#like yeah she's seen him get hurt plenty of times | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangisms · 5 months

Text

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

#he fell first AND he fell harder #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fluff #idiots in love #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #cedric #Spotify

678 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 8 months

Text

Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes

summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.

warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff

word count: 3.9k+

MASTERLIST

this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!

You weren’t expecting to feel this way.

You didn’t think this feeling was real.

Love.

You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.

You’ve never been more wrong.

February 20, 2021

“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!”

“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park. Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.”

Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it.

“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”

“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said.

“In Twilight they sparkled!”

“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.”

“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!”

“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.”

“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.”

You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it.

When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them.

“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”

“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”

“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered.

Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.

“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”

“I do,” Quinn confirmed.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”

You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there.

“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.

Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”

“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances.

“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge.

“I’m in.”

Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him.

He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones.

“You did not!” Quinn laughed.

“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.”

Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response.

“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car.

“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted.

You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex.

“Me either,” he smiled.

As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same.

Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.

Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it.

The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need.

It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm.

It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn.

“That was—“

“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.”

All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch.

Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”

“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled.

You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done.

March 16, 2021

You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official.

“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders.

“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!”

“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”

“I didn’t say forever!”

“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”

You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall.

You weren’t scared of jumping.

Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon.

You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here.

“Mack, could you—“

“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door.

You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek.

“Shit!”

“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”

“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?”

Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.”

If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance.

“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs.

Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face.

You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained.

“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily.

Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.

“They’re beautiful,” you told him.

“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered.

“You flirt,” you blushed.

You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio.

When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment.

You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him.

“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.

“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”

“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!”

Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.

“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”

Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”

You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.

This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy.

Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted.

Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled.

“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”

“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked.

You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more.

When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Positive.”

Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”

April 14, 2021

You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it.

Love.

You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.

“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her.

“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”

“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.

“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning.

Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”

“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.

“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes.

“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”

Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.

“Did you mean that?”

You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.

“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”

Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.

“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.

“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”

“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”

The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for.

Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes reader insert #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fanfiction

624 notes · View notes

octoberclidan · 7 months

Text

You Don't Deserve That

Request: Could I request a story where Y/N has a boyfriend, who is very verbally abusive and Dean shows up to see Y/N, in the midst of one of their arguments and comes to defend her? She has a bad anxiety attack and Dean is there to comfort her and show her she deserves better? Thank you xx

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

"Hey can you just drop me off at the bar instead of the bunker?" [Y/N] asked from the back seat of the Impala. Sam, Dean and [Y/N] were on their way back from a salt and burn case that had gone pretty well.

"Are we not all going to the bar later to celebrate?" Sam asked, turning around to look at her.

"Oh, yeah but Ian wants to meet up so I figured I'd meet him there early and then see you guys later when you're ready to come out?"

"Ian, huh? Still seeing him?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Yep". [Y/N] popped her 'p' and looked out of the window. Dean didn't approve of Ian, and he'd been vocal about it over the last few months that she'd been seeing him. He'd only met him twice, but he hadn't liked the way he spoke, the way he dressed, his hair, his jokes. Everything about Ian was labelled as 'stupid' or 'dickish' or met with Dean rolling his eyes. That was without him knowing the worst of it. From what Dean had seen, Ian was confident, arrogant, and handsy with [Y/N]. Dean had never formally voiced his concerns about the relationship, but he'd made plenty of comments about Ian.

"Is it serious?" He asked and [Y/N] rolled her eyes.

"We've been together like three months. I'm a hunter, he's oblivious. No, it's not serious. Not that it's any of your business anyway". She grumbled, continuing to look out the window, avoiding the glance she knew Dean would give her in the rear view mirror. The truth was, it was serious, but not in the way that Dean was asking. She had almost broken up with Ian over ten times since she started seeing him, but she never went though with it. Ian would take her out on dates, like to dinner or the movies, even out for a picnic a few times, and he'd always be sweet and caring. He had a darker side though. He was demanding, possessive, distrusting, and he liked to yell. He had never physically hurt her, but he'd said extremely hurtful things to her. He'd insulted her intelligence, her opinions, her looks... any time he was slightly annoyed at anything, he'd take it out on her.

She didn't just take it though, she often yelled back at him, or if it was over the phone, would just hang up on him. Every single time, after he'd calmed down, he'd apologise and compliment her on everything and beg for forgiveness. So far, she'd given it. She knew it wasn't a healthy relationship, but she figured that may be for the best. She wasn't one for one night stands or sleeping with strangers, and when it came to romance, she hated first dates. Being a hunter, she was also apprehensive about any sort of serious and committed relationship. She'd either have to lie about her hunting life, never invite them to the bunker, and never let them get that close, or, she'd let them in to her dangerous world and risk losing herself in heartbreak. This way, she had someone to go on dates with, someone to text, someone to have fun with, and not develop serious feelings. Recently however, his behaviour and unkind words were taking their toll on her.

Both Sam and Dean had noticed her spending a lot more time on her own in her room, not wanting to talk to anyone after coming home from seeing Ian, not wanting to talk about anything other than whatever hunt was next, and not hanging out with them as much. They'd talked about it between the two of them, but they hadn't confronted [Y/N] about it yet. They were both worried about it, but neither of them knew what it was really like.

"Alright, we'll probably meet you in a couple of hours, okay?" Sam asked as Dean pulled up beside the bar.

"Sure, see you then". She opened up her door and grabbed her purse before heading off into the bar, the boys watching as she disappeared inside.

"We'll make it an hour". Dean said as he began to pull away. Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean scoffed at him. "Don't look at me like that".

***

It was only forty-five minutes later that Dean and Sam arrived back at the bar. Before Dean could open his door, Sam stopped him. "Dude, do you have feelings for her?"

"For who?"

"[Y/N]. We barely got back to the bunker before you wanted to get back here".

"I just want a drink". Dean shook his head at Sam.

"We have drinks at home".

"Yeah, well no offence Sammy but sometimes I want to enjoy the atmosphere, not sit around the bunker".

"You don't mind sitting around the bunker when [Y/N]'s there".

"She's a friend, I like her company, so what?" Dean said before finally opening his door and stepping out into the cool evening air, not waiting for Sam's response. The two of them walked through the door, their attention immediately drawn towards a noise that everyone else in the bar was already turning their heads to. Dean's heart sank as he saw the source of the noise. Ian was there, the vains in his neck popping as he shouted, almost screamed at [Y/N]. She was shouting back at him, but Dean didn't miss the tears falling from her eyes. Without so much as a second thought, he marched over to them, shoving onlookers to the side as Sam followed behind him, quietly apologising to those who had been in Dean's way.

"You're always such a fucking useless slut! I paid for that drink and you just drop it on the floor?!" Ian shouted into [Y/N]'s face.

"For fuck's sake I didn't drop it on purpose you idiot! It was an accident, I told you I'd pay for my own drink anyway!" She was visibly shaking as she shouted back at him. [Y/N] was an experienced hunter, much like Sam and Dean, and although she was tough and could handle most situations by herself, she was also a lot more sensitive than the boys. She had no problem fighting monsters, but she hated verbal confrontation, especially with people she knew, who she was supposed to be close to. Dean remembered one fight he had with her, not too long after they'd started hunting, and from the way she reacted, he promised never to get angry at her again. His heart couldn't take it, she had locked herself in her room crying for hours, not letting him in while his guilt consumed him. If he had an issue with something she had said or done, he'd vowed to have a calm discussion about it and never shout at her. It had been a struggle, Dean often lost his temper on hunts when someone nearly got hurt, but he had done his best to try when it came to [Y/N].

Seeing Ian shouting in her face was too much for him. He didn't care who was watching, he didn't care what the argument was about. No one was allowed to shout at [Y/N], not while he was there. He shoved Ian to the side, and Ian stumbled, grabbing on to the people standing there for balance. He stared at Dean in shock while Dean completely ignored him, making straight for [Y/N], grabbing her shoulders and immediately pulling her in to his chest. Ian began to walk towards them, glaring at them but Sam stepped in first. Sam placed his hand on Ian's shoulder and looked down at him, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't". He didn't need to say anything else for Ian to back down. He stared him down until Ian submitted, taking one last look at [Y/N] before turning around and storming out of the bar.

"C'mon, let's get you home". Dean said quietly into [Y/N]'s ear. All she did was nod before he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and followed Sam back out to the car. He quickly threw Sam the keys before opening the back door and sliding in, pulling her in after him. She shuffled closer to him as the engine started, and he held her close as they drove back to the bunker without a word. [Y/N] was sniffling and trying to catch her breath, wiping her eyes every so often when the tears spilt over. Dean's jaw was clenched, thinking up all of the scenarios he would love to be in to get Ian alone.

"We'll be in in awhile". Dean said as Sam turned off the engine in the bunker's garage. He nodded and got out of the car, leaving the two of them alone. "Hey, look at me". Dean pulled back slightly and hooked his index finger under her chin, pulling her up to look at him. She kept looking down however, not wanting eye contact.

"I... I don't know what to say". She sniffed, wiping her tear. "I feel so... so stupid. You probably think I'm stupid".

"[Y/N], you are not stupid. Don't you let that dick's words get into your head, okay? He's the stupid one, treating you like that". He shook his head disapprovingly. "You don't deserve that".

"I don't know what I deserve Dean". She cleared her throat as she tried to swallow back more tears. "I.. I just..." She took a moment to collect her thoughts, but it was difficult, every shouting match suddenly trying to resurface in her memory at once. "I don't know what to do". The tears spilled over again and she began to sob, pushing Dean's hand away from her chin so she could bury her face in his shoulder.

"How long has this been going on for?" He asked after the sobbing had quietened a little, and she shrugged.

"The whole time". She mumbled into his shoulder, embarrassment now starting to take over the anxiety from the fight. Dean held back his anger as he brought his hand up to rest on her back, starting to rub up and down soothingly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... I knew you'd just tell me to end things with him"

"Damn right I would have, and I would have been right to tell you that".

"Yeah well that's the problem Dean". She leaned back, now letting him see her face properly. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained with tears. He instinctively raised his hand to use his thumb to wipe away a fresh tear.

"I don't get it, why didn't you end things?"

"Because!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Because...". She sighed and tried again. "Because, sometimes I just want someone to go on nice dates with. Someone to sleep with. Someone to take my thoughts off monsters and demons. Ian did that, okay? Yeah, he had a temper, and yeah we fought a lot and yeah, he wasn't a nice person. But I needed the nice stuff he did do. I don't do one night stands like you or Sam do, I just don't like them. I crave intimacy but it's not exactly easy to maintain a relationship when you're in our line of business. Ian was the best I could do".

"You don't need Ian". He wiped away yet another tear that fell from her eye, his hand lowering to linger on her neck.

"Well it's definitely over now". She sniffed and crossed her arms. "I'll just deal with being lonely again until someone else comes along, however far away that's going to be".

"What kind of intimacy do you need?" He asked, gazing into her eyes.

"What?"

"Tell me, tell me what you need".

"I just... I dunno. I need emotional intimacy. Someone to rant to about all the crap I'm feeling, someone to text when I'm feeling lonely, someone to say goodnight to. Someone to go on picnics with and laugh with and cry with. And I need the physical intimacy too. I want someone to want me, to desire me. I want to hold hands, cuddle up to a movie, wake up in someone's arms. I want someone to kiss me like they need me and make love to me like they want it more than anything". She looked away from him, feeling even more embarrassed about this confession. "Yeah, it's stupid considering I'm a hunter, but it's the truth".

"What if you could get that here?"

"What do you mean?" She frowned at him, confused. He shifted in his seat so he was facing her straight on.

"I mean, what if you could get the emotional intimacy and..." He cleared his throught, a light tinge on pink appearing beneath his freckles. "And the uh.. physical intimacy, right here?"

"What are you talking about Dean? Right here?"

"From me". Her eyes widened as she watched his face for any sign of a poorly timed joke, but he remained serious. "I can give you those things if you want them. I want them".

"You want to listen to me rant?"

"Yes".

"And... text me?"

"Yes, though we're usually in the same place". He chuckled.

"And you want to go on picnics?"

"I already know all of your favourite foods". He nodded.

"And hold my hand?"

"If you offer it to me".

"And cuddle me when watching a movie?"

"We've got the perfect set up in the Dean Cave".

"And... kiss me?"

"Okay". He smiled at her and slid his hand to the back of her neck, glancing down at her lips before leaning in slowly, giving her a chance to pull away. She didn't, she just looked down at his lips, her eyes closing right before the small gap between them closed. He pressed his lips to hers. He sighed as though he'd just sunk into a hot bath, or taken his boots off after a long day, it was instant comfort. She dropped her hands to his thigh, feeling the solid and powerful muscle below the denim. His free hand came to rest on her hip, his fingers dipping under her shirt to graze her bare skin. She shivered slightly at the contact before sliding one of her hands up his thigh, smiling into the kiss as she felt him shiver too.

Their mouths opened at the same time, Dean groaning as his tongue slipped into her mouth, his grip on her hip tightening while his other hand pushed up into her hair. He pulled her hair gently, [Y/N] moaning as their kiss broke. He used the opportunity to kiss her bottom lip, then her cheek, down her jaw and settling into her neck, where he left open mouthed kisses, allowing his hand to glide further up under her shirt until his fingers were resting underneath her bra. She trailed her hands up his shirt and over his shoulders and up his neck until they stopped at his jaw, his light stubble tickling the palms of her hands. "Dean". She whispered and he mumbled into her neck, the vibrations pulling a soft moan from her. "You want to sleep with me?"

He pulled away from her neck and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, both of his hands now cupping her face too. He gently pecked her nose, revelling in the little giggle she made before leaning his forehead against hers and breathing in deeply. "I want to make love to you, [Y/N]. I want to wake up with you in my arms. I want to give you everything you need".

"What do you need?" She asked, her voice slightly shaky, not quite believing the conversation she was having with Dean Winchester.

"You. I need you".

"You have me". She whispered. She wasn't sure how all of this was going to work, but in that moment she needed Dean and Dean needed her, everything else could wait.

The end

550 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 4 months

Text

Flowers (1) - Sunflower

Summary: A sunflower brings the end. (The sunflower is seen as a sign of hope and warmth, positivity and strength, strong bonds and lasting happiness.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of FWB arrangement

A/N: A short drabble.

Flowers masterlist

A simple flower shouldn’t make you sad or break your heart.

The sunflower in his hand wasn’t for you, as you thought. He gave it to someone else.

Her name is Dolores, or Dot for her friends. A new agent, and red-haired devil. Everyone believes she’s nice and tough. You know she’s the devil in disguise.

You never liked her but tried to pretend you didn’t see the looks she gave you whenever you got too close to James.

One day she just stumbled into your life, to mess things up between you and him. Who would’ve thought that a pretty face could ruin the arrangement you and Bucky had?

It was sex only. A simple arrangement to find solace in times of need.

For almost three years you and Bucky were inseparable. You were devoted to him, and he would never leave your side for too long.

It was your fault that you believed there was more between you and the brunette super-soldier than physical attraction.

He never brought you flowers or laughed about your non-funny jokes. All he ever did was take you apart in the best way possible.

Bucky is smitten with that pretty agent, and you cannot do shit to stop him from giving her flowers. You never put a label on what you had with him. Now your decision bites you in the ass.

“They are a cute couple, don’t you think?” Another agent said. You didn’t remember her name, and honestly, you didn’t want to. “I wonder if he’s finally going to ask her out.”

You hummed and held back a snarky comment. “Why do you think he will?” You said instead. “He barely knows her.”

“Yeah, but he’s always so happy when she’s around. Usually, Sergeant Barnes is grumpy and broody. But when Dottie is around, he’s a ray of sunshine.”

“A ray of sunshine, sure,” you gritted your teeth when Bucky offered the sunflower to Dot. It hurt too damn much. “How about you mind your business?”

“No need to get bitchy,” she snapped at you. “If you don’t find it romantic when a man gives a woman flowers, it’s not my fault.”

“Well, a few hours ago he gave something better to me,” you gave her a bitchface. “He shouldn’t dance on too many parties, don’t you think?”

She gaped at you, but you didn’t give a shit. It was not the time for pleasantries. Not while you had to watch Dot squeal and hug your man.

You should’ve cried or already missed his warmth. Oddly, all you could think about at that very moment was that no man would ever feel so good inside of you as he did.

You forced yourself to turn around and walk away. If Bucky wanted the sweet agent with a heart of gold, so be it. Crying over spilled milk never was your style.

There are plenty of other fish in the sea…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Sunflower #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n

216 notes · View notes

oceantornadoo · 5 months

Text

reunited at the yoga studio

simon left without a word three years ago, and now he was here at the yoga class you taught.

angsty, no smut (unfortunately), hurt and comfort, slightly fluffy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“come on, l.t., it’ll be fun. plus, we’re already here.” soap urged ghost into the yoga studio with vigor, eager to make his lieutenant loosen up. “she’s a 70 years old lass with the flexibility of a damn olympian, you have to meet her.” for the past three weeks they had been on leave, soap had been ranting about his new favorite yoga teacher, a lady named marcia who taught a class on releasing physical trauma. finally, finally, he had convinced ghost to come with, who had relented only out of pure curiosity. they walked in, ghost wearing a clinical mask on the bottom half of his face. the teacher wasn’t there to greet them, uncommon but not unheard of, and ghost urged them to place their mats in the back, wanting a quick escape if needed. he followed soap’s routine, taking off his shoes and readying his water bottle. and then, you walked in.

“hi everyone! i’m covering for marcia, she had a last minute emergency, nothing to worry about. let’s get started, yeah?” ghost was reeling. you were here, and you were a yoga teacher? he hadn’t seen you in three years, memories of that terrible breakup coming to mind. his heart started pounding and his fingers itched to move, but that would only draw further attention to him. he resolved to be as quiet as a mouse, viewing this as a stealth mission instead of a yoga class. soap noticed immediately but said nothing, figuring it was because of the amount of people instead of a specific person.

you led the 45 minute class with confidence, noting ghost’s shyness but not noticing him. plenty of people were uncomfortable doing yoga, so you wrote it off as another shy participant and moved on. as the class ended, you had everyone stand facing you, and finally noticed. those dark brown eyes, that dark blonde-brown hair slightly grown out from his military buzzcut. the breadth of his shoulders, breathing slightly with exertion from the end of the class. he locked eyes with you as you whispered “namaste”, all the air rushing out of your lungs like a punch to the gut. people were moving, coming up to you as you thanked them robotically, your eyes locked on ghost’s form. the class cleared out but he was taking his time putting on his shoes on the ground, a man you figured was his friend waiting patiently beside him. you marched towards him like you were walking through water, each step harder and harder to take.

ghost knew he couldn’t ignore you any longer, couldn’t make a quick getaway as he had waited too long. he could have put his shoes on faster but had stayed, whether it was to self-flagellate or out of morbid curiosity, he didn’t know. he felt like he was watching himself from above, seeing you approach him like you would a wild animal. he readied himself for battle, muttering to soap that he would see him later. soap cleared the room, brows knitting in confusion at the scene. finally, ghost turned his head up at you, making peace with the pain that was sure to follow. he was always one step from death, but somehow this felt harder.

“since when are you a yoga teacher?” he spoke first, wanting to break the ice.

“a lot can change in three years, simon. you would know.” you said, all bark no bite. you took a seat in front of him on the floor, thankful that you were done with classes for the day. you’d need a lot of recovery time after this.

“no one’s called me that in a long time. good for you, dove.”

“no one has called me that in a long time too. you’re a blast from the past.” he was nervous, hands running through his hair as he tried to maintain eye contact. ghost didn’t get overwhelmed, couldn’t afford it on the battlefield, but simon did. you always did manage to bring simon to the surface, with your fleeting smiles and gentle words.

“i’m s-”

“what are-”

you both stopped and gave a short laugh. you gestured at him, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“i’m sorry for the way i left. you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve anything i did, dove.” his comment took you off guard. the simon you knew, the simon you had dated for two years before he left in that night, never apologized. he had never taken accountability for the way he made you feel, with his gruff words and long silences.

“oh. thank you, that actually means a lot. what are you doing here?”

“soap’s tryin’ get me out of the house, kept going on and on about his teacher marcia. imagine my surprise when you walked through that door instead.” you laughed despite yourself, remembering how much of a homebody simon had been. you had always been pleading him to go out, take you on a date, anything. some things never changed. you fidgeted and, without meaning to, glanced at his left hand. bare.

“‘m not married. if you were wonderin’.” simon was gaining more courage now. you hadn’t yelled or hit him yet, so he figured time had healed some of your wounds. he took off his mask and slipped it into his pocket, never afraid to show his face around you, even years later. you gave him a shy smile, embarrassed you had been caught looking. he noticed your hand was bare as well, but he wanted to make sure before he got his hopes up.

“are you? attached?”

“no, i-, i’m not. i was dating this guy for a year but we broke up when i wanted to get married and he didn’t.”

“bastard. i should have been the only stupid guy to leave you.” he was trying to lighten the mood, but you still had a burning question you needed to know. you had moved on from the past, figuring he had his own reasons, but the hurt still lingered. the voice in the back of your head still told you you were unlovable, someone no one wanted to stay with forever.

“why did you? leave me, i mean.” the mood dropped, the air tense with anticipation. you had wanted to know for years as the nights of almost drunk texting him were too many to count. you straightened your spine, projecting confidence as his slowly faded, his eyes searching the ground. simon was a big man, huge even, but in that moment he looked so small.

“it was never about you, i want you to know that. that night, i-. it was too real. we had just had that date, and i almost asked you to marry me right there. i couldn’t do it. knew you’d be tied to me forever, and that some day i’d break your heart. turn into my father or go m.i.a., who knows. so i decided to do it then, when i still had control. worst decision of my life, love.” he locked eyes with you as he said his last sentence, emotion swimming behind his eyes. simon had never communicated with you like this, willingly telling you about his thoughts and feelings. you could sense the change in him, more mature and self-assured than he had been three years ago. unshed tears gathered in your eyes, bringing back all those feelings of hopelessness and abandonment that had haunted you in the months after. the sleepless nights wearing his t shirt, the smell of him slowly fading until you donated it.

simon was hurting, aching. he was trying so hard, using all of those tools the base psychiatrist had talked to him about over the years. the man he had been three years ago was fully ghost, consumed by fear and hiding it well, until he broke down and left. now he knew how to separate the two, how to take off the mask and let simon come out. now, he was some semblance of a real man, no longer broken by the crippling shadow of his father. there had been a few girls in the years after the breakup, barracks bunnies and friends with benefits, but no one as ever serious as you. seeing you here was a sign that all his hard work had been for something. and finding out you were single? he couldn’t let you get away again.

“let me take you out, on a real date. let me make everything up.” suddenly he was pleading, hand stroking your face as you shed tears at his words. “i’m not afraid anymore.” he said quietly, sacred words in the peace of the yoga studio. your head snapped up, anger clouding your judgement.

“how can you say that? how can you promise that? after what you did? i was distraught, simon. i thought you cheated, had a secret wife or something. something to explain how you just left, left us.”

“there’s no one else, dove. there never was. it was just me and my past. i haven’t loved anyone since i started loving you.” loving. as in present tense. you locked eyes with him, tears drying as you cleared your throat.

“loving?”

“loving. i’m a better man now. let me show you, please.” he stood up, offering his hand to you to help you up. you stood up and he didn’t drop your hand, instead giving it a short squeeze. simon was still as breathtaking as he was the day he left, even more now with more wrinkles and scars on him. he was cool and confident, and suddenly you wanted to know everything about this new man in front of you. the one who insinuated he still loved you. the one who shattered your heart and was here three years later, offering to mend it with bare hands and that damn british accent.

“coffee?” you waited, long enough to make him itch. just to get back a little.

“okay.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #angst #cod 141 #tornadothoughts

350 notes · View notes

velvetmud · 1 year

Text

tongue ring temptation

your father’s neighbor and close friend joel is fixated on your tongue piercing and fantasizes about all the things you could do with it.

warning(s): 18+ smut, dbf!joel, 69ing, daddy kink, dirty talk, age gap, let me go on…….

not a request, just an idea I had cause I think tatts and piercings in weird places is hot. dad’s best friend!joel is late 30s/early 40s, meets reader when she’s 18, takes places while she’s mid early 20s. joel is for sure a weirdo.

au no outbreak, just the dad’s best friend dynamic is so taboo and hot imo so I had to join the bandwagon and write this filth. anyways!!! thank you for clicking and reading and interacting:) it’s seen and super appreciated !

honestly, you didn’t know how the word got around about your new tongue ring so fast. either way, when your family tried asking about it, you declared it as nothing but a fashion statement. and sure, there’d been plenty of curious eyes trying to catch a peek since.

but really, the only pair of eyes burning the back of your head so persistently, almost shamelessly was always joel miller. joel, mr. miller, the mystery man that lives alone down the street. also amongst your father’s neighborhood friend group. even if joel was a little on the quieter side compared to the rest, it wasn’t hard to see what he thought about you.

it’s just this phase she’s going through, your father says to joel as they lay in lawn chairs in the backyard. she’s just a punk-y kind of girl. I don’t even know how many times she’s come home during the holidays with another tattoo or a new hole in her face. barely recognize her anymore. kids, am I right?

joel’s grip around the can of beer almost crushed it. he forces himself to refrain from giving any kind of reaction. the adam’s apple in his throat bobbed up and down as he gathers up more stoicism and some goddamn composure.

“yeah. guess she is lookin’ pretty different nowadays.”

joel doesn’t know what else to say after that. he gulps down the rest of his cold brew and turns his head to dreamily stare off into the window of your vacant bedroom.

even if it’s only allowed for a brief moment, his mind still goes wild thinking of how gorgeous you’d look choking on every inch of his dick while he fucked your mouth relentlessly. in an instant, his body feeds him some more fantasy fuel. his dick slowly sprang up, on the verge of begging for at least a little attention and relief in his jeans.

and yeah, he already can’t help it anymore.

his mind drifted off further away, beginning to imagine the kinds of things you could do with that new stud in your tongue. how much hotter it’ll be kissing you with it. swirling his own tongue around the ball. maybe after tonight he’ll look up some vibrating tongue rings from the mall to buy you—

your dad’s phone rings obnoxiously, snapping joel out of his embarrassing daze. he watched in the corner of his eye as your father’s face lit up after answering it.

“there she is. late flight, huh? come say hi to me and joel out back once you get here, honey.”

throughout the night it wouldn’t have been as much heinous torture if you hadn’t been reciprocating all of his micro advances.

he’d lick his lips like he was parched while you’d talk and catch up with him and your parents. felt even more devious when you’d absentmindedly start playing with the shiny silver ball in your mouth. like a secret just for him to see.

he makes an innocent attempt at conversation alone while your parents do their own bickering. joel had asked you if it hurt when you got it. you wanna roll your eyes at such a typical question, but he seems genuinely baffled. still laughing it off, you go on explaining it only hurt to eat and you had to hold off on smoking for a bit but now it’s all healed. completely.

implying you could do whatever he wanted to him and then some.

around midnight was when the casual ‘welcome home’ shindig was over. joel helped load your luggage upstairs, helped your parents clean up and even helped wash the dishes right next to you.

someway and somehow, there was an unspoken bet that both of you should just play pretend when it was time to say goodbye, meet up later some place elsewhere. where you could both be alone.

joel has a subtle smirk pointed at you, looking like you possess this dirty little secret only the two of you share. the tension in the room has you two in a chokehold. he slowly moves in to hug you, tightening once both of you loosen up and relax into it. before you have a chance to say anything, your parents are right back behind and waiting to say their goodbyes to joel too.

he eats the moment up, wanting to take the opportunity to turn you red as a tomato again.

“I feel bad for your dad, you’re really growin’ up pretty, sweetheart. probably already breakin’ hearts.”

you barely register your parents in the background giving their ooohs and awwws about how much you’ve grown up too. your dad agrees with him, that he really is fucked. joel thinks he doesn’t know the half of it. they say their good nights and good byes, and joel steadily keeps his eye on you knowingly.

about an hour later, you’re treading lightly down the dark street to his house, knocking rhythmically with both fists on his back door.

joel is shirtless in old plaid pajamas as he slides the screen door open and turns a light on. when the initial shock and excitement washes over him, so does the hesitance, and he goes on and on and on. tries to warn you about the consequences, and blah, blah, blah. luckily you’ve quickly found your way of easily shutting his worries down, going in and kissing across his jaw and down to his scruffy neck while you reassure him it’s okay, y’know. not like I’ll even dream of telling him about this. know you’ve thought about it too.

his breathing gets labored once you had him right where you wanted him, and he decides fuck it. it was only a matter of time before he was gonna do something about his problem anyway, with or without you here.

he was already going to hell for thinking about it, fantasizing about you and what skills you could show off with that tongue.

though you’ve known joel for a few years now, in your eyes he’d only ever been this shy, wounded, somewhat guarded man.

but now that you’re getting tangled up in his sheets, shedding your clothes sitting in between his toned legs, begging him to take you however he wants you; he doesn’t ever seem to shut the fuck up. he’s voicing everything he’s feeling, throwing names at you and controlling the pace however he wants. and it just makes you need him that much more, hearing how much he’s needed you all this time.

now you’re down on your knees because he shoved you there. he’s commando under his pajamas, the hard outline through the fabric making it pretty transparent.

you watch as it twitched and stubbornly whipped up and poked upwards against his stomach. he strokes the base lazily and breathes hard. you stick your tongue out invitingly.

“oh fuck—show me how good that ball on your tongue feels. yeah, that’s it—good girl. suck it all down, good little slut. mhmm.”

he cheered you on as you close your eyes and hum around the mouthful of his warm length. you feel the rapid heartbeat thumping, pulsing. with juicy fervor, your mouth starts to salivate as you suckle down the tip and swallow around whatever you can. you start to gain a sense of routine for what drove joel mad and use it to your advantage.

he moaned the longest whenever you made obscene efforts trying to wiggle the silver little ball around every one of his sensitive spots. or show it off while you flattened the length of your tongue to lick a strip from the bottom to the top.

the line beneath his tip down to the long thick vein gets your undivided attention and affection. the kitten licks give him more stimulation than he knows how to deal with. it’s so good that joel has to do a double take, yanking your face off of him. strings of spit still keep you both connected, and joel is tempted to take a fucking picture. he tries to catch his breath, angrily pinching the tip to keep himself from cumming.

he gives up only a second later and starts pumping himself with a loose grip, staring down at you while he mumbles “yeah, fuckin’ knew it. only dirty girls that like gettin’ their mouth used and fucked have these. you’re just made to drink up my cum, aren’t you? fuck. makes it so good. c’mon, open up.” he instructs, his gruff demeanor returning while his thumb pulls down on your plush bottom lip, opening your mouth up to him again.

you stick your tongue ring out with siren eyes gazing up at him. ducking your head lower, you start running the silver ball up the veiny base of his cock some more. precum slowly but surely starts dribbling out in little waves, sloppy right from the tip. you already found yourself missing what he sounds like when he’s helpless.

“fuck, stop, hold on,” he commands, the words coming out in depraved whimpers as his hands reach down to pull your head back. “enough. I wanna touch you some more.”

you unconsciously try hiding your blushing cheeks when he brought your face up to his. he grabs your chin and doesn’t allow you to hide anything from him. his palm is still pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face closer. it was as close as he’s let his lips near yours, and it started to look like he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

his big hands slide down your whole backside as he relented and connects his lips with yours. the fact that your mouth had just been going to work on his dick and he doesn’t even care. it occurred to you that that’s what might be turning him on even more while your lips slowly move together. he embraces the tang of his own pre-cum and finally goes in to play with your piercing. you hum in his mouth when he suddenly heaves you up in his lap, ripping his mouth from you and moving on to the descent of the valley between your breasts.

“these nipples sure would look real cute if you pierced them too,” he proclaims, mesmerized. two of his fingers grab one of your nipples and pinch the soft bud. it hardens while goosebumps trail beneath his touch.

“or maybe…” the pad of his finger wanders down your body all the way down to your eager clit. you immediately start rutting up against the perfect pressure. “maybe you could pierce this cute little clit next. make it feel good for both of us,” he grins, twisting the button and spits a decent amount down and rubs it in. you mewl and keen and whine out his name. “bet you’d just melt under me while I eat it. teasing you would be too fuckin’ easy.”

“thought about it over summer,” you admit. “didn’t have the money though.”

“I’ll get it for you,” he insists, head traveling down lower to stuff his face between your thighs. “think you’ll love it even more when I kiss it. tease it. looking so fucking pretty.”

you grab hold of his salt and pepper hair and comb your fingers through it, sighing and smiling. “really? you’d do that for me?”

joel nods while making himself at home. runs his tongue up and down your smooth entrance, warming up before he nuzzled his nose into your clit. the man takes the squeal coming from your mouth as a reward, and he licks up the evidence of your excitement.

“mmmhm. wanna see my cum on every tattoo, on every piercing,” he kisses your inner thigh and sticks his thumb to your chin. “starting with that tongue ring of yours, baby girl.”

“please, please joel—“

“fuck…” joel impatiently snakes the tip of his middle finger inside, feeling the wet warmth tempt him. “c’mere, I know we’re both so close. doing good for me. god, knew you were a daddy’s girl.”

your cheeks heat as slick gushed between your legs at the pet name he gave himself. you brace yourself for what elaborate plan he has next while he manhandled you around like you were nothing but a sack of grapes. he maneuvers your face in his lap while his face gets a full frontal.

“I cum on that tongue, you cum on mine.”

it’s hard not to drool when his length is in your face again, but you get the memo that he’s not fucking around anymore when you feel him plunge several fingers inside. his tongue joins to wet your clit and suck it like a gumdrop.

“joel, I’m—I’m really close, I can’t…”

“I know, I know. me too, me too just—just keep going,” he groans, feeling you clamp down around his fingers. it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be just as tight and wet around his cock. he physically aches from having to hold back, his moans buzzing through you while you gulp him down inch by inch.

you’re drunk on each other, faces stuffed in each other’s laps, in perfect sync with how close you are. sweat beads down your chest and you’re begging him to either let up or let you finish. the thick digits plunging inside you over and over make a hook. you clench down on him one last time and just barely let out your warning that there’s no hope left for you to keep lingering right at the edge.

“yeah, that’s my girl. that’s daddy’s girl. love makin’ you feel this good.”

his rough voice stutters out more blind praise while you make a slick mess. he laps up all of it, sultry greed taking over him while you come down.

just when you think you have time to recover, he’s flinging you right back down to your place on your knees. his cock is swollen and red as he fists and taps it on your mouth, signaling you to open up. hazy, you still do as you’re told and open wide, ready to catch everything he’ll give to you.

“shit, baby. that’s right, keep it open wide for me,” he panted. a deep, low warning follows as the first spurt of his cum lands right on the bullseye. your mouth is almost full by the end, and he doesn’t let a drop land anywhere else. a hand comes down to hold your jaw open before he goes down to merge you in a sloppy kiss. you feel his tongue move sensually against yours, playing more with your tongue ring. sharing the mouthful of his load.

he pulls away and wipes his mouth and tells you to swallow and show him again.

the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. you feel your limbs turn to jello and accept your fate when you try sitting up, only falling back over when he tugs you back down.

kissing your temple, he rubs your shoulder with ease before wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I uh, I know this isn’t exactly ideal,” he trails off, a post-nut wave of insecurity rushing through him when he thinks about the shit he let come out of his mouth. “but I’ve thought about that for a real long time.”

“oh, I know what you’ve thought about this whole time,” you chuckle, nuzzling your head in his shoulder and dragging a nail up and down his arm. “if I knew all’s I had to do what stick my tongue out at you, I would’ve done it forever ago. you’re easy.”

“I’m only a man, sweetheart. don’t even gotta bat those eyes and I knew I wanted you,” he finds your eyes and holds contact with sincerity.

both of you lean in and kiss once more. it isn’t leading anywhere this time. it’s just because you wanted to.

“oh and I stand by my word. we’re getting that clit pierced soon.”

you laugh and scoff and kiss him some more.

in the early hours of the morning, you’d fall asleep still wrapped around each other and sleep in late enough not to get home in time. your father’s words float back to joel’s head when he slowly wakes up and sees what time it is.

barely recognize her anymore. kids, am I right?

this is open ended on if they’re already this close to getting caught like fucking idiots, so I’ll leave it up in the air. thaaank you for reading and my ask is open, im still in the midst of writing existing prompts too.

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi !!

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #dbf Joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel tlou #joel miller/reader #tlou fanfiction #smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us HBO

588 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Text

TOUCH || (carmy x f!reader) [request]

Request: Jealous!Carmy

Touch || Carmy x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Content: 18+/Smut/MDNI

Tags: jealousy/possessive!Carmy, hair pulling, established past relationship, oral sex, drinking/intoxication, light angst. (they’re exes who aren’t over each other which makes it spicier).

Note: I barely ever write any jealousy-type things so hopefully this is still fun to read. (ending is opening to interpretation lmao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy’s wife, Adriana, always threw an extravagant holiday party. (“It’s a Christmas party, honey. Not holiday.” She’d always say whenever you asked about it). You were used to going after your brief time working at The Bear combined with the longer period of dating Carmy. You broke up in November, but Adriana still expected you there.

The risk of seeing Carmy was high, but the risk of pissing off Adriana was higher if you didn’t go.

The wine was expensive, the food plentiful, and the Christmas music blared across the house-wired speakers amidst a thousand conversations happening at once.

Adriana squealed upon seeing you, pulled you in and kissing both your cheeks. She smelled like expensive, heavy perfume. Her earrings sparkled beneath the lights and the diamonds within would cover your rent payment for the next three months.

“Ah! So good to see you, sweetheart.” She patted your cheek with her hand. “You must be starving! Go get some food.”

You slyly checked your wristwatch. You could mingle for an hour and then disappear without hurting anyone’s feelings. You moved through the standing circles of people talking, saying quick hellos to those who recognized you, and hiding your frown whenever they’d ultimately ask “Where’s Carmy? He’s not with you?”

You poured yourself a healthy glass of white wine, took a generous sip, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I can’t stand these things either.” An unfamiliar voice said beside you. You turned to look and discovered a well-groomed, square-jawed, and olive-skinned man with dark brown eyes smiling at you.

“Is it so obvious?”

“The wine gave you away.” He said while slicking back his shoulder-length, sleek dark hair.

You clicked your tongue then, stuck out your hand with a friendly introduction. It was easy enough to fall into conversation with him. Matteo, as he introduced himself, regaled you with stories of his villa in Sicily and his most recent trip to Barcelona. The wine loosened your tongue and you found yourself relaxing despite the nagging worry that Carmy would show up at any second.

You placed a hand over your chest in mock-astonishment. “You have a dog? And you didn’t bring the dog to the party?”

“He’s a puppy! He would chew all of Adriana’s expensive shoes.” Matteo laughed. “Here, let me show you a picture.” He pulled out his phone and swiped over to an album of an adorable, fluffy white Shih tzu. You leaned closer, your chest pressing into Matteo’s arm, and you cooed – cheeks warm from drinking – at the onslaught of cuteness on the phone screen.

“You gave him a bowtie?!” You giggled.

“He and I like to dress sharp.”

You said, “of course you do.” When you pulled away from his side, no longer hovering over his phone, your eyes naturally lifted to the room and a prickle of awareness buzzed down your skin. Your eyes locked onto tired, doleful blue ones. Carmy stood across the kitchen island with a red plastic plate in his hand. He wore a black button-down dress shirt and the same black jeans you’ve seen him wear at work a hundred times. A thousand emotions filtered through your brain and heart.

You missed him. You weren’t supposed to miss him. Your breakup had been the shittiest, most drawn out bullshit you endured this year. Realistically, you and Carmy were done in October, but he dragged his feet and refused to talk to you about anything that was going on. You ran out of patience, and he ran out of excuses. It was a slow-motion breakup that led to a metaphorical car crash. Two dead, no survivors.

Your lungs slowly deflated like a helium balloon. You put on a brave face and refilled your wineglass with a smile.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” You returned your gaze to Matteo, “you’re welcome to join me.”

Matteo’s hand settled on your lower back, “I will in a moment. I must talk to that fine gentleman over there.” He pointed to an older man in the dining room. He gave you another brilliant, white smile before slipping through the guests like oil. You avoided looking at Carmy as you left the kitchen and escaped through the glass doors leading to the backyard.

The cold, biting air nipped against your exposed legs and arms. You should’ve grabbed your coat before coming outside in midwinter with only a dress on. But you weren’t going to turn back now. You inhaled each frosted breath and tried to clear your warm, fuzzy head.

You needed to drive home. You couldn’t. All because you overestimated the power of Adriana’s fancy wine on an empty stomach. You sank onto the step and leaned your head against the support pillar by the door. Jimmy’s backyard was dusted in snow like powdered sugar. Or cocaine. You snorted into your wineglass.

The door opened behind you, “new boyfriend?” His voice made a flush of warmth erupt across your skin. Carmy sat beside you, and although nothing of his body touched yours, you felt the heat all the same. You took another courageous gulp of wine. Maybe if you blacked out, you’d stop feeling this way. This ache, and hollowness, and pain that echoed inside your chest. You wanted to claw your heart out and toss it, red and bloody, to the wolves. Coming here was a mistake.

“Maybe.” You retorted acidly.

Carmy scoffed and a puff of cigarette smoke swirled in front of your eyes. You tilted your head back and drained the rest of your glass. The wine burned on the way down and it was the only thing worth feeling.

He asked. “Did you eat anything?”

“No.”

“Seriously?” You nearly smiled at his affronted tone. Even before you were dating, Carmy would ask if you’d eaten, especially before the workday started. He’d tease you that you couldn’t survive off coffee alone and then throw something together or improve leftovers and drop them in front of you with a pointed look. You’d make a big show of taking a bite and being dramatic, saying ‘oh my god, I’m saved! I was famished!’ and he’d laugh and call you an asshole. Your heart burned.

“Mhm.” You rested your chin in your palm and finally glanced over at him, “you gonna lecture me?”

“I might.” He flicked the ashes off his cigarette, “you gonna – um – you gonna ask your new boyfriend for a ride home?”

“I think…” You pursed your lips and tried to remember your conversation with Matteo. “He came here on a yacht? So…no.”

You sighed and shrugged. “I’ll just call an Uber.”

“It’s a holiday. You’ll get fucked on surge rates.” Carmy licked his lips, “I can give you a ride.”

You frowned at him, “why’re you being so nice?” If he noticed how you were slurring your words, he didn’t say anything.

“Because…” His hand settled on your bare knee. It was warm, solid, and familiar. Your body leaned into his, shoulder-to-shoulder, and you drank in the sight of him like a starving apostate. “I’d rather take you home than let that asshole do it.” He said, referring to Matteo. His eyes hardened in the dark, cold light and his exhale puffed with condensation between your mouths.

“Carmy…” You elongated his name in your mouth, tasting each letter, and savoring it. “If I didn’t know any better – I’d say you sounded jealous…”

His hand slid from your knee, up along your thigh, and squeezed. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Such…a gentleman…” You whispered. It was difficult to focus on his face with wine rushing through your veins. You closed your eyes and leaned in – letting your lips brush against his in the lightest, barest touch. Your body ignited like a spark to flame. Carmy’s lips were on yours, urgent and incessant, his hand slipping higher until it was tucked beneath the folds of your dress and at the apex of your thighs. His knuckles stroked against your core. You grabbed his bicep, fingertips digging into the solid, hard muscle and canted your hips against his teasing touch. The bitter cold and the hollowness inside your chest was forgotten. You were alive again, flush with heat and desire, burning as bright as a star in the midwinter sky.

The threat of someone interrupting and breaking the spell loomed over you. You muttered against Carmy’s lips, soft and warm, “will you take me home?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy convinced you to drink water on the ride to your apartment. His exact words were: “If you drink all of this, I’ll make it worthwhile.” But then wouldn’t tell you exactly what he was going to do, teasing you and leaving it a mystery, and fuck—you were a sucker for unanswered questions.

You dropped your keys in the bowl near the door and kicked off your heels. You heard the door shut behind you and started pulling the bobby pins from your hair to loosen it from the up-do you styled for the party.

Carmy grabbed you around the waist and you let out a surprised gasp. You stumbled into him, your back to his chest, and one hand cupped your breast while the other locked around your hips and pinned you to him. You couldn’t even squirm free if you tried.

“You wouldn’t have fucked him.” He said before his lips dragged down the side of your throat in hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your face contorted with confusion. It took you longer than a few seconds to realize who he was even talking about. Matteo was a blip of a memory. A smudge on the windshield of life that would wash away in the next snowstorm.

“How do you know?”

His hand massaged your breast and the silken fabric of your dress rubbed pleasantly against your nipple. His thumb circled the peak of it, until it raised pert beneath his finger, and he pinched it – the sensation only slightly dulled by the fabric. You hissed and struggled in his grasp, your ass snug against the front of his jeans where you could feel the tight straining of his cock.

He said, “I just know.”

You tilted your face toward his and his mouth met yours with a fierce, unusual intensity. The car ride and water helped to sober you up and you were now painfully aware of the stab of longing in your chest. You wished things could be different. You wished he would stay the night. Carmy kissed you like he was trying to prove a point and your knees weakened at the sheer brunt, passion that smoldered through your body. He released you just to turn you around in his grasp. Face-to-face, you could see every emotion etched out across his face. Arousal was easy to see - the brilliant blue of his irises were swallowed by his pupil and the way his lips glistened with saliva. Yet beneath the desire, you could see affection and tenderness in his gaze. This was the same Carmy who picked you up off his couch and tucked you into bed. The same Carmy who wouldn’t hold your hand in public, but who would rest his chin on your shoulder when you took the L together. You pushed down your thoughts.

“You just know?” You mocked while unbuttoning Carmy’s shirt with trembling fingers. You couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. You might’ve slept with…whatever his name was…Matt? Anyway, didn’t matter. You could’ve slept with him was the point. His large, calloused hands pushed your dress up until the fabric bunched around your hips.

His nose bumped into yours, “Mhm.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but then he moved and dropped to his knees in front of you. He yanked your panties down your legs and let them fall around your ankles before spreading your thighs and burying his face between your legs. Your head fell back and knocked loudly into the wall. You were grateful for the fact that your only neighbor was an elderly couple who went to bed at 7PM and could sleep through a hurricane. Carmy’s tongue licked a stripe across your folds and unraveled a single thread of your composure. Your fingers tangled into his long, soft hair – you always loved his hair – and you gently pulled on it. Carmy hummed, pleased, in response and closed his lips over your swollen, aching clit. You keened, the knot in your chest tightening, and your eyes screwed tight. If you looked at him, you’d shatter, so you kept your eyes closed and focused any available brain power on staying upright.

Carmy moaned, his mouth working over your clit in slow, languid motions and sending pulses of heat through your core. His index finger curled into you until he was knuckle deep, and you cried out, again, gasping his name like it was the only one you knew. Carmy knew which buttons to push, metaphorically and literally, to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Your body responded eagerly to him with reckless abandon. The hot, clenching tightness in your stomach and cunt drove away all other sensation and feelings. You couldn’t be angry with him, or sad, because you were reduced to a singular, primal desire.

Your hips bucked, your hands pulled at the root of his hair, tugging on his scalp, and earning you a pleased grunt from Carmy each time. You learned early on that he enjoyed having his hair pulled and you took advantage of that fact every single time.

“Fuck, fuck, Carmy – don’t’ stop.” You pleaded, “I’m so – close - please, don’t stop – fuck, fuck, fuck – I love you.” Your mind blanked out – complete static and gray – a guttural cry released from your throat, tears pinpricking behind your eyes at the sheer force of your orgasm. You slumped against the wall, your heart hammering, and thighs twitching.

“That’s why.” He murmured, drawing his lips away and biting your inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark. You whined at the additional sensation with the last tremors of your climax fizzling through you. The tip of his nose nuzzled against the fresh mark on your skin, and you blinked down at him. You tried to make sense of his words, but it all sounded like gibberish to you.

“I wouldn’t fuck him…because you…I’m sorry – I’m not following.”

He raised to his feet and held your jaw in his hand, his fingertips firmly pressing into your skin, “because you still love me.”

Your eyes widened and Carmy kissed you once more, slower, and sweeter, with the tang of your orgasm on his tongue. The knot inside your chest stole the breath from your lungs. You tore your face away from Carmy’s, looking off to the side, even as you stood with your bodies pressed together and his hand remained on your chin.

“And I still love you.” He admitted quietly. “I don’t- I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be with me.”

You swallowed the lump inside your throat and your nostrils flared. Why couldn’t you just fuck and then he could leave in the morning like a normal one-night stand? Why did it have to be complicated? Why did it have to hurt?

“I fucked up, okay? I fucked up.”

You stopped staring at your shoes in the entryway hallway and closed your eyes. “Are you bringing this up only because you saw me sort-of flirting with someone at Jimmy’s tonight?”

“No.”

Carmy’s hand released your chin and stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Or maybe a little…I don’t know…I just – I don’t want to walk away from this. I’m a complete fucking mess. I know that, okay? But I want to try again – I’ve wanted to start over since you left my apartment that night. I should’ve fucking called. I should’ve knocked on your door the next morning. I should’ve asked then, but I didn’t and I’m asking you now – will you be with me?”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #HELLO IM BACK

2K notes · View notes

amakumos · 1 year

Text

CUPID’S CORNER — fifteen ; hyungyeom’s adventures in hell

because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up from your phone, expecting it to be Riki.

But, instead you’re met with the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend, Hyungyeom.

Your eyes narrow, and your smile drops. “It’s you. What are you doing here?” you ask in a monotone voice. You’re not remotely interested at all in Hyungyeom’s comings and goings, but you haven’t seen him since the tournament (where Nicholas had to drag you away from Hyungyeom so you wouldn’t smack him across the head with your racket.)

“I work here,” he tells you, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You frown as you look at him — you can’t believe you ever liked him.

“Well, I’ll never come here again. Thanks for the heads up,” you say, before turning to leave.

But then Hyungyeom grabs ahold of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

“Let go.”

He does.

“What do you want? You know I told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again.” you seethe. Where is Riki? you think. Riki would never just leave you, so he’s probably looking for you — this arcade is pretty big.

“I want to explain myself.”

“I gave you plenty of chances to do so,” you say, crossing your arms. “And you lied every time. So is this going to be an honest explanation or a deceitful one?”

Hyungyeom sighs. “(Name), just give me one more chance. I know I messed up, and I really like you—”

“That’s enough.”

Riki shuts Hyungyeom up immediately with his arrival. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?” Riki asks. Your best friend slips his hand into yours, giving your hand a small squeeze, as if to tell you to not worry.

Hyungyeom rolls his eyes at the sight of Riki. “This is a conversation between (Name) and I.”

“She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.” Riki says, and Hyungyeom presses his lips together into a thin line. “That’s for her to decide.”

“I just told you that I didn’t want to see or talk to you again.” you say. Matter of fact, you had said that just a mere 2 minutes ago.

Hyungyeom looks at yours and Riki’s hands laced together, and his eyes narrow slightly. “So what, are you guys dating now?” he asks, nodding towards your linked hands.

That question would usually be bothersome, especially coming out of Hyungyeom's mouth. But you find that you don't quite mind Hyungyeom asking that question - maybe it's because you secretly want people to think that you two are dating.

“Why is that any of your business?” Riki says, before you can reply to Hyungyeom’s words. “Look, (Name) told you she didn’t want to talk to you again. It’s not that hard for you to understand, Hyungyeom.”

“Let’s go,” Riki tells you, dragging you away from your ex boyfriend, who’s eyes follow your figure as you both leave the arcade. “You okay?” he asks you, when you both have left.

“Yeah. Just super weirded out by him.” you say, and Riki hands you one of the plushies he had won for you. “This is new,” you hum.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Got it when I had accidentally left you alone. I know you like Winnie the Pooh.”

A small smile makes its way onto your lips as you look at the Pooh plushie he had gotten you. “Thank you, ‘Ki. It’s very cute.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

He’s not going to tell you this — but his heart was beating a million miles an hour when his hand was holding yours. He would’ve probably fainted.

He also hopes that the fluorescent lights in the arcade hid the blush dusting across his cheeks.

“Now come on, don’t think about that asshole. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

fifteen － hyungyeom's adventures in hell! previous ☆ next ♡ masterlist

author's note. is acegod inspired by quadgod.. yeah. yeah it is. because everyday figure skating stays in my mind

CUPID'S CORNER! a riki smau. genre: smau, crack, fluff, idol au pairing: non-idol! riki x non-idol! reader warnings: swearing, ignore timestamps taglist is CLOSED!

714 notes · View notes

eufezco · 2 years

Note

IM ALL IN FOR YOUR STRANGER THINGS ERA 🫶🏻🫶🏻 if you want to and can could you write something where billy is dating the good girl from school and everyone tells her that he’ll break her heart bc it’s billy hargrove but in reality billy wants something serious with her

AAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH BABY 🫶🏻

Everyone in the high school parking lot stared at Billy's car as he parked. He's been the center of attention since he arrived at Hawkins two years ago. "What time do you finish? I'll come to pick you up." Billy fixed his hair looking at his reflection in the car mirror, you looked at your feet, your cheeks growing hot as you felt everyone's eyes on you two. "At 5 pm." Your boyfriend hummed. "I'll be here at 4:30." He leaned to you and kissed your cheek. "Let's go." Billy got out of the car and so you did, noticing how all the girls were checking out your boyfriend, which you didn't blame them for. Billy approached you and hugged your waist with one of his arms, letting those girls know that he was already taken. You took advantage of his movement and got closer to him, practically hiding on one side of his body.

When you entered the high school, you needed to part your ways because Billy had to go to the gym and you had maths. "I'll see you later, beautiful." He cupped both of your cheeks and gave a sweet kiss to your lips. You showed him a little smile and he left. You pressed your books against your chest as you walked down the hallway. "Y/n!" You heard a voice calling your name behind you, you stopped and turned around to find Nancy walking towards you. "Hey Nance." She had maths too so you both went to the classroom together talking about your final exams, about the school newspaper, but Nancy seemed worried to you. As if she needed to let something out. "Y/n, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah, sure, what is it?"

"Are you dating Billy? Billy Hargrove?" The question surprised you because at this point you assumed everybody knew. You nodded. The girl was also surprised because how can someone like you be dating someone like him. She thought of the best way to tell you this. Her opinion of Billy was based on how she knew he had treated other girls. He used them. He was mean, rude, an asshole she might say. "Can I tell you something? As a friend?" You nodded again, wanting to hear what she had to say because you trusted Nancy. "I don't think he's good for you."

"He is good. Billy is the best, he-" You firmly confirmed to her. Nancy shook her head. "You might think he is, but he's using you y/n. And when he's done with you, he will ditch you like he has done with plenty of girls before." Your heart hurt, and your eyes started to get glossy with tears. Thinking you were just another one of all the girls he'd been with hurt your feelings, even more, when Nancy was the one making you doubt this hard of your relationship. "I'm sorry, y/n." Her hand landed on the lower part of your back. You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You didn't say anything else besides 'it's okay’.

Apparently, Nancy told Steve who sat with you and Nancy during lunchtime to talk to you. Thanks to that, Jonathan also found out, and you've never seen him and Steve agree on one thing except for their opinions on your boyfriend. "We're keeping you from getting your heart broken, y/n." Jonathan was trying to find your gaze as he put his hand on yours, but your eyes were focused on your food. Getting your heartbroken, again. You didn't want that to happen. "I gotta go." You announced and left the table, your three friends looking at you as you left.

Your last classes were long and slow for you. You avoided them succesfully for the rest of the day until it was finally 5 pm. Your feet walked fast to Billy's car. He was leaning against the trunk, smoking and waiting for you. He stepped on the cigarette when he saw you, that playful smirk of his showing up on his lips, but the moment Billy saw your face, it disappeared. You went directly to his chest, hiding your face there. At first, Billy stood there with his arms open, not hugging you because of the surprise. However, when he realized you were sobbing, both of his arms wrapped around your body. "What happened?" One of his hands went to the back of your head, Billy clenching his jaw to the people watching and looking for anyone with guilt on their face, trying to find if someone had made you cry. "What happened, y/n? You have to tell me or I won't be able to help you."

"Can we just leave?" His hands found their way to your cheeks as he nodded, his eyebrows arched, showing you the compassion you needed. Billy wiped away your tears and looked into your sad eyes. He had never hated something so much as seeing the sadness in your bright eyes. He let you go and went into the car.

Billy drove in silence, with one of his hands on your lap holding yours until he parked in front of your house. "Okay, now you gotta tell me what happened." That's when you started crying again, your hands covering your face as Billy turned his body to you. He had never known how to act when people cried in front of him because when he was a child, his father would let him cry all day long until his throat bled. But with you, it was so smooth, his reactions were so pure, Billy didn't even need to think. He took your shaking hands away from your face and held them firmly between his. "I don't want to be just another one for you."

"What?" Billy was confused. "You've been with a lot of girls and- and I don't want to be another one of them."

"That's not like that. We're dating. You and I are dating. Do you know when was the last time I dated someone? In elementary school. What I've had with other girls it's nothing like what we have. You're the only one for me." You sobbed on last time, cleaning your nose with your jacket cuff. He didn't want to think about who could have possibly put those thoughts in your head because he wanted to focus on you now. Billy leaned even more and kissed your lips, tasting your salty tears on them. "You are the only one for me." He repeated one more time, making you smile shyly.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff

2K notes · View notes

quinloki · 3 months

Text

Ace/Izou/Marco/Thatch - Semi-Sweet

Requestor: Anonymous Reader Vibes Requested: AFAB she/her CW: references to drowning, time in a coma, maybe more sweet than semi, based it a little off of the kinktober series

Eyes alight with flames, a hand wreathed in fire, a voice booming and desperate - the last things you had seen before your body had hit the ocean waves.

“The rough storm had ripped you off the deck of the Moby, you don’t have a devil fruit, but the ship was massive, and you aren’t. Even with your haki protecting you, you hit the water so hard it had knocked you unconscious.

“Even with the storm raging, members of the crew had dove off the ship to find you. I got held back, but someone like me diving into the water wouldn’t have helped.

“You were in the water… a long time. Thatch couldn’t find a pulse when he surfaced with you, couldn’t get you to breathe. Pops had used his own devil fruit to banish the storm, and the entire crew had turned toward you. Izou had performed CPR until you hacked up half the ocean and started breathing on your own. He cracked three ribs in the process, and no one knew how hurt you were before that.

“Marco didn’t sleep for almost three days. Even with Me an’ Thatch an’ Izou helping him, he couldn’t barely find fitful naps, let alone any useful sleep. He kept abusing his devil fruit to keep himself sharp, until Pops’ laid him out and forced him to rest yesterday.”

A cheerful young man sat beside your bed, clumsily peeling apples for you. When you’d asked him what happened he hadn’t held back. He didn’t look or feel threatening, and the warmth that radiated from him was comfortable.

“Thatch and Izou got some sleep once you were stable, and it was my turn to watch over you, so here we are.” He hands over the plate of apple slices, and you happily begin to nibble on one. You’re pretty sure you shouldn’t eat after four days of being in a coma, but you’re too hungry to let good sense stop you.

“How do you feel?”

“… Sore,” you answer softly, taking another small bite. “Hungry.” Your brow furrows, and you set the apple slice you were working on down. “Confused.”

“Confused about?” He questions, tilting his head.

You are quiet for a long moment, but he gives you plenty of time to sort your thoughts before you reply.

“I don’t… know any of those names.” You admit, frustration on your face. You’re not looking at him, but you can see his body jerk. “I don’t…” Your voice shifts from frustration and becomes small, tears pulling at the corners of your eyes. “Remember you.”

“You - Ah, it’s okay.” He responds. You look up and can tell the smile on his face is strained, but he’s trying to look cheerful. “Marco… um, he’s the ship’s doctor, he said that you might not remember things when you woke up.” He puts a hand to his chest. “I’m Ace, we’re… we’re crew mates, you’re part of the Whitebeard Pirates. You joined before me, so Thatch or Izou or Marco would be able to fill you in better than me.”

“Ace.” You say the name and watch his face twist in an odd emotion. “Thatch pulled me out of the sea, and Izou cracked my ribs.”

“To save you, to save you!” Ace adds quickly. “Izou has amazing control, and Marco was busy getting the sick bay ready in case he needed to do something more complicated to save you.”

“… I caused distress. I’m sorry.” You say it firmly, eyes downcast.

“Bwha- what? No, I mean, yeah, but… er… you don’t hafta apologize for it.” He assures you. “People were worried cause they care.”

“That’s -.”

“Ah, little miss negative is back.” A voice says from the doorway, you and Ace turn and look and Ace nods toward the tall dark-haired man.

“Izou.”

“You helped save me, thank you.” You bow slightly from your position in the bed, wincing against unexpected pain.

“Think nothing of it,” Izou replies, stepping into the room. He moves the apple slices away from you and gently pushes you by your shoulders until you’re laying down again. “If Marco comes in and you’re sitting up and eating, he’ll toss all of us into the sea.”

“I was hungry.”

“She was hungry.”

You and Ace speak up at the same time and Izou gives you a withering look. “Of course she’s hungry, she’s been in a coma for almost four days.” He snaps. “But food on a stomach that empty can come right back up. You don’t have the strength to vomit.

“Ace, go wake up Marco and Thatch. Tell that big oaf to make the best bone stock he can, but you come back with broth from yesterday’s soup. Clear, Ace. Clear broth.” Izou reiterates as the freckled youth takes off.

Izou sits in the chair Ace had been using.

“When you first joined you were like this.” He begins. His voice is full of warmth, like Ace’s, but different. Muted comparatively, but just as comforting. “So was I. Worried about the etiquette of a world that doesn’t matter here. Feeling like a stranger when I was surrounded by a family I never knew I needed.”

He adjusts how he’s sitting a little, the soft shifting of silk almost makes your heart ache. It’s a sound that slips through your body and tightens around your bones. You can’t remember why right now, but the emotion is undeniable.

“You adjusted faster than I did.” He continues on. “Danced right into everyone’s heart so quickly it was almost concerning. Admittedly, you danced more forcefully into some hearts than others, and created a kind of family within the family.”

Silent tears slip down your cheeks and Izou brushes the away with warm and tender fingers.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’ll remember. I have faith, pretty flower.” He assures you. “If you don’t, then it will be what it will be, and we’ll be happy that you’re still here.”

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts and Izou speaks up for them to enter. A tall man steps inside, button up shirt open and tattoo on his chest visible. He has blonde hair, and there are deep circles under his eyes, but his entire demeanor brightens when he sees you’re awake.

“There she is.” He says warmly. You look from him to Izou and he points back toward him.

“Marco, our resident doctor.” He clarifies.

“Pineapple.” You say, before covering your mouth and turning away. There’s a moment of silence before the two lose their battle against the laughs bubbling up in them and your mortification changes to an odd embarrassment.

“Progress.” Izou says, stepping out of the way as Marco came to your bedside.

“I’ll take it,” Marco says. “Pardon me, I need to check your vitals.” He explains and you look back toward him and nod.

He checks your pulse, your reaction to a light in your eyes, temperature, listens to your heart, and presses and prods and few places asking if anything hurts. He asks you a few questions, and while you can remember your name, you don’t seem to be able to answer any of the other questions.

The soft smile on his face and the even cadence of his voice don’t change regardless of your answers, and there’s comfort in it. The two of them bring in a couple more chairs, and assure you that if you want to be left alone you only need ask, but if you can deal with them, there are at least four crew members who will want to visit with you while you have some broth.

Marco and Izou get you repositioned so you can sit up easily, and they get a tray for the bed. The two seem content to sit quietly with you for the couple moments it takes for Ace to return. There’s another man with him, tallest of the lot, though not by much, with an impressive pompadour hair style.

Both of them have a bowl of steaming broth in their hands.

“One clear,” the new comer says, “One with finely ground ginger.” He explains to Marco. “Ginger usually helps settle stomachs, so I wanted you to have a choice.”

Marco nods. “A couple spoonfuls won’t hurt, yoi. But mostly clear to be safe.” He decides and they shuffle things around a little before setting a bowl in front of you.

“Clear soup to help clear your head.” The big man says as he hands you a spoon.

“Her head’s already clear, Thatch,” Ace snaps at him. “That’s the problem.”

“Maybe it’s foggy instead you little wretch. The soup will help.” Thatch retorts, irritation on his face even as he’s trying to keep his composure.

“It’s hot meat juice, not medicine.” Ace grumbles.

“Broth is-.” Marco starts, but his eyes catch yours and he pauses. The air in the room freezes and you can feel everyone looking at you, but your caught in your own thoughts.

Spoon in your mouth, warm broth down your throat, something about the conversation has tears running down your face. You’re not upset, but you can’t stop the tears. You move, enough to have another spoonful of broth despite your crying. There’s something about the actions and the taste that compel you.

“It was… terrible.” You mutter, spooning another bit of broth into your mouth as a smile pulled at your lips for the first time since you woke. “I… I tried to make broth and it was awful.” You set the spoon down and wipe away persistent tears that continue to fall despite your efforts.

“Thatch was sick, and I wanted to help.” You continue through your quiet tears. Sniffling softly you smile. “I’d never cooked before, and it was just so bad.”

Thatch flinches as the other three look at him. “I insisted otherwise,” he asserts.

You laugh a little, there’s more mirth and energy in it, and the tears are subsiding. “You did. I had some when I got back to the kitchen and poured the rest of it out. It was,” you start laughing despite yourself. “So bad.”

Looking over at the others you can feel your face heating up. “I confessed after that.”

“To making bad broth?” Ace questions, tilting his head. Marco smacks the back of his head.

You shake your head, and Thatch speaks up for you. “She admitted to likin’ me, but also to likin’,” he makes quotes in the air for the next few words. “A couple other people too, and thought it was wrong to like her crew mates like that.”

“Turned out the other people she liked were already in a relationship with Thatch,” Izou teases, cocky grin on his lips as he brushes his hand across your cheek, wiping away an errant tear. “You remember us, sweet flower?”

You nod. “Magic soup.” You say, which is what Thatch had called the abomination you’d fed him all those years ago.

#Forget Me Not Event 2024 #reader insert #x reader #amnesia #one piece fanfiction #request event #angst #izou one piece #thatch one piece #marco the phoenix #portgas d ace

71 notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 3 months

Note

(giggles in H E H E)

*Zack's mother is in town to visit her son and have a bit of fun.*

"Still, I can't believe you and dad are getting divorced!" Zack said a bit upset, but overall happy to have his mother around.

"Oh, please, things were never perfect between me and your father. Besides, now that you're a big boy, with a big boy job and big boy responsibilities, I feel like we can move our separate ways. We raised you well, you're a good person that is entirely capable of doing plenty of stuff on your own. I know it hurts, but things will be alright, okay?" She said with a confident smile.

He grumbled. "Fine, I guess..." He looked away. "Just... Why?" He asked confused.

"Oh, Zackie... You always knew, didn't you? We talked over it so many times..."

"Yeah, but I thought things would change between you two!" He said nervously.

"Just because me and your father are not a couple anymore, doesn't mean we hate each other, honey. We're just doing what's best for both of us." She said with a smile while gently caressing her son's cheek. "We still love you lots, little hedgehog."

Zack chuckled. "I'm not little anymore." He scratched his head.

"You sure? With that head down I had my doubts." She playfully said as she put on some nice earrings.

"You're going out?"

"Yes, actually. I met someone online and—"

"MET SOMEONE?!"

"Oh, please, Zackary, I'm a grown woman AND your mother. I am divorced, I have the right to go on dates if I want to. You go out on dates with Aerith, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"No but. My life doesn't stop, hedgehog and I'm sorry, I know it's sudden, but trust me. He's a good guy and you'll see." She said with a bright smile he haven't seen in a decade.

Although he didn't like the idea, he decided that, for his mother sake, might as well be at least polite to him. If anything, he might scare the guy, he was still in his uniform, the guy must know what SOLDIER is, so he'll be sure his mother will be treated like the lady she is.

"Hi! I just want to introduce you to my son!" She said while pulling the mystery date inside her hotel room. "Angeal, I'd like to introduce you to Zackary, my son!"

An hour passed in Sephiroth's office, the atmosphere calm as he diligently tackled his work. Genesis sat in an armchair in the corner of the room halfway through a riveting novel while occasionally looking up to comment on the story's pacing to Sephiroth.

The phone rang shrilly, startling Genesis and tearing away Sephiroth's attention from the stack of papers. He answered, being met with Lazard's frantic voice on the other line.

"Director? What's going on?" Sephiroth inquired, a hint of concern in his voice.

Sephiroth exchanged a glance with Genesis that made the redhead instantly bookmark his novel and put it down.

Sephiroth sighed. "We're on our way," he replied dutifully, hanging up the phone.

Genesis stood up. "What happened?"

Sephiroth followed suit, pushing his chair back as he rose to his feet. "It appears Angeal and Zack are having a physical confrontation. We need to go break it up."

Genesis hummed, amused. "Why are they fighting?"

"Lazard didn't say," Sephiroth shrugged, making his way towards the door. "I suppose we'll be finding that out soon."

Another hour later, Infantryman Cloud Strife laid in his bunk. He was exhausted after a hard day's work and just wanted some rest, peace and quiet—

The shrill ring of his PHS in his pocket made him groan. He grabbed the device, seeing Lazard's name flashing on the screen. He flicked an eyebrow, amused, before answering him.

"Cloud speaking."

"..."

"They WHAT?"

"..."

"What do you mean Angeal is going out with Zack's mother? Zack kicked him where? Aw, man, that's gotta hurt. Did they manage to break up the fight, at least?"

"..."

Cloud's eyes widened. He gripped the PHS hard and leapt out of bed.

"YOU'RE TELLING ME SEPHIROTH SAW HER, BECAME INFATUATED, AND THEN VOWED TO FIGHT ANGEAL FOR HER AFFECTION? AND ZACK PUNCHED HIM, GENESIS GOT MAD AND NOW ZACK AND GENESIS ARE GOING AT IT?"

#ff7 #ffvii #sephiroth #zack fair #cloud strife #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ff7 crisis core #ffvii crisis core #writing

63 notes · View notes

aleksanderscult · 2 months

Text

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (Graphic Novel) - Part 3

(Part 1 and Part 2)

Get ready because things are about to get sooo much worse. 🎶🎶

Eryk: "Girl you're talking to one"

Facts.

Apparently when Aleksander was young he wasn't attracted to power but kindness. Or one could say to the underdog. A friendship with Lev could benefit his own position to camp and that of his mother's. But he just didn't like bullies.

Petition...for...little...Aleksander...to...give...a...lecture...to...all...of...Ravka...about...the...reality...and... horrific...treatment...of...the...Grisha ✍️

Noted.

To change the subject, HE'S SO CARING 🥹🥹

Ouch. That hurt. Sylvi already knows the truth 😔

They basically describe the Little Palace.🥹

The Little Palace that was made of dark wood, stone floors and golden domes. It had plenty of fireplaces for the Grisha to sit around and even in their bedrooms. It had a large space of land in the front for the Grisha to walk or practice. And had the same people. Most of the time the Grisha saw familiar faces there and even made friends.

The dark evil lord doesn't care about the otkazat'sya. Yeah....

She knooowsss 🎶🎶

She looks so beautiful though. Those Morozova genes serve 🫴

One of the best moments in the Grishaverse is here.

“Deep Blue like the True Sea” (- DitW)

“Blue sky”, he said. (- Ruin and Rising)

“The pure, buttery color of sunlight...” (- DitW)

‘He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him.’ (- Rule of Wolves)

Alina was his favorite color. She represented the thing that made him feel happy and warm.

This now has me like...

I really wish we had seen more of his mischievous side.

*cries in capital letters*

Look at my boy being all protective 🥺

Aleksander, I need you to stop making me sad for ONCE.

He really was ready to take that responsibility and take care of them.

No stop! The fear and terror in his eyes!! 😭😭

This image will never leave my head...

"As long as this heart beats, you keep fighting."

Until the moment Alina stabbed him, he really never stopped fighting. No matter the obstacle or pain he went through.

He needs:

1) a hug

2) a warm blanket

3) a cup of hot chocolate

4) a shoulder to cry on

The Grisha have lived all their lives on the run. Hiding in fear. This was obviously the last straw for the Ulle. At some point the grief, pain and anger becomes too much and you want revenge. He wanted those people to see what it feels like to lose a child.

He looks so sad. He had a hope that maybe things would get better but they only got worse. Betrayed by someone he thought a friend, witnessed the desperation Grisha live in and saw what his powers provoke to others.

That story fucked up even the side characters. Little Sylvi lost her only sister and friend. 😔

Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it. 👏🛐

Look how far he came and look what he accomplished. Now look me in the eye and tell me he was selfish. I'm waiting.

#it's the “let's see how Aleksander became traumatized as a child and antis ignore that” hour #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #demon in the wood #demon in the wood meta #baghra morozova #annika #darklina #pro darklina #alina starkov #shadow and bone #grishaverse

48 notes · View notes

cookie-crumblr · 5 months

Text

The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 5~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, whore, ), BULLY, plot part(some backstory) a spoiler for TC, SA NOT BY ML, NON-CON oral on ml, force feeding alcohol, fighting, blood mentioned

Thick black leather covers your neck. A little padlock hangs from the buckle.

What the fuck is going on?

Of course you’ll try an avoid him!

Did Ace even have to ask!?

Something thumps somewhere outside your cell.

You try to cover yourself, but they didn’t give you any clothes.

Half of the gang is gone at the moment in some sort of fight, you couldn’t overhear much about it though.

There’s no way in hell you’re trying to get away, your leg is still casted up and pretty badly burned.

A thin door somewhere opens and then closes outside of your room.

“Hey Ace!” A guy says as you hear a hand-to-hand *smack*!

“Sup dude!”

“What cha doin’ ere?”

“Here to pick her up,” Ace answers them as their footfalls come closer.

“Oh? Man sounds like fun. I missed her train the other day, but oh well, plenty of whores, guess.” He shrugs and unlocks the door for the fluffy pink haired guy.

He walks you out to the connected parking garage without a word from either of you till you get into the car.

“Are you gonna get in trouble for helping me?”

“With who? Ezra? Hah!!” he laughs in earnest. “No, he raised me! after his mom ki—” his face drops, then he steels himself, “No! ya know what! He revoked his right to have secretes.”

“Wait wait, he raised you? How’d you turn out like the way you are? and not…”

“I’m sure he looks evil… I mean he’s never been like this with anyone. An I won’t try to say it’s right...”

“Why’s he doing it then?”

“I’ve never seen him with a vendetta quite like this. to be honest, i don’t know” He takes a long strained sigh before pulling out of the garage. “N-not saying there’s anything you could have done that would justify any of this! it just feels very… reveng-y”

“Whatever… Anyway, what was that about secretes? sorry-side tangents” You shrug in your seat.

“His mother murdered my parents”

Harsh knocking shakes your door practically off its hinges.

looking out the peephole you see, it’s not Ezra, but it’s still unfortunately a couple members of his gang you think.

“Sup. Boss’s gone f’today, we’re here t’escort ya around, an all that.” They look at you hungrily, sweeping over your still very much damaged form.

“A-are you??” You ask skeptically. “I-I’m just gonna… Get ready! … then.”

You go to close the door, and one of them smacks it open wider with his fist.

You jump. “Wh-what the—!?”

“Yeah. He said yur paying us fur our services” They step closer and closer. One strokes your hair, the other grabs you and bends you over them.

They take you to your class, still dirty and disheveled, but you make it on time.

After class they don’t come to pick you up. Which you think is odd, but you don’t question it, feeling a lot better off without them.

At the end of the school day you’re hopping down the street, sticky and hot, trying to get home.

“Hey, slut, ya miss me?” You hear Ezra call out to you, something stirs deep within you…

You sigh out, there’s no way you’re getting away from him right now, being on crutches and all. You give him a weak, defeated smile.

“Get in.” he practically snarls at you.

You do, without any assistance. It hurts all over by the time you’re sitting.

“You reek! t’fuck happened t’ya!?”

Sheer embarrassment turns swiftly into tears bubbling in the bottom lids of your eyes. “You should know—It was y-your guys!”

“My guys?” his lip turns up in disgust.

“Yes! they c-came first thing in the morning, said they’d pr-protect me—” your sobbing a little from exacerbation, “Th-then they—”

“What’d they look like?” His voice sits completely level, but it’s much deeper now.

You explain their appearance as best as you remember. He pulls away from the curb as soon as you get half way through.

“They ain’t my guys.”

“Stay here.” Ezra jumps out of the car and rushes the front door. Your little heart is beating so loud and hard in your chest now. Somethings really, really wrong.

You scooch down lower in your chair.

One of the guys from earlier opens the door… You see Ezra immediately grab him and slam his face down into his knee.

The guy yells loud, blood pours from his nose.

Ezra throws him to the lawn and reaches into the darkened doorway to grab the second guy and throw him as well.

He stomps on him once before kicking him a few times in the ribs.

The other guy is still reeling on the ground.

Ezra leans down over the man now and punches him repeatedly in the head and face.

Finally standing, the first guy goes to pull Ezra off his friend. Ezra’s attention is now on him, there’s blood splattered on his face, and dripping onto his shirt.

You look away, shivering, and hold your ears, your eyes are wide.

You consider running, again forgetting your damn leg.

“F-Fuck!” You punch the door of the car.

It feels like hours later he comes back to the car, the bandages on his knuckles are torn and blood soaked.

“thanks f’tellin me” He slides a wet finger up your jaw.

He throws your face roughly, before undoing his pants and grabbing you again.

“Open up, bitch,” he shoves your head down and grinds into your face. You shake your head no, and clench your jaw. “If you don’t take this fucking cock into your whore mouth—”

“Okay! okay! okayy, please! just sto-opp” You sob and put your lips to his hot, spongey tip.

Heat spreads between your legs at a frustrating pace.

“Nah, nah, bitch, this ain’t it�� he chuckles.

His hand digs into your scalp and grips tightly. He forces you all the way down his shaft, nose against his thigh once again.

Your throat contracts painfully as you try and breathe.

He keeps you there, giving and taking your air at his own whim all over again the entire way home.

Once there, you’re apparently too slow to grab your things, so he grabs your bag and helps you with your crutches.

Again he tries to speed ahead of you and he sighs in frustration when you still aren’t fast enough.

He comes back to sling you over his shoulder with one arm and your crutches in the other.

You cling to his shirt, scared of having anymore pain than you’re already in.

“Have you not taken any meds yet?” He opens the door to your dorm.

“I was going to when i got home…” You say, your voice is hoarse, and quiet.

He finds the meds in your bag, after forcing you to sit. He then goes to your fridge and finds some of your roommates boxed wine.

He pours some wine into his mouth and drops in a couple pills, then brings his lips down to yours and forced the alcohol into your mouth.

It rushes in so fast you’re forced to swallow! The alcohol tastes terrible and feels so hot as it goes down. You push him away after he makes sure you gulped everything down.

He takes the container of wine and sips more, before repeating the process with you.

His hand finds your mound with ease, and he starts to rub you through your panties as you swallow more of the hot fluid.

You’re dizzy and panting already and when you try and push him away now, it’s sluggish with no power, as if you’re dreaming.

A weird buzz fills your head, you think you must be cross eyed when he pulls away.

“Hah, you’re such a lightweight!” His words float into your mind, vision spinning and blurry.

You yelp as he slaps your cunt with the back of his hand.

He takes a large gulp of the wine, before picking you back up.

It hardly feels different than being on the bed, you’re rapidly spinning regardless of where in space you are.

You can’t help giggling as he takes your clothes off, he keeps brushing over ticklish spots everywhere! Everything feels so silly right now, even your ribs tickle as you try and breathe!

He puts you in the tub with some hot water.

You suddenly stop laughing though, while he’s holding your casted leg up out of the water for you… It’s a strangely sweet gesture from him.

“‘ll this help?” he’s looking away as if trying to be polite while he asks.

You wash as quickly as possible.

Ezra dries you off and carries you to bed. He sets you in his lap and holds your chin to face him. His lips tickle yours as he just barely touches them.

You’re still dizzy, and the world is still fuzzy, making it hard to think.

His kiss gets rougher as the seconds pass, eventually he’s biting you, and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, leaving dark bruises in his wake.

His hand finds your tit, he runs his fingers over your pert bud. His other moves to your sore scalp.

“I want to tear you apart, Y/N,” he whispers against your neck in a gruff, rumbling voice.

You can’t do anything but whine, “What-” He pulls your head back forcefully, it hurts your neck, and causes you to cough.

As he kisses you, his hand slowly glides up your chest to your throat, pressing traveling dents into you’re flesh all along the way. you moan into him.

“I can’t wait to fucking destroy you,”

Your head tilts back practically welcoming his touch on its own. You couldn’t fight to keep it upright against the alcohol combined with the spreading warmth.

“You‘re too numb for me righ’now.” He throws you aside, though he stays close to you in the bed. “I want you to feel everything I give you.”

#yandere oc #oc ezra #yandere male #yandere x reader #bully yandere #bully oc x reader #bully oc x you #yandere bully oc #bully x victim #yandere bully #bully x reader #bully oc #yandere #my fic #my writing #my oc

133 notes · View notes