head when you get a chance.
“Maybe you should go home and get some sleep instead of drinking more coffee, hm?” Aaron suggests.
Despite the pain in your hand, slowly easing up under the cold water, you manage to laugh. “Jesus, Hotch, you take a month off and suddenly you’re an advocate for going home and getting some rest? What happened to you?”
He grins at your words, his dimple hidden by his perfectly trimmed beard but still managing to look as stunning as ever, and you melt at the sight. “It made me open my eyes a bit.” As he speaks, he reaches out for a neatly folded towel on the counter and throws it over the coffee on the floor, kneeling beside it. His eyes catch yours from where he’s on the floor, the light reflecting beautifully over them and making the black ring around his iris more noticeable. “I’ve clearly been missing out.”
“Hotch, you don’t have to clean that–”
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He moves the towel over the floor briefly before standing up and looking at your hand in concern. “You know what? Your hand is more important than this floor.” He glances around the room before his eyes land on a still-grinning Derek and he squints his eyes with the smallest of smirks–it almost makes you collapse on the spot. “Morgan, clean this glass up, please.”
That wipes the smile off Derek’s face immediately and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Seriously, Hotch? I didn’t even make the mess, man!”
“You can treat yourself to another pot of coffee afterwards,” Aaron replies, reaching out for your shoulder and gently guiding you toward his office. Once you’re inside and the door is closed, he takes your burnt hand in yours and sighs. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”
“It’s just a small burn,” you shrug, “nothing I haven’t been through before.”
He hums. “True. I mean… you’ve been shot.”
“True,” you reply with a grimace, “that wasn’t very pleasant. Neither is this but I’m being very brave about it.”
Aaron laughs, the noise soft and sweet, and you’re sure you might melt. “Yes. Yes, you are. Now let’s make sure you’re okay, hm?” After looking over your hand for a few moments, Aaron hums again and smiles at you, eyes bright. “I think you’ll survive.”
And then he does something you would never have expected in a million years. Everything feels as if it’s in slow motion as he gently swipes the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips and pressing a soothing kiss over your skin. Your cheeks warm the moment his lips make contact and the cage in your stomach bursts open with all the butterflies fighting to get out.
“There,” he whispers, “kissed it all better.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, finding him endearingly cute as you stare at him with a fond look. “Thank you, that really helped.” As the two of you stare at each other for a few moments, you move your burnt hand closer to slide it over his jaw, feeling the soft bristles of his beard under your fingers. The sensation makes your heart hammer in your chest, and when Aaron smiles and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, you’re sure you might have a heart attack right then and there. “Aaron…”
“Yeah?”
Running your thumb over his jaw, you smile at him. “I missed you.”
Aaron grins and his dimples move under your hand. “I missed you too.”
And then he’s moving closer, reaching out to cup your face in his own warm hands, angling your head so that his lips slot perfectly against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, and you find yourself sinking further against him as he smiles into the kiss. When it’s over and the two of you pull apart, slowly so as to not separate so soon, his eyes find yours and his smile widens.
“That was…” you start, trailing off as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek and close your eyes.
“Something we should have done a long time ago?”
You let out a huff of laughter. “Definitely. But I’m glad we did it now.”
“Me too,” he mutters, pressing his lips against yours again. The short hairs of his beard rub against your face in a satisfying way. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my beard though, would it?”
“Oh, it has everything to do with it,” you reply, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “You better be keeping this, Agent.”
“If you say so, Agent,” he chuckles. “Although I’m not sure Jack will like it.”
“Kids can’t always get what they want, tell him to suck it up.”
Aaron snorts at that. “Maybe you should be the one to tell him that; I don’t think he’d like to hear that from me. Maybe over dinner later this week?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to have dinner with you and Jack already?”
His face falls ever so slightly. “I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I just figured that you and Jack already know each other pretty well and–”
“Aaron,” you laugh, interrupting him. You smooth your fingers over his beard, admiring the way it frames his face perfectly for a few moments before meeting his eyes again. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d… I’d love that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smile. “Does Friday work?”
“Friday, Friday,” he mutters, looking down at the ground in thought. “Hm, I don’t know…” He meets your gaze and laughs when you give him a look. “Yes, yes that’ll work. How about 7pm?”
“That’s perfect,” you reply, pressing your lips against his one more time. “I should get back to work now.”
“Right, yeah. See you later.”
You wave to him and make your way out of his office, immediately aware of all the eyes on you. Derek is both smirking and glowering at you, no doubt mad about the fact he had to clean up the mess, but there’s a coffee in his and everyone else’s hand so there’s no doubt he did it. When you glance back at the office, you realise that Aaron’s blinds were open the entire time and the team had a view of everything that just happened.
Great.
Ignoring the small anxious pit in your stomach over that, you stroll over to casually pour yourself a new coffee before making your way to your desk. You sit down and turn on your screen, focusing on the task at hand, when Emily approaches you with a smirk.
“What?”
“So, you and Hotch, huh?”
You laugh and gently push her away. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Nothing! Just didn’t realise you had such a thing for beards!”
“Shut it, Prentiss.”
“Or what?” She cackles.
You roll your eyes and laugh again, looking up at Aaron’s office once more to see him already looking back at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. It makes you feel light and you can’t wait until Friday rolls around.
tags: @hotchs-big-hands @criminalskies
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#bearded aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner beard#comfortember#comfortember 2023#cas writes
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flowers and pain
Vanessa Shelly x Reader
Word count: 5,996
A/N: A month passed since the premiere, and I have been head over heels in love with Vanessa Shelly ever since. The cliffhanger ending she had made me wanna cry, so let's fantasize and hope she is fine 🥹 I tried to make it as short as I could but got carried away.
Warnings: Just fluff, except for mentions of Vanessa's terrible childhood and William Afton's acts.
After everything that happened, Vanessa was still in a vulnerable situation where she needed to be taken care of.
Without meaning to, you often overheard the brother of the girl you babysited, saying that they were going to visit Vanessa in the hospital after school. You didn't want to pry. It was none of your business, and maybe it was a delicate situation to talk about.
However, all that curiosity was assuaged when, as you were cooking something simple for Abby after picking her up from school, you heard the front door open.
You ran to check, ready to punch whoever dared to break in, but let out a sigh of relief when you noticed it was Mike.
"Oh, Mike, did something come up?" You inquired, noting that it was 3:41 in the afternoon, and he was usually back by 7:30 at night.
Before your question could be answered, he opened the door wider, ushering a tall, blonde woman into the house. Just two seconds was enough for you to be mesmerized by such beauty; she had no makeup on and it suited her perfectly, each one of her eyes possessed a wonderful green iris, and her lips were pink and... gorgeous.
"Oh... hello, it's a pleasure..." You hesitated. Your cheeks were burning as you were determined to fix your eyes on anything around but her, and you hoped you could attribute your nervousness to your null ability to socialize, and not to the fact that you were wonderstruck before such a sight.
"Vanessa! You've been discharged!" Abby's excited, boisterous voice interrupted you, and she ran to her to hug her tightly.
"Hey, hey, take it easy," Mike gently called her out. "She's still in a delicate condition."
The blonde girl didn't seem to mind the fact that Abby had thrown herself into her arms, and with a smile, she hugged her tightly.
Awkwardly, you watched the scene, not knowing what to do.
You didn't want to interrupt this beautiful moment they were having, as you knew it was something big. During all the time you took care of Abby, there wasn't a day where you didn't hear the mention of Vanessa, and when she would wake up from the coma, and then, when would she be discharged from the hospital.
But you also wanted to introduce yourself so you wouldn't embarrass yourself by standing there with a smile on your face that indicated you didn't know what to do.
So, you finally opted for the first option. You waited for the right moment to come for you to kindly greet the famous Vanessa appropriately.
Vanessa lifted her gaze and directed it towards you. That's it. You had her attention. You had to act wisely to make these seconds worth it.
"Hi, I'm Vanessa," she introduced herself, walking towards you, extending her hand in a polite manner. "You're the new babysitter, I assume," you were very surprised by her formality, and while you didn't expect her to greet you with a warm hug, the lack of casualness reminded you that you were a stranger, and perhaps this was how she behaved with strangers.
"I'm (Y/N)," you introduced yourself, respecting that boundary she imposed. You took her hand and shook it firmly.
She smiled kindly, "Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," she replied.
From that day on, every morning, you had a little alone time with Vanessa, as Mike went to work and Abby went to school. She would wake up around nine in the morning, and there was nothing you looked forward to more than seeing her sleepy face, her hair slightly disheveled, and her raspy voice saying good morning to you.
You would gladly prepare breakfast for both of you, and let her help you with, say, flipping pancakes or pouring drinks.
On the first day, her hand shook, which made her growl in frustration, and she apologized multiple times for making a mess, almost on the verge of tears. Still, you comforted her, insisting that she did a good job, and you showed her how it wasn't a big deal, for you didn't even take five minutes to clean up.
The next day, she refused to help you, afraid that the same thing would happen. You managed to convince her by telling her you would make sandwiches, which only involved spreading and placing. With a wrinkled nose and a broad smile, she proudly exclaimed that she completed her task.
And so, little by little, by asking for her help in the kitchen at breakfast or at lunch with Abby after school, she began to recover from the aftermath of waking up from her coma.
Although she barely spoke to you beyond jovial topics when you guys were alone together, somehow, your connection transcended words.
You could feel it when she would shyly sit next to you on the couch when you watched TV, or when she saw you reading, and she would pick up another book and sit down to read it next to you, and then look for the right moment to exchange opinions.
She felt more at ease when Abby was at home, and you were grateful that her affection for the little girl allowed you to get to know that side of her, that protective side that was also eager to have fun.
"You're cheating, Vanessa!" Abby exclaimed, and you let out a mock gasp of indignation at the younger girl's accusation.
"That's not true," Vanessa exclaimed, as she laughed.
"Of course it is. Don't think I didn't see how you held the tower so it wouldn't fall!" Abby responded.
"Oh, shame on you," you seconded, shaking your head, manifesting disappointment.
Vanessa had spent all this time at Mike's house, where she slept in his room, and he slept on the couch. You personally felt that she was perfectly capable of looking out for herself again and moving back on her own again, but you preferred not to mention anything about it. Perhaps there were emotional issues that caused her to not want to be alone, and this might remain a mystery to you.
Her progress was becoming more and more noticeable. These days, there was almost no problem anymore, and both you and Abby knew it, so it was only fair to reprimand her if she cheated.
"Oh, come on, I think we should change the rules," she laughed, this time admitting that she did, indeed, cheat. "Be that as it may, the point is to get a block out and keep the tower from falling, so what do you say?" She continued and looked at both of you with hopeful eyes.
You couldn't help it, you always succumbed to those beautiful eyes. Vanessa just looking at you in any way, shape or form was enough to make you succumb to her charms.
"Of course! Why not?" you said with a smile that showed how mesmerized you were by her.
"Hey, no!" Abby countered. "The rules are to remove a block with one hand. If it falls, we start over."
"Well, but where's the fun in following the rules?" You argued and earned an accusatory look from the blonde. "I mean, I mean! Only in board games!" You corrected yourself, knowing full well that those were not very wise words to say in front of a former police officer. That was the only thing she revealed to you that she used to be a police officer who mostly worked during the evenings.
Vanessa laughed at your nervousness, but she continued the main topic's purpose, "Yeah, come on, Abby, don't you want to see if this tower would ever become the tallest and most awesome tower in the world?"
Abby scoffed.
"Fine!" She agreed, and both you and Vanessa exchanged a victorious smile.
That day didn't seem to go beyond the ordinary. You played Jenga, and then Abby decided to go to her room to draw some pictures. Normally, when Abby left you both alone, you would engage in the aforementioned activities, like reading or watching a movie, and Vanessa would join you.
"Would you like to go out with me?"
You heard that question so suddenly, you paused the movie and looked at her with a puzzled look.
"Excuse me?" You said softly. You didn't want to overdo your reaction too much to cause insecurity or regret in her.
"No, no, I mean... not in that way... it's just that..." she hesitated, and you were a little disappointed to hear that it wasn't that way she meant it.
A fair amount of time had passed so that every thought you had consisted of every little characteristic that made up the woman next to you. After spending a whole day with her, the few hours you were in the solitude of your apartment, all you could think about was how much you longed for her presence, and how would her lips would feel as they crashed into yours as you shared a passionate, loving kiss.
Vanessa considered your silence as an invitation to continue, "Since I've been discharged, it's been a month and a week, and I haven't left here. With you, I haven't shared enough to get to know you well. I mean... it's not that I don't like spending those mornings with you... it's just that.... I'd like to go out... and take advantage of the outing for us to get to know each other... uh... yeah..." she explained shyly, looking down at her hands as she played with her fingers.
You laughed softly.
"Sure, where would you like to go?" You asked.
Yes, maybe it wasn't a date, but she was the one who had the initiative to go and propose an outing. That was more than enough for you to be assured that she really liked you, even if she didn't express it completely.
Uncertain about whether this outing would answer all the questions you had, you decided not to have expectations and appreciate the fact that she chose you for this activity. You learned to embrace the fragment of Vanessa bestowed upon you, and to also blindly embrace the mystery as a part of her being.
"You know this place, Freddy's Fazbear Pizza?"
You knew that place. And you knew why it had closed. Just seeing how neglected it looked on the outside, and the heartshattering story behind its shutdown gave you chills. You didn't understand what did it have to do with what you and the blonde were previously discussing.
"Ehh, I know it's been closed for almost a decade. Did they reopen it, or...?" You inquired.
"No, but I know a way in," she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her to enter that scary place just for fun. "I need to go check it out, but don't worry, I know you'll like it."
Vanessa couldn't drive, and she seemed to be counting on you to take her there. Maybe she loved to visit these kinds of scary abandoned places, and you couldn't refuse to grant that wish, given the fact that she hasn't been out for five weeks, and wasn't even in the comfort of her home.
So, on Saturday, you arrived at the time you agreed upon. You were happy to spend time with Vanessa, but you were also anxious about what kind of activity awaited you. You weren't too excited about going at eight o'clock in the evening and then heading to a pizza place that has been abandoned for about two decades.
However, when you saw Vanessa, with that eager smile and her face lit up, any kind of doubt was dispelled. Not because it was something different, it was going to be a bad thing. Maybe you'd even end up agreeing with her, and you'd end up liking whatever idea she had.
First, you headed to a drive thru, and Vanessa insisted on paying for the food. You bought a large pizza with cheese edges, a two-liter soda, and some cheese sticks for appetizers.
She gave you directions to the place, and once you got there, you swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Not enough for her to notice. The last thing you wanted was for her to cancel the plans, plans she was too excited to carry out.
You entered through the main entrance, for which she had a key. The first thing you encountered was an archway that said "Welcome" at the top, and then you got a full view of what used to be the restaurant area.
There were some tables scattered throughout the room and others were stacked together. The room also had a stage, but a red curtain covered it. You knew that behind it, there were what used to be the main attraction; the animatronics.
The only thing you hoped for was that she would not...
"I'm going to turn up the voltage levers, you'll see how well they still work," Vanessa commented after noticing your gaze on the covered stage, leaving the pizza and soda on one of the tables.
"Uh, no, no, no... I don't think it's necessary...-"
"Come on, you'll love it!" she insisted, and you didn't have time to refute further when all the lights came on.
You covered your ears as you heard an eighties song playing at a defeaning volume. It was too loud for a place that had a lot of echo, and that was very empty. The whole vibe of the place felt... off.
Along with the lights coming on, the curtain opened, showing those animatronics moving to the beat of the music. These looked very disturbing, and you could swear that somehow, they were looking at you.
Or maybe it was the fact that your nerves were already on edge and it wasn't helped by the noise and those creppy things moving.
"Are you okay?" Vanessa asked, almost shouting for you to hear her over the music.
"Yeah, it's just kind of loud music," you replied, slowly removing your hands from your ears to adjust yourself to the noise.
Watching such an action, she took your hands and pulled you to her, "Come, let's dance," she proposed, and looked towards the stage, almost as if she was waiting for something to happen.
You asked her what was wrong, but she brushed it off.
"Do you know this song?" She asked, lifting your arm for you to do a spin, which you did with a chuckle.
"Yes, Talking In Your Sleep," you replied, looking up into her green eyes. "My dad usually plays eighties songs nonstop all the time."
"Oh, really?" She said with a small smile. "Do you have a good relationship with your father?"
"Mhm," you nodded. "Of course, in every kind of relationship there are arguments, but in general, my family and I relate very well."
Vanessa's eyes fluttered with a trace of melancholy. Even if it was brief, it was enough for you to catch the attention.
She proceeded to pull you closer, and instead of grabbing your arms, she held on to your waist tighter. Rather than making questions to engage with the subject, you chose to provide supportive silence.
She gently leaned to your height, and rested her chin on your head, displaying a hint of vulnerability. She actually drew you in a little closer, her embrace turning into a quiet cry for comfort.
The song stopped, and the animatronics returned to their positions from before. She let out a giggle and took your hand, leading you to the table where you had left your food and drink.
"Please," she used a fake elegant tone, as she pulled the chair for you to sit down.
"Oh, what a gentlewoman," you commented, sitting down in the chair, making her laugh.
Your eyes followed her as she took about two steps towards the chair in front of you, and subsequently, she let out a sigh to look into your eyes.
"You're really lucky, you know that?" She spoke, opening the pizza box and gesturing with her head for you to take the first slice.
"Hm?" You said, having already forgotten the previous conversation due to being too distracted appreciating her face, her eyes, her gestures.
"Having a good relationship with your family," she reminded you and took her slice once you took yours.
You were in awe. You loved how she wrinkled her nose to take the first bite, and her cheeks puffed out slightly as she chewed.
"You're right," you agreed. You weren't going to deny that too much could happen within the family environment, too many traumas that shifted through generations. You were lucky that your parents broke the chain long before they had you and really prepared emotionally for when you came along. "Not everyone is so lucky, and I wish that wasn't the case. I wish every child could have something like this because that's what they deserve," you continued. "No child deserves to be burdened with the unresolved problems of adults, and no child deserves to feel insecure in front of figures who should be protective."
Vanessa watched you with eyes of sadness, and you didn't know if it was because her way of thinking matched yours or because she herself had been through an unpleasant situation during her childhood... or both.
You heard a robotic sound, and noticed that the bear animatronic turned its head in your direction and blinked twice, with its eyebrows turned upwards.
You jumped slightly, and shivers invaded your body, "Oh, don't tell me they glitch and move on their own," you laughed nervously. Vanessa abandoned her previous expression to laugh softly with you.
"Yes, they move all the time," she confirmed. "Nothing to worry about. You're safe here. Believe me, I wouldn't bring you here if I knew you weren't."
It was kind of scary and unusual to walk into an abandoned pizza parlor, turn on the power and sit down to eat in the parlor of it, especially with those robots whose gaze you felt hovering over you for some reason.
However, you decided to believe her, it's not like those animatronics are possessed by spirits or anything. And in any case, you had to fear the living ones. But of course, you had a badass cop next to you. You were safe.
So you were determined to appreciate the beauty that this moment offered. You were alone with her. There was no noise of third parties intervening, and above all, the blonde was happy.
"Do those Arcade games still work?" you spoke with a mischievous grin, directing your gaze towards said area.
Vanessa nodded eagerly.
"Yes! Sometimes you have to hit them, but.... do you want to try?" She proposed, her eyes shining in that peculiar way that you knew from then on, you'd do anything to see them sparkling.
Once you nodded eagerly, both of you ran to the Arcade. This had almost all the classic games from the 80s, most of which you played when you were a kid, so you were hoping to remember even a little bit and get back in practice to be a competent opponent.
"Just so we're clear, I will show no mercy," Vanessa said, settling on the second Pac-Man game next to you.
"Neither will the eight-year-old me," You laughed asyou placed your hand on the lever that would control the movements. "However, current me is begging for you to show mercy," you added, nudging her playfully.
"Oh, did someone lose practice?" She asked in an amused tone, but it was also not her intention to make fun of you or tease you any more than necessary.
"Kinda," you shrugged shyly.
"Okay, don't worry, we'll take it slow. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today," she joked and pressed the start button as soon as you signaled you were ready.
At first, you had trouble remembering how to be a pro at these games, and even with Vanessa evidently losing on purpose so you wouldn't feel bad, you failed to reach a more or less decent record. But since you had faith that it would happen, you slowly started to remember all those years where you rode your bike to the Arcades with your friends and spent all your coins on hours and hours on games like these.
So, you got your practice back, and it was a matter of about half an hour before the real fun began. Vanessa began to show how tough she was at these games, and you showed her what you were made of too.
You were proud to observe her improvement. The blonde went from growing frustrated with unintentionally dropping something due to the trembling of her hands, to showing great skill and firmness in wanting to beat you in this competition that had been created between you.
You weren't even aware of the fact that it was almost midnight. If it weren't for the fact that Vanessa saw out of the corner of her eye the hands of the clock on the wall about to meet at the number 12, you would have sworn it had barely been ten minutes.
"I think we have to go," Vanessa said, once your game screen projected a "Game Over," indicating that she had beaten you once again.
"Yeah, I guess," you replied softly, looking up at her face that was slightly illuminated by the screen and the neon lights decorating the wall.
You picked up the pizza box that had three pieces left over and the bottle of soda that was half full. In front of you were the animatronics. The night would have been completely perfect except that these things terrified you, as they occasionally moved on their own, or sometimes you felt their heads turn in your direction. Vanessa constantly offered you comfort and told you that it happened all the time, and eventually, you managed to get distracted.
A month after this peculiar visit, Vanessa moved back to her apartment, which was farther away than Mike's house was from you. But even no matter if she lived twenty minutes or twenty hours away, you would've never failed to show up every Saturday to go to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza together.
You both adopted the tradition of visiting this abandoned place that gradually began to feel as if it was regaining its liveliness and coziness. The atmosphere ceased to feel heavy, your fear was replaced by excitement every time you entered, and even those animatronics started growing on you. You realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. They were just robots connected to a bunch of wires, and the darkness would go away once one of you took care of turning on the power.
Saturdays weren't the only day you looked forward to, of course.
When she went back to work, and notified you that she would make a stop to check on you and Abby in, say, forty minutes, it was forty minutes you longed for them to come to an end. Oh, you remember how you almost fainted when you saw her in that uniform for the first time. Your jaw dropped to the floor, and you had no choice but to tell her as calmly as possible that she looked great.
And when she had her day off, she would always call you to notify you that she wanted to spend it with you, whether it was at her apartment watching sitcoms, or getting together for a casual dinner at a restaurant. The plans tended to be spontaneous most of the time.
And if you opted to go out, you always made it half the time if you managed to convince her to drive her cop car at full speed, and the times she refused, you were also happy to go on the way listening to music with her.
Your heart pounded with unstoppable force as your emotions blossomed intensely towards her. Her presence eclipsed everything around you, and every minute without seeing her was a torturous countdown to the next encounter. Even your conversations with friends and family revolved around the blonde occupying your thoughts. No matter what they were talking about, in one way or another, you ended up bringing her up.
From Abby, you found out that every time Vanessa visited her and Mike, it was the same case. The little girl seemed a little tired of never getting a break from either you or Vanessa mentioning each other. And she was a smart girl, she knew what was going on. The only obstacle that kept you and the blonde from going any further was the fear that it wasn't reciprocated, even if it was more obvious that it indeed was.
One day, you were surprised to receive a call from Mike for dinner at his house. At first, you thought he was actually asking you to come to his house to make dinner, since he wasn't the best cook and you didn't interact with him outside of work hours. However, you had heard correctly, he invited you to his house for dinner.
When you arrived, Vanessa's police car was parked next to Mike's, and you immediately felt the familiar butterflies in your stomach whenever she was around. Oh, you hadn't even seen her and already you felt the thrill of excitement take over you considerably.
You rang the doorbell, and Mike opened the door
Even though he was right in front of you, the first thing you saw was the blonde sitting at the table, stuffing her mouth with a hamburger.
She looked up, and when she met your glanced, she widened her eyes and quickly set the food aside, straightening up and wiping herself with a napkin. That action made you laugh too hard.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, her mouth still a little full. "I'm really hungry, and Mike bought some delicious burgers."
You brushed it off with a smile, "Don't worry, you looked adorable."
A slight blush invaded her cheeks. You preferred to believe that this was simply because she wasn't used to receiving compliments. Her reserved nature showed it.
"Come on, sit down," Mike invited you with a half smile. "I ordered enough burgers and fries for all of us."
You watched him with an arched eyebrow and a puzzled expression but agreed to follow his lead and subsequently sat down next to Vanessa.
"Hi, Abs," you greeted the girl, who was sitting on the other side next to Vanessa.
"Hi," she replied simply as she ate fries on top of the paper that previously wrapped her hamburger.
You grabbed a burger from the bag and some fries, and a can of soda that was sitting cold on the table, ready and waiting to be taken. You began by eating in silence, but it was getting a little desperate as time went on.
"What's the reason for this meeting?" you asked curiously, and also to break the ice.
"Well, it's Abby's last day of school," Mike replied. You had been so absent lately, almost in the clouds, that you completely forgot that summer break had arrived.
"Oh!" You exclaimed. "That's right! Congratulations, Abs!"
"So, I wanted to have a get-together with the people most important to me, to celebrate," Abby continued, and you pouted, followed by a brief 'Awww'.
The night had gone wonderfully, filled with laughter and exchange of anecdotes, most coming from Abby, being about how she got in trouble every time she gave a bully their comeuppance or how she began to make friends after many months staying in isolation.
As dinner came to an end, you and Vanessa said goodbye to Mike and Abby, thanking them for the invitation. It was 10 p.m., still early for you. Normally, your outings alone with her ended at around 1 a.m., so you could perfectly well continue on your own if she wished.
Vanessa seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"Do you want to walk around the neighborhood?" She offered gently. Perhaps it was an unusual thing to do at that hour. However, the blonde was wearing her uniform and was armed. Nothing could happen.
"Are you on the clock?" You asked, not wanting such a thing to be an inconvenience or cause for scolding.
She shrugged, "If they don't call me through the Walkie Talkie, I am not," she chuckled.
Vanessa didn't want to stray too far during the walk, so in case she was called, she could easily return to her car and drive to where she was needed.
A comfortable silence had fallen this time, until she spoke first, "Those burgers were delicious, don't you think?"
You laughed, "Yeah, I didn't know that place," you commented, looking down, concentrating on how the pavement moved slowly as you took steps.
"It's a new local business that opened. I go there sometimes. They have really good burritos and milkshakes," she replied. "I'll take you there one of these days. On me."
"Only if next time it's on me."
"On one condition," she replied. Such a statement made you look up quickly.
"That you let me pick you up..." she took a deep breath. "And if it's a date."
And that was the sentence you never expected to hear. That was the moment you never expected to witness. Vanessa seemed to feel the same way you did, it was now a fact and not a fantasy that existed in your wildest dreams.
"Those are two conditions," you didn't know why you said that, maybe to bring a little humor and that way mitigate the nerves that quickly spread through your body, like an electric current passing through your veins.
"Yes," she murmured, as she let out a slight chuckle. "It's silly, please forget I asked you that question."
"Vanessa, I do want to go on a date with you,"
She let out a sigh, and that's when you realized that she had been holding her breath maybe since she proposed her two conditions to you.
To which you agreed. She picked you up punctually at the established time in her regular car. Her hair was down in beautiful waves that showed off her peculiar golden color, and her outfit was composed of a knee-length coat, mom jeans, and a shirt tucked into it. She looked incredibly beautiful. You couldn't believe you were on a date with such a gorgeous woman.
Despite already possessing the title of date, this outing was no different from the others. Deep topics never touched on personal matters, somehow remaining a mystery beyond what each chose to reveal.
That changed drastically when you noticed that she began to dissociate for a moment after you brought up a topic that didn't seem to be of impact. It was only about a stuffed rabbit you had for five years of your childhood.
"Are you okay? Did I say something wrong...?" you asked, concerned palpable all over your face.
"Look, (Y/N), I like you very much," she replied, and as much as you were happy to hear such a thing, you dreaded hearing the next sentence. "I don't know what you want right now, but I do want a serious relationship. I'd rather say this before there are misunderstandings. I need to know, so I'm sure if I reveal to you every aspect of myself, or if I should back off."
"I do want something serious with you," you were quick to reply. The girl next to you was too wonderful a being to settle for only the superficial or the banal. No, you were willing to love Vanessa. "Time will make me start to love you. And there is no turning back now."
She let out a deep breath, "If you want to leave after what I'm about to tell you, I'll understand."
You took her hand across the table and squeezed it in a ressuring manner.
"The disappearance of the children, at the pizzeria. My father is the owner, and he was also responsible," she confessed, looking down at her plate, fear preventing her from meeting your gaze.
Those words hit you like a bucket of cold water on your head. The fact that she frequented that place despite its closure, the connection she seemed to have with it, it all made sense. She seemed to want to cling to what might have been if not for her father's heinous acts, which filled her with overwhelming guilt. You could see it in her eyes.
And since you still had your hand holding hers, you gently rubbed your thumb to bring her comfort, somehow telling her you were still there.
"The first time I tried to stop him, he found a way to bring Vanny back afloat," just mentioning that name made her muscles tense.
"Vanny?" you repeated. As much as you wanted to avoid questions and let her go at her own pace, you were struck by what she said.
"That part of me that's able to endure what he did," she explained. "And that's willing to do what he wants. It's not me, it's complicated..."
"I understand," you nodded. You didn't want her to feel the need to explain further.
"Anyway, he manages to put this mask on me and that's how he's kept me from stopping him all these years," she continued, and her eyes began to water. "I thought I was useless at stopping him, that is, until Mike and Abby needed my help, and they gave me the strength to finally defeat him."
You listened intently to every word, and even if you didn't respond verbally, you provided constant caresses on her hand to let her know everything that words perhaps couldn't describe at once. "I'm here, I will never leave you" was the main thing you sought to convey.
You knew that night that Vanessa was not only conformed by the woman in front of you, but also by a little wounded girl who had to grow up very fast, and had to create her mechanisms to be able to face the terrible childhood she had to live.
Her father did not leave the children alone even after their death and manipulated them to contribute to committing more abominations, just as he did with Vanessa. But we all hit rock bottom sooner or later, and she was finally able to end a nightmare that lasted for decades.
She did it for those missing children, for that little girl who still lived inside her, and for all the children she saved. You understood then that behind her previous coma state was the ultimate act of bravery, and why her connection to Mike and Abby was so sacred.
Vanessa revealed all that to you with the intention of letting you know ahead of time who you were about to get emotionally involved with, and that way, you still had time to decide whether to leave or stay. And for not a split second did you dare to doubt that your decision was the latter.
"I am willing to love you for how you are and for how you were. I will love that part of you that had to face what you couldn't, and I will love that little girl who lives inside you and deserves to heal. I will love you, a survivor who has so much to live for."
She went into your arms, and cried what was evidently stuck for years. You did your best to bring as much comfort as possible both to her and to every version of her that needed it just as much.
It only remains to say that you kept your promise. You showed her in a thousand ways, every day, that if you were willing to love her, you were going to get it no matter how complicated or challenging it might be. It wasn't all easy, but there was no better reward than the fact that your now wife has finally forgiven herself, living the life she deserved, and you were part of it.
#vanessa shelly#vanessa shelly x reader#fnaf vanessa#five nights at freddy's#fnaf movie#elizabeth lail
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Would That I
Pairing: Otto Hightower x f!reader
Warnings: Smut, age gap, keeping it in the family.
Word count: ~1.1k
Summary: Otto makes sure his pretty, young wife has absolutely everything she desires. Based on this request.
She is smitten with Otto the moment she lays eyes on him. Arriving in King’s Landing she anticipates a week of uninteresting jousts and tedious formalities, but as she sits in the stands, thoroughly uninterested by the spectacle of the two knights charging towards each other on horseback, her eye is drawn to the Hand of the King. He is older than her by at least three decades, but he is refined, tall and ruggedly handsome. While the potential suitors within the capital are seemingly endless, none of them compare to Otto Hightower
Using every excuse within her arsenal over the coming days, she seizes all opportunities to see and speak to him, and is delighted to find he is every bit as charming as he is handsome. He titters at her jokes and she is enamoured by the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles, the green of his iris appearing to sparkle as he does so. His voice is deep, yet velvety smooth and she hangs on his every word. He is intelligent, diplomatic and sharp as Valyrian steel.
Her desire for him intensifies as the days press on, and emboldened by one too many cups of Dornish red following a feast one evening, she leans forward and presses her lips to his, her heart fluttering as she feels the warmth of his large palm cup her cheek as he returns the gesture.
“I have not felt like this about a woman in years,” He tells her.
She smiles at his words. She has not felt like this about a man ever.
There is no need for her to leave come the end of the week, King’s Landing is now her home, and after a hastily put together ceremony in the Sept, Otto Hightower is her husband.
He surprises her with his virility on their wedding night, wringing peak after peak from her pliant body, leaving her exhausted but with a satisfying ache between her thighs the following morning. Otto spoils her beyond comprehension, she wants for nothing and has the finest of everything; jewels from Lys, gowns of Myrish silk and lace, wines from the Arbor. He is diligent in keeping her sated in every aspect of their marriage.
It is obvious his daughter, Alicent, does not approve, though she does not say it, and who can blame her? She has to admit that she’d be annoyed too if her father chose to marry someone younger than his own daughter.
It is not Alicent’s silent disapproval that bothers her, however, it is how the ladies of the court love to gossip. It is not unusual in Westeros for men to wed women much younger than themselves, yet she finds herself at the center of all manner of prying questions regarding the nature of her marriage to Otto. She supposes it is because of the responsibility he holds as the King’s Hand.
“What is it you see in him?” One bold lady dares to ask.
She bites her lip, considering her answer. She longs to say that it sends a thrill through her body to wait upon her knees for him, gazing up at him as he presses the head of himself past her lips. Such talk would cause a scandal, however, so she gives a tight smile and says that he is tall.
“Surely that can’t be all?”
“No, he is handsome too,” She says wistfully, thinking about how he gazes up at her from between her thighs, the softness of his beard tickling her soft flesh, the sensation causing her to clench around nothing.
“Is he kind to you?”
“Oh, yes, Otto is extraordinarily generous!” There is a particular necklace that Otto insists she wears, with nothing else to accompany it, whenever they are alone in their marital chambers. It sits tight against her throat, adorned with emeralds that gleam in the same shade of green as the Hightower house colours. It likely cost a small fortune, but in his eyes nothing is too good for her, not when he is buried to the hilt inside of her.
“Is that your favourite quality of his?”
“No,” She muses. “I adore his dedication to his family.”
The combined heat from the fireplace and lit candles that sit upon every surface of the bedchamber make the room stiflingly hot. She feels sweat trickle down her neck, disappearing beneath the emerald choker that sits snugly around her neck, every green gemstone glittering in the dim light as she rolls her hips against Otto’s.
His grip on her waist is vice-like, every sensation heightened by warmth, as the length of him nudges against a spot inside of her that makes her tense with every undulation of her body. She feels taut, pulled tighter than a bow string until it eventually snaps, sending her headlong into oblivion, waves of ecstasy rolling through her as she collapses against her husband’s chest, triggering his own release.
His fingers stroke gently over her dampened skin as he holds her close. Already, renewed desire throbs between her legs.
“Are you satisfied, my dear?” Otto asks softly.
“I will never have enough of you, my love,” Comes her playful response.
“That is not quite what I had in mind.”
“Oh?” She lifts her head, eyeing him curiously.
“I have seen the way that you and Aemond look at each other, I am no fool.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head. “It is nothing, I can assure you.”
“I do not mind,” He rises from the bed, pulling on a robe. “I wish for my darling wife to be satisfied, to have everything she desires, so I shall make it so.”
He opens the chamber door, uttering “you can come in now” and her eyes widen in disbelief when she sees Otto’s second oldest grandson hovering in the doorway. It seems outrageous to her that he would suggest such a thing, yet she cannot deny the way it makes her pulse race.
“I shall be back in an hour.” Otto informs them both, before leaving.
She is too stunned to speak at first as she takes in the sight of Aemond. He seems stoic and unaffected in his demeanour, until she studies him more carefully. She takes in how his pupil is dilated with lust, the prominent bulge that presses against the lacings of his trousers, and the slight parting of his lips as he struggles to control his excited breaths.
Arranging herself atop the bedspread, she relaxes knowing that he desires her just as much as she desires him. She beckons him to her with a crook of her finger. “Come now, don’t be shy.” He goes to her eagerly.
It is just one of the many perks of being Otto Hightower’s wife. He is nothing if not generous in every aspect of their marriage, and so dedicated to his family.
#otto hightower#otto hightower x reader#otto hightower smut#otto hightower x y/n#otto hightower x you#otto hightower imagine#otto hightower fan fiction#otto hightower fanfiction#otto hightower fanfic#otto hightower fan fic#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd smut#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic
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hello love! can i make a request for gaz x f!reader she a civilian and a florist and he keeps visiting her and they slowly fall for each other and he calls her his sunflower or something cute like that? you can make up the rest, sorry if it’s not super detailed!
Gossamer Silk Smiles
Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Florist!Reader
Synopsis: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up.
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: Insane amount of fluff, this is the definition of a soft fic, beginning of a relationship
A/N: I know this man would treat me right. Also changed the nickname around a bit, but sunflowers are still prominent. Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
When you opened your flower shop, you told yourself there was no going back – no distractions or second options. This was what you loved more than anything and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well.
Until he showed up.
It had been a shitty day, one for the record books, in your opinion. Shipments for Larkspur, Zinnias, and Sunflowers had come to the shop damaged. The boxes had been so beaten up you half-believed the mail carrier had gotten into a personal disagreement with them. All initial humor aside, you were now out of this week's product as well as a good chunk of money – the flowers couldn’t even be considered that anymore, seeing as they were really just broken stems and stray crumpled pedals. Then came the unusual amount of rude customers and the building of minor inconveniences.
But to your credit, you didn’t let it get to you.
Well…externally, at least.
“Have a great rest of your day,” you force out with a strained smile to an older woman who only huffs. She stalks out of the shop with a vase full of Daylilies, Purple Cornflowers, Yarrow, and Taro leaves. “I hope your brother gets well soon–” The glass door shuts with a clatter of the small silver bell attached to the frame.
Leaning back on your heels, your eyes close; taking down a deep breath, you hope your lungs won't explode in your chest as you hold it there.
“Fucking hell.” The air flies from you in a weak groan.
Your fingers tap against the countertop, and a small, humorless, chuckle later you’re walking out to change the window sign to closed instead of open. It was well past your usual shift anyways, but the previous customer had been relentless about the ‘perfect bouquet.’
“Like there’s even such a thing,” your lips twist into an annoyed frown as you speak to yourself in a grumble. “...Should have just denied her service… Didn’t even leave a tip.”
You really wouldn’t have minded helping her that much if she had just been kinder towards you.
Grabbing the small paper sign held up by a suction-cup hook, you flip it around with little thought, already trying to plan out a way to make up for the weeks worth of ruined product. You don’t even notice the man speeding down the sidewalk until his desperate face is staring right into yours – only separated by a thin piece of glass.
Yelping, your shoulders tense at the sudden visage.
The man was around your age, tall, and had a handsome face inlaid with eyes reminiscent of deep amber. Light reflected off the iris in ways you can only describe as the glinting sun does off waves of water; gentle. Nearly soft, really. He was wearing a ball cap with an embroidered British flag on the front and had a panicked look set on his lips.
Close to the door handle, his long fingers freeze mid-air and you find the prominent muscular build and set of his shoulders staining the back of your eyelids like a movie screen. Whoever this guy was, it didn’t stray from the fact that he was attractive.
You’re not happy about it, but your mind blanks as you stare with wide eyes; heart steady in your breast.
He blinks at you, square jaw loose, also double-taking from beyond the see-through barrier. His flickering eyes flew quickly over your form just as you had ogled him moments prior.
Silly, perhaps, and childish at best, but you felt your throat tighten with stilled breath. There was a small chunk of time that you both just gawked at each other – as if Cupid had suddenly stabbed you both with one of his blots; gazes inexplicably locked as blood dripped to the floor from copper arrowheads.
If you were more gullible, you would have called it love at first sight. But you were anything but that.
Sighing, you rip your eyes away and take a breath. Opening the door with more questions than answers, you were praying that it didn’t get dark before you could help this man with whatever it is that he needed.
I can see the fucking veins on his forearms. You think as the chilled air hits your face, recalling the peek you sent to the rolled-up sleeves of this stranger’s blue button-down.
The bell above you dings as you set the door in the crook of your shoulder, leaning out halfway. Clearing your throat, you ask steadily, “Can I help you, Sir…?”
He sets his stubbled jaw, vision snapping to the side for a split second that was so fast you almost missed it.
“Erm…my apologies, Ma’am, for rushing up like that.” He lets off a chuckle, and the flag on his hat is quickly explained away by the prominent accent. “Hope I didn’t worry you.”
Fighting the uptick of your lips you feel your chest let go of a sliver of tension. He was smiling slightly at you, the khaki pants he wears creasing as his feet set themselves; his brown eyes never leave your face.
Respectful, you think.
“Not every day you have people trying to barge into a flower shop. Trust me, Sir, I sleep well knowing no one wants to rob me.” Attempting a light joke, the stranger's chest jerks in a silky laugh. The tips of your ears heat, the blood under your skin rushing.
His laugh was like a blanket during a storm; a cup of hot chocolate during a blizzard. Could you be attracted to a laugh? You seemed to ask yourself. Already your mind was coming up blank at this, all of a sudden, welcome intrusion.
“Well, I’d imagine that’s a good thing, then?” He teases showing off pearly white teeth.
“Incredibly.” Opening the door wider, you beam. “You’re lucky I was still here. I’d normally be all locked up by now.”
You should be closing – telling this stranger to leave and come back tomorrow – but something inside of you told you to just open the door. It was illogical, unprofessional, and downright strenuous on your already foul mood…but this individual had such an air to him that you wondered who exactly he was. He made your skin pule with goosebumps.
“Thanks,” the man utters as he slips inside, nodding his head to you and fixing the position of his hat with one hand. “Yeah…I’m incredibly sorry about this but I’m runnin’ on a bit of a time crunch, to be honest with you. I’ve been checking every shop in town – you’re the only one with the lights still on…” He looks to you, “I really hope I’m not causing any trouble for you, Ma’am.”
Slipping your fingers into your work apron’s pockets, you let the door shut and tilt your head to the side, gaze softening at the pure candor of his words.
“Emergency flower orders are always my favorites to work on. It’s no problem, really.” You say your name as an introduction and ask what he would like to purchase as he scratches at the back of his neck with a boyish twist to his lips.
“Kyle Garrick.” He sticks out his hand and you shake it instantly. Kyle’s hands are warm despite the cold weather outside, and you have to stop yourself from melting into him as you pull back. But already your skin tingles. “Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me on that front. What flowers would be the best for an apology?…just not something too flashy, if that’s possible.”
He trails with an awkward chuff, obviously not used to being in a flower shop before. You wondered if he even had a favorite flower. You hoped he did.
You could really tell a lot about someone based on the types of flora they surrounded themselves with.
“Apology?” You wonder, tilting your head. Quickly falling into work mode, you continue, “I can work with that. Do you have any preferences? Colors?”
“Well, she likes orange, yeah?” He speaks and your heart sputters for a moment. Smile freezing. “I don’t suppose that’ll help very much, but it’s really all I have to go off of. I’m a bit of a hopeless bastard when it comes to flowers.” Kyle lets off a huff of laughter.
She. Of course, he’s already in a relationship.
Nodding, you swiftly walk past the man, catching the scent of fresh-tilled earth and rainy grass as your shoulders nearly brush. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It wasn’t every day you found yourself attracted to someone. But, oh well, life continues on.
“Well,” heading towards the wall baskets, your body feels heavy, but you quickly force it to the side. You really shouldn’t be surprised. “You said orange? I have about seven you can pick from.”
“Affirmiti–erm, yes, Ma’am.”
“Hm.” You hear him come up behind you, following at a respectful distance. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you watch as his eyes slide over the various types of flowers, all separated by color, with deep thought.
A slight furrow was in his dark brow. His dedication was adorable.
“What’s this one called?” Kyle asks, moving around you to a bushel of orange poppies and accidentally bumping into your side.
Grunting, you lightly jerk forward until a hand swiftly grabs your shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, you look up with shock at the embarrassed face slightly leaning over you.
“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s my bad.”
“N-no, you’re fine.” God, this was so awkward. Smiling shakily, you feel the press of his hand over your skin, separated only by the thin barrier of your shirt. Kyle squeezes your flesh before letting go.
He was staring at you, though. Brown eyes set into dark skin with a soft expression like Pygmalion staring at his marble-wrought Galatea. But as quickly as it was there, the look was gone and the man was clearing his throat, snapping his neck back to the basket and shifting his feet.
Even if you couldn’t explicitly see it, you knew he was blushing – just the same as the heat in your capillaries mirrored. Swallowing to get rid of the dryness of your throat, you realize you’ve been gawking before sliding your hands into your pockets and quickly looking away.
Why won’t my heart stop beating so fast?
“Those are Orange Poppies. Papaver orientale.” Speaking, you reach forward and grab the stem of a single bloom holding it to him as he gazes down at you from your side. “Common in ‘get well soon’ bouquets, if you were curious.”
Holding it up to him, you watch his fingers delicately pluck it from you like the flower was made of glass. It nearly made you laugh, but you settled on a small smile instead.
“It’s pretty…” Kyle pauses, and you read it well enough.
“...But not what you were looking for.” Settling on the answer, you giggle when he passes off a sheepish smile and a nod. “I kind of guessed. Here – how about this.”
He ends up buying a handful of orange Tulips, Myrtle leaf for greenery, and a small gathering of Baby’s-Breath. Behind the counter, you try to stay focused on setting the flora perfectly in the clear vase as your clippers lay beside it. Frowning, you take the long stem of a Tulip and snip the end at an angle, placing it to the far left of the rest with a concentrated set of your eyebrows.
“So,” Kyle says, breaking the silence, and your fingers twitch as your spell is shattered. Soul stilling, you look up at him as he waits on the other side of the counter with his arms comfortably crossed. He leans back on his heels, feet shoulder-length apart. “Busy day today, then? Other places around here are mostly dark by five.”
Standing straighter, you politely smile before going back to the arrangement, hand reaching for the small white tufts of Baby’s-Breath.
“Mostly, yeah.” You cock your head to the side, “I was supposed to be home two hours ago, but one lady was very adamant about getting the most ‘perfect’ flowers, as she told it.”
Chuckling humorlessly, you step back and stare at the vase, not aware of the eyes stuck on the tired slump of your shoulders or the slight frown staining the man’s lips.
“Two hours? Well, that’s a bit excessive.” Kyle remarks, eyelids creasing, “I’d hope she at least left a tip for you?”
That gets a laugh out of you, lungs jerking for a moment; focus once more brought back to the present at the preposterous words that just left your customer’s mouth. Those brown eyes suck you back in to a point where you wonder if you’d ever be able to look away.
“Now that’s funny, Mr. Garrick.”
He lets the subject drop, but you notice a slight crease in-between in brows – a narrowness to his eyes that wasn't there before. You try not to think too much into it, but Kyle certainly did seem like the man to get upset when people aren’t treated respectfully. The thought warms your heart.
Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this.
“Is there anything you’d like me to rearrange, Sir…? Do you want a note to go with it?” Seemingly lost in thought, Kyle comes back to you with a diligent shake of his head.
“It looks perfect, Love. And, please, just Kyle’s alright. You’re makin’ me sound like an old man when you talk like that.” He chuckles, and it’s a rich, velvety sort of thing – twisted with blue satin and wrapped in a gentle breeze. Your stomach twists.
“Then I suppose that’s it, then. I’ll get you the bill and you can be on your way.” Turning around to calculate the total price, you make a quick comment in passing, not really thinking about it as you tap on your calculator. “I hope your girlfriend and you make up.”
A stunned silence falls, but you only focus on the numbers, jotting down the total on a sticky note and turning around after re-running the costs a last time. When your eyes lock with him, your feet stall at the dumbfounded look on Kyle’s face and the confusion ingrained in his body language. His head had pulled back slightly, hat tilted.
“What’s that?” He asks.
“Your…girlfriend?” You say slowly, walking closer and passing him the sticky note, “you said you were getting her apology flowers?”
The handsome man blinks at you before realization lights in his eyes like fire. Kyle laughs deeply, putting a hand on top of his head and pressing down on his cap.
“Oh, Bloody hell, no.” He takes a deep breath and you feel your lips pressed together in confusion, innocent intrigue taking place in your skull. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I should have told you right off. This is for my mum.”
Blinking in surprise you pause, looking up with wide eyes.
Sweetheart?...Mum?! Your face heats to an intense level. Oh.
“O-oh I didn’t…” He’s reaching for his wallet with a large lop-sided smile on his face and understanding eyes, watching you as he flips it open. You settle with a single laugh and say, “sorry, I guess I just assumed.”
But you can’t help the sudden relief that sprouted out of nowhere that leaves your lips pulling back in a mirrored grin. You’d been doing that a lot, as of the last fifteen minutes.
“It’s no problem,” Kyle admits, “Thing is, I’ve been off on deployment for a while, and I missed my return date party, unfortunately. Just got back about noon today and I decided I was going to surprise her tonight.” The man pulls out a large stack of bills, “Thought she’d like that, yeah? Can’t go wrong with flowers, can you?”
“You’re in the military?” You ask smoothly but internally swoon at the thought of a son giving his mother flowers out of the kindness of his heart. Whoever she was, you know the woman who raised this man would be overjoyed with the prospect of simply having him home safe and sound before anything else.
Did not Penelope, wife of Odysseus, care for her son Telemachus more than anything? Above danger and possible death? They protected each other. You supposed it was the same in this situation.
Being able to be a part of it made your legs weak.
“Something like that, Ma’am.” Kyle’s lips flick into a smirk as he hands you the bills. “Feels like I’m surrounded by children most days, but there’s no place I’d rather be…When I’m not nearly getting my head bloody blown off, that is.”
You huff in amusement, and slight concern, taking the payment and settling it on the counter without checking the numbers; never doubting whether he gave you the right amount or not.
“Well, it seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” Garrick looks to his feet for a moment, pocketing his wallet, and clears his throat near mutely. He tilts his head back up to you.
“Nearly,” he whispers under his breath, a delicate wrinkle on his forehead as his lips pull in a minute, closed, grin. Sheepishly, you look away from his intense brown gaze before you can make a fool of yourself as giddiness sparks in your racing heart. What was happening to you? You have to ask yourself. Where was all of this blatant scatterbrained activity stemming from? No one had ever made you act like this before.
As you look away, your eyes unintentionally land on the wall clock across the room, and your thoughts still like water in a puddle. Eyes widening comedically, you feel your lips part.
“I really need to be closing up.” You say apologetically, looking back to the man who touches one of the Myrtle leaves carefully, running it between his thumb and forefinger. Under you, your feet shift over the floor. “Is this all you’ll be needing?”
“Pretty sure.” Garrick answers easily, “I won't keep you any longer, eh? I’d hate it if I made you go home by yourself after dark.”
“That’s very thoughtful, Kyle, thank you.” Pushing the vase over the counter, he takes it up and pauses as if he wants to say something. His mouth opens before closing – looking at his feet for a moment and itching at his neck with his free hand.
“I…don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Ma’am,” your breath hollows, watching carefully as you listen. “But, uh, I,” Kyle shifts his eyes to your face, standing a bit straighter as the corner of his lip flicks up, “You’re just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met – if that’s not overstepping, of course.”
He laughs stiffly to dispel tension, and the air suddenly gets ten times hotter at the brutally honest, if not mildly stuttered, confession. You can nearly hear the blood rushing to your head like a flood of ocean water – more violent and immediate than a tsunami. In your ribcage, your bones ache at the beating organ and the swell of your lungs. Having to take a deep breath to not forget yourself entirely, your mind rages.
Did he really just say that? He…he called me beautiful.
When was the last time you had been called that? By such a lovely and kind man nonetheless. Kyle seemed like a confident person, his profession telling you that already, but the way he was acting now he seemed hesitant; like he was appalled by the fact you would take what he was saying the wrong way and come off creepy.
But that was so blatantly opposite of how you were reacting.
“I-” You stutter, eyes snapping away and hands coming to hold themselves in front of your abdomen, “well, I think you’re very handsome, yourself, Kyle.” A meek expression spreads your visage as you see the breath in his chest hitch, “and I wouldn’t call that overstepping at all. Not by a long shot.”
His eyes widen, and a second of intense eye contact later, he smiles and glances away. Garrick sneaks looks as you bite your lip, and finally, he nods firmly before his phone starts to ring in his pocket.
As if a switch had turned, his hand snaps down and grasps the device, peeling it out of his khakis and checking the contact. Immediately he utters.
“Oh, Shit, this is her. I’ve got to run.” He walks backward a few steps before turning and lightly jogging to the front door. Following with your eyes, you’re somewhat entranced by the man.
Before he can walk through the door, he stops in his tracks.
“Sorry, again,” Kyle turns back around, and his dark eyebrows crease, “but, uh, what days are you open?”
The giddy smile that forms on your cheeks leaves your skin hurting.
“All of ‘em except the weekends,” you say, confidence suddenly sprouting in your veins, “but I’m sure if you told me ahead of time that you were stopping by, I’d make an exception.”
“I’d imagine for emergency flowers only?” Kyle teases, a smirk on his face. His eyes promise you, though, that this will not be the last time you see him.
“Of course.” You reply, raising a brow. “I’m a florist, after all, Garrick. Emergency flowers are my specialty. If you’re ever in need of more, I’ll be here, waiting.”
He laughs, stares for a few seconds longer with a distant sheen, and disappears through the door. You don’t follow when his form fades from the windows entirely. You don’t ask for his number, even if you knew you should have. You don’t look at the amount he gave you as you put it in the register, knowing, even by your intuition, that it is double the amount he was due.
You’d just tell him all about it when you saw him again.
Until Kyle Garrick showed up you had been focused; as immovable as a mountain, but then as the days drew on, you faltered. Your eyes would linger on the glass as people pass by, heart in your throat and feet tapping as you bound stems. Flowers had taken up so much of your life, but now another was trying to push its way in – slowly infecting you like a parasite in your mind as the days went on.
And as he kept showing up, month after month, he had taken to calling you Persephone. A goddess of spring and nature; beautiful flowers of all colors and shapes growing on hills and in vibrant meadows. It was perhaps the greatest compliment someone like you could have been given. At first, it had been a nickname until it had become as common as your actual title, and Kyle used it so much even regular customers teased you with it with smirks and side-eyes. You only rolled your optics with a burning under your skin and a small smile.
“Well, look, it’s Persephone…”
“That boy of yours here, Persephone? Hiding in the back room perhaps?”
“Persephone – you have any Peonies this week?”
You didn’t mind it…really, you didn’t. If anything, you thought it was precious. A man comparing you to a goddess that danced in green fields as flowers sprouted at her feet? Yes, that was quite alright.
Quite alright, indeed.
—
The office room was cold, he thought. Nearly a meat locker.
How in the hell can he stand to work in here, Kyle asked himself. Bloody place is like a damn winter storm just minus the snow.
He was seated in one of the two chairs in front of the mahogany desk, hands on the armrests and feet tapping the floor. When the Sergeant had gotten the order on his radio to come to Captain Price’s office ASAP, he had expected the man to already be here, but five minutes later he was still sitting in silence.
That wasn’t to say he was bored, though. He was thinking of you. He could never be bored when he did that.
It brings a small smile to Garrick’s face as he relives your last interaction, lips unconsciously twitching as his eyes grow distant.
You’d made him a flower crown, mostly as a joke, but had been left in raging fits of laughter when you’d placed it on his head.
“Hold still,” you grunt, sitting on the front counter and keeping the weaved headpiece in your grip as it hovers above the man’s scalp, “I want to get it centered on the first go.”
“Y’know,” Kyle chuffs, “I could always do it myself – I do have working hands, Love.”
“Shush!” Exclaiming, your breath fans his face, leaving him more still than a statue, if only to smell your scent and be content with your body so close to his. Kyle was still working out the best way to ask you out officially, but that didn’t seem to extend to his instinctual actions when it came to you. It was increasingly hard to stop his head from leaning just that tiniest bit forward and connecting his lips to yours.
The pressure on his head brings him back, and his eyes blink as if they could force all the rogue thoughts from his mind. Kyle clears his throat when you lean back, acutely aware of the longing set of his dark brows as he had stared off at you.
“Well, then,” The Sergeant clears his throat and smiles at your concentrated face, though he notices the hitch in your chest with a strange sense of pride. “How’s it lookin'? Is just as you imagined, eh?”
Your face scrunches, head tilting. Kyle couldn’t remember a time he’d let someone put a wreath of flowers on his head, woven with Forget-Me-Nots, Silver Dollar Eucalyptus, and Tiger Lillies. The others would make fun of him for this.
But he found he cared little. If you kept smiling at him like that, he’d let you do anything to him in a heartbeat.
“Perfect.” You chuckle. “You should have let me do this earlier.”
The shop was closed – it was a weekend, after all, and that was the time for restocking and number crunching. Not really the time for making crowns for a man who was totally smitten with you.
“You sure that you don’t need these?” Kyle asks, a hand reaching up to his head to touch the flora. “I’d hate to not pay you for them, Love. Can only imagine how expensive they are to order.”
“Eh,” rolling your eyes, your legs brush the Sergeant’s hips from where they sit around them, and the man has to remember how to breathe properly, “they’re the old product, anyway. I’d have to get rid of them by Monday. Better for such a handsome individual to have a crown of his own, with all the gallantry he practices in his job. It’s the least I could do, hm?”
You’re teasing him, a smirk taking up the frame of Kyle’s vision. He returns the action, hands coming to rest on either side of your hips; leaning forward until his nose with mere inches away. He hears your chest rattle with a slow breath.
“Are you teasin’ me, Persephone?” He asks sneakily, as you begin to giggle. “Insinuating I need a flower crown to be recognized at work? It’ll certainly get me attention, that’s for sure, yeah? Just not the kind I want. Soap’ll have a field day.”
“He’d just make a few comments, I’m sure.”
“You’ve never met him. The bloke would never let it go until the day I kicked the bucket.” You’re laughing, one hand coming up to cover your mouth.
Kyle hates himself at that moment because you’ve never looked so beautiful, and he can’t quite pick up the courage to just lean in. So he watches with a matching look of happiness and an embarrassing, yet adored, flower crown on top of his close-shaven head. He watches with an ache in his chest and a violent beat to his heart as your body heat melts into him; urging him, prompting him.
But he just smiles and watches a moment longer before taking a step back.
“Sir,” Garrick asks, settling back down and watching the older man slink behind his desk, “What’s all this about?”
The door opens with a firm hand. Kyle startles to his feet, tuning and about to go into an instinctual formal greeting before the Captain speaks, beating him to it.
“At ease, Sergeant. Take a seat.”
Price sighs as he takes a seat, slapping a large file that was previously in his hand to the wood before opening his drawer with a grunt. Gaz watches with narrowed eyes as his superior ignores his question, pulling out a large cigar from a lockbox and slotting it between his lips. A lighter follows soon after, and soon the smell of burning tobacco enters the air.
“...Captain?” Kyle was starting to get nervous now. Why was he looking at him like that? Blue eyes seem to dig deep into Gaz’s soul, trying to find something that was hidden behind layers and layers of flesh and bone.
John pulls the stick from his lips and holds it between his fingers, smoke now entering the air and rising to perforate like mist. Feet shifting over the floor, Kyle’s heart skips a beat.
What in the hell is going on?
That’s when the bearded man speaks.
“Well, who are they, then?” Price asks, tilting his head forward as his bucket hat sits where it usually does atop his brown hair. The Captain’s eyes are squinted; curious but still laced with that authority that never seemed to leave no matter how many years the two had known each other.
“Pardon, Sir?” Gaz has to ask, confusion prominent in his expression. “They?”
John raises a thick brow as if the answer was obvious.
“You’re distracted. Been checking your phone like it’s going to explode the last few days. So,” the Captain stares at him heavily, taking another drag before placing the cigar in his ashtray and breathing out a cloud of smoke. He leans forward and places his hands on the table, as Kyle watches, perplexed, “who is it, Sergeant? No use hiding it.”
“I…” Gaz trails before blinking dumbly, lips parting, “oh, hell, was it that obvious?”
“Painfully.” The answer makes the younger man cringe and his skin pulls tight. A pause leaves the room silent, the Sergeant avoiding his Captain’s gaze as he tilts his head away for a moment. He clears his throat.
“She’s just…” Kyle clears his throat, “someone I met in the city. A florist. Down on Main Ave.”
“A florist, eh?” Grunting, John nods his head to himself. “Asked the bird out, then?”
“What?” Snapping his head up, Gaz says loudly with stuttering lips, “N-no, Sir. Not yet.”
The man ahead of him hums, leaning back and flipping his file open, taking a moment to pick up the first page and skim the contents with small eyes. He looks over the top with a blank expression.
“I’d get on that, Son.”
—
Today was different, you knew. Something was going to happen. An unexplainable feeling was in the back of your mind, making you somewhat anxious even if you didn’t know exactly why. It was like a sheet had been thrown over your head and someone had just told you to run in circles without hitting a wall; feet tied with a rope.
The morning had started off normal, as had everything else that followed, but there was an air of expectation wafting in front of you.
What’s going on? You ask as you wipe down the counter with a wet rag, swiping stray leaves and petals into the garbage bin at your feet. Why am I feeling like I’m expecting something to happen?
It was Tuesday – nothing astounding ever happens on Tuesdays.
The front door opens with the ringing of a silver bell, and you say absentmindedly, still caught in your thoughts, “be with you in a moment!”
A cough startles you, your hand squeezing the rag a bit tighter as your neck twists upwards.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Kyle,” you laugh and take a breath, “I didn’t expect you today…”
Freezing, your lips part in a silent gasp when you see it. The man you had come to have quite the crush on was standing a few paces from the door, dressed in a nice shirt and dress pants, jacket in the crook of his arm. He holds a single Sunflower in his grasp.
It wasn’t anything overly impressive, a bit small and dead at the tips, but nonetheless, your heart stuttered at the gift. Staring at it silently, you turn your gaze to Kyle as his feet shift over the floor nervously. A strange look had overtaken his face, but he had a confident air to him that you’d been seeing more and more of the last few visits.
“What’s this?” You ask carefully, body going hot all over and lungs swelling.
You’d loved flowers for most of your life; worshiped them like the people of Delphi worshiped their god-chosen Oracle. But never could you recall a moment when you had been given any out of free will. Everyone always assumed you disliked getting them because of your job, but, oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Flowers were like declarations of emotions – they could mean so many things to so many different people. They were the truth laid bare in nature as plainly as it could be, wrought with promises.
Your breath stills, eyelids pulling back delicately; lips parting.
Kyle speaks softly, raising the flower in his grip.
“I remembered you saying you liked these more than roses – you called them ‘tacky’ if I’m…remembering correctly. The roses, that is.”
He was remembering correctly. But that had been just a passing comment to another customer you had been helping before him. Unimportant. A quick piece of yourself that hadn’t mattered while you were cutting stems and looping twine.
But he remembered it.
A giggle falls from you until your hand snaps up, trapping it behind parted fingers and an awe-filled face.
“I wanted to give it to you,” he continued, walking forward with measured steps, “and ask you a question, if you’d let me.”
“Of course, I would.” It’s breathless, the way you say it, and suddenly you know exactly why you've been so on edge today.
You’d been waiting for him.
And when he smiles at you, your mind runs to gossamer silk. Such a delicate thing; that smile, comparable to the millions of strands a spider spins in a lifetime. Gorgeous and so very easily missed if you weren’t looking at just the right moment. Gossamer Silk.
Since when has his grin become so important to you? To where you craved it just as violently as water or food? That look in his amber gaze – the one that left you breathless even when you simply thought about it, that was what you wanted to witness when you woke up in the mornings. You wanted his arms around you. You wanted his lips pressed to yours. You wanted him to be in your kitchen making you dinner as the rain fell outside and the flowers in your back garden grew strong and beautiful.
You wanted him to be yours.
Kyle stops behind the counter and hands you the flower. You reach for it without complaint instantaneously, wondering momentarily if he had just happened upon one and taken it in a moment of passion. Both of your fingers brush, and the imaginary sparks that fly make you turn slightly shy, head tilting to the side for a moment.
But a finger hooks under your chin, moving it back as delicately as bird wings, gentle feathers tickling your flesh and nerves.
A hum resonates in your chest, eyes crinkling as you stare into amber brown with flecks of gold. You could get lost in them if you looked too much.
But you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
“Persephone, would you do me the great honor,” the two of you laugh at the wispy and teasing tone, and suddenly you wish the counter between you would disappear into thin air, “of going on a date with me tonight?”
Tuesdays, perhaps, might have just become the best day of the week, and a small Sunflower with dead tips and fading yellow, your new favorite flower.
Ironic, how that works. He ended up distracting you more than you could ever imagine.
—
“Don’t you have to be back on base soon, Garrick?” You mutter into a warm chest, street lights shining into the windows of the apartment.
“Bloody hell, yes…But I’d crawl back to you, if you asked it of me.”
TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here
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#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#gaz cod#gaz garrick#gaz call of duty#kyle garrick#gaz x you#cod x you#cod x reader#cod#cod mw22#cod 2022#mw2#mw2 fanfic#mw2 x reader#mw2 2022#cod mwii#call of duty mwii#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mw2#cod mw fanfiction#mw x reader#mw 22#x female reader#x fem!reader#cod fanfic#cod gaz#modern warfare#modern warfare ii
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my favorite bts fics so far (maknae!line + ot7)
hello lovely readers, i hope all of you are doing great. i really want to share the amazing work and talent that many authors have on this app. as a literature fan and hopeless romantic myself, i made sure to pick out all the fics that i think are beautiful and amazing :) this post includes the maknae line + ot7 fics.
i also made a hyung line fic rec post if you want to check it out here heheh :p
disclaimers!!!!:
some of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni), or some heavy themes
this is a pretty long post lmao
all pictures are from pinterest!
once again this is the key for the fics :)
fluff- ♾️
angst- Ω
smut- ☻
crack/humor- ☼
i would sell my liver to read this again for the first time- ¶
Park Jimin
series:
The Promised Iris- @akinnie75 ♾️Ω
''Pair: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Soulmate AU
Word Count: 20k
Summary: During one rainy summer day at the park, a stranger name Jimin suddenly confesses that he’s in love with you. At first, you thought that Jimin was a stalker, but it turns out that there’s something he’s hiding from you.''
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oneshots:
balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n - @jungshookz ♾️☼ (there are more drabbles for this oneshot lolz)
''pairing: park jimin x reader
genre: balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n au, fluff!!!! the fluffiest fluff!!! idk jimin just really cares about y/n okAY
wordcount: 2.5k''
him after all - @mercurygguk ♾️Ω☻
''➵ summary; a guy you’ve never met before scoops in and saves you from a very embarrassing situation and you can’t help but notice how cute he is.
pairing; jimin x f. reader
final word count; 17,176 (sorry y’all)
rating; 18+
content; strangers to lovers au, fluff/angst/smut, infidelity, multiple appearances from jjk, oc’s boyfriend being nasty and stupid af''
lover to lean on - @sketchguk ♾️Ω☻
''pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader
➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst
➳ wc: 20k
➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other''
beneath the water - @jungshookz ♾️Ω ☻ ☼¶
''→ pairing: park jimin x reader
→ genre: mermaid!au/fantasy!au, an extra large order of fluff, comedy!!, jungkook being a brat as per usual, a touch of angst, and of course a sprinkling of nsfw
→ wordcount: 20.5k words holy moly''
into the wilderness - @gukyi ♾️Ω ☼
''summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was… disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.
{camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au}
pairing: park jimin x female reader
genre: angst, fluff, comedy
word count: 27k''
Kim Taehyung
series:
charade- @ughcore ♾️Ω☻
'' “Why would you help me? What are you gonna get out of this?”
Taehyung looks you up and down, the humour twinkling in his eyes like the fairy lights he helped you hang above the TV. He tucks his hands into his armpits, assessing you for a few more moments that leave your skin hot and itchy.
“It’ll be nice to see you out of those fuzzy slippers for once,”
The double entendre lacing his words is nothing new. The tingles in your stomach, however? Yeah, those are brand new.”
kth / fake dating + roommate au + fuckboy!taehyung
ongoing (35k) ''
maybe i do- @chateautae ♾️Ω☻
''➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.
↳ part of the high-class series!
➵ pairing : taehyung x reader
➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst
➵ rating : 18+
➵ warnings : swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, mentions of confrontative violence (with other characters, not each other), lots of feels concerning forced marriage, a bad ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (consensual, just bad sex), explicit sexual content, oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (chapters have their own warnings!)''
A Story that we paint - @thedefinitionofbts ♾️Ω
''PAIRINGS: Jeon Jungkook x Reader | Kim Taehyung x Reader
GENRE: College Au, Future, Scifi, Slight Fluff and Angst
WORDS: 9K (ch.1)
DESCRIPTION: Butterfly Dream: In which the lines between virtual and reality are blurred.''
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oneshots:
the universe of us. - @taesthetes ♾️Ω ¶
'' “I love you.” — “I know.”
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | kim taehyung x reader
genre: slight comedy, angst, fluff
type: dream / fantasy / slice of life au
word count: 21,112 words
warnings: none''
you’re so concerned about the ending that you don’t even know the plot- @joonsgalaxy ♾️☼
''° yoongi x reader x taehyung
° 1.9 k words ° fluff/humor
🌟 you bring your broken laptop to Tae—the IT specialist—who you have a crush on. you drag your bff Yoongi along with you, who—you’re certain—has a crush on Tae too. what a mess, right? well, the thing is, you never even considered the possibility of your assumptions being totally wrong.''
stuck with you || [roommate!taehyung] - @jungshookz ♾️☼☻
''❥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader
❥ genre: university!au, enemies-to-lovers, fratboy!tae??, comedy that’ll either make you chuckle out loud or roll your eyes and snoRT or maybe u won’t laugh that’s cool too, domestic fluff because i want to go grocery shopping with tae toO (but also fluff in general!!), smutty smut so make sure to read this with your phone’s brightness lowered all the dang way, hi @ librarian!namjoon!!! fratboy!jungkook is also in here
❥ wordcount: 37k if ur reading this on mobile get rekt
❥ summary: kim taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you.''
waterloo - @kinktae ♾️Ω☻¶
''Taehyung is a famous but pessimistic art prodigy who doesn’t believe in love. You are an art student studying in Paris, who sees the world through rose-colored lens and is a certified cheesy romance film enthusiast. And this is your love story.
Or, “Well, it is the city of love. Maybe you just need to fall in love.“
pairing: art prodigy!taehyung x art student!reader
word count: 13k
genre: FLUFF, angst, light tasteful smut''
falling in crayolove; (kindergartenteacher!taehyung) - @jungshookz ♾️
''✎ pairing: kim taehyung x reader
✎ genre: kindergartenteacher!au, workingman!au, F L U F F, tiny bit of angst at the start :-( but this is literally 98% fluff; y/n and taehyung are like two little kids with little crushes on each other
✎ trigger warning(s): implications of getting an abortion!!
✎ wordcount: 10.5k
✎ summary: y/n is a very single mom and taehyung is a very single kindergarten teacher. emma knows exactly what she needs to do.''
freefall - @jtrbluv ♾️☼☻
''summary: hearing banging noises outside your front door at 11 at night could mean one out of two things. one, you are seconds away from getting chopped up by an axe murderer. two, someone is purposefully being an inconsiderate asshole.
or three, a fratboy from delta phi who goes by the name of kim taehyung faceplants in front of your door amidst a high-stakes game of… hide and seek?
pairing: taehyung x reader
genre: fluff, smut (pretty tame tbh! cuz it’s my first time eek), comedy, college!au, fratboy!au
word count: 10k
warnings: RATED 18+, grinding, dryhumping, palming, mentions of drugs and alcohol (yk regular frat shit), swearing, taehyung is a gentleman fr tho my gawd with a big co-''
farmer boy, i love you - @strawberrynamjoon ♾️☼☻
''– Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
– Genre: farming!au, lowkey e2l, smut, humor & tons of nagging
– Word count: 35k
– Summary: Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.
– Warnings: includes smut, alcohol and mentions death of a father''
The Crown That Is Ours - @taeshobipop ♾️Ω☻
''pairing: Taehyung x Reader
genre: fluff, angst, smut, royalty!au, arranged marriage!au, crown prince!th, princess!reader, idiots to lovers
summary: You never wished for it, but it was inevitable — an arranged marriage to a royal stranger. The Crown Prince Kim Taehyung.
A year into your marriage and life still holds you firmly in its grip. How do you plan to steer through this mess when the public suddenly comes knocking at your door, pitchforks and torches in hand, threatening: “death to all who commit fraud!”
rating: 18+ sexual content.''
Rent-a-Boyfriend - @jimlingss ♾️
''Words: 12k
Genre: Extreme fluff for all you bitter people out there (me being included)
Are YOU lonely? Need someone to cuddle at night? Do you want love?
If you said 'yes' to any of the questions previously mentioned then we have a service for you!
Don't be alone for this Valentine's Day!
Come Rent-a-Boyfriend!™
(terms and conditions may apply. we are not responsible for any emotional or sentimental damages. please take caution with rent-a-boyfriend). ''
Jeon Jungkook
series:
new girl - @jjkeverlast ♾️☼☻¶
''☞ summary after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong? – inspired by the FOX series New Girl.
☞ pairing jeon jungkook x female reader
☞ genre roommates!au, roommates to lovers, romantic comedy
☞ status completed!
☞ rated mature (+18)''
Her - @jungk0oksthighs ♾️Ω☻
''bestfriend!jungkook, tattooist!jungkook, F2L, fluff, smut, angst
“And even if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay – I’ll always be here for you.” ''
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oneshots:
like stars in a constellation - @taegills ♾️Ω ¶
''↬ meeting in reverse au
pairing: jeon jungkook | reader
genre: slight sci-fi, fluff, angst
word count: 20.9k
summary: And at midnight, as you sit there and contemplate how the two of you were like stars in a constellation, you watch the sky with bated breath. Because somehow, for the first time since you got caught up in all of this a year ago, it almost seems like the stars are finally spiraling backwards and time feels a little more still than ever before. And when you hear your name, you turn around so fast that the world stops spinning''
the universe of us. - @taesthetes ♾️Ω ¶
'' “I love you.” — “I know.”
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | kim taehyung x reader
genre: slight comedy, angst, fluff
type: dream / fantasy / slice of life au
word count: 21,112 words
warnings: none''
tangled webs - @ughseoks ♾️Ω
''— pairing; spiderman!jungkook x reader
— genre/au; soulmate au / spiderman au / angst, fluff
— rating; pg15
— word count; 14.1k
— summary; Soulmates are tricky thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their destinies intertwined with their missing piece. Signs come in dreams for those fortunate souls; short bursts that are barely memorable when the sun rises. As for you? Flashes of red and blue are your only indicators to the identity of your other half.''
Hopping Mad for You - @readyplayerhobi ♾️☻
''; Rabbit Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader
; Genre: Fluff, smut
; Word Count: 9.7k
; Warnings: Unprotected sex, handjob, blowjob, virgin sex, virgin!Jungkook, pretty sub!Jungkook
; Synopsis: For two years you’ve lived with your rabbit hybrid roommate, Jungkook. He’s been a model roommate and you’ve found yourself with little complaints. But his behaviour lately has been a little…unusual.''
Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea ♾️Ω ☻ ☼
''Spider-Man!AU | Peter Parker!Jungkook x Reader
genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst
rating: explicit
description: In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?
word count: 11.5k''
The Love Plaza - @mayolive-writes ♾️☻ ☼
''Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader
Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.
Wordcount: 4102
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)''
the underwear thief - @gukyi ♾️☻
''summary: jeon jungkook would like to make one thing very clear: it’s not his fault.
{neighbors!au}
pairing: jungkook x female reader
word count: 10k
genre: fluff, smut''
1999 - @tattookoo ♾️Ω ☻ ☼
''summary: the year was 1999. boybands were wearing all-white outfits, everybody wanted an ibook or a tamagotchi, tlc didn’t want no scrubs, fight club was playing in movie theaters and you became jeon jungkook’s fake girlfriend in order to fix his reputation.
pairing: campus royalty!jungkook x f reader
genre: one shot, 90s au, college au, hockey au, childhood neighbors to friends to idiots to lovers, fake dating, fluff, crack, angst, smut rating: 18+
word count: 17.9k''
tuesdays - @axialitae ♾️Ω
''tldr. you believe your very reserved, reclusive roommate jungkook is a peculiar boy who’s far too concerned with how you spend your tuesdays.
💭 prompt. “i don’t owe you an explanation.”
🤍 pairing. jungkook x f.reader.
🐻❄️ genre. non-idol au. pure domestic fluff. tiny angst. roomies + kinda dumb-dumbs to luvrs.
☁️ word count. 12.1k''
Tamped - @chimoona ♾️Ω ☻ ☼
''Pairing: Shop Owner!Reader x Barista!Jungkook/Switch!Jungkook/Baby Boy!Koo, Reader x Dom!Yoongi (for, like, a second)
Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor, Slow Burn, Mild Angst/Jealousy | Barista AU
Word Count: 19.7K
Rating: M (18+)
Summary: You and your business partner/best friend Jin have struggled to find good help to run your coffee shop. Employee after employee, it just never worked out. However, Jungkook is determined to impress and deliver. He wants this more than ever, and it always feels good to want something. To need, well, that’s even better.''
(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker - @blog-name-idk ♾️☻ ☼
''Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader
Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut
Summary: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love.
Word Count: 12,353''
OT7
series:
The Return of an Empress - @you-are-my-joy ♾️Ω ☻ ☼¶
''Status: Completed
Pairing: OT7 x Reader
Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut
Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook
Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.
Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.
Total Word Count: 280,808''
mother knows best - @seokth ♾️☼ ¶
''pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader
summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.
warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au''
The Flower Path - @stellalunatmblr ♾️Ω ¶
''Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; rom-com (romance as a subplot), slow burn (the slowest of burns holy moly i cannot stress this enough), fluff, angst (will update tags along the way)
Status: Ongoing [HOLD]
Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.
Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law''
operation: love letters - @ve1vetyoongi ♾️Ω ¶
''Sign up for the Love Calculator today to find your perfect match?
➤ YES | NO
♡ …L O A D I N G…Y O U R…M A T C H E S… ♡
♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.
♡ ⇢ wordcount: est 30k total.
♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.
♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!''
The Galaxy Above Us - @agustdakasuga ♾️Ω
''Genre: Gods!AU, Fantasy, Romance, Fluff
Pairing: OT7 x Reader
Characters: Normal!Reader, God of Wisdom!Namjoon, God of Life!Seokjin, God of the Moon!Yoongi, God of Festivity!Hoseok, God of the Sun!Jimin, God of Nature!Taehyung, God of Arts!Jungkook
Summary: Just when you thought that you life was at its end, you were ready to disappear but a door appears in front of you. Above you was the milky way and awaiting you were the celestial beings that waited their whole lives for you. To show the galaxy that was made for you.''
Everything Falls (Into Place) - @blog-name-idk ♾️☻ ☼
''Pairing: OT7 x Fem Reader
Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut
Summary: Your new roommates are unbearably nice and unbearably hot. Good thing you're an adult who is fully capable of platonic friendships with the opposite sex, right?
Word Count: 90,211
Rating: 18+''
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oneshots:
until the last star falls - @minniepetals ♾️Ω ¶
''— summary: it was a love you knew would never make it out alive without sacrificing a part of your happiness to receive a greater happiness. but for them, you’d go to any extreme to have them again, and for you, they will always remind you each day that you are theirs and that nothing can tear you apart, not even until the last star falls.
— pairing: underworld lords!bts × shield!reader
— genre: fluff, angst / reincarnation!au / poly!au / gods!au
— word count: 44.4k ”
Spooked - @alpacaparkaseok ♾️☼
''Pairing:best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀
Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?
So, so much.
Word Count: 4k''
#bts fanfic#bts fic recs#jimin fic recs#taehyung fic recs#jungkook fic recs#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin x y/n#taehyung x y/n#jungkook x y/n#ot7 x reader#platonic!bts ot7 x reader#ot7 x yn#ot7 fic rec#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts crack#jimin fluff#taehyung fluff#jungkook fluff#bts f2l#bts friends to lovers#bts fluff
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