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blue-jisungs · 5 months

Text

wounds

author's note. let’s gaur another zoro piece ☝️

++ i stated it before, i’ll say it again: i never watched the og opla! i think there was a medic? but yns is a medic here so i just hope like,, it makes sense? also if some characters are ooc, i’m sorry!! i’m still slowly learning about them hehe

summary. zoro realised his feelings for you through unfortunate events, whereas you come to a conclusion that his actions speak louder than words

word count. 3k-ish

warnings. oh boy. violence, swearing, blood, a guy throws a weird comment or two at reader, reader gets called bitch :( , m*n, medical stuff but nothing too crazy since i’m not a professional, daggers (stabbing), yn being kinda an idiot for trusting strangers, brief mention of drugs ++ pls lmk if i missed anything 🙏

zoro stole a glance at you, the soft rocking of the ship causing some bottles with strangely-looking fluids to move around your desk. luffy grinned and patted you on your back, causing a small smile to bloom on your lips.

“so, we’re arriving in a moment. let’s get the meds we need and have some free time! How does that sound?” he asked with enthusiasm.

“and i’ll buy some fresh ingredients. i would lose my mind if i had to work with almost-rotten vegetables for even a day longer…” sanji grunted, causing zoro to roll his eyes “is our medic craving something special?”

“hmm, maybe… what about a sweet pudding? i haven’t eaten one in a while” you hummed. luffy’s eyes shone with excitement. sanji winked, drawing a disgusted face from the green-haired man.

“your wish is my command. and you, mosshead, should respect this lady more. she’s really saving our asses” the blond haired man commented.

the truth was, it was mostly sanji or usopp who you were saving. while zoro made it safe and sound out of his fights, so did luffy and nami. usopp, well, he was more on the clumsy side, while sanji occasionally had some wounds when he accidentally cut or burned himself while cooking. after almost losing zoro, the crew knew that a medic would be a useful addition to the crew… and just one day luffy found you on your island, working as a volunteer in a local health care centre. and persuaded you into joining them. (a certain tall, green-haired man also had an influence on your choice).

“we arrived!” usopp suddenly bursted into the room. you grabbed your bag and looked around the room.

“does anyone want to go with me?” you asked.

“to buy meds and smell herbs? i’d rather take a nap” zoro mumbled and lazily left the room, secretly hoping sanji would turn down your offer too.

“i’ll go with sanji! maybe they’ll have some local food to offer…” luffy hummed. you nodded and then all three of you left going merry.

usopp left later, causing nami and zoro to be the only ones left.

as you strolled around the cozy city, you took in the sight of people and the sound of the rustle. living on a ship can get quite lonely sometimes, so you enjoyed the chaos of the town. even though zoro kept you company most of the time. he’d just… come into your room and watch you brew tea for sanji or study your medical books. you both enjoyed such closeness, even if not a word was said. sure, you had conversations too - and you were surprised to realise how funny zoro is. you couldn’t lie, you were aware that you have a crush on him. zoro though, seemed uninterested. like now, just saying that he’ll pass. his answer made you a little disappointed - besides buying new meds, you were hoping for some time alone with zoro.

“well, he’s the one missing out” you mumbled t6o yourself and shook your head as if to get the swordsman off your mind.

suddenly, you smelled a delicious aroma of fresh bread. walking closer to one of the shops, you realised it’s a bakery. maybe you’ll grab a snack and ask if there’s any herbalists around…? sounds like an idea.

when you disappeared inside the local, someone smiled mischievously and backed away to return to his boss.

“... herbs?” the man repeated, thinking out loud. he didn’t look like a regular bakery employee but you ignored that. he was selling delicious chocolate buns! “down the road. there’s a pharmacy but we do have a local herb seller, he wanders in the woods often. after i’m done with my shift, i can lead you to him”

“oh, that would be great! i’ll go to the pharmacy then and be back!” you hummed, smiling. what a nice guy!

you spent way more time in the pharmacy than you intended to: the lady working there was really lovely and professional, the products she was selling were top quality. you chatted about meds and certain ingredients, shared recipes. and when you mentioned that you use some herbs to make teas, she seemed intrigued so you explained to her the purpose.

in the end, you left with two more bags than you planned to. while returning to the bakery, the sun started to set; sky was painted in deep oranges with purple strokes, announcing the farewell of the bright day.

“sorry i was late…” you started and saw the guy get up immediately. he had a slight frown on his face.

“no worries. let’s go” he mumbled and grabbed your wrist, urging you to leave. you stiffened and your jaw clenched but you followed him, too curious about the herbs to let an alarm ring in your head.

“why does he wander in the woods?” you asked quietly, observing how people closed their stalls and shops in hurry before it gets completely dark.

“dunno. he’s just a weirdo. probably there’s a lot of wild plants there” he huffed. nodding to yourself, you gulped. good thing he’s accompanying you, it wouldn’t be too safe to walk around the woods alone, at night.

after what felt like hours, you realised you left the city far behind. the sky was decorated with blinking stars, open navy sky embracing you.

“i… is it far away?” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks. he turned around, the darkness surrounding you didn’t allow to read his facial expression.

“five more minutes, i promise” he said… his voice more calm now.

“o-okay. i need to go soon, so we better be quick” a quiet murmur left your mouth. you started to regret not urging zoro to go with you.

the man was right; you soon enough found yourself in the middle of woods.

“so… um, where’s the guy?” you asked, looking around. your hands started to hurt from the bags you had to carry. besides, there was a rumbling in your stomach.

“he’ll show up in a second, trust me. so, what did you buy in the pharmacy?” he asked.

luffy entered the ship, humming something underneath his breath, with sanji carrying a bag. usopp looked at them curious.

“so, what didya buy?” he asked, almost jumping out of his seat “what are we having for dinner?”

“something fancy, for sure. i still need to think about it. we’re having a pudding for dessert though because y/n wanted it… speaking of which, is she in her room? i forgot to ask if she wanted a vanilla or a chocolate one”

“what?” zoro asked, stopping in his tracks, swords halting mid-air. the guys looked at each other.

“what ‘what?’? we thought she was back already” luffy blinked slowly and noticed nami approach.

“she didn’t, i thought she joined you” usopp stuttered and shifted his gaze to zoro “didn’t you leave at some point too?”

“yeah, to look around? but there was nothing interesting to do so i came back and took a nap…?” he mumbled.

“you did not just let y/n wander around here” nami said, fear in her voice.

“well, apparently, we did” luffy gasped “why?”

“this city is like, known for being totally not-women safe. especially after dark! that’s why i didn’t want to go there, luffy” she hissed “and why i didn’t leave the ship! god! y/n can’t even f–”

“she’ll be okay, she can fight–” usopp started.

“fight” nami finished.

“y/n can’t fight…?” zoro’s heart skipped a beat.

“there’s no time to explain. we should go look for her, idiots!” nami grunted. zoro, full of regret and worry, followed her. he wasn’t sure why he got so scared why nami said that but all he knew for now is that he had to find you.

you didn’t even realise when that happened. a group of muscular and tattooed men appeared from nowhere, not looking like herb enthusiasts at all.

“so this is the pretty lady, huh?” one of them stepped out. he was bald and definitely scary-looking “you have something we want… but before i take it, tell me. is this your first time here?”

you nodded weakly when he approached you.

“and it will be her last!” one of them snickered, drawing laughs from the rest.

“aren’t you a cute little thing, trusting strangers in a city you’ve never been to… ah” he laughed and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes “why did you buy poppy seeds?”

“t-to make medicine…” you stuttered. you noticed the one from bakery standing behind the bald one’s back.

“medicine! ha! you’re pretty funny! you know what we make here out of poppy seeds?” he hummed, leaning in way too close to your liking. you could smell his nasty breath, your hands going limp. you dropped the bags, its content spilling around your legs “drugs”

you gulped and tried to move back but he yanked you by your wrist. this action caused you to bump into his chest.

“so, we’ll take them. and the other goodies you bought, too. and then… we’ll take you!” he laughed.

shaking your head, you pushed him away and tried to run away.

you failed, a sharp yank of your shirt causing you to trip and fall on the ground.

“by take i mean two things” the bald man chuckled and kneeled down, looking for the poppy seeds amongst the scattered products.

you tried to crawl away when he did so, heart thumping against your ribcage. if only you could fight… you wouldn’t be so scared and-

“where do you think are you going?” he growled and pulled you back by your leg. your head hit the ground, a unpleasant tinnitus-alike sound overtaking your ears.

“leave me alone!” you yelled out. the man must have said or do something that caused two other guys to grab your hands and tie them.

“only after i’m done with you!” he grunted and suddenly you felt his weight over you, caging you between the ground. starting to squirm around and kick, you were yelling your throat out; tears starting to spill from your eyes. “shut up, bitch!”

then you felt it. a sudden, stinging pain spreading in the left side of your face.

he just hit you.

the impact was so strong that you immediately felt the blood trickle from your nose.

“i’d hate to kill you because after we’re done, we’d sell you… but if you keep squirming…” he grunted and leaned in. he put a hand on your hair and stroked it gently. he leaned to your ear and licked your earlobe before adding: “then i’ll have to slit your throat”

you hoped that the scream you just left out was hearable from afar.

“get off her right now or its your throat that’s going to be slit first”

you gasped, trying to look for the source of the voice: zoro. zoro is here. or are you dreaming?

“and who the fuck are you?” the bald man said and laughed, his hand landing on your neck “i’ll do whatever i want”

his fingers tightened the grip on your neck. he was either lucky or skilled enough to know which places to squeeze because you felt your flow of oxygen being cut off.

“says who?” zoro huffed and with one swift move yankled the man by his shirt and got him off you. taking a deep breathe in, your vision went blurry - it was either the tears or the result of sitting up too fast.

“you’re a real piece of shit to attack girls, huh” zoro grunted and after effortlessly defeating another one of the bald man’s minions. the swordsman wanted to destroy the others, let them suffer and die in pain. normally, he’d take his time.

but it was about you. which made it even worse – he wanted to kill them slowly, one by one… demolish to the ground because they hurt you. then again, he wanted to make it quick so he can check if you’re alright as fast as possible.

and just when only the boss was left, he heard your scream. one that was full of pure pain.

turning his head back, but not losing focus from the guy, he saw one of them stand above you. he must have slipped away when he was busy with the bald guy but…

then he saw it, shining in the moonlight.

the dagger’s blade shun with silver tints, stuck in your ribcage.

zoro didn’t hold back. it took one swift move to throw one of his swords right between the attacker’s eyes and one precise move to synchronise both of his hands, cutting the bald’s man body in half.

then he ran up to you, grabbing you in his arms gently. your face looked pale, whether it was the moonlight or just the color draining off your face.

“don’t take this out” you grunted, moving your hand to his arm “and… take the meds…”

“fuck the meds, you’re bleeding” for the first time in ages zoro felt helpless. and disappointment in himself. you tried to scoff, the action bringing more pain to your body than you predicted

“don’t… the meds are just as important” your voice went quieter and quieter; zoro noticed that you struggled to keep your eyes open. which was, he assumed, a bad sign.

“don’t pass out on me, okay? keep it together, doctor” the green haired man breathed out and in one swift move he carried you in a bridal style. someone from the crew was supposed to arrive here too, if he passes them by he’ll just say that they need to take the meds.

zoro felt your body going limp in his arms, his heart dropping. running for his (and your) life, careful enough not to hurt you, he felt the strange heavy sensation in his chest.

for the next two days, a sinking feeling of guilt in zoro’s stomach wouldn’t go away. you were unconscious, the atmosphere on the going merry was tense.

“we didn’t know she can’t fight. if we did, we’d obviously accompany her” sanji grunted, hands never stoping mixing whatever he was mixing.

“why y/n never told us?” luffy sighed, voice small. as a captain, he felt disappointed he wasn’t able to protect you. on the other hand, he was glad you’re here now. nami bit her lip and looked at zoro.

“she didn’t want to seem weak” the orange-haired girl explained “i promised her i’ll teach her some basic moves but… we never…”

usopp entered the room, he was just talking to your unconscious state. well, more like to himself but–

“the doctor said she’ll be okay, right?” he asked, sitting next to zoro.

they figured that if you got medication somehow, there must be someone who knows at least has basic medical knowledge. in no time usopp came back with a pharmacist that talked to you – the lady was really saddened by your wounds too.

she scolded them for letting you go on your own (as if zoro haven’t already made a mental promise to himself to never do that again) and then proceeded to take care of you, telling them to change the bandages and apply some meds.

zoro left the dining space and slowly padded to the captain’s room. they figured that i’d only be safer if you stayed in a more stable position (rather than a hammock) for the time being.

entering the room, he stopped in his tracks upon seeing you… sitting at the edge of the mattress, changing your own bandage. sweat was dripping down your forehead, face pale.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked calmly, stepping closer to you. your eyes widened, meeting his.

“hi” you breathed out, shaky fingers halting.

“hi” zoro replied softly and then suddenly placed his hands on your arms, gently pushing you to sit against the wall.

then he grabbed the old bandage and threw it away. he desinfected his hands with a special liquid and grabbed new bandage.

“how long have you been up?” he asked, looking at the wound. it still needed some healing but it wasn’t open and bleeding anymore.

“dunno, moments from usopp’s leave. how… how long i’ve been asleep though?” you asked wearily and pointed at a cream on the nightstand “apply this first, then the bandage”

“two days” zoro replied, grabbing the container with a herbal smell. he was trying to find a good way to word out his worries, but (as usual) they came out harsher than he intended “why didn’t you tell us you can’t fight?”

a heavy sigh left your mouth, which caused a glimpse of pain run through your face.

“i just didn’t want to be a burden” you mumbled. the man noted the slight difference of what you said and what nami said your reasoning was.

zoro’s calloused yet tender fingers applied the cooling substance on your wound. you hissed due to the sting, your hand flying to grab his free one.

“you’re not weak nor a burden” he said, letting you squeeze his hand; he didn’t mind and found it quite… warming “i will teach you”

you smiled. he didn’t offer, he didn’t insist. he stated that.

“thank you. and i’m sorry for scaring you all like that” a whisper left your lips, watching as zoro started to put the bandage now. you leaned a bit closer so he could wrap it around your back, causing your breath to hit his neck. zoro tried to stay focused, the sudden realisation of how close you were making him hyper-aware.

“you scared some of us to death” he answered suddenly “next time just… don’t be such an idiot. if it weren’t for me…”

“humble as always” you snickered and watched him finish bandaging you.

“i…” the green-haired man hesitated. for a moment your eyes met and you saw it in the mirror of his ebony irises: i’m sorry. i was worried. so fucking scared and angry, feeling guilty and terrified. he smiled gently “just don’t do this again, m’kay?”

“i’ll try. and… thank you for saving me” you returned his smile.

you stayed like that for a moment, your hand still on his. too afraid to move, to speak out – yet the silence was speaking volumes.

roronoa zoro cared for you.

he just didn’t know how to say it out loud yet.

but just like wounds, he needed some time. and you were - oh so - willing to give him it.

masterlist <3

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benedictscanvas · 4 months

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pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 15 days

Text

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernaturals series rewrite #spn series rewrite

151 notes · View notes

daddyfordaeddy · 2 months

Text

Pairing: husband! Mingi x f! Reader x other man! Hongjoong (both fxm and mxm)

Word Count: 1662

Warnings: cursing, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated E for explicit, established relationship au

Summary: Your second man is coming over for a night of passion, and your husband would like to attend

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected (dont do *gun emoji), creampie, some cum play, light breast play, marking, dirty talk, degredation, masturbation, cuckolding, if i missed any lmk!

Look, i know i said time god san was the last of February Filth Fest but cuckolding just appealed to me SO MUCH AHHHH!!! especially with these two! so this is frfr my last one, track 27 - cuckolding <3 hope u enjoy!

and thank u to @sanjoongie for some inspo hehe

As you step out of the shower, you can hear Mingi practically stomping up the stairs two steps at a time, and you roll your eyes affectionately even though he can’t see it. He probably got home from work while you were in the middle of showering and just decided to wait around for you. You can’t tell whether it’s adorable or hilarious that he insists on greeting you being the first thing he does when he gets home. Maybe it’s both.

“Hey, baby!” Mingi pokes his head around the corner right as you tuck the towel around you. “How was your day?”

“Same old same old.” You open your arms for a hug, Mingi swooping right in, not minding your wet hair. “What are you up to?”

You get your answer as his hands trail down your body, cupping the curve of your ass. “You, hopefully?” Your husband’s voice lilts upwards but you shake your head and step away.

“Sorry, baby, Hongjoong’s coming around today. His face falls but his eyes sparkle with a question in them and you chuckle, leaning forward to brush your nose against his. “As usual, you’re welcome to watch. Or I could just send you pictures of the aftermath you’ll never get to touch.”

You can feel his hard-on pressing into your bare hip, and Mingi nods eagerly. “I’ll watch,” he decides without really deciding. Your big dumb husband who would do anything just for you. You press a sweet kiss to his cheek, patting the soft flesh afterwards.

“He’ll be here in ten. Why don’t you go get comfortable while I get ready, okay? Be good for me.”

In his haste, Mingi almost runs straight into the doorframe and you hold back your laughter as you turn back to the mirror to finish drying your hair and start applying your makeup.

Hongjoong’s mouth is hungry on yours as he practically swallows each breath you sigh out. His hands are wandering up and down your sides, pinching and pulling at the soft flesh of your breasts. Little whimpers are falling from your mouth but he eats them up like it’s his dinner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mingi stiff in his desk chair, hand gripping the large bulge in his pants like a horny schoolboy watching porn for the first time. You love him, and how sweet he is, but you sometimes need something just…more. Something Hongjoong fulfils for you.

With his teeth sinking into your neck, Hongjoong draws your attention back to him. “Eyes on me, baby,” he hums, honey dripping from his mouth although his actions are not nearly as sweet. “I’ll fuck you better than he ever could. Big dick and frame, and can hardly use it, hm?”

You moan at his words, and you just know Mingi is getting harder with every sound that leaves either of your mouths. Without warning, Hongjoong shoves two fingers deep inside of your mouth, revelling in the way you had and throws your head back in pleasure. “Shit,” you moan out around his fingers as Hongjoong nips his way down your neck, taking great pleasure in marking you up in front of your watching husband.

As his mouth trails over your breasts, his other hand slips into your panties, pressing against your already-throbbing clit and you squeal at the contact. “Look at you, so needy for me,” Hongjoong growls into your soft flesh. “Mr Song really doesn’t please you enough, hm? You need me to fill the gaps when all he can do is whisper pretty words into your ears and fuck you slow and sweet.”

His voice is still like a dove’s but the words he’s hissing into you aren’t. “Please,” you beg, all feelings of shame are long gone and all you want is more, more, more. “Fuck, please give me more.”

Hongjoong giggles high-pitched, his hard-on pressing into your hip and grinding slightly into the soft fabric of your dress. He likes it best when you dress up nice just to get wrecked, and it only serves to make him harder rutting up against your evening wear. “Already begging for me, huh? Bet I could slide right into your sloppy pussy, Mingi stretching you out just fine but can’t do anything else, huh? Shall we test that theory?”

You barely even noticed how he already had your dress scrunched up on your stomach and your panties around your knees until his fingers ghosted over your core, making you whine. Hongjoong pulls out his thick cock from the tight confines of his sweats, pressing the tip into you, making you whine at the feeling of the burning hot head entering your eager hole.

You moan again and you can practically imagine the way Mingi eyes you swallowing Hongjoong’s cock with your pussy, pouting in the way that drew you to him in the first place. Any and all thoughts of your husband are soon blown straight out of your mind, however, as soon as Hongjoong bottoms out in one swift motion, filling you up so well and hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

Your whines rise in pitch as he immediately starts jackhammering into you, his fingers moving nonstop on your breasts, kneading and massaging them as he mouths at your nipples. “Fuck, Joong,” his name falls from your lips easily, “you’re so good for me.”

You can’t seem to stop singing his praises, and Hongjoong chuckles, eyes trained in on your face as he bites marks into your neck with wild abandon. He laves his tongue over each bruise blooming over your skin, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as his hips create a rhythm. If you focus, you can barely hear Mingi stroking his cock over the slick sounds of your cunt sucking Hongjoong deeper and deeper into you.

Your hands scrabble to find purchase as one of Hongjoong’s hands wanders down to rub at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive bud. “Ah–” You don’t even think you’re making any sort of discernable sound but it hardly seems to matter when Hongjoong’s fucking you so well.

“Mingi.” Hongjoong’s sharp voice cuts through the haze filling your mind, and you turn to see Mingi’s wide eyes staring at Hongjoong like he holds some type of power over the taller man. “Do you want to come closer?”

Mingi nods frantically without inhibitions, desperate for anything. “Come here, baby,” you call for him, voice wrecked just from how well Hongjoong made you feel. “No touching, okay?”

Hongjoong has slowed to careful, precise thrusts as he pulls Mingi closer by the belt loops of his jeans. The difference between your calm demeanour and Hongjoong’s harsh attitude towards your husband only serves to make his cock somehow redder and harder. As he looks up at your husband, Hongjoong’s lips pull into a killer smirk. “Should I teach you how to use your big, dumb cock? But we all know it’ll still never be enough for your wife.”

Mingi’s dick jumps at Hongjoong’s words and he whines low in his throat. It’s confirmation enough for Hongjoong, who leans down to take just the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the velvet head and dipping into the slit. Mingi gasps, the veins in his neck popping out as it takes all his willpower not to come right then and there.

Hongjoong’s other hand leaves your breast to fondle Mingi’s balls and he pops off with a crazed grin. “Already gonna blow so soon? This is why you can’t please (Y/N) enough. Always busting a nut early and leaving her with nothing. Why else do you think I’m here, huh? Do what your big, dumb, cock can’t. I may be smaller than you, but she surely prefers me.”

Mingi’s cock twitches again, and before he can burst, Hongjoong dips his head again, sheathing the entire length into his mouth and Mingi comes, shooting ropes upon ropes of searing cum into Hongjoong’s mouth.

Hongjoong doesn’t stop stroking Mingi until every last drop is milked, and then he dips his head and lets the come dribble out onto your pussy, his cock pushing Mingi’s cum into your pulsing cunt. “See, there you go, Mingi,” Hongjoong says, his tone so condescending but it only serves to make your brain even fuzzier, “it’s your come, but I’ll do all the work for you. Since you clearly can’t do it yourself.”

You grab at Hongjoong’s hand, whining loudly, and he looks at you in surprise. “More,” you whine, the only thing on your mind is your release.

With a knowing look, Hongjoong says nothing and returns to pounding you into the mattress, your high getting closer and closer until it finally breaks and crashes over you like wave after wave. “Fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back as your legs shake and your cunt flutters around Hongjoong’s cock. It seems to be the only word you can pronounce, repeating it over and over until you can feel your mind clearing up. Your body feels so heavy on the mattress and you feel like you could just sink into it.

Warm hands roam their way up your torso to your face, and Hongjoong’s face pokes into your line of vision as he peppers kisses on your cheeks. “Good?” he asks, and you nod hazily.

“Good.”

You reach out your arms, and as usual, both Hongjoong and Mingi fall into them, wrapping their bodies around you. “I still gotta clean you up, you know,” Hongjoong hums but you whine and just pull them closer.

“Not yet. I wanna lie down.”

Mingi chuckles into your ear. “You’ve been lying down since we started, baby. You’re such a pillow princess.”

You make a face at him. “Brave words from someone who came from someone kissing their dick. Now shut up and give me a kiss.”

With another laugh, both your men acquiesce and your heart fills with warmth.

@cultofdionysusnet

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez hongjoong #mingi fanfiction #mingi fanfic #mingi x reader #mingi smut #hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #joongfryefff24 #smut

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etaleah · 4 months

Text

I’ve been thinking a lot about Shadow’s characterizations in the Project: Shadow fan film, SA2, Archie, Heroes, ‘06, Prime, and Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog and why they’re all considered among the best. And I’ve been thinking about his characterizations in IDW and Boom, how they’re considered among the worst, and how much they clash with the other portrayals. I think I’ve hit upon the number one quality that Shadow needs to have to be written well.

Loyalty.

I’ll explain below the cut.

The best Shadow is one who is loyal to someone or something. Maybe he’s not always loyal to the right someone or something, but he is loyal nonetheless. It’s a core part of his character. He is ride or die to the very end for whatever friend or cause he cares about. Shadow is always ready to kill or be killed for whatever or whoever matters to him most; it’s what sets him apart from the others. The others have limits on their loyalty. Sonic will help you out, but he’s not gonna kill a man for you. Shadow will. He doesn’t have that limit. If you are Shadow’s friend and you need him to kill for you, he will do it. Period.

Here’s a recap of Shadow’s loyalty:

In SA2 and the fan film, it’s to Maria, and to a lesser extent, Gerald.

In Heroes and ‘06, it’s to Team Dark.

In Archie, it’s to Team Dark, Hope Kintobor, and Commander Tower. Sometimes it’s even to his own values like when he goes against Rouge to help Blaze in Treasure Team Tango.

In Sonic X, it’s to Maria and later Molly. Maybe even to the universe, given that he’s ready to kill Cosmo to save it.

In Prime, it’s to Green Hill. And later on, Shadow is also loyal to Sonic despite the latter driving him crazy.

In Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, it’s to Amy.

And in his own game, Shadow can be loyal to Maria, Sonic and friends, Eggman (up to a point), Black Doom, or even Earth itself. Not all of those folks are worth his loyalty, but the fact is that Shadow still cares about fighting by their side. That key element of his personality remains.

And that’s what’s missing in Boom and IDW. Because in those, he isn’t loyal to anything. He isn’t ride or die for anyone. At least, not that we can tell. When you remove Shadow’s faithfulness to those he loves, you remove a lot of what makes him who he is and all that’s left is an edgy aesthetic that soon wears out its welcome because there isn’t anything to supplement it. And this is made worse by the fact that they’re never allowed to bring up or expand his backstory, so they can’t ever talk about why he’s like this.

I guess you could make the argument that Shadow is loyal to the world in IDW since he helps save it a few times, but he’s so mean and heartless to everyone in the world that it feels less like he’s fighting to protect other people and more like he’s just trying to save his own house so he still has a place to live. I mean, if he won’t help Rouge when she’s been kidnapped by Starline and he won’t help Omega when the latter has been smashed to bits and he won’t help the Chao get out of their cage and he actually has to be talked into saving a village from an avalanche and he seems to really dislike/be annoyed by everyone he comes into contact with…what exactly is he saving the Earth for?? It can’t be for the people living in it. He hates them. He doesn’t care if they need his help. So the only conclusion I can draw is that he’s just doing it to save his own skin. The only person Shadow shows even the slightest bit of loyalty to is himself.

And that makes him unrecognizable from the Shadow we know and love.

His loyalty is his greatest virtue, even when it’s misguided. Let him keep it.

#sth #shadow the hedgehog #shadow meta #my thoughts #sonic the hedgehog #maria robotnik #space colony ark #sonic games #sonic comics #sonic idw #sonic archie #sonic prime #sonic 06 #team dark #project: shadow fan film

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mantizimus · 7 months

Note

So could you do a oneshot for the avatar gang meeting Male Reader who's aangs older brother who fights with air differently like making air constructs weapons maybe they see him get surrounded by Fire nation troops and he just takes the air out their lungs and drawing them closer to him then releasing the air outward blowing them away knocking them out as for why his still alive and young he went to look for aang but couldn't then a spirit blessed him to live longer

Hello. Sorry, it's not exactly how you wanted, but I hope that you still enjoy it.

Older Brother

Gaang

Toph was the first to hear the noise of the fight and immediately told her friends about it. Heading towards the sounds, they tried to move as quickly as possible to make it on time. However, what they saw shocked them. Almost all the fighters were firebenders, which was quite expected. The same, unfortunately, could not be said about their opponent. That was young man, about two years older than Aang, who used airbending, and created constructions out of thin air. "I thought Aang was the last airbender," Katara whispered, puzzled. “Looks like we jumped to conclusions,” Sokka, no less surprised, answered her. Aang didn't take his eyes off the only airbender. For some strange reason, it seemed painfully familiar to him. Unexpectedly, he accidentally turned to face them in profile, and the Avatar felt his heart stop. "Brother?" he asked, causing Katara and Sokka to look at him with even more shocked looks. "You never said you had a brother," Toph answered for them. “I thought he died long ago along with the rest of the Air Nomads,” he explained, getting up and rushing towards the fighters, preparing to attack, “We have to help him!” his friends did not have to wait long. Soon the firebenders were neutralized. "Aang?" young man whispered in disbelief, looking at the Avatar. "Yes," Aang replied in the same tone, barely restraining the urge to lunge forward and embrace his long-lost relative. For about a couple of minutes neither of them moved. Finally, the Avatar's older brother couldn't stand it anymore, he ran up to Aang and hugged him. "I missed you," he said, patting his little brother on the back. "I missed you too," Aang replied, happy to see him, "How did you survive?" “I don’t know,” older brother honestly admitted, “The last thing I remember is falling into the water, and then some strange glow,” breaking the hug, young man turned his look to the trio heading towards him, “Who are these?” “These are my friends,” explained Avatar, “Come on, I’ll introduce you!” --- “You have good friends,” you said, causing Aang to flinch in surprise and turn to you. You spent the evening around the fire and discussed various things, including your travels. “I know,” your little brother replied, leaning against you, “Honestly, if it weren’t for Toph, it’s not like we would have met.” "Was she always blind?" you asked carefully, trying to sound as quiet as possible, knowing that this would most likely be a sore subject. “Always,” the earthbender muttered dryly, moving a little closer to the fire. “Sorry,” you apologized, lowering your head. "It's not big deal," she waved it off. There was an awkward silence for about a minute. “Listen,” the Avatar said, making you look at him, “Can you teach me how to create those designs?” “Of course I’ll teach you,” you smiled, lightly patting your brother on the head. "Wonderful! When do we start training?" "Let's start tomorrow." "Fine."

#atla #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #the gaang #the gaang x reader #aang #aang x reader #katara #katara x reader #sokka #sokka x reader #toph beifong #toph beifong x reader

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vall-the-pen · 8 days

Text

We Become We

Synopsis: you’re arranged to marry the one and only yashiro commissioner, Kamisato Ayato

Content: Ayato x fem!reader, arranged marriage, one-sided love (Ayato) not proofread

Note: titled and inspired by the song ‘We Become We’ from Journey to Bethlehem (this is a little bit messy bc i tried making it shorter than my usual stuff😭)

—

“Do you like dogs?” Ayato guided you away from a puddle of rain. He has been asking you questions since you began your walk in the garden.

Still down in the dumps, you asnwered dryly, uninterested. “I’m fond of them.”

Your father had arranged a wedding for you and Lord Kamisato sooner than you had thought. You weren’t able to let everything sink in when he announced the date, there was still a little bit of aftershock left until now.

Lord Kamisato was ever such a gentleman—as he should. Flattery and friendly statements have accompanied you since he arrived at your clan’s estate. Nonetheless, you felt nothing for him. His chivalry was all for show. You knew this was just an arrangement, a sacrifice to make for your clan—for your father.

You were sure he felt the same, and that you would live in your separate houses as you tended to your duties, unbothered and concentrated. But the way he spoke to you made you think otherwise.

“Is that so? Then maybe I could show you my friend’s dog? His name is Taroumaru—the dog, not my friend.” Normally, Ayato wouldn’t speak so freely and childish around a person, but he felt safe enough in your presence to loosen his tongue. You nodded dryly, again.

He began to tire of your meekly responses. He sighed, “I’m sorry. You’re clearly upset about this whole… situation.”

After what felt like an eternity of silence, you looked at him for the very first time. Now he could properly see your monotonous eyes. “What gave it away?” You finally spoke in a more sincere tone.

“Well,” Ayato hesitated. “I won’t go into detail, but I’m no novice at taking hints.” You shyly laugh at this—a step in the right direction, he thought.

“I suppose I have to be careful next time.” Your gaze glued to the ground once more. “I wouldn’t want to offend you, Commissioner.”

“You don’t have to hide a thing, Y/N.” He leaned down slightly for you to see him. “It’s gonna take more than a secret to offend me. Oh, and you can call me Ayato; we are getting married, after all.”

You looked at him strangely, “I don’t understand how you’re so calm right now. Aren’t you disappointed that you’ve got your freedom taken away now that you’re engaged?”

“I’ll be honest here, I haven’t had that much freedom even before getting engaged!” He laughs, “If anything, choosing you as my wife is the only freedom I’ll ever have.”

“Only freedom?”

“When you become a leader, especially at a young age, you make it a habit to decide for the development of your clan. Your duties, fortunes, you should always think if it would benefit your people. There’s hardly any time to think for yourself.”

All of the sudden you felt pity for the man, with empathy lingering over. “Then you became the commissioner,” you draw out, to which he sighed. It seems like he’s unbothered by it now, like he’s gotten used to this overwhelming lifestyle. “Do you ever wonder about retirement?”

“As long as there’s no heir, I believe retirement isn’t an option for me.”

Ah, another reason for your engagement—producing an heir. Archons, you pray your children will have a much better life than you and your groom-to-be. “What about Miss Ayaka?”

You see a small grin on Ayato’s lips. “She’ll want to explore the world, meet new friends and what not. Best not to trouble her.” You both sit on a small bench with an overlooking view of the sunset, purple and red-colored leaves matching the tall sky.

“You really care for her, don’t you?”

“Of course, she is my sister, after all.” Ayato found you leering your head near his shoulder. A warm feeling buzzes in his chest as he nudged closer to you. Oh, he’s been talking all this time! You haven’t said a word about yourself since you met him, he realizes. To correct his mistake, he asks, “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Well,” you uttered, unsure where to start. You lean against him. “I find it charming that you care for your sister so much.”

“I meant with the marriage.” His voice wasn’t judgmental, but more like a friend lending comfort and safety. It lures you to open up to him.

“This was all just an arrangement,” you confess. Ayato couldn’t help but feel disappointed, yet he doesn’t speak a word of it. Maybe there will be a small rainbow after a drizzle of rain. “That was how I felt at first. But now I’m slowly growing more fond of you, my lord.

If you think of me as easily-caught, then I claim to be fond of you as a friend. At least, for now.”

“For now,” he repeats. “I’ll take that as a good sign. In truth, I fear I’m falling for you sooner than I thought.”

His confession makes you rise from your comfortable place, shock and sudden nervousness pulsing through your veins. “Pardon?”

Ever such a lady, he thought, even when shocked you still hold face. When he looked at you, he saw how you got antsy. Fearing for your comfort, he said, “I’m only joking, miss Y/N! I feel the same as you; a friend.”

You let out a breath, slightly relieved. You were flattered, but love at first sight just felt ridiculous to you—that was just physical attraction. True love takes time and understanding. With Ayato saying he was falling for you, you feared it was only for your looks and not for your soul. Though, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of loving him.

“I do admire your elegance, though,” he added.

“Thank you.”

Ayato couldn’t be happier that he was about to be your husband and you, his wife.

It was the way his name seemed to echo in songs from the loveliness that is your voice. It was the way you nodded when people passed by despite not knowing them. It was this sense of perfection he saw in you, and it only took him a smile to tell.

But the question in his head paralyzed him, anxious and, he wouldn’t lie, a little embarrassed. His feelings would be null and void if you didn’t—or wouldn’t—feel the same. “Will this always be just an arrangement to you?”

The stars peeked through the violet sky like fireflies by the time you walked back. The smell of the nearby sea and the woodlands blew with the air. You looked straight, watching your step in case you trip, while Ayato had looked at you like you were… everything. “I don’t really know you that well, Ayato. It can be difficult to tell.”

“But do you think, with time, this blossom of ours will grow into a beautiful flower?”

You appreciate his metaphor. “Maybe, someday.”

Someday.

—the end.—

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #kamisato ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #arranged marriage #fem!reader #ayato x fem!reader #one sided love

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

i just saw your post about glasses!eddie munson and whenever you have the time, would you be able to write a cute series of reader finding out about his glasses ITS JUST ADORABLE

author’s note: this was meant to post sooner than now but here it is lol, i finished this pretty quick but got sidetracked. glasses!eddie has invaded my brain and it’s never leaving.

cw: sfw, glasses!eddie, eddie’s not so subtle flirting, acquaintances to friends, once again another fic where everyone bullies eddie (give this man a break), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Your voice is soft, leaning back toward Eddie, whose eyes are nearly closed from how hard he’s focusing on the board, blindly scribbling something down on the paper. He’s lost on where the voice comes from until you’re in focus, looking back at him with a smile.

Eddie wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either. He was the boy who got picked on relentlessly and as much as you wanted to help, you weren’t sure it would change anything. Plus, he didn’t seem that bothered by it—or he was just really good at faking like he wasn’t.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, still confused, “I’ll be fine—Mr. Donahue’s handwriting is always shit, I can barely understand it.”

It wasn’t a total lie, but it was still legible.

“Munson!” The teacher's voice rings from the front of the classroom, “let's stop trying to distract other classmates and focus on our own work, okay?”

And if it wasn’t the condescension in his tone that pissed you off, it was the way he so quickly blamed Eddie for the interaction. He shrinks slightly, sending you an apologetic look.

It happens a few more times that week, catching Eddie glancing at the board as if it’s nearly impossible to see—and maybe he was telling the truth, but it’s also obvious that Donahue hates Eddie for no other apparent reason than just because he thinks he’s up to no good, which isn’t fair to Eddie.

You show up early to class the following week, bag resting in the chair of the desk beside you—Eddie’s usual seat, waiting. He’s always bordering on being late, making it to class as the bell rings, looking more frazzled than the others.

You weren’t sure what he got up to between classes, but he definitely seemed overwhelmed.

“This seat taken?” He asks with a smug smirk, pointing at your backpack. You smile slightly, reaching for it.

“Sorry—I just wanted to make sure I could sit beside you.” You tell him honestly. It throws Eddie off, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly before relaxing, eyes roaming over you curiously. “You said you can’t understand his handwriting, I was gonna let you copy my notes.”

“Can I copy your work too?” Eddie asks jokingly, but you can tell he means it. “I’m barely scraping by with a D in this class.”

You snort out a quiet laugh. “Let’s worry about the notes first.”

Eddie spends most of the class still struggling, forehead creased up as he sifts through your notes, writing things down sparingly. It’s almost like he’s trying not to be mean, focusing a little too hard on one word every now and then as he looks over, your papers perched on the corner of the desk.

“If my writing is horrible you can tell me,” You say, which makes Eddie chuckle, “seriously, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that,” He assures you, “it’s just—the angle, it’s a little hard to read them—“

“Oh, well,” You grab the papers in a bunch, extending them toward him, “here, just take them.”

Eddie ignored you, his fingers wrapping around the leg of your desk to pull it flush against his—it’s quick enough that it doesn’t make much noise, only a slight shifting that draws a few eyes.

“Or…that works too.” You say shyly, face heating up at his straightforwardness. “Better?”

He glances over, shifting the papers to his side and gives a subtle nod as his lips pull together in a tight line, “Yeah, actually.”

And it’s almost blissful silence as Eddie copies them down, asking a few questions when your words meld together out of habit when you’re writing too quickly, he still leans in slightly but you don’t pester him on it—eventually Eddie’s actions are noticed, all eyes shifting toward the back of the classroom.

When you look up, everyone is staring back, including the pensive and threatening eyes of your teacher.

Eddie mumbles a soft, “Sorry.” as he pushes your desk back.

“Do I need to remind you two that this isn’t a matchmaking class?”

And it’s a ridiculous comment to make, but it has Eddie scoffing slightly underneath his breath.

“I’m letting him copy my notes,” You say innocently, “is that okay?”

You can’t remember having a problem in any of your classes, either flying under the radar or one of the usual favorites—you’ve never felt this tense, staring down the entirety of the group that was staring right back, though your gaze was focused on Mr. Donahue.

Eddie looks at you briefly before settling his eyes toward the desk, fiddling with pen in his hands to soothe his anxiety.

“If Eddie has a problem, he can come sit up front,” He says coarsely, “I don’t think you have the wiggle room to be socializing, do you?”

And suddenly his gaze on you is forgotten, flicking toward Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t give him the satisfaction, shuffling his shoulders forward in an effort to hide himself, scribbling something random down on the paper in front of him—it’s something he did when was bored or uncomfortable, even, a comfort.

You catch Eddie toward the end of class, gripping his sleeve before he can sneak away.

“How far behind are you?” You ask him, peering up at him curiously. Eddie looks sheepish, glancing away for a moment.

“Uh, I haven’t really taken notes all semester—I kinda just..scribble shit down so it looks like I’m working.”

Your eyes slant down slightly, in an ire of disbelief as your mouth parts, “Eddie, are you serious?”

He shrugs, reaching a hand up to scratch his jaw. You huff through your nose, snatching the pen perched in Eddie’s pocket and uncapping it before shoving it into his hands.

“Give me your address.” You insist, holding out your arm to him. Eddie seems skeptical, fingers wrapping around your arm gently, shifting your sleeve up, “I’m getting you caught up—don’t look at me like that.”

And truly, he’s not sure how to respond. Kindness and niceties weren’t at all familiar, feeling like there was always some ulterior motive. Still, he scribbles down the information with slow strokes, careful that it doesn’t smudge—leaving a small smiley face out of spite, forcing a similar expression onto your own face.

“I’m free after six,” He tells you, “so unless you want to get caught up in awkward conversation with my uncle, wait until then.”

You laugh at that, pulling your sleeve down.

“How else am I supposed to uncover all of your secrets?”

Eddie smirks slightly, eyes averting toward the floor.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know—you just have to ask.”

He spends most of his nights—sans the ones where he’s performing for the small audience at The Hideout or hosting Hellfire meetings—organizing campaigns and writing down random things that come to his mind, feeling the need to get the thought out on paper, even if it’s song lyrics or a drawing.

He adjusts the thin rimmed glasses up his nose, eyes hurting from the strain he’s forced them through all day. He knows he should spend a few minutes resting, even just closing his eyes for a moment, but he can’t help it. Eddie knows it’s his fault, the beginnings of a headache forming as he tries to focus, his finger sneaking up to rub at his eye—he can feel the haziness, willing it away.

But then you’re knocking at his door and every thought is thrown out the window—part of him never expected you to show, his heart thrumming in his chest as he leaps from the bed, tossing the papers away haphazardly and forcing the glasses up into his hair without a thought, pushing his bangs away from his face.

Eddie whips the door open, causing you to startle slightly.

“Hi.” You say wearily, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi,” Eddie responds slightly out of breath, before clearing his throat and offering a smoother, “Hey.”

Your eyes glance up, noticing the difference in his face. His bangs were like a trademark, constantly hiding his eyebrows. You point up curiously, speaking before you can think things through.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“No—no uh, of course not.” Eddie responds quickly, adamant in his refusal. “Why would you—“

He’s clearly caught off guard, standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes crossing as he follows your finger, only realizing his mistake when you drag the glasses down slowly, pushing them gently up the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is definitely an interesting pair of non-existent glasses.” You say jokingly, grinning at his embarrassment, cheeks flushing a deep red.

It’s hard to explain how perfectly they fit his face—like it’s the missing piece that pulls him together. He’s not dressed up like usual, in a faded graphic shirt and gray pair of sweats, no jacket or rings in sight. It’s natural—and it’s in that split second you can see the real Eddie. Not the threatening, menacing Eddie Munson that everyone played him out to be.

Eddie nods wearily, beckoning you inside.

“I won’t tell anyone,” You promise him with a tinge of amusement, rounding on him as he closes the door, shoving the stack of papers at his chest, “—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eddie pulls the glasses off of his face, folding them up.

“It’s not that,” Eddie tells you, “—didn’t mean for you to find out about them, it kinda ruins the whole image, you know?”

Image. It makes you laugh to yourself silently.

“You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide them,” You giggled slightly, “besides, I don’t think they ruin anything.”

“I kinda forgot you were coming.” Eddie lies, knowing he had been riddled with nerves since he stepped foot inside of the trailer that evening, not understanding why he was so anxious to begin with.

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep or anything—“ You stop briefly, sighing softly, “but if you need a tutor or even just…some help, I don’t mind.”

Eddie doesn’t really know how to take it, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

“I study with Nancy a lot,” You explain, “it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m a lost cause,” Eddie admits with half-smile, “there’s no saving me.”

“I don’t believe that,” You tell him honestly, approaching him to shove the glasses back toward his chest, his other hand still stuffed full with the papers containing your notes, “—seriously, put them back on and I can spend a couple hours seeing where you’re at.”

Eddie listens, though skeptically, placing the glasses back onto his face—you smile without really thinking, causing him to react similarly.

“It’s okay to let someone be nice to you,” You assure him, “as many assholes as there are at Hawkins, there’s still a few of us who mean well.”

“I can’t be taught, I’m just warning you now.” Eddie remains adamant, leading the way toward his room. You follow behind eagerly, taking in the abstract way of decoration littered around the trailer.

“Fine—you can at least show me your drawings then.”

Eddie looks back at you briefly, a confused grin on his face.

“I’m really observant,” You tease, “and curious.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Eddie asks.

“I’ve already got one secret to keep,” You respond, teasing him lightly, “what’s one more?”

“How bad is it?” You ask him, staring up expectantly.

“What—oh, my eyes?” Eddie asks, “Uh, kinda bad. It’s okay, though—I manage.”

You crease your eyebrows together, motioning for him to remove the glasses. He does, watching as you reach for a paper, holding it up in front of him.

“Tell me when you can read it clearly.”

Eddie nods, squinting as you move the paper closer and closer, until it’s only a few inches from his face, your eyes widening in shock.

“Eddie,” You stress, “you can’t be serious?”

“I told you I manage,” He argues with a slight laugh, “but it’s bad, I meant that.”

Your expression remains the same, arms falling to your side as you discarded the paper.

“They look weird,” Eddie defends, “that’s why I only wear them at home—I already get enough shit at school anyways.”

“Bullshit,” You say boldly, “they do not look weird.”

Unfortunately, you did see all of the relentless teasing he caught at school, that wasn’t lost on you.

“You don’t have to lie,” Eddie says, “it won’t bother me.”

“I’m not,” You counter, smiling as the glasses returned to his face, his eyelashes touching the lenses, bangs brushing against the rim, “they fit you—they’re…cute.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “Okay, enough.”

You smile to yourself, watching as his cheek flushed a faint pink.

“Can I try them on?”

Eddie doesn’t answer outright, pulling them away from his face and handing them over—they’re a little bigger, his more prominent facial structure different from yours and causing the glasses to slide down your nose slightly. You push them up with your finger, squinting at the strain it puts on your eyes.

You can see Eddie smiling over the rim, admiring how perplexed you look in the moment, “Don’t look at me like that,” You say playfully, “these things are really strong.”

Eddie shakes his head, “It’s—nothing, nevermind.” He pulls the glasses from your face gently, placing them back on his own.

And Eddie’s never been shy, but suddenly he can’t force the words out, afraid of the mix of both rejection and embarrassment.

“I like you like this,” You tell him, hoping it eases him, seeing how tense he was—clearly unloved by many, “I mean, I like you both ways but this—it’s nice.”

“You’re the first.” He says flippantly, not aimed at you for any specific reason. He’s not immune to the words thrown at him, they do start to wear on him after time, even if he brushes them off for the most part.

“They’re insane,” You tell him with a surety, “all of them.”

“Careful,” Eddie treads, “Jason would have a fuckin’ field day if he heard you say that.”

You shrug, smugness in your expression.

“He’s terrified of me.”

“Jason—terrified of you?” Eddie asks, begging for more clarification.

“Our parents are friends—I’ve seen…a lot.” You say cryptically, not wanting to dive into details, “I’m not one for blackmail but I’m not totally above it.”

“You’re so interesting,” Eddie speaks candidly.

“I’ll take that was a compliment?” You respond, “Hopefully.”

Eddie nods with a subtle smile.

“Well—like you said,” You start, repeating his earlier sentiment, “I’ll tell you anything, just ask.”

You hold your finger up as his mouth opens—

“But, notes first—secrets later.”

Eddie pushes his glasses up comedically, forcing a quiet laugh from you—it’s the exact reaction he wants. He settles, agreeing with your rules.

“Deal.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #my writing

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ghouljams · 5 months

Note

Yo Ghoul, I was wondering if you could maybe write a lil Drabble about fae!roach or cowboy!Soap for a little thing to lift some spirits. I got my dads urn (it’s a little bullet on a necklace) and it finally sank in that I’m not going to be seeing him at Christmas. And I’ll never get to have his cooking again, and it hurts because my mom tries to replicate it but it’s just not the same. Everything feels like a pit, sucking all my motivation and energy. I didn’t realize that I would miss someone I called a deadbeat this much.

Sincerely, bad luck anon 🎱

I'm so sorry hun, the holidays always hit hard after a loss like that. You never truly know how much you'll miss someone until you're forced to miss them. We haven't seen any softness from fae!Roach, how about some of that?

It took no time from settling on the couch and turning the TV on to have Roach laying on top of you. He practically pushed you back down onto the cushions and made himself comfortable. You'd thought maybe you were about to get some, he'd grabbed your thighs and hooked your legs up around his hips, but no. As soon as Roach was sure you were comfortable he'd flopped down on top of you, scooting to rest his head on your rest.

You card your fingers through his hair, his arms tight around you as he cuddles happily. If you'd been hoping to actually watch the documentary you put on you're certainly not watching it now. Your eyes are focused on the man on top of you. He rubs his cheek against your chest, he wiggles his arm out from under you and pushes his hand up under your shirt. You hum and he tips his head back to look at you. His thumb rubs the soft skin of your stomach affectionately, not looking for more than you're offering but there.

"You comfortable?" You joke, watching a smile spread across his face. His teeth are just a little too sharp, his eyes a little too bright, up close like this it's harder to ignore that he's something else. He squeezes your hip lightly and settles his ear over your heart again, you take that as a yes.

Roach's fingers trace idle shapes over your skin. He moves with the rise and fall of your breaths, giving a pleased hum when you scratch at the base of his skull. He's warm and heavy, pulling you down with him into comfort. Something rumbles against you, and you fish around for your phone.

You check your notifications and find them empty, despite the rumbling that continues over your chest.

Is that coming from Roach? It's not a sound you've ever heard a human make, but somehow your curiosity doesn't grab onto it. It warms you, pulls you down to something soft and comfortable. You sigh and feel Roach settle heavier on top of you. His fingers trace more purposefully against your skin, something familiar about their shapes draws your attention. You try to hold onto them, follow the path of his fingers in your mind, but each time you try it slips your focus. G-A-R- then it falls through your fingers like sand, slipping your mind before you can catch another letter.

But that's what they are, letters, spelling something you can't track. You want to though, it feels important. The letters stick themselves to your bones, sink under your skin and settle along your muscles. You think that's why he repeats them, S-A-N- drop G-A- drop S- drop drop E-R-S-O-

Your head bobs, sleep tugging at you. Roach exhales, pushing down against you as your eyes lid. He presses until it feels like you fall through the couch, your breath floating with you as you drop gently down to sleep. Soft and warm, and safe with Roach.

#cod x reader #x reader #gary sanderson x reader #gary roach sanderson #roach x reader #roach sanderson #gary roach sanderson x reader #roach sanderson x reader #roach cod #roach mw2 #fae!Roach #1fae1

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jessiexcorner · 1 year

Text

Heartbreak Highs

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader.

"I met Ameire when I was five."

A little brown girl with blue overalls and a pink shirt walks over to two girls one blond hair and the other (h/c). The blond draws a crocodile while the (h/c) hands her green crayons as she makes her own painting. “What’s that?” The new girl asks,

“It's a crocodile.” The blond responds.

“It's shit.” The brown girl states. The blond drops her pencil to flip off the new girl, making her smile, while the (h/c) hair girl giggles.

"For a long time, it had just been me and Harper, but with Ameire we were unstoppable."

The three girls run as a teacher chases them through the hall, “Stop it!” The girls giggle and run faster.

"They were my ride or dies. Nobody could come between us. Well, that was until the incest map. Ameire and Harper were super into romance, not that I wasn’t, it's just they tended to watch people.”

(Y/n) takes out her books from her locker clutching onto them as her friends, Amire and Harper giggle holding their books while staring at a couple making out against the lockers. The (h/c) color girl tries to pull them away from the scene but they don't budge.

"In so a creepy way.”

The girls now older, still watch as a couple fights making fun and guessing what the couple could probably be saying. “Oh, I swear to god Jessica you know I'm good for it eh?” Harper makes her voice deeper playing the man.

“If you touch her again I’ll fuckin smash ya, ya cheatin’ dog.” Ameire uses a high pitch.

“No babe, I'm fuckin’—“

“Kiss me!” Both girls make kissing noises. (Y/n) watches the teens quietly shaking her head.

“I don’t exactly know when it started to happen, but somehow I ended up drifting apart from the two,”

Amerie and Harper giggle as they write on the Incest map while (y/n) stands in the corner watching quietly. “You’re obsessed,” Harper comments as Amerie draws a line with a gold marker across her name and dusty.

“Destined,” Amerie says with a smile, (Y/n) looks down playing with the small rock on the floor, kicking it around, bored.

“Harper tried to include me in their activities, Amerie on the other hand seems to forget me more often. Maybe it's because Harper knew me for longer. Eventually, Harper left me behind too. I used to miss them from time to time and the fun we used to have, but now when I look back at those times, I remember they mostly kept me around because their parents trusted me, and if they were around ‘(Y/n) the good kid who gets grades and doesn’t do drugs’, they thought maybe their kids wouldn’t either, which gave harper and Amerie more freedom to actually, go out and do drugs. I completely stopped talking to them after the fight.”

“Ugh, I can't wait for the festival,” Amerie states sitting down on (Y/n)’s floor while eating a bunch of junk candy. Home worksheets thrown on the floor, harper lays on (y/n)’s bed taking some junk food from Amerie.

“I know right, I even got Cash to come and sell us some drugs, we are going to get so wasted.” Harper boasts. (Y/n) sits on her desk trying to finish her homework, ignoring the girls.

“Ah, no way? I can't wait, I got the tickets too! Look,” Amerie says taking out the tickets from her backpack and holding them out for Harper to see. Harper takes the tickets to inspect them noticing something.

“Am, there are only two tickets,” Harper states sitting up now.

“What?” Amerie looks up.

“You only got two tickets, what about (Y/n)?” Harper asks confused.

“Oh, well, she didn't give me the money for it so,” Amerie says glancing at the (h/c) hair-colored girl who sighs.

“I'm not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Harper questions.

“Because I don't want to keep being your guy’s babysitter when you get high or drunk.”

“..well you can just, drink with us,” Amerie states as if it's the easiest solution in the world.

“No, I can't Amerie, because if you knew anything you would know I don't want to.” (Y/n) snaps a little putting her finished homework away.

“..why are you so pissed off? It's just—“ Amerie gets cut off.

“Why am I so pissed off? Amerie. It's like the only time you guys ever hang out with me is because you want something from me or when I have use to you!”

“That's not true.” Harper defends herself and Amerie.

“Yes, it is! You only hang out with me because your parents think that you wouldn't possibly be going out to get drunk with me, and you guys are literally here because you wanted to copy my homework answers. You never hang out with me anymore just doing things like normal, it's always watching the latest hook-up or gossip or getting high and drunk. You never even invite me out anymore.” (Y/n) says angrily shaking a little trying to keep calm. The other two girls are silent and look at each other before collecting their things ready to leave.

“We’ll talk when you've calmed down,” Amerie says picking up her back.

“Oh fuck you, Amerie, just leave, I don't wanna talk to you again.” (Y/n) snaps. The brown girl walks out leaving Harper.

“..I,” Harper starts but then pauses not knowing what to say, muttering an apology while she walks off following Amerie, leaving (Y/n) by herself.

“After that, Harper would occasionally text me, and ask to try to hang out and watch movies like old times, but it wasn't the same. There was always this weird tension. I made new friends though, better friends. Quinni and Darren. Those two are actual ride or dies. They made me feel like I didn't have to pretend or have to get high for them to like me, they treated me right. I had almost forgotten about Harper and Amerie for a while, well that was until that night..”

At school grounds early in the morning, (Y/n) walks up to Quinni and Darren who are talking before someone bumps in between the two, squealing, ‘Dusty spoke to me!’ And giggling. “‘Dusty spoke to me’ what a pick me bitch. Also rude.” Darren mocks the brown girl who bumped them. (Y/n) chuckles lightly, agreeing.

“Maybe she didn't see us,” Quinni says kindly giving Amerie the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please, Check the material. We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish.” Darren says linking arms with both girls, brushing Quinni’s hair lightly, “of course they saw us.” They all walk heading to the school building. (Y/n) looks at her phone, sending a quick message to a contact labeled ‘H.’, ‘you coming soon?’ There’s a pause before the person responds with ‘yea see you there.’ The trio walks towards the steps seeing a new face. “Fresh blood,” Darren whispers to the two girls, (Y/n) looks up from her phone noticing a boy in a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored striped pants, asking for directions. As they walk past him to the stairs, the boy makes eye contact with (Y/n) giving a small awkward smile. (Y/n) smiles back and walks with her friends up the stairs, “What was that?” Darren questions,

“What?”

“Were you trying to flirt with him? Oh, baby (Y/n), growing up so fast.” They say teasing.

“Shut up.” (Y/n) ignores the taller stylish kid. The three are about to head to class when someone shouts gaining everyone’s attention.

“Oi! There’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell. It's called the incest map!” The person shouts walking away, everyone intrigued follows, heading to the stairwell. (Y/n) looks over noticing Amerie stood still with a look of panic. Both girls rush to the stairwell, (Y/n) catching up with her friends. She looks over the map noticing it has grown much bigger than the last time she saw it, then again she stopped coming her long before the fight. She notices new names, including those of her friends Quinni and Darren, she looks over and notices her own name, not connected to anyone just having the words ‘Fish.’ In bold written in familiar handwriting. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She notices Missy walking away from her girlfriend upset about what she saw on the map.

“Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes now?” A kid, Spider, teases their friend Anthony, also named Ant.

“Little cheeky huh?” Dusty comments, making a crude hand gesture.

“Who says I'm a dude?” Darren retaliates.

“Oh! Look (Y/n)’s a fish!” A couple of boys laugh. “Awe, I can change that for you if you want (Y/n)” Spider says making kissy faces at the girl who clenches her jaw. Looking over at Amerie who looks panicked and avoiding the girl’s gaze. Quinni searches the wall for her name before finding it, labelled ‘lazy kebab’

“That’s not true, what’s a lazy kebab? Spider what's a lazy kebab?” Quinni calls the guy who is said to spread the rumor.

The kids are called for a school meeting and they all sit in the hall. “It's mostly kids from our level, it must be someone we know,” Quinni comments her observation to the other two, who sit down.

“It's probably Spider or one of those idiots. Most of its bullshit anyway,” Darren says sitting in the middle comforting the girls. (Y/n) sits quietly beside Darren, glaring at Amerie, and forcing the kid in the seat next to her to move, leaving an empty seat beside her.

“So crazy right?” Amerie comments. (Y/n), although sitting a couple of seats away, hears this and scoffs. A girl walks into the hall wearing a grey shirt and red pants and having a shaved head.

“Holy shit is that Harps? Oh my god her hair,” Sasha comments sitting next to Amerie, she throws a paper ball at Harper only to miss. Most kids turn to look at the girl. Harper walks towards (Y/n) and sits next to her in the empty seat quietly.

Amerie notices and stands calling out, “Harper,” only to be ignored and told to sit down by the principal.

“Fish, really couldn’t think up anything more clever than that?” (Y/n) comments blankly not looking at the girl next to her, Harper turns to glance at (Y/n) and mutters an apology.

“I didn't write it.”

“I know but, you didn’t stop her either.” (Y/n) sighs as she looks over at Harper before turning away and focusing on the principal. Both sit quietly next to each other.

There is complete silence. “I am a woke woman.” The principal starts. “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” She states, making a couple of kids laugh and snicker. “But reputation is everything and this map has jeopardised your reputations and the reputation of our school on the first day back. We are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos.” The students erupt in protest, while Amerie continues to look at Harper and (Y/n), who are sitting quietly. “Hey, hey, unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable. Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment.” Darren laughs at this. “But clearly this is a wake-up call that we are not doing enough. Oh, and we will find out who did this.” Amerie gulps. “Get to class, go, go, go.” Students stand and head to their classes, (Y/n) and Harper stand and walk together while Darren and Quinni follow.

“Harper, (Y/n) oi!” Amerie calls out only to be ignored and stopped by the principal. “Miss Wadia. Come with me.”

Ameire sits in principal Stacy’s office. “Well, I’ve had quite the education this morning, Amerie. “Wristy? Oh, right.” She reads off her phone. “Doughy? Fish?” Her dog, Joan of Bark, whimpers sitting in his bed. “I think I can work out ‘tongue punch in the fart box.’” She sighs and puts her phone down, while Amerie sits smiling. “I know it was you, Amerie. One of our maintenance staff saw you in the stairwell multiple times. Who else was in on it? Your usual accomplice, Harper? Did you also force (Y/n) into it with you two?”

“Nobody else was in on it,” Amerie says confidently no longer smiling.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The Guardian, Amerie. The Guardian."

"...Okay?"

"Were all of these acts consensual?"

"I guess." Amerie shrugs confused.

"Are your mates using protection?" The principal questions.

"I don't know."

"Well, how can you know that Alyssa scissored Nina, but not know if they're using contraception?" She asks suspiciously.

"I don't think you have to use contraception when you scissor someone, Miss." Amerie sarcastically retorts.

"I'd say that's a very dangerous assumption actually, Amerie. What do we have to do to get through to you? We've done the classes. We've watched the videos. We've had the police consultants in. And yet, here we are with this map." Miss Stacy scolds, "One foot out of line, one late slip, one phone infraction, and I will expel you. Understood?"

"Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you may."

"Okay."

"Wait! You call this the Incest Map. I'm assuming that's just a play on words and not the actual..."

"Play on words, Miss." She quickly assures the principal.

"Okay, good. Now, get out of my office before I do expel you, by the count of three. One, two, three!" She sighs.

Pt.2; https://www.tumblr.com/jessiexcorner/716409910079913984/heartbreak-highs-pt-2?source=share

#heartbreakhigh #heartbreakhighamerie #amerie #harper mclean #malakai #malakai x reader #harper x reader #heartbreakhigh2022 #darren #quinni #heartbreakhighdarren #heartbreakhighquinni #heartbreak high x reader

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scolbert22 · 1 year

Photo

My sink was broken, AGAIN. And my landlord Dwight was still too cheap to call a real plumber, so he was back once again to do another half-assed repair job.

“Listen buddy, I’m gonna take care of it for real this time, quit your bitchin’” He drawled in his light southern accent as he scratched at his cheesy moustache.

Luckily, his unwelcome presence in my home meant I could play a little target practice with my new invention. I called it the “slut ray”. It was a little gun I’d made from spare parts I’d “borrowed” from work. It warps a man’s libido, brain, and body to make them sexier and more open to “fun”. At least, that was what it was meant to do, I had never actually tried it out before. But seeing my landlord’s ass waving in the air obliviously, I knew this was the perfect chance to work out any kinks on a live subject.

I snuck up behind him in my socks, careful not to make any noise. I pointed the gun right at his plumber’s crack, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger. I heard a slam and my landlord grunt loudly.

I opened my eyes excitedly, and then realized with disappointment that the jackass had just smacked his head on the underside of the sink. Otherwise there was no change. Maybe I missed? I held my breath and lifted the gun again, this time keeping my eyes open. I fired at him again. This time, I watched as he arched his back and moaned softly. And then....

No further change. Dammit, it’s clearly way too weak. I shot at him again out of frustration. This time he didn’t even seem phased. I walked back to my room, defeated. I knew that invention is a lot of trial and error, but I’d had really high hopes for this one.

I was poring over my notes, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong when I felt a presence over my shoulder. I slammed by notebook closed as I whirled around. What I saw made my jaw drop.

It was Dwight, but barely. My slob of a landlord now looked like a hot college student wearing a “Sexy Dwight” costume for Halloween. He looked fitter, curvier, handsomer. Even his moustache and plumber’s crack were sexy now. But I could see in his face that it was still him, however improved that face may be.

“Golly Mister Masters, I didn’t mean tah surprise ya!” his light drawl seemed to have morphed into a goofy impression of itself, and now he sounded like a sexy Gomer Pyle. “You don’t haff to worry none about me spyin’ on ya though, I ain’t too good a reader.” He scratched the back oh his head, flashing a hairy pit.

The three blasts I gave him must have built on each other, and the delayed reaction sent him past slut and turned him into a lewd pinup drawing come to life. Oh my gosh, I realized. This isn’t a slut ray, it’s a porn ray! I’ll have to up the power for the next trial.

“I jist swung by to say I was in yer kitchen and I couldn’t figure out why, fer the life o’ me! I guess I musta jist plum fergot!” To be honest, the accent was growing on me.

I reached in my mind for something to say to this impossible version of my landlord. Then I had the most perfect idea.

“Well Dwight, we were just going to talk about how I don’t think I’m gonna be able to pay next month’s rent, and I was wondering if we could come to some other kind of arrangement...?”

A dim spark flashed behind Dwight’s vacant eyes and he smiled idiotically. “Well Mister Masters, yer in luck! I’m always willin’ to barter.” He wiggled his ass at me bawdily. It was clear this new invention was going to make my life a whole lot easier.

#male tf #dumber #redneck #straight to gay #oblivious

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harlowsbby · 1 year

Note

i have a request where reader who’s a singer and jack are dating but he’s never affectionate to her and he never spends time with her so he’s always spending his time at clubs and strip clubs but he never really cheats and his friends are always telling him he has the best girl he can find but he’s too blind to see how good he really has it with her but she breaks up with him and months after the break up she comes out with the song “Not another love song” by mariah the scientist and jack realizes he misses her more than ever but she over him already and chooses herself in the end🫶🏼

Keep you in mind

( I kinda switched it up if you don’t mind )

He never deserved you he never did, that’s what everyone ever told you or that’s what you read online through the blogs and other social media platforms.

You thought Jack loved you and adored you and treasured what the two of you had but in reality he didn’t, he could care less about you and every single thing he lied and hid about all eventually came to the light.

Whenever you looked at Jack you saw someone who could do no wrong you painted this image that he was the man of your dreams but he was far from it.

————————————————————————

Rolling over in your shared bed with Jack you smiled seeing him fast asleep, some mornings you’d wake up before him and just watch him sleep.

You loved admiring him he always looked so peaceful and at ease. Most of the time he was running around and doing who knows what. You caressed his chest softly, drawing random shapes on his bare chest and watching his chest rise and fall.

“You know if you’re gonna watch me sleep baby at least don’t be creepy with it.” Jack spoke causing to jump slightly not expecting for him to be awake. “How long have you been awake for?”

He opened his right one and looked at you with a smirk displayed on his lips. “I’d say long enough to know that you definitely do fart.” He laughed while you hid your face in his chest from embarrassment.

“Don’t be all embarrassed now I heard you loud and clear.” “Jack stop that’s embarrassing!” You yelled and lifted your head from his chest. “It was cute baby and it’s normal so stop hiding it.” He joked but you rolled your eyes and went to lean back into his touch but he quickly got up.

You frowned and sighed he never really showed you any type of affection so you were never really fazed by it but sometimes it did get to you. Especially late night at the clubs Neelam or your friend Chloe would be snuggled up to their men while you’d be shivering, cleaning on the club wall waiting for the Uber to arrive while Jack talked and took pictures with fans.

“So, what are we doing today? I was thinking maybe drive around and get some coffee and just have lunch somewhere.” You watched Jack grab his toothbrush and start brushing his teeth.

“Or we can just go see Clay and Urban we haven’t seen them in a few days.” Once he finished brushing his teeth he came out the bathroom. “Actually babe I have to go to the studio for a few hours and then I have to fly off to Vegas for that club appearance.”

“When will you be home then?” You watched with sad eyes as he grabbed his suitcase and packed a few outfits and some of his essentials. “I’m not really sure baby but don’t wait up okay? I’ll be back pretty late.” He walked over to you and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before grabbing his things and leaving.

“Well I guess it’s just me.” Mumbling to yourself before flopping back into the bed. Sometimes you wish you’d talk to Jack and tell him how you really felt but you knew that would result into an argument.

Maybe he’d change eventually but that’s something that you’re constantly telling yourself but the reality of it was that he wasn’t changing and wasn’t planning on it.

————————————————————————

“Jack you’re a fool man.” “He really is if I had a women like Y/N waiting on me at home I’d never be outside.” Jack was laid up at the club he had just finished his performance and decided to stay for a bit longer instead of just going right back home.

“Are you all still going on about Y/N? I promise you all she’s fine and she isn’t going anywhere.” Jack knew that for a fact, you were stuck on him like glue and no matter how absent he was in this relationship he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“How do you know that? Maybe one day she’ll wake up and get tired of all your late night adventures.” Clay was right and even though Jack was his brother he considered you family and he hated the way his brother was so absent in your relationship.

You loved affection and receiving as well as giving love and affection you hated the way it felt so one sided, even on days that Jack was home he wasn’t really home. He’d be done somewhere or upstairs sleeping the day away. He’d be sleep and you’d be awake and when you’re sleeping he’s awake.

You always had to contribute to his lack of effort and you knew it was best the two of you went your separate ways, your heart was wanting and needing more but your heart belonged to Jack.

“Why are you putting all of this negative energy in the air? It’s like you all want her to leave.” It got quiet everyone took sips from their drinks not really having a response. “So it’s like that? When I wanna do me it’s an issue?” Jack was now getting defensive not because he was mad but because he knew everything they were saying was true.

“We’re not saying that but maybe loving someone else just isn’t for you right now, Y/N deserves someone who’s physically there and locked in just like her. She doesn’t need an absent partner.” With that everyone walked away from the booth leaving Jack alone.

He was no longer in the mood to party the only thing on his mind right now was you.

————————————————————————

“This is a really depressing song don’t you think?” Your manger and friend Kira all came over that night, the three of you were going over which song would be your latest single for your upcoming album.

“It’s depressing yes but it speaks volumes.” You expressed and went and played back your song ‘Not A Love Song’. Kira and Alex bopped along to the song.

“What’s the meaning behind this song?” Alex looked up at you. “Basically it’s just about a women feeling as if her partner isn’t putting enough effort and that she’s always filling up the empty pieces in their relationship.” Alex watched you intensely. “How did this song come about?”

“Alex, come on let’s just go over the cover art.” You went to take the laptop from her but she pulled it back. “Y/N.” She said in a threatening tone, you sighed there was no use of lying. “Jack was the inspiration, we just well he doesn’t spend time with me anymore I feel like I’m the only one trying.”

“Have you talked about this with him?” Kira took your hand and rubbed smoothing circles on the back of your hand. “No what’s the point he won’t listen he’s always out and on the road and honestly I just can’t.” You stopped yourself.

“Can’t what babe?” With quivering lips you looked up at the both of them. “I can’t.. I can’t do this anymore I need to choose me because in the end it’ll only be me.”

————————————————————————-

Jack was on his way back home after Nemo pulled him to the side and talked to him about how the way he was treating you he had to admit he was wrong.

He loved you dearly and truly and didn’t want things to end between the two of you. He tried texting and calling a few times but never got an answer from you.

“She’s probably sleeping in I saw on Alex’s story that they were up late at some bar.” It was true you were all at a bar but only because you were attempting to drink your pain and emotions away.

“Yeah she probably is, I hope she likes the flowers I got her and honestly I hope she hears me out.” Nemo shrugged his shoulders, “I hope she does man.”

When they pulled up to the driveway Jack thanked Nemo for giving him a ride. He was nervous but just prayed that everything will go smooth.

Upon opening the front door he was met with a cold breeze making him shiver. “Baby? Are you up, why is it so cold.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up from the coldness. “Babe?” He slowly made his way upstairs.

“Y/N, are you fucking around with me or what.” He grinned but the grin quickly faded when he saw not only the somewhat empty bedroom but the empty closet ad well and a note attached to his side of the bed.

Dear Jack

- you know I’ll always love you and support you but I think it’s time we start loving one another a few feet apart. Lately I’ve been feeling like this relationship is one sided and a break might be needed and hopefully when the time is right we’ll reunite.

- Love Y/N.

“So she really left me.” He mumbled to himself and flopped down on the mattress. He felt defeated like he let not only you down but what the two of you had. Maybe the two of you didn’t deserve a love but instead a poem that described how everything went wrong.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Odyssey | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Summary: There are a few bumps in the road during your travel to Italy and your first day there. Bradley’s not a regular professor, he’s a cool professor.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, themes of eventual infidelity, mentions of travel sickness and throwing up, wc: 4.5k

…

“I can’t do it, I just can’t go,” You throw yourself back against the leather seats and cover your face with your hands. Malcom drives a Rolls Royce corniche from last year with a black exterior and brown leather seats. You’re parked outside of Ithaca Thompkins Reigonal airport, your suitcase is in the back and your fiancé’s stroking tenderly at your cheek. “It’s going to be hell.”

“It’s a summer in Italy, honey, not jail time.” Malcolm laughs at you, lifting your jaw and giving a calm shrug of his shoulders. The sun on your face, the two of you had practically the entire winter to celebrate your engagement, it seems fitting that his last summer is his and his alone. His heart squeezes at the thought of the autumn to come. Your honeymoon, a short stay at his father’s place in the Bahamas.

Then, the rest of your lives together. The thought is enough to make you concede finally.

“It’s hardly a vacation.”

“You’ll be home before you know it, and then you’re gonna be my wife. I’ll take you on all the vacations you could want.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” You point, tone begrudging as you finally move to pull open the car door. Your fiancé follows you out of the car, leaving the roof down as he

reaches into the back to grab your suitcase. It’s a gift from your mother, part of a matching his and hers set that should’ve stayed pristine until your honeymoon. Bringing it back tarnished isn’t an option.

He lifts it out of the car and walks around, closing your door for you and then wrapping an arm around your waist.

“This will all be a funny little thing that we look back on. Something to tell our kids the first time we take them to Italy.” Malcolm’s thumb nudges just slightly under your white t-shirt, stroking a gentle circle on your waist. He squeezes you against him, pleased with himself for finally drawing a smile from you.

“Alright, two, four, six…” Bradley counts the young adults in pairs, his brows drawing together as he searches for his seventh. There’s no need to wonder who it is that’s missing. Eight minutes after nine, he’s giving you two more before he leaves you behind.

“Hey, Bradley,” Luke is Bradley’s favourite TA. He’s not supposed to have favourites, but he’s also not supposed to have any tattoos. He’s supposed to wear a tie at work. ‘Supposed to’s’ haven’t mattered much to Bradley in the course of his career. Luke is a little shorter than Bradley, athletic and dark haired. He’s going to teach in France in the Autumn, inspired by his favourite professor. “Did you hear back from that guy in Sicily about August?”

Luke listens. He really cares about what he studies, Bradley likes that about him. They share the same sense of humour too. He smiled a little, and then shakes his head.

“No, I think he heard the American accent and made up his mind before I’d even asked him about it.” Bradley gives a small shrug, like it doesn’t matter, but they both know that would have been the opportunity of a century.

Luke’s sympathetic in his nod back. They leave it at that. Bradley lifts his arm and checks his watch again. As he’s about to turn and leave, he catches sight of you, strolling in and talking away to your fiancé like you aren’t holding everybody up.

“You’re late.”

You turn your head and look him over. He’s wearing beige shorts and white converse tennis blancs. No other professor you know would show up to a work trip in sneakers. The first impressions are set.

You’re late, he’s underdressed.

“Sorry, man. We hit traffic on Warren Road.”

It’s a maybe thirty minute drive from the furthest part of campus. Bradley doesn’t say anything at all. He just stares. Just the look on his face makes you seethe, wondering silently what kind of woman could have raised such an impolite adult.

His eyes pull away from Malcolm and fall down to the nice, white suitcase that you’ve brought along with you. It’s Ralph Lauren with an extendable handle and wheels. From this alone, Bradley knows that you haven’t spared a second to look at the itinerary. You watch him scrutinize your luggage, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Alright, well, since we’re already late. Let’s move.” Bradley decides, bored. He turns and hoists lifts his much more manageable suitcase into his right hand. Like ducklings, the other students gather quickly and follow him as he turns towards the check in desk.

“You can’t seriously expect me to spend three months in the middle of nowhere with that man,” You shake your head adamantly, folding your arms over your chest and looking to your fiancé for support. “I’ll wind up murdering him.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say murder in an airport, honey,” Malcolm teases. He pulls you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “You’ll be back before you know it. Go, see the world. I’ll be right here to listen to all your stories when you get back.”

“I love you.” You mumble begrudgingly into his Tommy Hillfiger polo. He grins and kisses your temple, then tells you the same. Finally, he takes you by your shoulders and pushes you towards the other group of students.

You swallow dryly as your loafers carry you forwards. One of the students, dark haired and grinning, leans in and says something to Bradley while his eyes remain on you. Bradley chuckles as it and shakes his head, dropping his suitcase onto the scale.

Glancing back over your shoulder, trembling starting in your chest and spreading along your nerves, Malcolm smiles and nods for you to go ahead. He’s tanned already from the start of the golf season, cheeks dimpling, straight brown hair falling into his eyes a little. He’s going to have to cut it once he starts working for real, but you like the boyish look for now.

Pausing, you take your time to look him over. Taller than you by just a few inches, strong from his years of baseball, slim from his years of track, smooth skin and blue eyes that are just to die for.

Your gaze falls down to the rock on your finger. The knowledge that if you can withstand these two months, you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted is enough to finally make you turn back around and set your suitcase down on the scale.

The next twenty four hours will be the worst. Your itinerary, which is wrinkled near the bottom from the stream of tears that had been pouring onto it the night before, tells you that it’s about seventeen hours of travel. A short flight, first, two Newark airport. Then, a six hour flight to London. Finally, a two hour flight to the north of Italy.

Bradley settles into his seat on the flight to Newark and glances behind him to search for his seven students. Three sitting together, two sitting together, Luke’s at his side and then you’re sitting on your own between an elderly married couple. His lips quirk to himself as he turns back around. It’s only fair that karma pays him back a little bit.

He’s less than thrilled about you being here. It just doesn’t seem fair that someone missed out on this opportunity because your daddy was able to pull some strings. You don’t give a shit about this trip. So, if it’s miserable for you, Bradley really couldn’t care less.

You rub at your temples, the volume of your Walkman turned up as loud as it will go, Joy Division blasting in your ears as the Houseman’s lean over you to argue with each other. Lifting your head, you find Bradley soundly asleep, arms folded over his chest and lips parted slightly — perfectly comfortable aside from his knees pressing into the seat in front.

He couldn’t care less when you’re panicking in the lounge at Newark airport, thinking you’ve lost your passport. Or when you’re stuck next to a screaming baby on the flight to London. Or, when on the flight from London to Turun, there’s such bad turbulence that the first thing you do upon landing is rush down the steps and puke.

“Oh, here — did you want some water?” Abigail offers. Bradley doesn’t know her that well other than the fact that she is the only person he knows who has never gotten less than an A in his class, and that she’s probably more intelligent than he is. And apparently, more of an empath. She rubs her hand along your shoulders soothingly and offers you the unopened plastic bottle.

You step back from the trash can, letting go of your hair and groaning quietly, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“Thank you,” You seem surprised by her kindness, taking the bottle from her slowly like she might have snatched it back from you. Gratitude. That surprises Bradley. “That’s really sweet of you.”

It’s not your fault that you were taught early on that there’s no such thing as a free handout, or that selflessness is a myth. Abigail comes from a much different background. Her mom does soup kitchens and charity drives, she taught all three of her children the meaning of kindness early on. Your mother taught you the value of womanhood early on.

“It’s no big deal.” She smiles, reaching into the pocket of her light washed jeans and pulling out a packet of gum. “You can keep this.”

Bradley watches the exchange, then checks his watch again. As much as it seems fair to watch you suffer, the last thing he needs is for you to call your father screaming on the first night.

“Alright. It’s a twenty minute ride to the hotel, there’s a bus for us outside. Are you going to be alright?”

Exhausted, your ears are ringing and this is the most professional that he has acted all day; you know not to push your luck with him. You nod weakly at him. He can’t help but notice how colourless you’re starting to look at baggage claim, and how much trouble he’s going to be in if you die on the first day. You chew tiredly on the peppermint gum, trying to pretend that the motion of just chewing alone isn’t enough to still make you queasy.

You should be in Malcolm’s television room, right now. Sitting curled into his side with your legs across his lap, watching some action movie that will keep his attention long enough for the two of you to finish it. Closing your eyes and picturing that you’re there just doesn’t cut it.

Stepping out of the airport, an iron-tight grip on your suitcase handle, you inhale deeply. The fresh air makes you feel a little less light headed. You sip slowly at the water. Everyone keeps looking at you.

It’s not half as warm as you had expected it to be. When you had pictured Italy, you had pictured vineyards and thick heat. Tonight, you’re in a city, and it’s actually a little cold even with the thick denim jacket you’re wearing. The chill helps breakthrough that sick, sweaty feeling that you’ve got going on though, which is nice.

“Mr. Bradshaw!”

Bradley’s lips turn up into a big grin as he locks sights on the short, bald man that’s grinning at him from in front of a black minivan.

“Pasquale!” He chuckles as he speaks, dwarfing the older man as they hug. You’ve never seen him that pleased to see anyone. “How’s it going?”

“Same old, same old,” Pasquale shrugs, giving Bradley a knowing wink. They share a laugh again. “Big group this year.”

Bradley turns to look at all of you over his shoulder, then nodding slowly. His gaze lingers on you. “Uh-huh. They’re a little tired.”

“Well, then, let’s get the kids to bed.” Pasquale jokes. He grabs the handle and tugs open the middle door to the van, then walks around to tug open the back doors.

Everyone hands their bags to him, then finds a seat inside. Making the most of the fresh air whilst you’ve got it, you’re intentionally the last.

Pasquale grunts as he lifts your suitcase off of the ground, struggling with the weight of it. Bradley shoots him a look and then grabs your arm, stopping you before you can step into the van.

“Sit up front. In case you puke.” He instructs, grabbing the passenger side door and pulling it open for you. Waiting for the ground to just swallow you whole, you nod weakly again.

Bradley was right. It’s a twenty minute ride to the hotel. He just hadn’t warned you that it was going to be the longest twenty minutes of your life. Turin has a tram system and passing over the tracks, and the bumpy roads makes your stomach churn. Pasquale tries to make conversation but there’s not really much you have to say. Everyone behind you is in pretty good spirits, looking out of the windows and talking about the city.

“Alright, everyone gets a roommate — are we going to be mature about this and buddy up, or do I have to treat you like you’re six?”

You’re blinking at him now, knowing that no one here will want to share with you, hoping that you get assigned a room so that you can finally pass out. The hotel is ninety years old and it looks older, cracks through the paint and cobwebs in the corners, but you just can’t find it in you to care. Dust fills your nose and makes you blink like you’re going to sneeze. The entire place smells like cigarettes. Speaking of cigarettes, Bradley’s just itching for a couple of seconds away from you guys.

Everyone around you buddies up. Your eyes widen, finding that there are only seven students.

“Uh, no, no — you two cannot share a room. I’m not taking anybody home pregnant. Luke, you’re with me.” Bradley snaps his fingers, frowning sternly. You turn your head and watch as he takes his arm off of the girl’s shoulders. She whines, frowning at Bradley. “That goes for all of you actually. You’re all adults, just — I’m not your dad, don’t make me act like it. Okay?”

“Okay…” Come a few begrudging agreements as Luke sulks over to Bradley.

“Cool. That leaves you two.” Bradley decides, nodding to you and the girl who just had her evening’s plans ruined. You swallow, nudging the toe of your shoe into the faded red carpet under you. “Okay. I’m going to give you your keys, there’s one per room so don’t be a dick and lock your roommate out. Don’t lose your key, there’s a twenty euro replacement fee and I’m not paying it.”

What no one had mentioned to you about Italy was the stairs. You’re still fairly naive about it as you drag your suitcase up to the third floor — you’ve got a long summer ahead of you. Your room is at the furthest end of the hall. Bradley makes his location known to all of you, and then suggests that you try to get as much sleep as you can.

“Dibs on the bed by the window.” Your roommate, who you now know to be named Robin because of a conversation you heard as you were coming up the stairs, declares before the door is even open.

You’re far too tired to argue, and not really bothered by that kind of thing anyway.

It’s a twin room with dated paint on the walls and patterned sheets, heavy curtains covering the window and faded carpet under foot. You swallow softly as you look around you. Quickly, you realise what’s missing.

“What? — Not what you’re used to?” Robin teases as she lifts her bag and drops it onto the bed by the window. It’s most definitely not what you’re used to. Your mother wouldn’t touch this place with a ten foot pole and your father dismantles businesses like this one just for the fun of it.

Still, the decor isn’t your biggest issue. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Huh,” She stops to look around the room, frowning, then shrugs and turns back to her case. She unzips it and flips the top open. Your eyes land immediately on the box of trojans at the top of her belongings. “I don’t know. Ask Brad.”

You’ve never heard anyone call him Brad, or heard him introduce himself as that. You don’t like it. But, you turn and walk down the hall anyway. All that you want right

After approximately thirty seconds of peace, Bradley winces at the knocking on his door. Something in his gut tells him that it’s you, or something you’ve done, before he even answers.

“What?”

The force with which he swings the door open makes you jump. You almost shrink away from him, pushing your sweaty hair back off of your face, then remember everything that your father taught you about being taken seriously. You swallow, straightening up again, “Our room doesn’t have a bathroom in it.”

“There’s one at the end of the hall. It’s right next to your room.” Bradley answers, resting his hand on the chipped paint over the doorframe, nodding his head in the vague direction of it. He watches your face change in realization. You look more sick now than you had when you were hunched over that bin.

“Oh. It’s… a shared bathroom?”

“Yeah. It’s for the floor.” Bradley’s tone tells you that he thinks you’re even more stupid than you feel. You don’t even share a bathroom in your own home. Safety is the first thing that crosses your mind.

“What if someone tries to get in while I’m in there?”

“Locks are still a thing here.”

Luke snorts in amusement from inside of their room behind him.

“I know that,” Your tone slowly starts to stray from sheepish to snappy. It’s been a long day and being made fun of isn’t how you would like to end it. “But, I really need to take a shower and I—“

“Luke, go stand outside of the door until she’s done.” Bradley’s already turning away from the door, bored by his conversation with you and starting to pry open the buttons on his blue shirt.

“Me? — Why do I have to do it?” Luke frowns from his perch at the end of the twin bed closest to the door.

“Because I want her to shut up and quit whining at me, and you owe me a favour. Remember?”

It seems unprofessional for Bradley to be close enough to one of his students that they’re now owing each other personal favours. That’s something to think about another time. You shift back awkwardly as Luke pushes himself up from his bed and starts towards you.

“Alright. Go get your stuff.”

Exhausted, you’re on the verge of blacking out the entire time that you’re standing under the stream of water. It’s lukewarm and the pressure is poor, but it helps.

You brush your teeth quickly and dress yourself in your pyjamas. Sitting on the floor, Luke falls backwards into the bathroom as you tug it open.

Now laying on his back, you catch his gaze starting to wander. Even about to fall asleep standing, you’re awake enough to jump back before he can sneak a peek up your nightdress.

“Pig.” You mutter, stepping around him without thanking him for standing guard. He watches you wander back to your room and slam the door shut, then pushes himself up laughing.

He walks calmly back to his room and lets himself in, swinging the door shut behind him. Bradley’s on the bed by the window, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a stack of six books, all opened to different pages sitting in front of him.

“D’you think she’s really going to make it two whole months?”

Bradley looks up, scratching an itch on his bare shoulder and then taking the cigarette from his mouth. He exhales, then shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

“Buddy, the sooner that she calls her dad to come and get her, the better.” He mutters, flicking ash from the cigarette into an empty water bottle and picking up his pen to scrawl a few notes onto the page of one of the books.

Luke drops down onto his bed and tucks his arms behind his bed. He wishes all of his professors were as cool as Bradley is. “She wears a nightdress like my freaking grandmother.”

Bradley scoffs, taking a long draw on the cigarette, his dog tags dangling between his collarbones as he flicks through the paperwork for the trip. His lips quirk up slightly as he shoots his friend and student a playful look, “Well, what does your grandmother wear?”

Luke pulls a face and then shrugs, running his hands through his feathery, raven coloured hair. “I don’t know, it comes down to like here. Hers was this cute little yellow with cap sleeves and a heart shaped kinda neckline.”

Bradley’s smirk grows around the thin cigarette as he looks over. “Didn’t you say your Mom was one of six kids?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Maybe your grandmother was onto something with those little nightgowns, huh?” Bradley taunts, chuckling and turning back to work while Luke gasps in horror at his side.

“You’re sick.” Luke complains, amused but playfully offended as he turns onto his side and presses his face into his pillow. Bradley just laughs to himself.

The next morning, you can’t help but notice that Luke seems to have modeled himself after Bradley. Both of them are wearing nearly the same thing. A half buttoned, cotton shirt — Bradley’s is a pale yellow, Luke’s is a deeper blue — and five inch shorts.

Once again, you’re late, he’s overdressed.

You’re in a cute little sundress with a sweet little purse in your shoulder and a pair of expensive, Dior sunglasses on your face.

“Did everyone eat?” Bradley asks, tucking his Ray-bans into the opening in his shirt by their arm. He’s got a baseball cap on today, his auburn curls peeking out from under it. You bet Luke’s pretty upset that he didn’t get the memo on hats. A chorus of quiet yes’ come from your class. “Good. Because lunch isn’t for another five hours and we’ve got some walking to do.

“Now, remember,” He pushes his hands into his pockets and looks straight at you. “You’re a big group of kids in a foreign city, so watch your stuff because someone will try to take it if you’re not careful.”

That seems like common sense. With Pasquale as your tour guide, you’re led through the streets of Turin. Bradley already seems to know his way around well enough, walking ahead of everybody else, studying the streets as he passes. This is his sixth summer consecutively spent in Europe, his fourth year spent in Italy. Turning his face towards the sun, indirectly looking up at the laundry hanging between apartments over his head, he misses it here more than anything.

As much as this is a research trip for himself and his work, it’s also somewhat of a cultural exchange. So, the first stop is a museum near the centre of the city. Today’s itinerary starts with this place, the museum of national something something. You cross your arms over your chest and look over the detailed architecture. It’s pretty, but you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t rather be sat on a rooftop in Manhattan with your girlfriends on this sunny morning.

Although, back there it would be the middle of the night, barely 3am. It still feels like 3am for you, you would have happily spent another five hours in bed just to avoid returning to that shared bathroom.

“Who knows what this place is?” Bradley stops and turns on his heel. Everyone seems to know at once, spouting off the name of the museum whilst you’re still standing there with your arms folded. “Cool. And who can tell me what Risorgimento is?”

“It was the nineteenth-century Italian movement of unification.” Abigail answers calmly, tucking a braid behind her ear. She’s well prepared for the day, wearing her backpack on her front so that she can keep an eye on it.

The streets are busy already, the centre of Turin at almost 8am is bustling with people trying to get to work and tourists trying to get to the sights.

In retrospect, it was a bad place to stop. Standing in front of a big museum with a group of students. It’s practically a target. You, with those fucking Dior sunglasses on your face, are a target. The man isn’t dressed like a thief. He’s wearing blue jeans and a green Ralph Lauren polo, walking quickly like he has somewhere to be. You don’t take any mind as he bumps into you, inhaling quickly as you’re surprised by the impact, but then stepping out of his way without much notice.

Bradley has watched as the man had sped up, knocking his shoulder into yours and curling his hand around the strap of your bag. With one swift tug, he has the strap off of your shoulder quickly. Your brows draw together, surprised and confused as you turn to look.

Immediately, Bradley steps forwards and catches hold of the back of the man’s navy shirt. He tugs hard and pulls the man back swiftly before you’ve even registered what was happening. Bradley tells him something in Italian, the man lets go of your bag accordingly and then sneers at your professor. He mutters something back that you don’t understand Bradley lifts his hands and shoves hard at his shoulders.

The man stumbles, sneering at you as he turns and hightails it away from your group.

“What did I tell you? — Watch your stuff.” Bradley mutters in annoyance, like it’s your fault that you were almost mugged. Your mouth opens to back with an immediate protest. He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not going to babysit you this whole trip.”

“No one’s asking you to.” You bite back.

“Hey, he did a nice thing. Maybe stop being such a bitch.”

Bradley and you both turn to look at the same time, finding Robin tucked under Luke’s arm and looking at you like you just kicked her. You gaze darts quickly back to Bradley, waiting for him to scold her.

Instead, he just looks at you like it’s all your fault and then turns away, calling for the group to follow him inside. You flinch as someone bumps into your other arm, finding Pasquale smiling at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” You answer Bradley’s friend begrudgingly.

He’s older, maybe in his late forties or his early fifties. A little shorter than you, with a seemingly perpetual smile on his face. He guides you after your class with his hand on the elbow. “Seems like Italy doesn’t agree with you much,” You’re not certain if that’s a polite way of him saying that Bradley doesn’t like you much, you leave him without an answer anyway. “Stick with me, I’ll help you find your feet, miss.”

…

If you’re wondering what her nightgown looked like, it’s the yellow one on the right

tags:

@thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #the odyssey

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fluffymaxsworld · 6 months

Text

“seven days”

monday

model!simonriley x normie!reader

[simon is a model, you’re the typical sweet girl, no smut (but planned), enemies to lovers, mutual attraction, orphanage, mention of christianity, ghost can’t basically socialize poor boy :(]

[not proof read, i’m sorry for grammar mistakes, i’m not english :))]

“If you want to improve your situation you have to take part in this volunteer project” simon riley’s manager handed him a voucher, “It’s a week-a-week job at an orphanage in a small town”

“one week should be easy” he said, “sign me up”

MONDAY

simon riley, world famous model, finally arrived at the orphanage.

lately rumors began to spread about his deep hate for children, which was half true, he wouldn’t lie, but still a bad thing for his public image.

“you should be simon, come in” a old woman greeted him, smiling weakly.

now i get why they need help, he thought.

“i’m really happy another young man has decided to help us”

another? there are other people?

“it’s such a pleasure being here, mrs…?”

“oh, sarah is fine” she began to walk towards a small, cozy room. “this is where you’ll sleep for the next few days, get comfortable!”

“thank you sarah” he smiled and dropped his suitcase on the floor, “i’ll make sure to be as quick as possible to start today”

“what a kind guy!” she said, leaving him alone in the room.

he took a glance around. it was quite different from the hotel rooms he was used to, the sunlight hitting the walls and the beds… beds?!

he didn’t noticed that there were another pair of bags on the floor, a deep shade of pink and some feminine clothes dropping out of them. one of the bed was done, light blue sheets and soft pillows. someone was going to sleep with him.

he sighed, taking out his black surgical mask (to avoid paparazzi during the whole day, his manager said) and putting it on his face, half of it now well covered.

after doing his bed and preparing the last things, he walked into the common space full of lively children and a sweet scent of baked cookies, something he missed a lot. he noticed a couple of women and men around his age helping the kids or playing with them. he sat on a chair, looking around for something to do.

a small hand reached his arm touching his hard muscles.

“are you new??” a cute voice coming out of a small kid, six years old maybe.

“i am kiddo” he replied, “what’s yer name?”

“alex!!” he smiled, “and that’s my best friend!”

he pointed at a 20 years old girl that was wearing a cute yellow dress full of sunflowers, smiling sweetly at some children that were drawing on a piece of paper. you.

“she’s the best ever! i love her so much!” the kid interrupted his thoughts, gripping his arm gently.

“alex! come back here!” your even sweeter voice called out the kid who immediately, still holding simon’s arm, ran towards you.

“hey hey, look who i found! he’s new!” alex said, smiling almost proud of his new friend.

“hello, simon riley”

“simon riley? the model?” you asked bluntly, your soft expression hardening at the thought of more problems, “what are you here for, money or something? we definitely don’t need any trouble”

“girl, relax. i wanted to help, that’s all.” he replied, getting quite annoyed by the same girl he found nearly attractive a few seconds before.

“a model? that wants to help? oh please, do you think i’m stupid?” you grunted.

��what’s your problem, girl. s’not like i’ve brought wit’ me paparazzi and fangirls”

“your stupid fangirls. how can people like celebrities they never met…” you mumbled, almost to yourself.

“i can hear you.” he groaned, “and i even thought you were sweet”

“the fu-” you covered your mouth before cursing in front of the kids, “i don’t wanna talk to you, so please leave me alone”

“tsk, s’not like i wanted to talk to ya” and with this, he walked away.

liar. he wanted to talk to you. so damn much.

lunch time. simon talked to a few guys working there that told him about how the days works and the breaks.

“you’ll choose a table for the whole week, unfortunately you can’t change it.” they explained.

simon took his food, a warm soup with a side of chicken, and sat on a half empty table.

he had small talks with the guys sitting there when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“what are you doing here?” your voice broke the silence in his mind.

“eating?” he replied, almost sarcastically.

“eating, here?” you sat besides him, “this is my table”

“so? now it’s ours” he grunted.

i wonder how’d you look in bed sweetheart, he thought, blushing slightly under his mask.

“whatever. there’s no need to fuck around for a stupid thing like this.” you said.

“so you can swear. thought ya were some kind of church typa girl”

“what the hell is this supposed to mean? a christian girl can’t swear?” you growled.

“no no, that’s not…” he stopped, “whatever, forget it. let’s just ignore each other.”

“good idea”

simon entered his room, curios on who his roommate might be, maybe a cute girl, he thought.

well, whoever they were, they didn’t arrive yet. luckily, because he needed a shower. after taking off his sweaty clothes and bringing with him all the stuff for his model-like shower he stepped in, turning on the warm water and cleaning up.

you opened the door of your room, sarah already told you about your new roommate and you just prayed he wasn’t simon. a soapy scent filled the air so you just figured out he was probably taking a shower.

you laid on your light blue bed, enjoying the pleasant breeze, smiling softly and thinking about your day.

simon isn’t a bad guy for sure, but you just couldn’t help but imagine him like a thirsty-for-fame man. yet you couldn’t also deny his attractiveness, which made you blush softy at the only sight of him.

of course he’s handsome, he’s a model! you thought.

simon finished the shower. he wrapped around his hips a white towel. he opened the door and…

“you!?” he grunted.

“you??” you grunted back, studying his appearance, “put something on, you pervert!”

“i just took a shower, dumbass!” he growled.

“whatever, put something on anyways!” you looked away, pressing your face into the soft pillow.

he’s so damn hot!!! you thought, blushing intensely.

why does she have to be so annoying, such a waste for a cutie like her, he thought, closing the bathroom door and putting on his calvin klein boxers.

after awhile he stepped out (again) all dressed up as he saw you already sleeping on your bed. you had changed clothes too in the meantime.

so she was naked? he smirked.

“you’re so breathtaking” he whispered to himself.

“i’m what?” you muttered, sleepy voice and sleep eyes.

luckily for him, you weren’t facing him, because right now he was blushing like a school girl, covering his face.

“annoying! you’re so annoying!” he tried to correct himself.

“tsk, whatever.”

i love this concept, seven days of model!simonriley x normie!reader.

i want him to wake up with a morning erection😍😍

pt 2 coming in a few days :))

ask to join a taglist <33

#ghost x reader #simon riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod x reader

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