#maybe writing will make my head screw on the right way again
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pookie!!! saw u are taking saltburn requests!!!!
thoughts on farleigh + reader with the same amount of snark as him?? like initially not being able to STOMACH each other & biting each other’s heads over (both ignoring felix’s groaned requests to “keep the peace”) and then being like…. wait why r u….kinda……
just that back and forth banter would be so good with him + ur WRITING!!! big smooches mwah
ugghh your mind!! love this and love you, sending smooches back ×100 !!! (fem!reader, wc: ±1700)
"I don't understand what's wrong?" you asked, briefly looking over your essay again before sparing your tutor a confused glance, waiting for his input instead. "There's nothing wrong with it," Farleigh's voice only deepened your frown, "It's just a little... loose."
"Loose?"
"Yeah, loose. You don't have a really strong argument," he continued, head resting in his palm as he peered at you from where he sat on the couch. "I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you. My argument is quite coherent right throughout," you said. "Maybe, but is it convincing?" he said, small smile on his lips that made your blood boil.
"Okay," you sighed softly, "How about your essay, Farleigh?" you asked, internally reveling at the way his cocky smile faltered. "I'm working on it," he huffed after a short pause. "Well until then, keep your comments to yourself."
"I was just trying to help," he retorted.
"Oh, screw you."
"Alright, I think we can end tonight's session early. Give you some time to finish up," your lecturer interrupts. "And give you, mister Start, time to actually begin?" he gives Farleigh a pointed look.
You hastily packed your things away before wordlessly making your way out. Your poor tutor must've been used to the two of yours constant arguing by now, seeing as that was how many of your sessions ended. You never saw eye to eye and the banter was stupid most of the time, but Farleigh had a way of getting under your skin like no one else could.
You were beginning to think he had some sort of personal vendetta against you, even though you really couldn't think of ways that you've wronged him in the past that deserved that sort of behavior. He loved embarrassing you, and as many times as you've tried to be the better person, you just couldn't help from slipping your own little comments, satisfaction only really gained when you managed to wipe the smug smile from his face.
Farleigh had completely spoiled your mood, and you figured the best way to forget about your day would be to go out for a few drinks. You definitely felt like a loser going to the pub alone but you wouldn't have been great company anyway. You however, very quickly regretted your decision when you saw the very source of your foul mood sitting by one of the tables causing a commotion as he often did. Felix saw him before he did, excitedly calling out to you and asking you to join them.
Farleigh wasn't as excited as the rest of the table at your presence, but you refused to let him ruin your night.
"Funny seeing you outside." Farleigh said, ashing his cigarette in the ashtay in the middle of the full table. "Why would it be funny?" you asked. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. "You're just such a homebody, hardly see you anywhere," he said. "But it's probably for the best, right?" he added, and you already sensed a verbal lashings following. "You'll need all the extra study time if you're gonna keep up."
"Farleigh," Felix silently scolded, but by now your heart was already beating in your ears, irritation setting deep inside your chest and making you feel hot with rage.
You bit the inside of your cheek. "You always seem to forget that you got into Oxford on favors," you said, watching the way the corner of his mouth twitched, facade still holding strong. "I'm not the one partying my life away. If anyone needs extra study time, it's you." In retrospect, it probably was a low blow, but the ethical line was hardly visible when it came to Farleigh.
The silence at the table was all consuming, and Felix, like the godsend he was, decided to speak up and end the wordless staring competition between the two of you. "Okay, uhm, shots. We need shots," he said, everyone quickly agreeing with him. "C'mon Farleigh, come help me," he said, practically dragging the boy along with him.
From there it only got worse the more time the two of you spent together, which was quite frequently because you ran in the same circles. You were friends by chance, only really connected through Felix, who you've known for years. Your mothers were friends, and the two of you quickly became close through her visits to their sprawling estate, often dragging you along. You've met Farleigh through Felix, and though it was evident the two of you didn't get along, Felix was still determined to try and make it work.
₊˚⊹
You were beyond relieved to be able to spend the summer away from uni and get a chance to breathe again without any academic stress. You had planned to visit your mother back home until Felix had asked you to come to Saltburn to spend the summer with them instead.
"C'mon," he tried, "Venetia will be so happy to see you again. And mum." You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating his offer carefully. It wasn't an extremely difficult decision; the days at Saltburn served as some of the best memories you've ever made.
You certainly didn't regret accepting his offer either. The last few weeks have been amazing at the grand estate, exciting and overwhelming in the best way. It would've, however, been much better if Farleigh wasn't looming over you like a dark cloud. You genuinely tried to keep the peace, but he knew exactly how to aggravate you. You could see it was beginning to irritate everyone around you, especially Felix.
"Will this work for tonight?" you asked, smoothing your hand over the soft material of the dress. It was so easy to run out of appropriate attire when you had to give your best every night at Saltburn. Tonight was special, and although you weren't specially dressing up for the Henry's, you still didn't want to embarrass Elsbeth by being underdressed.
Venetia was lounging in the bed while you paced around the room. "You've already worn that dress," she said, making you huff. "I know," you whispered. "We can get something from my closet," she said as she stood up from the bed and made her way to you. "Or we can ask mum. Don't worry," she added with a smile.
₊˚⊹
The dinner was kind of dull, the Henry to your left not nearly as entertaining as the one to Venetia's left judging by the quick glances she spared you every time one of his jokes fell flat. Every now and then, your attention would sneak over to Farleigh; a pensive look thredded between his furrowed brows when his eyes caught yours.
The highlight of your night was definitely after dinner, when sir Catton had suggested karaoke. You were quite amused by Henry's rendition as the lot of you watched as the man made a fool of himself. Farleigh took a seat next to you on the couch, sparing you a smile.
"You clean up nicely," he smiled, sparing a look down at your dress, the sparkly material reflecting the warm light from the fire. His hand ghosted over the necklace around your neck, fingers tracing over the small pendant. You prayed that he didn't notice the way your breath caught in your throat at the little bit of contact.
"Thanks," you answered, smoothing a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket. "You don't look too bad yourself." He only scoffed, eyes now focused on your hand as it retracted from his chest. You didn't spare him another look, attention refocusing on Henry's recital.
The whole affair was getting boring, and before you knew it, your thoughts were back to Farleigh, a question on your mind that you've been burning to ask him. "Can I ask you a question?" you turned, asking before you lost your confidence. He raised his eyebrow in interest, urging you to continue. "Why do you hate me?" you asked. The question caught him off guard, rendering him speechless for the first time since you've known him.
"I don't," he started before scoffing, "I don't hate you." You pursed your lips, shaking your head in disagreement. "You do. At least you act like you do." He only smiled, shuffling closer on the couch, face impossibly closer to yours as he gave you a once-over.
Even though the topic was quite loaded, it was ironically the calmest conversation the two of you have had in a long time. It was reminiscent of the time the two of you were younger and still getting to know each other. Somewhere along the line, something shifted, and he started treating you like shit. You only returned the favor.
"You weren't always this mean either," you added. His eyes still examined the expanse of your face; trailing down the slope of your nose and into the dip of your cupids bow. His attention made you feel self-conscious in a way, tongue poking out to wet your lips.
You had no reason to even feel self-conscious, but Farleigh had a special talent for making you feel small in his presence. Somewhere beneath the irritation and resentment hid a feeling that made warmth settle deep in your belly everytime you saw him. It's a feeling you only gave yourself the luxury of experiencing in the dead of the night when your thoughts were all that kept you awake. The overbearing anger would subside and then that funny feeling would settle over your body and deep inside your chest in a near painful way.
You never called it by it's name, too scared that if you did it would manifest itself and become reality. But now as the two of you sat on the couch, the cheering and singing fading into background noise as a pair of deep brown eyes stared into yours, you finally had to courage to admit it to yourself.
"I don't hate you," he repeated one more time, voice slightly breathless and a sullen look on his face. "On the contrary, actually." That made you laugh almost too loudly. "So what," you scoffed, "you act like a teenage boy and pick on me because you had a crush on me?"
He shrugged, the motion causing the refined material of his suit to rub against your arm. "Maybe I just wanted your attention," he smiled, placing a brief kiss to your cheek before briskly getting up from the couch to cut Henry's musical number short. You uncleanched your balled fists that were bunching up the expensive material of your dress, the tension leaving your body with a sigh once Farleigh's words register.
#saltburn#farleigh start x reader#farleigh start x you#farleigh x you#farleigh x reader#farleigh start#likedovesinthewindd
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Hi! Absolutely love your writing :) Would you be willing to do a enemies to lovers but with hero x villain? Maybe with like a controlling villain and the hero secretly likes it but is defiant externally? Sorry idk if that made sense lol
Thank you in advance though if you're able to!
"You can't just keep crashing my dates."
The villain glanced over their shoulder, raising an eyebrow in a mimicry of an emotion that didn't quite reach their eyes. "No?"
"No." The hero stalked closer, stopping in front of the villain, in time for them to turn. "I'm not yours."
"No?"
"No!" The hero's heart gave a little skip, at the possibility that the villain would then look at them and then say (in a growl, or devastatingly matter-of-fact, or in a teasing purr) 'yes, you are' or 'you're most certainly mine'. The villain had done it before.
The villain tilted their head, offering the hero one of the two glasses of wine they had just poured.
The hero took it, anticipating.
The villain didn't say anything, simply watching them as they took a steady sip.
The hero's face burned but they refused, stubbornly, to look away.
The villain set their glass down on the counter behind them. No rush.
The hero imagined the villain grabbing them, kissing them, as they had done before too. Twirling them, glass flying and wine sloshing, and pressing them up against the nearest flat surface. They would change every no to yes and please and more.
They both knew the routine, the dance of it. It didn't need saying.
"Your dates look increasingly like me," the villain murmured. "Have you noticed?" Their hands stayed, agonisingly, at their sides, as they leaned lazy against the counter.
The hero blinked, not expecting the comment. They took a sip of the wine instead of replying, hoping that perhaps an equally steady silence might come across as cool and mysterious instead of flabbergasted.
The villain smiled. "Say please."
"W-what?"
"Say please if you want me to screw your pretty brains out until you can't think straight."
The hero spluttered. "That's not - I'm not - that's not why I'm here." They undoubtedly would say please, but it had never been so close to the start, so when there wasn't any excuse they could possibly give for the desperate needing of it.
"No?"
"No." The hero swallowed.
"So you don't go on your little dates just to wind me up?" The villain finally straightened, taking a step closer.
The hero stepped back, but didn't run, didn't want to. Mesmerised. Their mouth felt very dry. "No." Such a lie.
The villain's smile grew. "You don't secretly wish I'd kiss you, claim you, in front of all of them?"
"No." The hero jutted their chin up. "I'm not a thing to be claimed."
The villain advanced; the hero back-tracked.
"You don't," the villain continued, a honeyed murmur, "say no, because you love all the ways I can persuade you. Because then you can pretend you don't want this. Because you like watching me take control of you."
The hero's back hit the wall. Miraculously, the wine didn't spill, still clutched uselessly in one hand.
"No."
"Mm." The villain set their palms on either side of the hero's shoulders, and the hero felt the very air between them might start vibrating with the urge to close the gap. "Perhaps I'll never crash one of your dates again then."
The thought was unbearable. The villain was bluffing, right? They had to be bluffing.
The hero wet their lips. The villain's gaze dropped to follow the movement, then flicked back up to the hero's eyes.
"You're a bastard," the hero whispered, because it was true and it wasn't no.
"Why yes," the villain's eyes gleamed, "I am." They waited.
The hero's stomach squirmed. "Are you actually going to make me say it?"
"I thought I didn't control you. I thought you weren't mine."
The hero shivered.
"So how could I," the villain leaned in to the hero's ear, still not quite touching, "possibly make you do anything?"
"...please."
"What was that, love?"
"I hate you."
"Do you?" The villain's lips finally pressed against their skin, kissing down their neck.
"Yes. So much." The hero's head fell back, offering more of their throat. The wine glass drooped in their hand.
"Don't spill on my floor."
The wine glass righted with titan concentration. There was nowhere to put it down.
The villain kissed them; soft, so soft, a promise of so much more to come.
"Would you like me to stop?" the villain asked against their lips.
"...no."
"No?"
"No."
The villain hummed and kissed them again, a little harder. The wine glass wobbled treacherously in the hero's hand once more. The hero's other hand clutched the villain's shoulder.
"I think we're done with the stage in our relationship where you pretend to date other people," the villain said, when they pulled back, breathless. They caught the hero's chin, and their stare was, for a moment, serious.
The hero scrambled past the kiss-drunk haze, brow furrowing. "It's actually bothering you?"
"No," the villain said, in the same tone that the hero said no, meaning yes.
"Okay." The hero leaned in to kiss them, just once, reassuring.
Tension eased out of the villain's shoulders. The wicked playfulness returned, and they shoved the hero back against the wall again. The next kiss was a consuming, hungry thing, and the hero could only chase after more than they were given, gasping.
The villain nipped the hero's neck, before giving a chiding click of their tongue. It once again sent an anticipatory shiver of delight down the hero's spine.
"Oh, would you look at that," the villain said, with soft and bewitching menace. "You spilled my wine. However shall I make you pay me back for that?"
"Make me?" The hero bit their lip. "You think you can make me do anything? Please."
The villain grinned.
There were no more dates with other people after that.
#hero x villain#villain x hero#heroes and villains#enemies to lovers#villains and heroes#writing#creative writing#fiction#story snippet#writing snippet
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would you be able to write something about chubby!reader having body issues and thinks she doesn’t deserve miguel because he’s so sculpted and beautiful, but miguel reminds her how perfect she is? (in whatever way you think is best)
i just love reading these types of fics and they really help boost my confidence 🥹
tysm! <3
hope you like it<3
aphrodite
pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader
warnings: fluff, established relationship, body dysmorphia
summary: you start feeling self conscious right before your date, and miguel isn't having any of it
translations are at the end
Miguel had finally made time to take you out. You are well aware of the fact that he is a busy man, and had decided against pressuring him to abandon his work overtime.
But tonight was for you. He had planned out the perfect date, from the restaurant, reservations, to the tiniest details; what day would be best in terms of weather, your job, and his duties.
To say you were overwhelmed with excitement was an understatement. He had always been so caring and considerate, looking for ways to make you feel valued and appreciated even when time itself stood against his efforts. Finding unadulterated joy in asking you out like it was your first time getting closer to each other over and over again, the 'honeymoon phase' spark never once leaving your relationship, contrary to popular belief.
And so here you are, in your shared home, getting ready for yet another date with the most handsome man you've ever seen.
He's already fully dressed, fixing himself in the mirror. His black suit sits oh-so perfectly on him, hugging the shape of his large back and shoulders, tight enough around his biceps, so that they still bulge through the material when he brings a hand up in his hair to tame some dark strands that had fallen out of place. It accentuates the line of his abdomen, having his large thighs finish off the whole look.
He stands in front of the bedroom mirror, in his striking royal height, the man that ancient Greeks probably had as a muse when they sculpted the ideals of the male body. His dark, cocoa brown hair is brushed back, silky and soft. His perfectly contoured face is dimly lit by the low, warm bedroom lights, his features prominent: the bridge and line of his nose, squinted piercing eyes along with a downright intimidating set of brows His sharp jaw is held up high while he works with his tie, expert hands skillfully experimenting around an array of various knots, pondering upon which fits best.
He truly is quite the sight, you melt at the tableau before you, holding back a sigh seasoned with nothing but the very heights of being irrevocably enamoured.
His whole presence screams strength and mature dominance, with a hint of incontestable luxury.
Resuming your own outfit, your own body still only adorned in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra, you head to the closet for the one dress you have been imagining yourself in for the whole week since he offered you the invitation. You couldn’t be more excited to finally try it on and admire yourself with it, have people look your way while wearing it, with an arm hooked around the one and only Miguel O’Hara.
Putting it on and adjusting its stretchy fabric over your curves, your smile starts to fade. This isn’t what it looked like the first time I tried it on, you mentally conclude, and the more you look at it, the more things you wish you hadn’t noticed. You pull at the material, the hem, the sides, the neckline, anything you can think of that maybe, just maybe, could fix it. Panic starts to drip into your nerves, what will you do now if it just won’t look good? Screw it and go out with it anyway, and then feel all eyes on you for the rest of the evening? What will people think when they see you, merely decent, next to him? And otherwise, what other option is there? To pick some other dress that can’t possibly be more appropriate for the occasion, since you had bought this one specifically for the place you’re going, and still not look the part?
Your breathing starts to quicken as you keep fumbling with the textile around your shape, attention half directed to the open wardrobe, scanning every shelf and hanger for a second option.
Suddenly, the floor creaks, bringing the echo of incoming footsteps. And there he is, standing behind you, hands on your tense shoulders. You almost despise the image before you; his impeccable, calm and stoic image, next to you, discouraged and deeply insecure in evident comparison.
“What were you thinking about just now?” his words river down over the shell of your ear on a hot breath that has shivers shot down your spine.
“Nothing, I’m getting ready”, you cover it up in a sing-song voice, not wanting to dig deeper into letting him know that you don’t deem yourself pretty enough for him, let alone expect him to find you more attractive than you do yourself. Unfortunately, he’s too smart for your little diversion.
“Don’t lie to me.”, his tone serious, voice deep. His eyes rank up and down your body in the mirror, and you feel an acute need to just disappear. “Que guapa.”
He presses a kiss to your temple, and you feel rosy heat rise to your face.
Your mouth speaks before you think.
“Does it look good?”, he senses the hesitancy in your voice.
“Baby, you’d look like a goddess wearing a potato sack.” he speaks matter-of-factly, as if his statement equals water is wet, the honesty in his declaration evident with the speed with which the words left his mouth. You can’t help but let a giggle break through your disconcerted face, surprised with the association.
“What, like Marilyn Monroe?”
“No, mi alma, like you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you back into his embrace as you look at eachother in the reflection before you. His expression softens, visibly relaxed and happy to have you close to him.
“These curves, every part of you, I know them as I know myself.” His palms slide over your hips, and all the way back up to your shoulders, effectively chasing away any hint of doubt and worry, cleansing you of anything that isn’t love.
“Eres la mujer de mis sueños.” He bends down, his lips reaching the crook of your neck. “No hay nadie como tú."
You let yourself fall back into his tempting embrace, knowing that he’s exploiting your weakness for him speaking Spanish so low and deep into the vulnerable skin of your pulse point, completely forgetting about the date and the dress.
“And if you don’t like the dress, I’ll gladly rip it off.” He exhibits his talons as a warning, the curved edges of the claws grazing your bare shoulders intently. “If anything, the dress isn’t good enough to be worn by you.”
translations:
que guapa - how beautiful
mi alma - my soul
eres la mujer de mis sueños - you're the woman of my dreams
no hay nadie como tú - there is no one like you
a/n: again, if any native speakers see anything wrong with my Spanish please let me know🤍
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara x reader
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hi, are you taking requests for smut too? i'd love one for charles, where usually he's not really into rough sex but one day he just goes for it and surprises y/n
A/N: Charles doesn't seem like one to have rough sex, but this was fun to write
Warnings: Rough sex, public sex, not really you're on his yacht, whatever just enjoy, p in v, wrap before you tap, slight bondage, dirty talk, spanking, slight ass play, daddy kink, sue me okay I popped off with this one
You hated tan lines, which is funny considering your boyfriend posted the ultimate tan line picture a year ago around this time. Charles was careful in picking a place that would allow you privacy.
He didn't want cameras capturing you naked on his yacht. Besides, you're his fiancée you should be allowed to tan nude on his boat if you want too. Smiling at the seclusion, you take off your top and soon your bottoms enjoying the way the sun warmed your skin.
"Sunshine, you need sunscreen." You laugh at his comment as his summer break photos are infamous for him always having the worse sunburns ever. "Maybe you should wear the sunscreen." Taking the bottle for him.
"I don't care if I burn, just don't want you too. Now give it." Reaching for it, you pull back. He shakes his head and goes to grab it again, only for you to do the same. "Give it here." You squeal as you and Charles wrestle for the bottle, everything ending when Charles's hand wraps around your throat and pins you down.
"When I say give it, you give it." His voice stern, the look in his eyes and hand on your throat as your squirming. You can see the lightbulb go off, throwing the sunscreen away he smirk. "Awww, did my little sunshine get excited by this? That's cute." Hand careful to not hurt you or cut off your oxygen.
"Charl." You buck your hips, but his hand pushes it down. "Nahuh, stay here. Don't touch yourself." He whispers removing his hand and dipping into the back of the yacht.
Holy fuck. Charles as never once acted this way towards you. He never had rough sex with you, you didn't mind it. But, shit....were you turned on like crazy. Unable to help yourself you dip your fingers in, whimpering when you feel a pool of wetness. "Mmmm." You screw your eyes shut, rubbing your clit gently.
"Are you really that much of a slut, you can't wait?" Eyes flying open, your fiancé stands there holding a piece of rope. "I'm so wet, Charles. Look." Smirking you spread your legs wide, showing off your pussy. His nose flares, trying to stay in control.
If this was a normal sex night, he'd drop to his knees and eat his fill drawing out gorgeous moans. But, this wasn't a normal sex night, and he was going to show you that. "Tsk, can't even listen to simple instructions can you?" Stepping forward his hand in on your neck.
Gasping he shoves you back on the plush deck. The front of the deck was for people just lay, it was simple and your favorite spot on the yacht. "Charl, please it aches. Help me." You beg trying to get some type of friction. "Stop." You freeze, the command settling deep in your bones.
He let's go of your neck, flipping you onto your stomach you yelp. "This is what happens when you don't behave." He bites your ear, letting go as he sets your hands on the railing. "Gorgeous ring, who gave it to you?" You giggle at the question, but moan when a stern slap to your ass is given.
The rope in his hand was being tied around your wrists and railing, not to tight, but enough you couldn't break free. "My fiancé." You moan, trying to lean back to rub into him. His body over yours. "Hmmm, very lucky guy." Humor in the words, you smile glad to know he was still his soft self. "Very, very lucky indeed. But, let's not talk about him." Charles smiles, seeing the smile in your eyes.
"You're right. I'd rather make you scream." You try to hit back with a quip, but you gasp out a moan feeling another slap to your ass. Spreading your legs, Charles hums rubbing the soft flesh before trailing his hand to your pussy. "How gorgeous you look, Sunshine. Fuck, that fiancé of yours better never fuck up." You nod, trying to form the words.
You couldn't as Charles was always good with his fingers, the way he'd move them should be illegal. "Do I need to finger you or eat you out, Sunshine? I want to make sure you're ready." The soft words, has you blushing. How in the world could Charles be so sweet and then so nasty at the same time.
"No, I got a little needy earlier when you were napping." His jaw twitches but says nothing as he nods. Standing up over you he pulls off his swim trunks. You hate that you couldn't turn around and see him. Charles naked it stunning, he was just perfect. "Condom, or no?" Charles was making sure he didn't overstep.
He's never been rough with you before and he refuses to go too far that it's too much. "No condom, fuck Charl hurry. I'm so wet and needy. God I want to feel you fill me up, please." You beg pulling your knees up and arching your ass up. "Fuck." He curses wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping himself a couple of times.
Getting back on his knees, he pulls you down. He thrusts up watching the way his cock moves between your ass cheeks. "Charles, next time. Just fuck my pussy Daddy!" You moan, unable to help the words fall from your lips. "Sweet jesus, Sunshine." Charles slides into you, his cock even harder from hearing you call him that.
You let out a loud moan, Charles holding your hips as he takes deep breaths trying to calm down. He doesn't wait, moving back and forth fast. "Yes, yes, uhhh." You gasp, shaking your head as Charles fucks into you fast. The sound of skin slapping, and your moans drive him crazy.
"Such a dirty slut got needy and used your own fingers to get off. Then you don't even wait a minute before you're touching yourself again. Were you that hungry for Daddy's cock you needed to misbehave huh?" You yelp Charles's fingers digging into your hair as he arches you up.
"Speak." He changes his pace but keeps the same deep thrusts as he circles his hips and goes forward sending your eyes to roll into the back of your head. "Yes, I'm a dirty slut." You gasp, Charles releasing you, falling forward you moan.
"That's right, you are a dirty slut. But, my dirty slut." He whispers reaching down as he rubs your clit sending you over the edge. "Oh, GOD CHARLES!" As he fucks hard into you, but the movement of his fingers on your clit slow driving you crazy. Moving fast he tugs on the rope watching fall.
Pulling out of you, you whine hating when he leaves you empty. Moving he towers over you, as he pumps is cock you sit up sucking him down. The feeling of your mouth on him sends him off the edge as he comes deep in your throat.
Pulling off of him, careful to not overstimulate him. The two of you gasp for air, before falling into a fit of giggles. "Are you okay?" He asks, pulling you into him. "Yes, you?" Placing soft kisses on his chest. "I'm perfect. By the way, maybe we should do that again." You smile loving the idea.
"Definitely."
#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 imagine#formula one#f1 scenario#f1 smut#f1 imagines#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x reader#charles lecrelc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff
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Another Love | Part 4
Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.
Words count: 6,639
Warnings for this chapter: angst(as usual)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
A/N: I'm sorry it took me a bit longer to write this part, I'm just in a weird place right now. I'm doubting a lot about my skills as a writer and that leads me to believe everything I write sucks so this was a bit harder to write, I hope you all like it though.
Jisung has been dreaming about you lately. Going back to every little memory he has with you, watching all the signs you gave him while he was oblivious to you, to your feelings.
It's been almost a week since Han ended things with Lia. The things she said are still stuck in his head, he can't be in love with you. Not after rejecting you. Not after everything you went through to get over him. Not now, when you're happy with someone else.
Things are going back to the way they were before, except that now your roles are reversed, he's the one hanging on your every word and movement, all the little details about you look fascinating to him. He's never felt this way before.
You're not avoiding him anymore. Things fell into place slowly, you started having dinner together again, talking about your day. Then you got back to making coffee for him in the morning, waking him up with the nice scent so he wouldn't be too grumpy woking up so early.
He has a mission now: to stop these strange thoughts he's having. Even if he is indeed feeling this way about you, he lost his chance. He knows he did. Right now, he wants to focus on being a good friend to you, the same as he was before the confession happened.
Jisung just didn't expect how he would feel seeing you with Jeongho again. You invited all your friends to dinner in a nice restaurant, to officially introduce your boyfriend to everyone.
This must be how you felt seeing him with all his previous partners, you must have felt this ache in your chest, as if someone was holding your heart and squeezing it to their heart's content.
You look pretty, hair tied in a ponytail and a dress he never saw before, maybe it's a gift from your boyfriend, he wouldn't know. He avoids talking about your relationship, too selfish to handle the same pain you did for so many years.
Your friendship is getting back to what it was, even though he screwed up really badly, you were the bigger person and forgave him, so he has no right feeling this way about you.
Jisung knows it would be better for you and for him if you didn't come back to the apartment but he's too greedy, he wants you close to him.
This whole problem began because he was greedy, afterall. He didn't want to stay away from you, then he hurt you again and again trying to fix things. Now he just wants to make things right, he just wants you to be happy.
You're smiling so brightly it actually makes his heart skip a beat. He sips from his drink, trying to calm his heart a bit and watch as the others try to make small talk.
“So how did you meet y/n?” Chan asks Jeongho.
“I had the biggest crush on her in middle school but she mercilessly rejected me”, Jeongho answers, looking at you and smiling playfully.
“I thought he had lost a bet or something”, you defend yourself.
“Why would you think that?” Han asks, surprised and you stare at him for a second before shrugging. Of course Jisung was not the only reason for you to reject Jeongho, you were just learning about your feelings at that time. You just couldn't get your head around why someone older and handsome like Jeongho would want to have anything to do with you.
“Y/N was one of the prettiest girls in our school”, Han comments, not understanding why you would feel like that.
He always thought you were pretty, that's why he always complimented you and gave you clothes saying they would look good on you.
“I think teenagers are just insecure. I guess it's part of growing up”, you sip from your wine glass.
Jisung never thought you were insecure about anything by the way you carried yourself with your head high, always so sure about everything you put your mind into. Maybe there's too much he doesn't know about you.
The rest of the dinner goes well, your friends are being nice and trying to make Jeongho comfortable, you're happy about it. Everything seems to be falling into place with your best friend by your side being his normal self and your boyfriend, the guy you're falling in love with being just perfect. Your heart is finally healing, you're moving on, things are working out. You couldn't wish for anything else, you just want things to stay like this forever.
“Are you happy?” Jisung asks when you're outside the restaurant, Jeongho stepped out to take a call from work and left you and your friends alone. One by one they called it a night, saying their goodbyes and leaving you and Han alone.
You stare at him for a moment before answering.
“Yes, I am”, you're not sure why he wants to know and not even sure why you're thinking so much before answering.
Jisung smiles, a sincere and bright smile.
“I'm glad”, he says, “I want you to be happy”
You are a bit taken aback, you didn't expect him to react this way, he almost sounds like a grown up now.
“Thanks, I-”
“I'm sorry I kept you waiting”, Jeongho's voice cuts you out. He slides his arm over your shoulders pulling you closer.
“I should get going”, Jisung says, turning his gaze away from you and your boyfriend.
“Aren't you going home?” You ask and he shakes his head, he's not sure if he can stay at the same place with you two for much longer. “Oh, are you going to Lia's?”
There's not a bit of discomfort in your face, so he just nods. He's not sure if now is the best moment to tell you about his situation with Lia.
“Okay, see you tomorrow then”, you hesitate, not sure if it's appropriate, but you try not thinking too much, throwing your arms around him, squeezing him into a hug. You would never think twice about hugging him before your confession, there's no need for you to make it awkward now.
You're trying to get things back to the way they were and Jisung notices that, he's grateful. So the only thing he can do is wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you back.
Jisung didn't want to lie, but he's afraid it may be uncomfortable to you if he says he's not with Lia anymore. And he's afraid you'll be able to see right through him, see that he is giving in to the strange feelings he's trying so hard to avoid.
He ends up sleeping on Chan's couch, if he could call that ‘sleeping’. Everytime he closes his eyes, you show up in his mind, smiling, making a joke, just looking at him. Everytime he finally managed to fall asleep, you would be there, together with your boyfriend, giggling and kissing him while Jisung just watched. He would wake up sweating and stare at the ceiling for at least ten minutes before trying to sleep again.
>><<
After pondering what he wanted to do from now on, Jisung decided he should have some closure with Lia. He didn't like the way things ended with her, he really liked her until a certain point and above all, she is a good person. Even though he didn't want to, he ended up hurting her and he should apologize for that.
Awkward. That's the best word to explain the situation that Jisung finds himself in right now. Lia is on the other side of the table, glaring at him like she could kill him with the power of her mind.
“What is it that you want?” She asks, coldly.
He clears his throat, trying to gather some courage.
“I want to apologize”, he says, “I shouldn't have lead you on even though I already knew something was not right”, sighing he looks at her, biting his lower lip, “I'm just… confused, I ended up hurting you in the middle of this mess and I'm really sorry”
Lia looks at his eyes, staring deeply. She can feel his sincerity but she's not sure if only an apology is enough to make up for the pain he caused. She's not crazy, she knows people can't control how they feel most of the time. Maybe if he just admits he likes you, she'll feel at ease.
“So, have you finally accepted that you're in love with y/n?”
Jisung thinks for a bit, trying to put what he is feeling into words.
“I don't know if love is the right word”, he says, fidgeting with his fingers, “but I'm feeling some weird things around her, when she smiles or laughs, or even when she's doing nothing”, he covers his mouth with his hand in a slap, wide eyes, realizing he is talking about being in love with someone else with the girl that likes him.
Lia chuckles.
“It's alright, I'm pretty sure that's the definition of love though”, she sighs looking at Jisung. “Maybe you never felt that before”
It's not easy for her to be kind and comprehensive at the moment, but it's not like being mean is going to make him like her back. She's not actually even sure if she wants that anymore. Maybe her heart just accepted things ended, maybe she was already preparing herself for this since Han started acting differently, but the pain is not as great as she thought it would be. Maybe seeing him naively admitting his feelings made her have some sympathy for the mess he made of his relationship with you, maybe she didn't like him as much as she thought.
Since the beginning, there were too many maybes in this relationship. Lia knows she deserves better, she deserves someone who's sure about her, no maybes.
“I think I can forgive you, yeah”, she chuckles seeing Jisungs shocked face, “not now, obviously”, with a sigh, she looks deeply into his eyes, “you were always great to me before things started going wrong and I know you're not a bad person”, she stands up, “I'm actually feeling bad for you, with the mess you created I have no idea how you're going to fix it, but I'll cheer for you”, she puts her hand in his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. Lia leaves Jisung there, stuck in his head once more. At least that is something they both have in common, because he sure doesn't know how he's going to keep these strange feelings under control while fixing his relationship with you.
>><<
If Jisung had to rate his acting skills, he would be proud to say he deserves an award. He's succeeding at pretending not to be in love with you while maintaining a healthy friendship.
It's almost the same as it was before, except Jisung has to watch his every move. He's trying to act normal while trying to crush the onslaught of feelings in his chest everytime you laugh at one of his jokes, or when you just talk about your very normal day.
You both do your things during the day, have dinner together and talk or watch something before sleeping, that's your routine when Jeongho is not visiting.
You've been watching your phone lately, more than usual, is there something wrong? He's sure you're just waiting for Jeongho's call. Jisung has lost count of how many nights he spent listening to your laughs on the phone with your boyfriend, wishing it was him making you happy like that.
It's true, he's struggling. He's not sure how you managed to like him for so long without freaking out, because he's about to collapse and it's been just about a month since he came to terms with his feelings.
He feels bad just thinking about how much you must have suffered because of him, before and after your confession. Guilt is eating him alive, along with heartbreak.
He's been watching you for a while now, you are washing the dishes while talking about these kids you tutor and how smart they are, he's staring at you with heart eyes—you're not seeing—while he dries the dishes.
“I'm sure they can only learn so fast because it's you teaching them”, Jisung says.
You giggle to his compliment, bumping a shoulder into his.
“Should we watch a movie before going to bed?” You ask, drying your hands on your apron.
“I'm actually kinda sleepy”, Jisung laughs, he can only keep his feeling bottled for so long, he doesn't want to get careless and blurt out everything. He knows that if he gets too comfortable he'll feel at ease and you were always too good at making him tell you what's on his mind.
“Let's do it another time then”, you shrug, taking your phone out of your pocket and smiling when the screen brightens with Jeongho's name.
Han feels his chest tighten, he wants to throw up, he wants to cry, he wants to plead for you to not like someone else. But he can't do any of those things, not when you're so happy. So he won't be selfish, he'll think about you first and keep his distance.
>><<
It's been almost a month since the last time you saw Jeongho. He was not able to come by on the usual weekends because the company he works for is opening a new branch somewhere and he is involved in the project.
He's been busy, texting less and not even calling, so you start getting insecure. What if he's getting cold feet about your relationship? Maybe he met someone more interesting who's near him.
No. Jeongho wouldn't be like that. He would break up if he didn't like you anymore, you know him enough to know that.
When he calls saying he's coming to see you, you feel excited once again. You knew you were mistaken, it's not right to presume the worst just because he's a bit more busy. It must be nothing.
You just can't shake the feeling that you were going through the calm before the storm and now the bad weather is finally coming.
He's waiting for you at the restaurant of the hotel he's staying in, Jeongho is fidgeting with his fingers nervously, looking around until his eyes land on you. You smile at him, waving at him but he doesn't smile back.
“Hey”, you say, dropping your bag on the chair and sitting, “is there something wrong?”
“I received a promotion”, he says suddenly, he doesn't look happy about it.
“That's great”, you smile, taking his hand into yours to hold it, not really understanding his reaction.
He stares at your hands together, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
“Actually, the company wants me to go to Europe”, Jeongho says, fidgeting with his hands.
“Oh”, you frown, “for how long?”
“They are not sure about the exact period, but-”, he clears his throat, looking around, “they are projecting it to be between five and eight years”, he replies, feeling his breathing quickening.
“They want you to move there?” You repeat it to yourself, trying to absorb the information.
“They are trying to make an entry in the European market, so a team is needed there to develop the new branch”
“Okay, yeah”, you feel dizzy, “we can work with that, hm, I can- we can visit each other”, you nod, trying to organize your thoughts.
“Y/N-”, Jeongho starts, his voice fails and he stops for a moment before continuing. “Long distance works right now because we are a 2 hour flight away from each other, not 12 hours”
“What are you saying?” You feel all the air in your lungs escape, knowing exactly what he means but choosing not to believe it.
“I don't think we can keep doing this, I'm not sure our relationship is going to survive and-”, he sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I won't ask you to come with me”
“Why not? Why won't you ask me?” You plead, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. It's not logical what you're asking of him, but you don't want to hurt anymore, not again.
“How could I? I can't make you leave your whole life here, your family, your friends or college to go to a country where you know no one but me”, he explains, “I’ll be in charge of a large project, I'll have to stay late probably everyday and you're going to stay alone, how could I do that to you?”
“Don't you think that's for me to decide?” You ask, feeling your hands shaking. You put them in between your legs, trying not to show him the sight of your broken heart.
“I can't- I can't carry that guilt with me”, he says, “not knowing how happy you are here, if you go with me and things end up not working out I could never forgive myself”
“What if things work out? What if we are happy together forever? Did you consider it for a moment?” You ask, he's not looking at you. Jeongho is trying to hold his own tears, trying to be strong for you, “I guess this relationship is not worth you considering it”, you stand up, grabbing your bag.
He lifts his eyes to look at him, finding your quivering lips and the tears flooding from your eyes.
“Well, good luck then”, you tell him, turning around and walking out.
After walking far enough from the hotel, you let yourself crouch on the floor, scaring the people walking by. You are sobbing, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, but they keep coming continuously.
You stand up again, walking, what are you supposed to do now? When are things going to finally get better for you? Since you confessed to Jisung things got worse over and over, you should have never told him about your feelings, maybe your life would have stayed the same.
The hurt you felt seeing him with other people was a pain you were already used to, but this? This is excruciating, it's the same all over again, the same as when Jisung rejected you. Will you ever feel complete again?
It's 3 a.m, Jisung went to the studio to work for a bit and to try to forget about everything else. His phone buzzes in his pocket, when he looks at the screen, your name is there. He doesn't think twice about answering, just to find your drunk voice on the other side of the call. He can't understand a thing you're saying just that you'll share your location with him.
He grabs the keys to his car, running to the parking lot, he drives for about thirty minutes until arriving where you are. The bar is empty, there are only employees cleaning and you're laying on the counter, unconscious.
“It's been a while since we closed, but we let her stay inside since it looks like she went through something”, the bartender tells Han when he gets closer.
“Thank you”, Jisung says, before trying to wake you up with no success. He sighs, looking around and thinking about what to do.
He slides one of your arms around his neck, putting one of his hands behind your back for support and the other underneath your knees, lifting you up.
Your face is puffy, he can see it now that he's looking so closely, you probably cried a lot but what would make you cry like that?
Jisung glances at you a few times during the ride home. You groan, whining something in your sleep, even crying a bit. That makes him even more worried.
He repeats the process of picking you up when he parks in front of your apartment, carrying you inside. You whimper all the way to the apartment, he knows you can wake up at any moment.
Han sits you on your bed, taking your coat off and helping you lay down, covering you with a blanket after taking off your shoes. Your makeup is all smeared, so he picks a wet tissue and starts rubbing your face, trying to take off everything he can.
You open your eyes slowly, seeing Jisung with a focused expression while whipping your face.
“What are you doing?” You ask, making him jump. He was so concentrated he didn't even see you waking up.
“I was trying to take your makeup off”, he says, “it's not good for you to sleep with it on your face”
“How did I come home?” You look around, stumbling a bit over your words.
“You don't remember calling me?” He asks and you shake your head. “I went to the bar to pick you up”
Jisung is still whipping your face while he talks, that's when you remember why you were in the bar in the first place and tears run out of your eyes again.
“What happened? Why are you crying like this?” He asks worriedly, helping you sit on the bed.
“I don't- everything goes wrong for me”, you say, sobbing. “Maybe I'm the problem”
Jisung sighs, pulling you into a hug and holding you tightly, feeling your tears soak his shirt. He's worried and doesn't know what to do, should he call Hannah? Or Jeongho? Jisung knows you went to meet with him earlier… wait, did that guy do this to you?
After you stop sobbing for a while, Jisung realizes you fell asleep in his embrace. He lies you on the bed, covering you with the blanket once more. He leaves a glass of water and some hangover medicine on your nightstand so you can take in the morning and prepares his bed on the floor.
You wake up to the bright sunlight coming from the window, your head hurts like crazy and you're so thirsty it seems like a thousand years since you last drank something.
You take the hangover medicine and the water, while sitting down, still a bit dizzy. When your feet touch the floor, it's not the hard ground they meet but something soft. Why is Jisung sleeping by your bedside?
He doesn't look a bit comfortable, although he seems fast asleep. You start poking him, trying to make him wake up, causing your friend to jump and hold your arm.
“Are you alright?” He asks, eyes widened.
You frown at the sight, it's been a while since you last saw Jisung this startled.
“Yeah”, you answer and he can finally let out the breath he didn't even notice was being held. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”
He looks around for a bit as if he didn't understand why you were asking such a thing.
“Oh, I- hm- I was afraid you would need something so I stayed here just in case”, he tells you and you nod.
It's not an uncommon occurrence for you two to do this kind of thing, even when you were living with your parents. When one of you got sick, it was a tradition to stay by each other's side until the other felt better.
When you moved in with him, naturally, your drinking habits grew since you didn't have to worry about your parents anymore. Jisung was responsible for taking care of you when you came home wasted after partying with Hannah or even when you drunk with him and the boys, he made sure to stay sober enough to still be able to take you home and help you get to your room safely.
“Oh”, you answer, “thank you”
He kept staring at you, waiting for something you're not sure what is.
“Do you want to talk about the reason you got wasted last night?” He asks, awkwardly and the pain comes back all at once.
It was so nice, the period of numbness after waking up from a deep sleep, you wish you could keep feeling that way. Now, your hands are trembling again, just like last night, tears are brimming in your eyes and your lips are quivering. It's obvious to Jisung, you're trying not to cry.
He gets up, collecting the things he used to sleep, without looking at you, he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable.
“We don't have to talk about it”, he says, putting the blanket and pillow back in your wardrobe. “Do you want me to call Hannah?” He asks and you stare at him for a moment, nodding to his question, not really wanting to look at your phone.
You're scared Jeongho contacted you, you don't want to see him. But more than anything, you're scared he didn't try talking to you at all, because that means everything is really over.
It's pathetic, you know that break ups happen. But Jeongho was the first guy to ever make you feel the closest to what you ever felt for Jisung, no other could do that and you're scared no one ever will.
Hannah gets to your place about an hour after Jisung called her. She's huffing, hair messed up and puffy face.
“Were you sleeping?” You ask her and she takes a deep breath, seeing that you're okay.
“I'm going to kill that guy”, she yells out of the door to your room, “he made it seems like you were dying or something”
“If I was dying I'm pretty sure he would have taken me to the hospital”, you point out.
Hannah rolls her eyes, dropping her bag on the floor. Closing the door, she walks slowly to sit on your bed, she can clearly see that you cried a lot.
“So, did something happen?” She asks, you avoid her gaze, looking at anything but her face. You find your fingers much more interesting than any part of this conversation, actually. So you pay attention to them, playing on your lap.
“It's nothing”, you answer.
Hannah sighs, if you don't want to talk about it, it means it's bad.
“We don't have to talk about it right now”, she stretches her hand, taking yours and squeezing it. “But you will have to talk about it eventually”
It's your time to sigh now, she's right, you know that, but talking about it makes it real and you don't want it to be real.
“Jeongho broke up with me”, you rip the bandaid all at once.
Hannah gasps, she's speechless. How can this be? She thought he was head over heels for you, so why?
“His company is sending him to Europe and he doesn't want to do long distance”, you feel the tears brimming into your eyes again, voice cracking, “or take me with him”
It's the first time in her life Hannah doesn't know what to say. Your love life is such a mess, worse than hers, so she doesn't have any advice or any comfort to give you.
“Honey, I…”, she tries, but what is she supposed to say? ‘I am sorry?’, that's not it, ‘he is an asshole?’ nothing of the sort.
Looking from outside the situation, Jeongho is being logical, they still are in their honeymoon phase of the relationship, everything is perfect at that time. For most people, problems start to arise after some time. However, when you're in love, you don't want logical outputs, you want what your heart wants.
Hannah is saved by a knock on the door. Han's head pops inside the room and he observes for a moment trying to assess the situation.
“I bought some things you like”, he says, “I'll be going out, so you have the apartment all to yourselves”
He wants you to feel comfortable right now, he doesn't know exactly what happened but you're sad. Jisung knows just letting you enjoy your afternoon with Hannah in the apartment is not going to make things better for whatever is making you feel so down, but he knows you are going to feel livelier after some time with Hannah.
He goes out with Hyunjin, who's buying a present for his mother. It's hot, so if his friend didn't ask very nicely he wouldn't have accepted to go to the mall, since they have to wear hoods and masks. The fact that you're home, crying your eyes out for something he has no clue about, made him want to go out too. It hurts seeing you sad and it's even worse because he can't do anything about it, not when he doesn't know what's happening.
They are looking at bags, maybe he should get you something? You are not really a materialistic person, he's not sure if giving you an expensive present is going to help at all, maybe he should get you that webtoon print you've been talking about, they should definitely have it in the bookstore next door.
When Jisung turns around to tell Hyunjin they should stop at the bookstore, he sees Jeongho. He's looking at bags too, trying to figure out which one he should choose.
Is he giving you a gift too? Maybe he did something and you fought, that's why you were crying so much. Even remembering the way you cried as soon as you woke up makes his heart ache.
Jisung walks to Jeongho, not sure how to initiate a conversation but he feels like he should try and help in some way.
“Hey”, he says, watching Jeongho turn around and look at him.
“Jisung, how are you doing?” He asks, arms crossed in front of chest.
“Fine, are you choosing a gift for y/n?” He asks, awkwardly, “I don't think she likes purple”, he points out observing the bags Jeongho was looking at.
“It's actually for my mother”, he clears his throat, frowning, “didn't y/n tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Jisung asks, confused and Jeongho nods.
“So she didn't”, he sighs, “we broke up”, he struggles to say it.
Jisung's eyes dart directly to Jeongho's face, now he can see the eyebags on his face and how tired he looks.
“Why?” Jisung panics, you shouldn't have to go through another heartbreak.
“I don't think it's something you should know about, if she didn't tell you”, Jeongho shrugs.
“Well, can't you fix it? Whatever it is that is wrong?” He asks, carefully.
Jeongho sighs, he wishes there was something he could do about it, but he's a coward who's too afraid of taking such a big step in the beginning of a relationship.
“I’m afraid I can't”, he says, “take care of her”
Jisung is speechless, he has no idea what to do, so he just watches as Jeongho chooses a gift and walks tiredly out of the store.
Jisung arrives after killing some time outside, he was out for almost the entire day and hopes that you could enjoy a bit of your day with Hannah. He doesn't know if he should bring up his encounter with Jeongho or if he should talk about what your, now ex, boyfriend told him.
He shouldn't mention it, if you didn't tell him about it, it's because you're not ready for you to know and he gets that. Han is not sure about what he's feeling. It hurts his heart to see you in so much pain but he doesn't want to overstep the boundaries you're setting.
So when he enters the house, he sees you and Hannah watching a movie, he greets you both and goes to his room. You clearly cried more since he left and he won't be able to stay in your presence without trying to comfort you.
>><<
Things are difficult for you at the moment. Even though your love for Jeongho never got to its full potential, it's still love. You're mourning what you could have had with him had things been different, you wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep anymore, feeling your chest hurting and remembering it's over.
It all sank in when he didn't contact you anymore, you're sure he's hurting too but you had hoped that you two could find a solution around this cruel puzzle.
“Should we go out?” Hannah asks while you're watching a drama, burying your sorrows in ice cream.
“I'm not really in the mood”, you say. You haven't cried for some time now, you're too tired, maybe your tears finally dried up.
“I know you don't feel like it”, Hannah sighs, looking at your apathetic face, worriedly, “but I think you should have some fresh air, you have been stuck in this apartment for a week now, it's not healthy”
You sigh, she's right, you know she is, but you can't really find the strength to doll up and go out.
“We don't have to go to a party or anything crowded”, she says, seeing the resigned look on your face. “We can just go to a cafe or something, anything”, she pleads.
You nod, sighing in defeat, maybe a walk can really lift your mood a bit.
Hannah jumps out of the sofa, taking the ice cream from your hands. She talks excitedly about what kind of things you two can do but can't really follow what she's saying, your head is still numb.
You walk around for a bit, looking at clothes in the stores nearby, doing just about anything to think of anything but your break up.
It's already night when you two decide to eat something, there's this restaurant that's kinda hidden so there's not many people eating when you arrive. It's not the first time you eat there, it's a nice and cozy place so you come by when you're needing a little bit of peace.
“Y/N?” You hear a familiar voice calling you, making you turn around to find Lia. She's smiling, there's a man accompanying her. “It's been a while”, she says after telling the man to look for a place for them to sit.
“Hey, yeah it does”, you smile politely. Lia can see the huge eyebags you have and the wide eyes your friend has looking at her.
“Are you alright?” She asks, noticing you barely touched your food.
“Yeah”, you lie, “what about you?” You ask, eyeing the guy who's now looking at his phone while waiting for Lia.
“I'm okay”, she smiles shyly, “it's not easy, you know? But I'm trying to move on, meet new people”
You frown, not really understanding what she's talking about.
“I hope we can still be on friendly terms even though Jisung and I are over”, Lia says, regrets immediately when she sees your eyes widen. He didn't tell you. Shit.
“I didn't know you guys were not together anymore”, Hannah is the one to talk, stealing Lia's attention from your shocked face.
“Yeah, hm, it's been a while actually. I thought he would have already told you everything by now”, she says apologetically. “Well, Han Jisung, let's say that now we are even”, she thinks.
“I should probably go!” Lia points out to the man who's staring impatiently. She waves goodbye to you and walks towards him, afraid she'll tell you something more she's not supposed to.
You find yourself in the dark, seated at the sofa, arms crossed in front of your chest. You can't believe you had to hear from someone other than Jisung about his relationship status. You're mad at him, you were making an effort so things could go back to the way they were so why isn't he acting like he wants that too?
Before, he would tell you everything about his romantic endeavors and even though it hurted, you felt special, knowing every little thing about him. Now, you feel like you know nothing, he's spending less time with you and every time you try doing anything just the two of you, he avoids it like you would jump his bones or something if you stay alone with him for more than two hours.
You may have not gotten over him completely, but you're fine now and for years you could behave yourself, so you're not sure why he's acting like that.
You hear the door being open, Han’s voice comes out in a discussion, he's on the phone. He walks in, putting his phone in his pocket while trying to find his way in the dark. He jumps at the sight of you on the sofa, staring at him with a scowl.
“Jesus christ, y/n”, he says, putting his hand above his heart, “what the hell are you doing there in the dark?”
He turns on the light, turning back at you. You're still staring at him in silence.
“Why didn't you tell me you and Lia are not together anymore?” You stand up, waiting for his answer.
“W-what?” His standing falters and he takes a step back. “How did you know?”
“Clearly I didn't find out from my best friend”, you scoff. “Did you think I would try making a move on you if you are single?”
Jisung frowns, how the hell did you get to that conclusion?
“No, I-”
“I'm sure you already figured Jeongho and I broke up”, you point out, “but you rejected me, I'm over that already”
“I can see why you would think that”, Jisung says carefully, “considering the way I acted when you confessed, but it's not that, I can assure you”
“I'm trying to have a normal relationship with you, you know, but you're just not the same. You don't spend time with me anymore, you don't talk to me about what's on your mind, the only thing I can think is that you're scared of me”
“I'm sorry I made you feel that way, I'm trying to act normally too, it's just-” Jisung cuts himself off, not sure what to say. At the same time he doesn't know what to say to make you stop thinking like that, he's not sure things will get any better if he tells you the truth.
“What's it? Just tell me so I can fix it, please I-”
“I'm in love with you”, he blurts out, hand instantly going to his chest and clenching the place above his heart. “I'm so in love with you it hurts”
You stumble back, almost falling. Did you hear it right?
“I don't think I understand”, you say, frowning, trying to make sense of his words.
“I feel terrible, I rejected you and made you suffer just for me to feel like this now?” He scoffs, “I'm sorry I made you think you are the problem again, but you're not, I am. I'm the one who can't stay close to you because I'm afraid I'll do something that will ruin our friendship”
You get up, trying to function properly after this sudden confession. Never, in your wildest dreams did you think there would come a day when Jisung would actually love you in the way you most desperately once wanted. You fantasized about it for years but you never really thought it would happen for real.
“I can't do this right now”, you say to him, seeing his shoulders slump. The sad look in your face is what he most feared. Jisung didn't expect you to still like him, but it would be a lie to say he didn't have any hope of you telling him he still has a chance.
“I don't expect you to like me back”, he says, voice cracking a bit when he tries to say the words he least want to, “I just don't want you to think I'm avoiding you because of you, it's because of me”
You nod slowly, still not fully recovered from the shock. You walk past him, not saying anything anymore, just entering your room and closing the door silently. This was definitely unexpected.
A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback give me motivation to keep writing. Also, you can buy me a coffee.
Taglist(closed):
@hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @starsandrqindrops @its-hannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98 @blithevix @astro-doll-the-star @vlctorriaa @captainchrisstan @rag-iii @notastraykid @jisunghannie @applepie-macaroon @stayingdelulu @sundayysunshine @kidrauhlschik @wolfennracha @meloncremesoda @hanschimpmunk @realrintaro @teejisung @maexc @gyustarzzi @ivaneedssleep @chaeryred @daemon-bunny @broken-glowsticks @ch4nniebang @sleepyleeji @seukijeuxq @luvbangchan @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @castielsfrillywhiteknickers @armystay89 @literallyjustwanttoread @jisunghannie @jungkookies1002 @diorggukie @channieandhisgoonsquad @mamabymychem @ladylexis @bmnyy
#han jisung x reader#jisung x y/n#jisung x you#han jisung angst#jisung x reader#han jisung x you#stray kids#han jisung scenarios#han jisung x y/n#stray kids han#han jisung imagines#skz han#stray kids han jisung#skz han jisung#skz#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz angst#stray kids masterlist#skz masterlist#skz scenarios#skz imagine
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NOW THAT WE DONT TALK
summary: jack realizes yns music is quite literally a call out, directed towards him, and his brothers egg it on. pt.3
series masterlist
“i called my mom, she said ‘that it was for the best!’ remind myself the more i gave, you’d want me less”
jack could’ve hit his head against the counter ten more times and the song would still be ringing through his ears like a splinter that wouldn’t come out of his hand.
quinns hand made contact with the back of jacks head. “knock it off, jack.”
jack groaned, shoving his head into his arms. he groaned again, this time the noise being muffled due to the his arm. “she wrote a song about me, quinn.”
quinn rolled his eyes. “you don’t know its about you” he told.
jack scoffed, head shooting up. “she literally called me out. the parties, that stupid red sea reference, even the chorus. its so obviously me. and then her newer single that dropped thirty minutes ago?’
quinn shrugged, “could be about trevor”
jack rolled his eyes, “no way in hell, quinn. they never hooked up and her newer one is about some guy hooking up with her later on—“
“you sound obsessed, jack.” quinn told. jack looked down, embarrassed.
“whats jack obsessed with?” trevor asked, walking inside the kitchen. he stole a grape from jack and popped it into his mouth.
“y/n’s song” quinn spoke.
trevor scoffed, “why are you so hung up on it? its just music.” trevor shrugged.
“hes upset because hes getting called out.”
jack groaned again, head hitting the counter.
quinn rolled his eyes again. “you’ve gotta stop doing that dude. listen— she probably made these ages ago and just now got to releasing them.”
trevor popped another grape in his mouth. “not too sure about that, but i know she started writing them when you two broke up.”
luke slowly walks in. “seriously? you guys are torturing the man talking about his ex.”
jack nods, signifying lukes words to be true.. luke goes into the cupboard to grab a plate. “just ignore it.” he shrugged.
trevor snorted. jack sent the boy a glare, causing his laughter to abruptly stop. “how can i just ignore it? shes getting big and her music is everywhere already.” he asked.
quinn gave him a look. “then face it, jack. you can’t keep putting yourself in denial for something you caused.”
jack let out an exasperated groan for the 100th time. “gee, thanks quinn. way to make me feel better.”
“dont start giving him shit, jack.” luke spoke.
jack rolled his eyes. “whatever, im going to my room.” he got up and went for the stairs.
all three boys looked around at each other. silence fell through the room. suddenly, the sliding door opens. “whats going on?” cole asked.
“quinn picked his side of the argument.” trevor spoke, slightly glaring at quinn.
quinn gave one back, “dont act innocent, trevor. you screwed her over too. you and jack need to own up to it and stop cowering like little kids. you are both in your twenties for fucks sake. grow up.”
quinn went off to his room, leaving a wide eyed group of boys behind.
jacks brows furrowed as he listened to the song in his earbuds. his girlfriend napped next to him as he sat up on the bed. he hates to admit it, but he kinda deserved this.
“lets fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later. if shes got blue eyes, i will surmise that you’ll probably date her. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor, you search in every model—“
he stopped the song, taking his earbuds out and tossing them to the floor. he cheated, and now was dating the girl he cheated with. it was sad, really.
fiona, she was a woman who loved money. jack, was a man who loved attention. maybe that’s why they were together. but she wasn’t horrible like people said, right?
quietly, he went to tik tok and made a fake account, that way she knew he didn’t stalk her profile. i mean— she has no idea he even uses it still.
jack searched fionas name up, ultimately clicking on her profile. she had one video up. he clicked on it.
ick ick ick ick
she was lip syncing that really terrible audio that went ‘he chose me, he dont want you. he chose me’ and honestly, jack was appalled.
but before he could open the comments, she started to wake up. he swiped out of the app and deleted it, tossing his phone to the side afterwards.
“hey baby.” he smiled.
now that we dont talk!
tags! @honethatty12 (if u want tags, just ask <3)
#hockey#jack hughes#nhl imagine#new jersey#new jersey devils#nhl#nhl hockey#quinn hughes#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes#trevor zegras#cole caufield#mitch marner
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17 with cloé lacasse
puppy
Cloé Lacasse x R
R begs Cloé for a puppy but she refuses. R brings one home anyways.
warnings: none!
a/n: I think this story is the one I’ve enjoyed writing the most so far. Please, send more of this🥺 Hope everyone likes it as much as I do!
-----
You’ve screwed up, you’re very much aware of it. But you couldn’t help yourself. It was so simple, so easy to do.
And Cloé is going to break up with you when she finds out. Maybe breaking up with you is an exaggeration, but she will be mad, really mad. It’s not like it was completely your fault, you were persuaded into doing it, tricked by pleading eyes. You’ve also been feeling lonely lately, with your girlfriend constantly busy with all the games and training, so you kind of knew something like this would happen eventually.
It gets worse when she’s away for international break, an ocean from you, and you have no one to keep you company. So, really, this happening makes perfect sense.
“My girlfriend is going to kill me, did you know that?” you ask the golden retriever puppy sitting in the passenger seat “Maybe you and I should move to Alaska, that way she can’t find us.”
He looks at you and tilts his head, letting out a soft bark in response.
Shaking your head, you recall the conversation the two of you had a couple weeks ago.
-----
“Cloé...” you start.
“No. Whatever it is, no”
You huff in annoyance “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“Yeah, honey, but I know that face and you’re about to ask for something that you know I won’t like.”
Climbing in her lap, you give your girlfriend a sheepish smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about”
“Sure,” she says rolling her eyes.
Taking Cloé’s hands and placing them on your waist, you tilt her head a little bit and start leaving kisses around her face.
“I’ve been thinking. You know how I used to have a dog when I was a kid?” your continue trailing kisses down her neck and hear your girlfriend hum when you hit a particularly sensitive spot “Well, I thought we could adopt a puppy.”
“What?” Cloé asks pushing you off herself “Absolutely not. Nope. Not happening.”
“But, love-” you whine.
“No buts.”
“Baby, please,” you try again, pouting “Just hear me out.”
“Oh, I have heard you loud and clear” she answers leaving a kiss on your forehead “And we’re not getting a dog.”
Cloé gets up from the couch and walk into the kitchen, you quick to follow after her with the intention of continuing your conversation.
“Why not?”
“A dog takes a lot of responsibility. You have to feed it, take it out on a walk a few times a day, you also need to train it. And don’t even get me started on vaccines and the vet,” she lists “It’s just a lot, and you know it.”
You frown “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a dog.”
“You can barely take care of yourself” you open your mouth to protest –even though you know she’s right– but your girlfriend stops you “Honey, we’re not getting a dog and that’s it. And I don’t want to have this conversation again, so don’t even try.”
Cloé walks up to you and pecks your lips multiple times, trying to kiss your pout away. It works and, in just a few minutes, you’re smiling again.
-----
Opening the door to your apartment, you beg the universe that your girlfriend hasn’t arrived home just yet. However, never being a lucky one, you hear rustling and soft footsteps walking towards the entrance.
“Hi, baby,” Cloé greets you with a smile once she’s in front of you.
“Hi.”
Your girlfriend frowns a little bit when you make no move to kiss or hug her.
“What do you have there?” she asks pointing behind your back, where the puppy you have just adopted is starting to get restless in your arms.
“Okay, don’t get mad please,” you beg.
Cloé looks at you suspiciously “Honey, what did you do?”
“Promise me you won’t get mad.”
“I’m not promising you that,” your girlfriend scoffs “You look extremely guilty, so I don’t trust you right now, not a little bit.”
You open your mouth to answer, but you’re quickly interrupted by the sound of a bark behind your back, just where your hands are hidden.
Cloé’s jaw drops in shock “You did not!”
“Surprise?” you ask putting the puppy right in from of her face.
He squirms a little bit in your hands and licks you girlfriend right in the nose.
“Honey! We said no dogs!”
“No,” you resort placing the puppy in her arms and pointing at her “You said no dogs, I didn’t say anything. You didn’t even let me say anything!”
“Are you serious right now?” she asks frowning at you, but you see her beginning to pet the puppy.
Taking the dog from her, you place him in the floor in front of you.
“Come on, you can explore the house now. And you,” you say to your girlfriend “are going to listen to me before you say anything else. A co-worker of mine has a dog and she just had puppies. He needed to find people who would adopt them, and decided to show us some pictures to see if anyone would be interested. And I really wanted to say ‘no’ but, love, I work from home most days and I spend the mornings alone; whenever you leave for international break I stay here all by myself. It gets lonely, and I just wanted someone to keep me company. But if you really don’t want the puppy I’ll make sure to find him a home.”
Your girlfriend lets out a sigh.
“I love you, you know that?”
“I mean, considering you tell me all the time, I’d say I do.”
“Smartass” she mumbles “Well, I love you. I love that stupid big heart of yours and how you have a smile that could convince me to do basically anything.”
“Does that mean we can keep it?” you ask looking at her excitedly.
Cloé rolls her eyes “Yes. But, you have to promise to take good care of him and train him. I don’t want him causing any trouble.”
“Whatever you say, love.”
#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso community#woso#woso blurbs#woso couples#woso fluff#cloe lacasse#cloe lacasse x reader#cloe lacasse fluff#arsenal women#arsenal women x reader#arsenal x reader
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Marriage (Pt. 2)
Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader
Warnings: past talk, anger
Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
The next day, after a restless night of reflection and regret, I decided that I needed to do something to make up for what I had done to Y/N years ago.
I couldn't just leave things the way they were.
I called Lando and asked if I could talk to him in person. He agreed and we met at a nearby café.
As soon as we sat down, I poured out my story and remorse to him, admitting all my faults and fears on that fateful day.
Lando listened in silence, with a serious look on his face.
"So that's why she reacted like that when you offered to pay,." he finally said. "My God, Max, how could you do such a thing? She's an amazing person and you had the chance to marry that woman and you ran out of the church like a scared puppy."
"I know, I screwed up and I really regret it, that's why I'm trying to get you to give me her number for me or I don't know maybe I’ll write a letter and you deliver it." He sighs. "Please, I'm begging you.”
"You know how much it must hurt her, right?" I shook my head, feeling the weight of guilt once again.
"I know, and I really want to make things right, Lando. If you can help me talk to her, I owe her a decent apology and an explanation of why I did what I did."Lando looked at me for a moment and then nodded.
"I'll talk to her, Max. But I can't guarantee that she'll want to see you again."
I thanked Lando and he promised to do his best to arrange a meeting between us.
While I was waiting, I started writing a letter to Y/N, expressing all my feelings and regrets honestly. I knew that a letter wouldn't solve everything, but I also didn't know if I'd be able to express all my feelings to her, I've never been good at expressing myself and I know that when it comes to talking to her I'll get in the way and won't be able to say everything.
A few days later, Lando called to tell me that Y/N had agreed to meet me at a local café. My heart was racing as I headed there.
When I walked in, I saw Y/N sitting at a table at the back.
She looked tense and nervous, but also determined. I sat down opposite her and took a deep breath.
"Lando said you wanted to talk to me so I'm hoping you'll say something instead of just staring at me like a idiot."
"I owe you a lot more than an apology and I also know that nothing I do or say will fix what I did, let alone ease the pain I caused you, but I'm not the same person anymore, I'm not the same stupid 21-year-old boy who left you at the altar." I took a breath and continued speaking. "I'd do everything differently if I could and I know you're probably thinking that it's too late to change the past and I know that but I can make it up to you in the future and prove to you that I'm a better person."
"I don't need you to prove anything to me."
"I know that, but I want you to know that the person who hurt you no longer exists." I took the letter out of my pocket and handed it to her. "The only thing that hasn't changed about me in all this time is the fact that I'm terrible at showing my feelings, but you already know that. I don't expect this to fix everything, Y/N, but it's a start."
She took the letter and laughed wryly as I got up to leave.
"Do you really think a letter can fix something, Max?"
"No, I don't think so, Y/N. But it's a start for me to express how sorry I am and how much you mean to me. I was wrong, I was afraid, but that doesn't justify what I did."
She took the letter and started to open it, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.
"I don't want you to read it now, I don't want you to read it in anger or out of obligation. I want you to go home and read it when you feel ready and not because I asked you to." I took my car key out of my pocket. "I'm really sorry and I hope you can forgive me someday."
I paid for our coffees and left with my heart a little lighter knowing that she had a part of my feelings in her hands.
Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercover @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @123beautifulgirl123 @luvrrish
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1#f1 instagram au#max verstappen smut#max verstappen#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen wallpaper#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen au#max verstappen f1#max verstappen icons#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen instagram au#max verstappen edit#max verstappen angst#max verstappen series#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen drabble#max verstappen fanart#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen headcanons#max verstappen headers#max verstappen blurb#mv33#mv1 x reader#mv1
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hi hii, congratulations on 1.5k <33 could i request a santa tell me with friends to lovers!lando and the prompts pulling them in by their tie, face squishing and “can you call me that again?” if you get the vibe im going for, you’re actually amazing!!
(originally i wanted to request for mick but then i realised you didn’t write for him 😕)
hello love! thank you!! <3 okay so i did do this for mick, hope that's okay. i was thinking kinda haas&childhood friend!mick and teammate!reader. also, i combined this with another request, so i decided to take out the face squishing.... hope you enjoy!! 💓
you and mick were supposed to meet up in the hotel lobby fifteen minutes ago, so that you could go to the team dinner together. but he never showed up, which kind of worries you – he isn't usually late like this.
it's even more worrying that he isn't opening it, or even making an effort to let you know that he's alive, when you bang on his door.
luckily for you, you and mick always exchange key cards in case of an emergency. it's something you've done since you started racing together as teenagers – half for the humor in waking the other in the middle of the night, half for actual emergencies – and for the first time in a while, the key comes in handy.
"mick, we were supposed to leave like fifteen minutes ago," you say the second you storm into his room, seeing that he's alive and clearly well. his broad back facing you as he stands in front of a mirror. "aren't you done?"
he slowly turns around, an exhausted look on his face. "i can't..." a groan slips past his lips, and when your eyes wander down from his face to his hands, you suddenly understand the reason behind his delay. an undone tie hangs loosely over his shoulders, mick's fingers holding onto the material.
"do you seriously not know how to tie a tie?" you ask, shaking your head as you step towards him. "here, let me."
he lets out a breath of relief when you reach for the fabric, visibly relaxing as you get to work. "i usually wear a bowtie, you know."
"mhm. that's a great excuse for not knowing basic etiquette." the tie is done in seconds, and you pat his shoulder to let him know. "all done, sweetheart."
the moment the pet name slips past your lips, you freeze.
you hadn't intended to say it, it just happened. maybe you've been thinking of him as your sweetheart in your mind too much that it felt natural to say it. either way, there's no going back now – all you can do is try to pretend like it never happened.
you hadn't realized until now how close you're standing; the proximity is killing you. his gaze burns through you and you can practically feel the heat from his body, contributing to your increasingly red cheeks. you step back, turning your head towards the bed as you speak up again. "so... are you ready, then?"
"is that like a friendly nickname?" mick's voice is usually like music to your ears, but right now, you wish he just hadn't said anything. "or..."
what is he thinking? is he serious? unfortunately, you don't quite think through your next words, either, again just speaking on instinct. "yeah, i just go around casually calling all of my friends sweetheart."
your words are dripping with sarcasm – and yet, he apparently doesn't notice. you look back at him just in time to catch how something about his demeanor changes; he looks down at the floor with a slight nod of his head, his lips pressed into a straight line. "okay..."
"are you stupid or something?" his eyebrows shoot up as he stares at you.
how is he not getting this?
you shake your head, sighing in frustration. you've already gone this far, you've already screwed up, so you can't possibly make anything worse now, right? "i don't call just anyone sweetheart. it's-" you take a deep breath. "we should really get going, mick."
just as you turn towards the door, his hand reaches for your hip, pulling you back to his body. suddenly, your body is almost pressed up against his, with both of his hands holding onto your sides. mick's gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and then something in him must've just said fuck it, because he leans down to you, sealing his lips with yours.
it takes a few moments before your mind connects the dots and reacts to his kiss, but when you do, you kiss him back instantly. it's not a long kiss, but the surprise of it has you gasping when he pulls away. the two of you just watch each other for a second, before matching sets of grins appear on your faces.
"can you call me that again?" his voice is lower than before, almost cautious, but it doesn't take long before you react.
you tilt your head, your hand coming up to wrap around his tie. "sweetheart," you coo before pulling him down to you again by his tie, pressing your mouth to his. "my sweetheart mick."
your last words are spoken against his lips, not wanting to part for even a second. you've dreamed of this moment for so many years, and now that you're finally here, the last thing you want is to let it slip through your fingers.
but the outside world, including your whole team, is still waiting on you on the other side of those doors. unwillingly, you part from the kiss, blinking up at him. "this was great and all, but-" you pause when you make contact with his big, blue eyes, easily getting lost in them and trailing off. "we really should get going now, mick..."
"ah, yes." there's a nod of his head and he smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. "we will definitely talk about this later, though?"
"definitely. maybe even a repeat..."
"not just maybe. surely."
#dfjhdkfjks idk about this one.... feels kinda out of character for him ???#my writers block recently 📈📈 gahhhh i dont know what to do....#santa tell me!#jack's 1.5k celly!#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x reader#f1#formula one#formula 1#mick schumacher x you#mick schumacher fluff#mick schumacher x yn#mick schumacher fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 x yn#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#mick schumacher fic#f1 fic
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Steve receives love the way he gives it and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
so i was going through my drafts folder because i'm thinking it's time to dip my foot back into the fic writing pool, and I found this collection of snippets and ideas that all stemmed from this post from @rogueddie. I thought about maybe elaborating on some of these, but I also wanted to share because I really enjoyed this idea. I also think I may have posted about this a long while back, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the whole thing.
-Future -> uses a pen like a sorta-stylus to hit each of his computer keys sometimes. Eddie figures out it’s because the keys don’t have enough physical separation between them (they’re so shallow) and it sometimes messes with his eyes [is this a feasible vision issue he might have??] so Eddie buys him an “old fashioned” keyboard with the big keys, one of the big colorful trendy ones.
-Eddie and Wayne keep the foods he like, foods he’ll always eat no matter what. Eddie notices that he’ll never ask for any special foods when Wayne makes the grocery list (when he moves in with them) so he starts being sneaky and goes on a recon mission a.k.a. asking Robin, Nancy, and the kids what he likes. Since Steve also loves to cook, Eddie looks through his cookbooks and recipe box and finds the ones with notes on them and him and Wayne practice how to make them
“Hey Wayne?”
“Yeah?” Wayne calls from the couch, beer in hand and the game on.
Steve steps out from the kitchen, box of tea in hand.
“Where’d this come from?”
Wayne doesn’t turn around.
“What is it?”
“Uh, the tea?”
“Picked that up for you the other day, since you were saying you like it better than coffee sometimes.”
“Yeah but… you and Eddie don’t like tea?”
He doesn’t know why he says it like a question.
Wayne tilts his head against the back of the couch, craning it to look at Steve in a way that’s so reminiscent of Eddie it makes Steve smile a little.
“You do, though.”
-Right before Steve moves in, when he’s an anxious mess because his parents are coming back but he doesn’t realize he’s anxious for that reason, he starts hiding little bits of his stuff in the trailer, mostly in Eddie’s room and around the kitchen. This puzzles Eddie but Wayne thinks it’s like Steve’s trying to expel his energy in a not-so-productive way, though there are worse ways. So, Wayne starts asking Steve to help more around the house, but especially with repairs bc they found out that Steve knew a lot about repair.
Steve’s been around a lot. Wayne sees his pile of folded bedding tucked behind the couch, and sometimes he sees the Beemer leaving the trailer park as he comes up the road from the plant. During daylight hours, when Steve comes by to help Eddie or brings the kids over or stays for dinner, he shows almost no signs of anything being wrong.
But Wayne is a combat veteran. It’s been a long time for him, but he hasn’t forgotten, and he never will. He knows his nephew went through war, and that Steve was right alongside him. From what Wayne has gathered, Steve had been in that war for a few years, and had been dealing with the ups-and-downs for two years before Eddie ever knew about it.
It hurts Wayne deeply, to see the children (because that’s what they are—as he and all his comrades had been) endure the aftermath. So he sees when Steve flinches, when he clenches his fists, when he holds his breath and makes himself breathe evenly.
Tonight is the least in-control he’s ever seen Steve.
He’s over for dinner again. All three of them are in the living room, a baseball game on, much to Eddie’s long-suffering sighs.
-Steve will make his opinion known about arbitrary stuff like movies and music, but if it’s been a Bad Day or a Bad Time, and he does, and Eddie reacts to it in a way Steve sees as criticism, he will then defer everything to Eddie to a frustrating degree. Eddie finds out that when it comes to their relationship, not any other relationship Steve has, Steve is extremely afraid of screwing it up so he thinks that means he should let Eddie call all the shots.
-Eddie memorizes Steve’s orders at restaurants
-Eddie sews Steve’s clothes without Steve ever realizing
The sun is just peaking through the windows of the trailer on a Thursday morning when Eddie gets to work. Steve, when exhausted, will sleep through just about anything, and the week had been a long one. Eddie had the opposite problem, finding little respite even curled around Steve. So, the early morning found him gathering up Steve’s clothes and taking them out to the front porch of the trailer.
Already out there on the side table was his sewing kit, spools of thread and thimbles neat and ready. Already out there on the couch was Wayne, sipping his morning post-work coffee and looking out over the misty park.
Without a word, Eddie settled onto his end of the couch, knees pulled up, and grabbed one of Steve’s jeans. There was a rip along the inseam, and Eddie took to it with steady persistence. After the jeans were shirts and three sweatshirts. Stitch after stitch after stitch, and soon Steve wasn’t left with a single hole in all his wardrobe.
“He still hasn’t figured it out yet?” Wayne asks, grinning into his coffee.
“Nope. I’ve almost convinced him of the existence of brownies.”
Wayne barks a laugh and Eddie smiles down at the last rip he’s fixing, laughing with his uncle. Steve has been with them for a month and is just now finally easing up, finally letting them both in—for the big and small. Noticing Steve get frustrated with all the holes in his clothes was the least Eddie could do for him, and if it warms him from the inside out when Steve excitedly rustles through his pile of clothes and realizes they’re all perfectly wearable, well. That was just a plus.
-Eddie compliments Steve on his personality and who he is more than what he does, because especially in the first couple years after Vecna, while both of their bodies are still healing, Steve feels a lot of guilt about not being able to do all the things he used to be able to do to the same degree. Even once he’s healed and starts being able to be physical like he used to, Eddie knows Steve equates his value with his service, and tries to help him realize that he is so much more.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#wayne munson#wayne munson is a good uncle#wayne munson cares very much about eddie and about steve#wayne munson is an excellent ally#and excellent uncle#eddie loves steve so much#and he tries so hard to help steve see that#acts of service#speaking in your partner's love language#speaking other people's love languages as the secret sixth love language#willow writes#my fic#willow talks
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I saw this amazing post by @my-castles-crumbling and I HAD to write a oneshot based on it!
Sirius is fine.
He's been free from his family for a year, and everything's okay. He should be over it now, and he is. Everybody can see it. He's absolutely fine. It's easy to be bubbly, lively and talkative when he's with his friends, because that's who he is.
Sometimes he just... isn't quite himself.
Every so often, everything will come screaming back to him and he'll be stuck. Stuck in some awful place between reality and memory, where he can't breathe, he relives it all. He shouldn't still be feeling that way and he knows that. It's been too long for him to still be struggling, it just makes him a burden. His friends don't need that.
He just makes sure they never see it.
If he feels a panic attack coming on, he'll just make an excuse and leave. He'll go to the dorm, into a secret passageway, the room of requirement, anywhere hidden. That way, he can just wait them out and pretend that they never happened. Nobody needs to know that he has moments when he feels like he's having a heart attack, he doesn't know where he is, he's completely out of control. It's... embarrassing. At least when he can feel it happening, he can get away from people before they happen.
This attack comes out of nowhere.
He and James are about to go to Hogsmeade, when that all too familiar constricting of his chest, a wave of panic hitting him and almost making him dizzy. As James walks out the door, Sirius gathers the last of his awareness to speak.
"I'll meet you there, I can't find my jacket!"
"Okay!" James calls back, the door shutting right as it starts.
Before he knows what has happened, he can't breathe, his knees have buckled and he's on the floor. It's like he can hear his parents voices again, the curses that were thrown at him on that night. He can feel the closed scars burning, the faded injuries reappearing, and as he scrubs at them with his nails, trying to force them away. The roaring in his head is so loud that he can't hear the way he's pleading, begging for relief, for his parents to stop.
It's too much. Everything is too much.
He folds in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees, screwing his eyes shut and wanting nothing else but for it to be over. He just wants to be able to breathe, to be in one piece, to not feel so stuck, so alone.
Overwhelmed, he doesn't even notice the door open, the footsteps, or even the gentle call of his name.
It's only when two hands are resting on top of his that he forces his eyes open, meeting the concerned face of Remus Lupin.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Nobody's meant to see him like this.
He expects Remus to look at him with judgement, to crinkle his nose in that way of his, irritated or even pitiful. Instead, he reaches out and pulls Sirius into a hug. For a moment Sirius is frozen, stunned, until he registers the warmth of Remus' arms around him and crumbles. He lets Remus hold him, and he falls apart, collapsing into heavy, loud sobs.
That gesture, just being there is a signal Sirius hadn't even realised that he's been searching for. The sign that he doesn't have to be okay, he's allowed to feel the way he does. He can have the moments where everything feels like it's going to engulf him. Remus reaching out breaks his resolve, finally lets him start to mourn the childhood he never had in the safety of Remus' arms.
A hand runs through his hair as he cries, and he's still out of control, still in pain, still struggling, but for once, he isn't embarrassed about it. Through the darkness that threatens to swallow him whole, hope starts to shine through. Remus has seen the one part of him that he's never wanted anyone to see, and he's still here.
Maybe, just maybe, it's going to be okay.
#ugh i love them#i'm actually really happy with how this turned out#wolfstar#sirius black#wolfstar oneshot#marauders#remus lupin#remus x sirius#young marauders#moony x padfoot#atyd marauders#marauders oneshot
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╰┈➤ ❝ out of this world ❞
: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x reader
: ̗̀➛ warnings. none
: ̗̀➛ part one / part three
: ̗̀➛ a/n. i just be writing anything fr, this wasn’t supposed to have another part but now i can’t stop writing, I’ll write a part three when i feel like it and this once against isn’t proof read so if you see a typo no you don’t :)
Miles screwed up.
As he swung from building to building, taking a moment to stop and perch on a street lamp as his head tilted to the side, his eyes were trained on Gwen but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
Well, that wasn’t the right word for it. It was everywhere. Between trying to find out what was up with Gwen, knowing he was in deep shit with his parents and the fact that he was on bad terms with you, he didn’t know what to worry about more. Before Spider-Man had been an escape from his own life when he didn’t want to deal with it, but now in some sick sense of irony his secret persona only seemed to be making his life worse.
Miles picked up the pace to catch up with Gwen as she swung through the city, but just as she turned a corner he recognized the street they were on. It was where you lived, in fact he could see your building from there. For just a moment he caught himself in a dilemma, slowing down just enough to stick to the wall and climb towards the window he knew was connected to your bedroom. The window was closed, strange considering he knew you had a habit of leaving it cracked even on cold nights due to how stuffy the air in there could get. When he attempted to peak through the small cracks in the blinds, your room looked empty.
Shouldn’t you have been home by now?
Miles let out a sigh and backed up from the window. On one hand, he could’ve stayed to confront you when you got home, assuming you weren’t just in another part of the house, and hopefully resolved the unavoidable conflict you two had. But on the other hand…
He turned back to the streets, seeing Gwen had gained distance in the few seconds he had stopped, almost just out of sight. If he stopped now he’d never get answers. He’d never know what she was really here for or why she’d have to leave, he might never see another Spider-Man again.
The mask hid the guilty expression he wore as he jumped from the wall, swinging from building to building while promising himself that he’d give you all of his attention as soon as he was done figuring this all out before landing at the crime scene of what he’d soon realize would be the consequence of one of his own screw ups.
Surprises weren’t always a good thing.
Between the multitudes of flashing colors and scenes, the exhilarating yet terrifying sensation of never ending falling that seemed to take forever, and the blood rushing to your head, you couldn’t even begin to make out what was happening for you. For a moment, the idea that you must’ve died and were going to the afterlife crossed your mind in the few seconds that felt like hours flew by.
Maybe I tripped and hit my head on the way home? Maybe there was something in the juice and I’m hallucinating? Maybe this is all a dream?
As much as you wanted to believe any of those possibilities, they were all crushed by the realization that you couldn’t have been making this all up when in the midst of falling, you noticed what seemed like a dirty surface getting close and closer. Luckily for you, it seemed like the constant falling did have a destination. Unluckily for you, there was nothing to cushion the fall as you hit the ground with a loud thud and a gut wrenching crunch.
Pain shot across your right side as you laid there, looking up just in time to see the same warping pattern that initially pulled you in shrinking and disappearing before your eyes. ‘What the fuck?’
As aching as your body was, you knew you couldn’t just lay in that spot forever, opting to roll over onto the side that wasn’t throbbing in pain and push yourself into a sitting position. The pain in your side returned and you reached to hold your side, face twisting in pain as you winced. You’d probably broken something, a rib maybe? The adrenaline rushing through you likely being the only thing keeping you from rolling around in agony. Forcing yourself on your feet, you nearly doubled over, taking deep, slow breathes to keep yourself from freaking out and making things worse. Taking a quick look around, it seemed as if you’d been left in a dimly alleyway, garbage cans and bags lining either side. The walls looked old and past due for a pressure wash, but you weren’t too quick to judge, you’d seen worse.
Thankfully, you hadn’t managed to drop your bag and reached to fish out your phone, your other hand glued to your side to manage the pain in your abdomen. Your first thought was the open your contacts, taking a moment to decide who to call before ultimately deciding on attempting to call your mom/dad, but the call only flashed on screen for a second before your phone alerted you to the fact that you had zero service.
How is that possible?
Cursing under your breathe, you shoved it back in your back before sucking it up when you realized you’d likely just have to walk home, assuming you were even near it.
You slowly walked out of the alleyway, the smell of smoke and a rotting stench filling your nostrils that made you scrunch your nose out of disgust. Looking around, you took note of the street sign and thankfully recognized the name. You must’ve still been in Brooklyn.
You were able to map out the way home from where you were, hurriedly making your way there while also pacing your steps to aid your side. There had to be an explanation for all of this. Maybe you had secret superpowers? It’s not exactly out of the question considering all of the heroes and villains you’ve seen on the news. Teleportation, maybe? Or could it be that someone else with powers attacked you?
When you arrived at your home you settled on the fact that the portal must have been time travel, because where your apartment building should’ve been, a massive pile of left over debris and no building was in its place.
“This can’t be right…” you trailed off, looking back to double check you were on the right street. You were, same sign, same letters, but as you took a final look you finally began to notice all of the big and small inconsistencies you’d written off as misremembering things, beginning to wander down the streets. Signs weren’t the same colors as you remembered them to be, shops you visited on the daily were either gone or in the wrong spot, across the street from where they’d been before hand or worse. It wasn’t a perfect city to begin with, but now? Brooklyn looked a mess, and the state of the city left you on guard and suddenly way more concerned that you were out here with no one you knew at night.
What the hell is going on?
Stepping into a convenience store, you glanced around to take in its appearance as the bell jingled and the cashier muttered out a greeting that showed he was clearly uninterested in anyone entering his store. You were going to search for a pay phone, too rattled to bother trying to ask the man where it was. Brands had different names, items were different colors and you could just sense that something was extremely wrong. Finding a phone screwed into the wall, you fished out a few quarters to dial a number as you heard the bell ring again, only to be disappointed when the automated voice informed you that your parent’s number was somehow invalid.
Sighing in defeat, you set the phone back and took the loss of the few coins, dragging your feet as you headed for the exit, but as you reached the door you couldn’t help but freeze in your spot when you recognized the face the cashier was talking to.
“Yeah man, he’s doin’ good. We got some business to take care of later but feel free to swing by tomorrow if you want, I’ll make time,” he chuckled, taking his chance and shoving it in his pocket as he looped the plastic bag around his wrist, dapping up the clerk before heading out the door.
You had ducked into another aisle, kneeling down to avoid being seen with a hand over your mouth as you breathed heavily.
Uncle Aaron?
You were almost certain you had died now. Or at least you wanted to be, but you weren’t dumb enough to believe that. It had to be something more.
As an act of bravery, or maybe stupidity, you decided to follow him. You had no idea what would come of it, but if you couldn’t find your house or your family, making your way back to Miles was your best bet. Oh god, what would Miles think?
You trailed behind down the blocks, keeping your distance and making sure to slow your already unsteady pace to avoid being seen. It was hard to believe the man you were sure had died was now casually walking in front of you, but you didn’t know anything about your situation to be able to make an accurate guess as to what was going on, so you opted to avoid assuming anything.
It seemed like Miles place remained in the same place and in tact, as that’s where you ended up, watching him climb the steps and eventually disappear through the door. Watching from the ground below, you eyed the building before deciding to climb the fire escape. You had no clue how anyone would react to you just walking up and knocking on the door and asking for Miles, as one: for all you knew it could potentially be dangerous, if everything else changed was it possible that your relationships had too? And two: you weren’t exactly on good terms with Miles either. Making it up to the fire escape, you peered into one of the windows, getting a clear view of the living room. Aaron was greeting Miles’ mother, who seemed normal for the most part, albeit a bit more tired.
You couldn’t tell what exactly they were saying, but she had a somber look on her face and Aaron’s seemed devoid of any sort of emotion. It was unlike him, back when he was alive anyway. Shortly after, Aaron left the apartment again and you caught a glimpse of him going upstairs. You took one last look at Mrs.Morales before quickly and quietly following him, catching up just as he got on the roof and peeking up from where you stood on the steps.
He was on the phone, and the few bits of conversation you caught were all talk about some sort of plan and him reminding whoever was on the other end to be on time before chuckling.
“-yeah yeah, your mom just got back home too.” Your mom? Is that- “See you in a few.”
He hung up, and if your mind wasn’t already scrambled enough, hearing that only made it ten times worse. You wanted nothing more than for someone to sit you down and explain what was going on, but that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe if you pinched yourself hard enough you’d wake up from this nightmare. You’d be at home, laying in bed and none of this would’ve ever happened. You never would’ve scolded Miles, you wouldn’t be worrying about your relationship and you for sure wouldn’t be here.
You watched as Aaron seemed to mess around with some rusted device, it being far too complicated for you to know what it was, but he was clearly skilled at fixing it. The air suddenly became tense and you felt something tying a knot in your gut. Call it survival instincts or just a gut feeling, either way you didn’t like it, but it proved to be helpful as just after the feeling passed Aaron’s attention turned from the device to directly where you stood. Your heart sank down to the pit of your stomach.
He knows I’m here.
He rose to his feet and you instinctively jumped back, only to lose your footing on the step you were on and trip, thankfully not falling off but instead stumbling until you hit the railing, a painful reminder of the injury you’d been trying not to focus on.
“Shit!” The pain shot up your side once more, seemingly far more unbearable now that the initial shock had worn off and you gripped the railing.
“Y/N?”
A distorted voice from behind made you jolt and turn your head, holding onto your side and you made eye contact, or what you assumed was eye contact, with a black mask and jagged, glowing white eyes. The person was wearing a combination of purple and black clothing with a seemingly spray painted logo on the front of the shirt, donning gloves with pointed fingers you could only hope weren’t going to get used on you.
You took a staggered step back and bit your lip, suddenly feeling far more lightheaded. You wanted to ask who the figure was. Why were they talking to you- no, more importantly, how they knew who you were, and if they knew what was going on, but now of all times is when your injuries finally decided you were down for the count. Your head felt full of air and your vision went white, the last thing you saw being a clawed hand reaching out to stop you from toppling over the railing as you lost consciousness and fell.
Amazed at the sight of hundreds if not thousands of other Spider-people, Miles marveled at the sight and excitedly greeting most who passed by. He could’ve spent forever reveling in the warm feeling that overcame him that moment, but that was cut short by his spidey sense when he suddenly froze and a cold feeling washed over him.
Something was wrong.
Stuck in place, he glanced around and nothing seemed to be out of place or threatening, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something bad was happening and he was somehow involved.
“Miles, you catching up or what?” Gwen called out from the small distance he’d created.
He smiled and shook his shoulder, giving an affirmative nod as he jogged to catch up with the rest of the group. Was it possible for a spider sense to give a false alarm? Miles wasn’t sure, but he was hoping on it.
╰┈➤ ❝ tag-list ❞
— @go-to-sleep-salem, @justmare, @itzmeme, @zeyzeys-stuff, @luvaline, @chasing-liberosis, @justanerd1, @lilacsandamethysts, @j-natsuka, @planetliaa
if you want to be tagged in the next part just lmk in the replies or my askbox <3
#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#atsv fanfiction#atsv#atsv x reader#spider man#miles g morales x reader#miles morales x reader#miles morales 1610#miles morales#miles x reader#atsv miles
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i need you to write about pegging eddie i’m not above begging bestie
you don’t have to beg cause i’m already there lmao
Pairing | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), pegging, anal m receiving, handcuff use, coming untouched, orgasm denial, face sitting, oral f receiving, dirty talk, sexy lingerie.
Word Count | 1.5K
A/N | this is super short and all smut zero plot, enjoy!!! 🤍
“Tell me how much you like my big cock fucking you,” You grunt, fucking your hips forward and sliding your silicone cock right back into Eddie’s fucked out, puffy hole, “Maybe if you’re all sweet I’ll let you come.”
Eddie’s whining and crying beneath you, hands up above his head, bound with his own cuffs to the headboard. They clink as he wrestles with them, “Baby please, lemme come, I’m begging,”
“Gotta do better than that, babe,” You smirk down at him, shoving your hips forward just a little so that the dildo nudges that little bit deeper, head clearly pressed tightly against Eddie’s spot because he’s mewling, back arching off the bed.
“Love your big cock in me, god,” Eddie cries out, and you glance up to watch his bitten fingernails dig bluntly into his palms, desperate to touch something, anything, “F—feels s’good, sweetheart. So good, you fuck me so good.”
“Really? Aw, babe.” You coo, hands gripping onto the backs of his thighs for purchase as you pull out all the way, then slam back in to the hilt. You break eye contact to watch the strap sink in and out of him, unable to tear your away.
Eddie’s cock leaks unashamed all over his belly, precum pooling in the dip of his bellybutton and streaking down his happy trail, matting down the hair there. He looks angelic, flushed a deep pink down to his chest with need, sweaty fringe stuck with sweat to his forehead.
He’s prettier when he’s needy for it. Begging for your pretty pink dick and gasping for air when you sink in and out, knocking the breath out of him. He loved it — being fucked open like this and laid bare for you to see all of him. Fragile and every bit of dominance knocked out of his body.
“Please, baby, please,” Eddie begs again, legs wrapping around your waist to push you deeper, and you gasp at the face of pleasure he makes, eyes screwing shut and bitten lips opening in a deep moan, “Need to come, need it. Need to come on your cock, please.”
“You’re cute when you beg,” You’re moaning too, feeling your slick slide down the insides of your thighs. This wasn’t all for him — fucking him turned you on as much as it did Eddie, there was something so powerful about knowing you could make him feel the same way he could you. You lean forward and grip a hold of his chin, shaking his head lightly, “Open your eyes when you come, Eddie. Want you to watch me fuck you stupid.”
He opens his eyes, lust blown orbs darting between your face and watching your tits as they jiggle with every rough thrust, your lacy black corset digging in to the underside of them. You’d spilled out of it long ago, struggled to care when you were eight inches deep in his tight ass and unravelling him with every single thrust.
Eddie fights with his restraints again as you pound into him, pushing his knees up to his chest so you can abuse his spot in a controlled manner with every thrust. His rickety old bed creeks under your movements, mixing in with his loud moans and the slick noises of your cock sliding in and out of him.
“Can I come now?” Eddie begs, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, and you surely should take mercy on him now, with how tight his balls are drawn up and how his cock leaks and kicks like he’s struggling to hold back. You nod slightly, and he clearly takes that as his cue, “Thank you, thank you, aah—!”
Your cunt quivers and aches to be filled as you watch in awe at the hot spurts of come that shoot out of Eddie’s raw and neglected cock, shooting so far it hits his chin. You can’t feel it, but you know he’s clenching down around the silicone toy as you fuck him through it, slowing down as he begins to shake from overstimulation.
You grind to a halt, smiling all giddy at Eddie’s fucked out expression. He’s still moaning softly, hazy eyes blinking up at you and a soft little half-smile directed back at you in return. You lean forward, making to kiss his bitten lips, but change your mind at last second — instead darting down to swipe the come off his chin with a pointed tongue. He groans, and you moan against him, savouring the salty, heady taste of him on your tongue.
He nudges at you, begging silently for a kiss, and you do so with no hesitation. Leaning up that little bit further to bump noses before slotting your lips together. It deepens fast, Eddie opening his mouth for you so you can slide your tongue against his own — letting him taste himself. Your cock slips out of him with the movement, and he hisses, biting down on your lip in retaliation.
“Sorry, Eddie,” You mumble against his lips, retreating back and sitting on your haunches. You unclip the strap in silence, gasping in relief as the weight of it is taken off of your hips. You don’t miss how wet your thighs are with your own slick, glimmering in the warm light of the room.
“Y’gonna get me out of these?” Eddie asks, startling you out of the silence with a small jiggle of the metal. You look up at him and smirk, dropping the strap from your hands in favour of slinking your way up his body to sit prettily on his belly. You know he can feel your wet cunt on his heated skin.
“Dunno, I was thinking you could help me out first?” You feign a slight innocence, grinding down against him and relieving a bit of the harsh aching on your clit. He nods eagerly, waiting on baited breath for you to climb up the rest of the distance and hover over his face.
You do so with no hesitation, spreading your legs and bracketing Eddie’s head with your thighs. His curly hair tickles your soft skin, his plump lips kissing up the insides of your thighs softly until he nudges his nose into your cunt, breathing in deeply until you get yourself settled.
The first dip of Eddie’s tongue between your folds makes your legs buckle, has you fully seated on his face and he groans into your cunt, the vibrations shooting into your core and eliciting a loud moan in return, “Not gonna take long, babe, fuck keep doing that,”
Eddie alternates between licking up and down your cunt, savouring your juices, and sucking and biting at your clit. He’s in a perfect rhythm, one that he knows will get you off quickly. He knew your body so well by this point — what parts to press, what areas to kiss, what pressure you needed. How hard you liked it, how fast. He was insatiable.
“Fuck, fuck,” You cry, grinding down against Eddie’s face, fisting at his hair for leverage. His tongue laps at your core like he’s desperate to make you come and it’s working, your tummy coiling up and beginning to spasm with need, “That’s it, Eddie, your tongue is sinful, god—!”
He’s looking at you like butter wouldn’t melt, a picture of innocence with his big, wet eyes. Nose perched prettily on the mound of your cunt, nestled in your neatly trimmed hair. You wished you had your polaroid, you needed to have a memory of this exact moment.
You grind down against Eddie’s mouth again, one perfectly timed suck of your clit with a grind of your hips and you’re coming — soaking Eddie’s face in your release, cunt spasming around nothing as you cry out, head thrown back towards the ceiling as pleasure wracks your body.
When you come down, he’s back to kissing your thighs, eyes sparkly and face shining with your come. You feel him smiling against your sensitive cunt, tip of his tongue poking out to lick gently at your clit and you clench your thighs around his head, jerking back.
You’re weak for him, always have been. Probably always would be.
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#my fanfic#mine#smut#x reader
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I saw that post that @ceilidho shared of Barry looking all “tf are you doing out of bed” and then I had to write this down for John. Sidebar the title of this in my google docs is “John decides he’s keeping his ONS”
Get Back Here
Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 863 Content/Warnings| This is post coital with them having fucked like rabbits but everything is above board. This theoretically would be such a nice jump off spot for a darker twist BUT my heart is still mostly fluffy for the cod boys. I am working on something a lil unhinged with Price tho.
While this piece is rated T, I am an MDNI blog. Minors + ageless blogs will be blocked.
If she has any sense in her head, she’ll slip out from the sheets while he’s snoring beside her, get dressed and fuck off back home.
Of course, how much sense she has at the moment is debatable at best because he went and fucked her brains right out of her skull.
Forget pipe- The man laid infrastructure earlier and it’s already screwing with her head. Making her really have to try and talk herself out of the urge to see where things go. The only thing she needs to see is where the fuck her drawers went. Getting dickmatized is a real struggle and while she doesn’t often go out, she lets the soldier sweet talk her on the expectation that there would be a fair degree of “get in, get done, get out”.
Post nut clarity is nowhere to be seen on his end, as he’d tucked her into the spot next to him with the promise of breakfast in the morning. A well deserved reward on her end for all her hard work.
Maybe her brain just likes to torture her but she starts to think that she’s just not meant for casual hook ups like this. He is kind and respectful and a phenomenal lay and her brain is already trying to twist this to justify finding a way to wrangle down another night with him. She just needs to rip this bandaid off and go.
Chalk this up as go-to spank bank fodder the next time she’s lonely.
It’s easier this way, she tells herself as she peels back the bedding he’d cocooned her in.
Less humiliating this way, to sneak away in the night as the cold bites at her as she gathers her clothes. All the while he’s snoring up a storm, assuring her that he’s still out of it and unaware of her escape attempt that is delayed by not being able to find her damn bra.
There’s a small part of her that somewhat feels bad for planning to sneak out in the middle of the night, but there’s a larger part of her that doesn’t want to hear whatever is his go to prompt when it’s time to kick his partner out of bed and back to the rest of the world.
She fixates on locating her wayward bra to the point she doesn’t notice the lack of white noise as he -John- stirs at the loss of her. She doesn’t see the way he gropes blindly at the space she was occupying not five minutes ago, nor the way his expression screws down into a scowl as realization sinks in when he fully awakens.
She does hear his huffed “The fuck are you doing?”, lacking any bite to it despite the phrasing. What she’s doing is fairly obvious given how her clothes are gathered in her arms as opposed to rifling through something she shouldn’t.
“I, um,” she blinks stupidly. He’s a gorgeous man, just enough moonlight filtering through the window so she can see him even in the dark. “I’m getting dressed,” finally her brain clicks into place.
His eyes are squinting at her as he blinks back sleep, shuffling partly up to get a better look at her, the blanket pooling at his waist. Christ her knees are already weak just looking at him again. “None of that,” he dismisses firmly, “it’s too cold, love. Come back to bed. Promised you breakfast in the morning anyway.”
She has a decision to make, she realizes- if she’s adamant about leaving it’s not like he’s going to keep her hostage. He has to let her leave.
But, her thoughts trail off, it is fucking cold. And that bed is incredibly warm. And she still doesn’t know where the fuck her bra is.
“Come on then, back you get.” He prompts with a pat to the spot she’d previously occupied, and that’s enough to make her fold (she can’t deny that she’s been lookin for a reason to fold all night, even if a part of her knows this is a bad, bad, bad idea). Setting her clothes back in a neat pile rather than them being strung all over the floor-still sans bra-, she returns to the bed and slides back under the covers he’s lifted for her.
Immediately his arm bands across her torso, pulling her in snug against him. Well, there’s certainly no sneaking away now. After a bit of shuffling as they settle in against each other, John ensuring there will be no more half hearted attempts to flee.
He doesn’t snore-likely keeping an eye on her to ensure she’s not going to run again- until she’s securely in that half-awake-half-asleep limbo. It’s incredibly easy to slip into. The room is cold, he is warm and the bed is so incredibly cozy. The math is very simple and the end result is her dozing in the arms of a man she can very stupidly see herself getting attached to- even if he snores like a bear.
Come morning, John makes good on his promise for breakfast.
She doesn’t end up needing to find her bra until two days later.
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this is a bit self indulgent to request lol but i’m very partial to any hunger games au just so my babies arent as traumatized by the end lmao😭
maybe pirate!finnick x reader where they take r captive? finnick brings her some food and makes sure the other pirates keep away from r
anon, i do not know how i feel about this one. i absolutely loved this request, but i may have screwed up the pic. apologies 🙏 i tried using second person for the first time also. the beginning may be confusing, please bear with me
a simple mistake
pairing pirate!finnick odair x maid!reader
summary when the pirates of the mockingjay planned to kidnap the princess, they thought everything would go smoothly. however, there's one big problem: they kidnapped the wrong girl.
warnings unedited shitty writing, kidnapping, guns, gale, modern language in a different time period
Wherever you were, it was dark. Or maybe it was just the blindfold.
It felt like moments ago that you were tucked cozily into her bed, your body encased by down. There was a crash somewhere in the castle - down the hall? You were only half awake as cloth that smelled like dirt and saltwater wrapped itself tightly around your eyes, and you were dragged from her slumber.
This was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake. Tried tried to explain this to her captors as they tugged her, but all you could muster was a few muffled noises over the bitter-tasting gag tied around you. To their credit, those holding you right now were strong and fast: they kept a tight grip on her arm while being able to shove you forward at a fast pace. Lost in your panic, you didn't catch what they were saying to each other:
"Are you sure this is her?"
"Yes, I'm sure. To the right, four doors down from the window."
"Your right or his right?"
"The right of the window!"
They kept their tone hushed as they began to descend a staircase. In the back of your mind, you recognized the pattern in which the steps descended: one, two, three, four, turn, five, six, seven, eight, turn - they were headed down the servant's staircase in the back of the castle. There was an exit hatch at the bottom.
With little hope, you thrashed in their grip. As expected, they handled it with ease. The thought that this may be a normal occurrence swirled in your brain, inciting more and more fear.
"Would you stop? It's hard enough going down these steps without someone kicking at me," the person to your left huffed. His tone was odd. For being the perpetrator of a kidnapping, there was no biting edge to his words.
Your bare feet hit the dewy grass with no warning. In between racing thoughts and heaved breaths, you'd made it to the exit. It was summer, but the coolness of the night air settled over your skin and made you shiver. You were only in your night shift, after all: shabby cloth that provided a nearly sufficient amount of modesty.
Boom!
The noise has you screaming against the cloth as the two holding you swear.
Boom!
There it was again, loud and threatening.
“Guards are a worse shot than I thought,” the man to your left says as they pick up the pace.
Boom!
Oh, God, the guards were shooting at them — were shoot at you! Hushed prayers are whispered from your lips, though, they’re unintelligible. The person to your right must pick up on the trembling in your body because they begin moving at an impossibly faster speed. You wonder how they haven’t fainted by now, how you haven’t fainted by now.
“Don’t worry,” they say, speaking to you through the gunshots, “Never had cargo die on us before. Plus, it’s not you they’re shooting at, it’s us.”
This does nothing to quell your fears, but a new sensation under your feet works to distract your ever rushing mind. If it wasn’t for the two people practically carrying you, you would be sinking in the soft earth beneath you. It was a bit coarse, but delicate, and parted to make way for your feet. Was it sand? There was yelling in all directions: next to you, behind, in front. Then you hit an incline, and the softness of the sand roughened under your feed. You were rocking, too, and not just you, the ones holding you up. There was a crash entirely unlike the sound of the guns, and another sway — oh, fuck.
This was a ship.
“They’re on us!” One of them screamed as you plateaued to a surface
“In a minute, they won’t even see us,” a gruff voice responded, seemingly unfazed by nearing sound of gunshots. There was a loud groan and suddenly, you were moving. Though the two still had a strong hold on you, you stumbled as the ship began to move. The gunshots, which had been getting louder, were sounding much more distant. Even if it was only a minute or two since you’d been hoisted onto the ship, it felt like hours.
“I was hoping this would be a clean job, y’know, no—” The gruff voice which had spoken before stopped. You could hear an unsteady breath as footsteps neared you.
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”
And then there was light, nearly blinding from the amount of time you’d spent in the dark. The owner of the voice ripped the cloth from your eyes in one swoop, and you cringed at the bleeding dawn along the horizon.
“What?” You whipped your head to the left, finding a tall older boy with dark brown hair and bright eyes.
“This is not the Princess.” You could now see the owner of the gruff voice, who was a middle-aged man with greasy, chin length blonde hair and scruff around his chin. His eyes were trained on you as he spoke.
“What?” The boy repeated.
“You grabbed the wrong goddamn girl, Gale,” the man’s voice boomed.
“I told you something was off,” the man on the right — tall and bald — groaned.
“Why the hell did you not say that before you kidnapped her?” The blonde man huffed.
“I did!” He argued back.
“What are we gonna do with her?” Gale spoke up.
“I…I don’t know,” the blonde sighed, “We can’t go back now, not like this. They’ll have the land and water covered in an hour. Just take her down.”
“Haymitch, I’m really—”
“Just take her down, Gale,” Haymitch, the blonde man, repeated in a stern tone. The boy bowed his head, and the bald man followed suit, turning you and hauling you away from the front of the deck. Had you not been so dimmed with exhaustion from running from gunfire and screaming against the gag in your mouth, you may have done a little more fighting during that conversation. Instead, you studied the crew of the ship who were running around as though you didn’t exist. They shouted at each other, likely still executing their speedy getaway off the main island. As they lead you to the door at the middle of the dock, you noticed Gale eyeing you.
“You’re…not the Princess?” He asked quietly.
“She can’t speak,” the bald man rolled his eyes before taking the gag from your mouth. Immediately, you heaved in a deep breath, finding that the air was still salty even without the seawater-flavored gag.
“You’re not?” Gale repeated his question as though you didn’t hear him.
“No.” You found your voice to be hoarse, but forceful as you glared at him. In finding this voice, questions exploded from your mouth.
“What the hell is going on? Let me go! Why did you take me? Where am I?” They ignored these questions.
“We should’ve asked her first,” the bald man groaned.
“She would’ve said ‘no’ even if she was the Princess!” Gale yelled. They pushed past the door and lead you down the steps to a small hall. They turned onto the first room.
“Well, we’re here,” Gale sighed, letting go of your arm. Your limbs felt like jelly from being pulled and shoved for so long, however, you tried your hand at pushing past them and running. The question of where you would go was a thought for later.
“Woah,” the bald man immediately grabbed ahold of you as you attempted your escape, “Please try to stay put, alright? There’s not many places for you to go.”
“Why am I here?” You asked again, your tone laced with anger.
“Just sit tight for a while, okay?” Gale spoke awkwardly as he and the other man kept you still.
“Sit tight?” You repeated indignantly.
“Please just go sit, I don’t want to tie you up,” the bald man sighed. To your surprise, there was genuine sympathy in his voice. Even so, you stared at them, unmoving. This silent chess match carried on for another thirty seconds before a groan left Gale, and he shoved you to the floor. Your behind hit the floor hard, and before you could scramble to pick yourself up, they were out the door. You got to your feet and helplessly tried the doorknob, but it was already locked.
“That was just plain rude,” you could hear the muffled voice of the bald man through the door, “What’s wrong with you, man?”
“She wasn’t moving,” Gale’s voice was somewhat unfazed.
“You’re an ass, really.” The voices faded out, and it was then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, that you were alone. The room was small, wooden, and windowless. There was a cot with a threadbare blanket and a sorry excuse for a pillow on one end and a tattered table and chair on the other.
You tried to find ways to occupy yourself: banging on the door, screaming, punching the pillow, questioning God, picking at the wood, acquiring splinters. Any amount of time could’ve passed: seconds, minutes, hours, days. Well, maybe not days, but it felt like it. You were laying on the cot, counting the rings in the ceiling when the lock jostled. You sat straight up, jumping from your bed when the door opened. You rushed at the entry, only to be blocked by a rough hand.
“They said you’re quick,” a mellow voice followed the hand. This wasn’t the man who demanded you were taken here or either of the ones who followed his orders; he was new. Sandy blonde hair that gently spiked on his head, tanned skin, likely from his days on the deck, dark blue eyes, and pink lips that stretched into a crooked smile. While one of his arms kept you secure, the other held a tray with a portion of bread, a bowl, and a metal cup.
“What is going on?” You asked gruffly.
“I can tell you, but you have to promise you won’t run the second I step away from this door,” he said, looking a bit more calm than one might expect. You, still staring him down, considered the options, and with a relenting sigh, backed away. He entered the room, that easy smile still on his face as he shut the door behind him.
“So,” He spoke, eyeing you, “I take it you’re not the Princess.”
“No, I am not,” you responded, voice terse with frustration.
“I see,” he nodded, then gestured towards the cot for you to sit. You obliged cautiously. As far as kidnappings went, this one was rather polite — but it was still a kidnapping.
“I can assure you that the plan was not to kidnap you,” he sighed, taking a seat at the table. He extended the tray of food towards you, but you don’t take it. Not yet.
“And what was the plan?” You asked, eyebrow cocked.
“Well, darlin’,” he began, “The plan was to kidnap the Princess and ransom her back. Take that money and spread it across the islands, give back to those who need it.” Suspicion peaked in you, and it was obvious he could tell, because his smile stretched further.
“What, don’t believe me?” He hummed, cocking his head.
“Would you trust someone who stole you?” You fired back. He laughed gently at that.
“Probably not, but you’re lucky it was instead of anyone else,” he spoke.
“Lucky?” You repeated with a scoff.
“Darlin’, this ship we’re on? It’s the Mockingjay,” he set his palm on his knee. This struck a chord; the Mockingjay. You’d heard of them before, just rumors. Some called them the gentle pirates, others called them weaklings. They took what they wanted with force, but never caused any casualties.
“I’m Finnick,” he interrupted your thoughts suddenly, extending his hand, “And I’m just dying to know your name.”
Though you took his hand with reluctance, you didn’t speak a word. This creased a wrinkle along his forehead.
“I think it’s best if we do introductions now rather than later,” he said, keeping his deep blue eyes on you. A sigh escaped you before you turned from his gaze and towards the ceiling.
“Y/n,” you replied quietly.
“Pretty name. Wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but I’ll take what I can get,” he grinned, “Who are you, Y/n?”
“I’m a maid,” you spoke, unsure why you replied instead of ignoring him, “The Princess’s Lady in Waiting. Her companion.”
“Ah, I see,” he hummed, “That’s why you had yourself a room up there. You and the Princess close?” You don’t respond to this, jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry for this, Y/n, truly,” he frowned, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“But it was a kidnapping all the same,” you sigh.
“You’re right. You’re right, but we’re not perfect people. We do what we have to. And right now,” he grabbed the tray once more, extending it towards you, “I have to make sure you eat.”
“Aren’t you supposed to give me the tray and leave?” You glared at him.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the tray still in his hands, “I guess I do what I want. And I want to sit with you while you eat.”
“Why?” You don’t let up with your accusing gaze.
“I wouldn’t want a pretty lady starving on my ship. That would just break my heart,” he grinned. Another second of silence.
“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, a weak shudder in your voice betraying your cold stare. It would make sense, after all: you were useless. The King wouldn’t pay a ransom for a maid.
“What?” The question seemed to genuinely shock him, “No, oh, God, no. I wouldn’t lay a hand on you.”
“What about them out there? The rest of the crew?” You gestured to the door.
“They wouldn’t either, but even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them get to you,” he spoke, surprisingly reassuring, “You’re not going to be killed, I can assure you of that.”
You swallowed hard, finally looking back at him to see the genuine look in his eyes. He seemed kind, which was strange. Was it some sort of manipulation tactic? A means to an end?
“Are you going to eat, or should I start spoon-feeding you?” He asked, that easy smile appearing on his face once more. Hesitantly, you took the plate from his hands. He stayed there, sitting across from you, watching you lift the cup to your mouth. Sadly, you couldn’t deny your manners, and before you took a sip, you looked at him.
“Thank you, Finnick,” you mumbled.
“My pleasure, Darlin’,” he replied, grinning as you tucked into your meal.
#finnick odair#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick imagine#thg finnick#pirate!finnick#pirate!finnick x reader#the hunger games#pirate au#pirates#thursday writes
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Can you do an Arven x f! reader who likes to wear his shirts?
Of course!! I'm sorry it's a bit short/if there are any errors, I was super tired while writing this ;;w;; I hope you like it! 💕
Snug as a Scatterbug | Arven x F!Reader
Rating: G | WC: 688
The first time you wear one of Arven’s shirts, he’s very puzzled.
Standing at the doorway to his room, he watches you work. He left a few moments ago to grab some snacks, and when he came back, the last thing he expected to return to was his girlfriend standing topless in front of his closet. At first, this leaves him speechless and flustered.
Then, he observes as you pick his favorite, comfiest, yellowest sweater out of his wardrobe and toss it over your head. This is where the confusion ensues.
“...What are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe while his lips curl into a grin.
You stop flattening out the hem of his sweater, freezing in place. You’ve been caught red-handed. Rather than explaining yourself, outwardly panicking, or apologizing, you simply mutter, “Don’t worry about it,” before continuing to situate yourself in his clothing. You don’t even turn around to address him.
He won’t lie to himself – something about seeing you with his shirt engulfing your tiny frame has Butterfrees going nuts in his stomach. There’s something simultaneously adorable and hot about the sight of you in his favorite article of clothing; about how the fabric reaches your knees, and the sleeves go past your hands, creating little paws when you lift them up. Not knowing how exactly to respond to this situation, Arven decides to leave it be.
The next time you wear one of his shirts, it’s his white uniform top. ‘Why that old thing?’ he silently wonders.
You two don’t even have classes to attend that day – you’re just grabbing sandwiches at the local Every Wich Way. The shirt you had on originally matched your outfit more than this, too – your pastel pink leggings worked better with the pastel purple hoodie you had on up top.
Feeling his cheeks burn hot when he peers down at the way his dress shirt drapes over you, he decides once again not to question it. It’s not like you’re gonna keep stealing his stuff, right?
…‘Again?!’ Arven thinks to himself the third time.
He left you alone to take a shower and change after a long day outdoors with your teams, and when you return to him, another one of his sweaters is consuming your torso. This one is a black, Shiny Wooloo wool turtleneck that he bought while interning at a restaurant in Galar a few years back.
“I gotta know,” he prompts, getting up from his spot on the couch and walking towards you. “Why do you keep taking my shirts?”
Your cheeks redden, and you look away from his face. “Thought I told ya not to worry about it, punk,” you sass.
Arven laughs. “I’m not worried, I’m just confused.” You try to walk by him, but he stops you with your ultimate weakness: head pats. As his large palm lands on your scalp, you stop in your tracks. “I don’t mind you wearing my stuff, it looks adorable on you anyway,” he reassures you behind a wide smile. “I just wanna know why.”
You sigh, before bashfully answering, “Your clothes are really cozy, and they smell good.” You fidget with the oversized sleeves around your hands, finally looking up at him. “Feels like you’re constantly hugging me when I have one of your shirts on... It’s nice.”
Arven nearly keels over. ‘So cute!’ If this man wasn’t already head over heels for you, he definitely would be now.
From that point on, Arven goes out of his way to offer you his clothes. Oh, you wanna stay over for a night? Screw those pajamas, take one of his tees instead.
Is it chilly out? Toss one of his sweaters, maybe even one of his jackets, over your own shirt to keep warm.
Not seeing each other for a few days? He’ll offer you half his wardrobe. “That way you never run out of hugs!” he proclaims, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Now that Arven knows your “secret,” he might love seeing you wear his shirts just as much as you love wearing them, if not more.
#arven pokemon#arven x reader#pokemon arven#pokemon x reader#pokemon sv#pokemon scarvi#pokemon scarlet#pokemon violet#pokemon scvi#trainer arven#rival arven#pokémon arven x reader#pokemon arven x reader#no use of y/n#pokemon fanfiction#pokemon fanfic#arven fluff#fluff#arven x female reader#female trainer#arven x f!reader#anon
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